I’m about to host my first screening of the Pacific Mission documentary about Plastic Odyssey’s cleanup mission to remote Henderson Island on August 16 in Amsterdam (see you there?). I spoke to a family friend last week about the screening, she had watched the trailer and loved it and asked a seemingly benign question “what do you want people to do differently after watching the movie?”. I stuttered. I hoped they would be inspired. I hoped their awareness would be raised. But actually do something. That would be fantastic, but what could I ask my audience to do? My mind ran in a million directions of possibilities and caveats and settled on nothing useful.

The simple question, and the conversation that followed, was the wake-up call that made me dig up a half-finished draft on science and storytelling, add some much-needed nuance, and finally write it.

This article is my musings on the important, often overlooked part missing from both science and storytelling: catalyzing action.

We have all the information we need (science is failing us)

I took environmental science in high school and in class we watched “An Inconvenient Truth”. It was my first exposure to the infamous global warming graph: a line staggering up and up, steadily and surely. It was shocking, and deeply memorable. And, exactly as predicted, greenhouse gas emissions have risen and so have average temperatures. That was almost 20 years ago and the basic scientific understanding of climate change hasn’t changed. By now, we’ve all seen the graphs, we know the facts: it’s bad and getting worse, and France and Spain are currently burning because of it.

Similarly, for plastic pollution, the studies keep coming. How much do we need to know the intricacies of how completely COVERED our world is in plastic? We have found microplastics deep in trenches, high on mountains, in the air and in our babies. The headlines are terrifying and yet production continues, following the trend of that global warming chart. Up and up, despite our knowledge of the harms.

Being constantly reminded how screwed we are doesn’t feel like it helps. It actually really sucks and there’s a term for it: “climate doom”. Of course there’s also “plastic doom” and “biodiversity-loss doom” and this summer it feels we can add “the world is literally on fire doom”.

I love doing research but I left academia because it didn’t feel like writing yet another paper that nobody reads was actually helping. As devastating studies on the harmful effects, total pervasiveness and ongoing pollution of our world proliferate, I didn’t think adding more to the corpus was actually doing any good. Rather than sit in a pit of academic despair, I went searching for something that could lead to more action, more change and more impact.

We have all the inspiration we need too (stories are also failing us)

So I began experimenting with other types of communication beyond the dusty academic article. I started this newsletter, I began posting more on LinkedIn, I gave more talks at conferences and in classrooms and I hosted workshops. What a change from scientific publishing! I loved exploring all these new channels of engagement and storytelling was pure fun. And I was seeing nodding heads in an audience and getting those oh-so-satisfying likes on a LinkedIn post, it felt like I was making a difference through inspiration and awareness raising.

And I’m not alone posting in this world of “new media”. Instagram, TikTok, Substack, LinkedIn. This world has created a whole new job, the influencer, with an entire economy around it. As a society, we spend more time than ever consuming media, most of it short form and a lot of it on our phones (and I’m no saint, please don’t ask to see my screentime!!)

There is also an insane amount of TV and movies being made and streamed. It’s impossible to keep up or even scratch the surface of all the content out there. I have an ongoing notes list on my phone of TV and movie suggestions. TV has 185, movies has 355 and books has 246. No chance I’m ever getting through those and yet I continue to add new suggestions every week.

One of my guilty pleasures is Instagram reels of fun new recipes. But considering the amount of recipe videos I watch vs. how many I actually make… well that is not a good ratio. Scrolling Instagram, its also clear the app would rather I keep scrolling than put down my phone and actually cook. That’s the app’s incentive. But what about the people genuinely trying to share something useful? In a world of endless content and smartphones, how do we close the intention-action gap? We’ve gotten scarily good at making and consuming content. Taking what we learn out into the real world, that’s where we get stuck.

Making the leap to action

Both science and storytelling get stuck at the same spot: the jump to action. We need science to ground a story in the facts, and storytelling to give those facts emotion and humanity. Together they can create the ideal trigger moment for action, but a trigger still needs something to fire. I spoke last week to Julie Davitz who created an entire company built for exactly that moment: when someone has just watched something moving and is primed to get involved. Plus Media Solutions serves up a menu of tangible actions right then and there: on your TV, your phone, at an event, in the theater. Thinking about my upcoming screening, I realized I needed to do the same. Right as the movie finishes is the time to share a handful of things the audience can do if they feel inspired. They can range in difficulty and time commitment, but they need to be well thought out and relevant to the audience.

When people ask how they can solve plastic pollution, I know I get stuck in big, philosophical arguments (abolish capitalism) to over simplistic (and potentially not even that impactful) things like “recycle”. But as a scientist and communicator, I also realize it’s my responsibility to wade through the complexity of the challenge of plastic pollution and do my homework to have a satisfying set of suggestions. I spent almost 5 years of my PhD researching the topic, its the least I can do, right?

So now I’ve completely rethought the way I will be communicating as a scientist and expert. In my newsletters, my LinkedIn posts, my keynotes I’ll make sure to end with a suite of options for how my audience can get involved. Even in regular conversations with friends, I’ll keep a few suggestions in my back pocket. Because the biggest weapon we have against climate (or plastic) doom is agency - so we need to give people tools! Tell them what they can do this minute, today, tomorrow or next week. Trying to tackle the entire huge problem of climate change or plastic waste only makes us feel tiny and ineffective. But there are ways to start in your house, your family, your neighborhood, your office.

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Agency as the antidote

I also reflected with Julie about how the place we can each have the most impact is the ‘medium’ spaces in our lives: our neighborhood, our office, our extended family. The ripples through those networks reach further than you’d think. Why not make a delicious vegetarian meal for your next family gathering? Ask your office to get rid of single use coffee cups. You can even organize a neighborhood cleanup.

After years immersed in research and a career spent on storytelling, the highest-impact thing I can do may be to hand people the tools to create their own impact. So if you’re a scientist reading this, consider weaving storytelling into your work, but also about what your research means for an everyday person (and what they can actually do about it!). And if you’re a storyteller, do a little of the science homework, and ask what tools you can leave your audience with to move them from inspiration to action.

Stick around as I try on this new action-oriented communication style!

So, what can you do?

Want to tackle plastic pollution?

• If you are in the Netherlands on August 16, come to my documentary screening and Q&A (ticket link here!)

• World Cleanup Day is Sept 20th. Now is a great time to find a cleanup to join or create one in your community. In the Netherlands, find info about cleanups here. Rest of the world, search your country info on the official World Cleanup Day site here.

• My personal nemesis is to-go coffee cups. Does your office (or maybe favorite cafe) still default to single-use? Why not encourage a change! Sending a simple email could lead to a change. Feel free to take my draft below (written for an office, but can be easily modified for a cafe, restaurant etc)

Shocked by the wildfires this summer?

• Learn about reducing your own fire risk as a homeowner or explore comprehensive US guidelines

• Donate to support recovery and relief efforts in France and Spain through DirectRelief (highly rated charity delivering on the ground support)

• Summers are getting hotter, and if we all buy ACs, it’s only going to get worse due to increasing carbon emissions. Why not invest in exterior shades, a good fan and more external plants, first? European tips here and American here.

I hope you learned something, got a bit inspired, and most of all, I hope you put down your phone, close your laptop and get moving!

I feel like I’m on a plane, studying the landscape of innovation below me. I may spy a cool new company and zoom in with binoculars or circle back to study a rapidly developing new sector. In my little airplane, innovation is all around, but I’m removed from it.

Except for two weeks ago. That’s when I crash landed into innovation, with all its post-its, rabbit holes and wacky ideas. Come along with me!

UNLEASH

The program I crash landed into is called UNLEASH. Their mission is to mobilize youth around the world to co-create a sustainable future. They do this through Innovation Labs and Innovation Hacks, bringing young people physically together to tackle specific SDGs over a few days or a week. Luckily, they define youth generously, considering the demographic bucket up to 35 years of age. Realizing I was nearing the end of my youth, and having two close friends who participated in previous UNLEASH programs egg me on, I decided to throw my name into the hat. I applied for the June 2026 Innovation Lab in Copenhagen which was focused on challenges in the built environment.

PREPARE FOR TAKEOFF

And I was in! I was accepted for my first choice track, Circular Futures, which aligned most closely with my work on plastics and the circular economy. I filled in the forms, booked my travel and promptly forgot about the program, which at that time was months away. Cue June, UNLEASH was now mere weeks away, and as Europe suffered a heat wave, the program loomed. A full week. Staying in a hostel. Working on an innovation methodology from morning to evening every night. 200 strangers. Gulp.

TAXIING

After a flight that should have been a train (thanks to the heat), I was in Copenhagen! Had a night to myself to wander the sun-soaked Danish city and treat myself to a solo evening before the craziness ensued. Saturday, things began. The chaos at the hostel was a sign of the week to come, tourist families mingled with UNLEASHers trying to get badges and everyone was sweaty. A group gathered to walk to our kick-off event, and the small talk began. “Where are you coming from?” It seemed like most people were from one country, but living in another (e.g. Uzbek living in Finland, German living in Sweden). The kickoff event was hosted in the very Italian looking Copenhagen capital building. The speakers (mostly former UNLEASHers) promised a fun but challenging week ahead, that we would get frustrated but should stick it out. Challenging? Frustrating? I thought this was going to be easy breezy….

LIFT OFF

And then it was time for the innovation: our first full day of the methodology. We had an inspiring speech, a brief introduction to the first step of the plan (problem framing), were given a stack of cards with exercises and BOOM the names of the groups were announced and we were sent off. As our group introduced themselves and we started flipping through the exercise cards, we looked at each other for answers. What were we supposed to do? How were we supposed to ‘solve for circularity in the built environment?’ ‘What do they mean by circularity?’ ‘What do they mean by the built environment?’ ‘Does it have to be in Copenhagen? In Europe?’.

Nobody in my group had an answer, and it soon became clear that there was no all knowing ‘they’ with the answer. They didn’t exist. Our group could just choose a path and take it. After a few knocked over mugs while we set up our flip-board, our five-person group decided on the name ‘Spilled Coffee’, flipped to the first team building exercise in our deck of cards and took off.

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TURBULENCE

The thing about people who sign up for a full-week immersive innovation program is they tend to be… eager (myself included!). Eager to participate, eager to learn, eager to have their voice heard. Lots of pilots, fewer passengers. Paired with a vague scope (built environment / circular futures), we realized we had to make all the decisions. We had to choose where we wanted to focus, on what stage of the value chain, which specific problem. The options were endless and thus decision-making was hard. Voting seemed easy enough, but we couldn’t always agree on how to vote. Decisions would be made, but then someone would take issue and we would backtrack.

Occasionally we would coalesce around an idea, only for someone to redirect with one tough question or observation. As one of my teammates said ‘Wait a minute. I’m going to mess up your mind for a minute’. And our minds were getting messed! As the amount of post-its notes strewn about our work station grew exponentially, so did the level of discussion and it felt we were getting farther and farther away from a decision. Wasn’t innovation supposed to be fun?

CRUISING ALTITUDE

But then, all at once it seemed, we united. We found our specific problem: hazardous debris after a disaster in the built environment. Soon, we had a solution (well, a few solutions, sometimes choosing is HARD). We developed an integrated system, that way all the different parts fit together. We called it IDRS (pronounced idris), an Integrated Disaster Response System. Two team mates got out their laptops and started vibe coding prototypes. Another two dove headfirst into the lego bin to make a physical example of our solution. I opened Canva and got to work on writing a pitch. We found our groove and everyone had a part to play, we were excited, easygoing and supportive. The post-its were abandoned for analog and digital experimentation, we cheered each other on and marveled at what we built.

The final day was a pitch festival where we presented IDRS to experts and our fellow UNLEASHers. I was amazed by the diversity of ideas, both in our track and the other three. People made apps to find cool spots during heat waves, an idea to revitalize brick-making in Greenland, a modular cladding to upgrade old concrete buildings, a board game to fight loneliness… I could go on and on!

Our group didn’t advance, but our facilitator and friends loved our idea and working prototypes. We were disappointed, but proud of what we did, and most of all, enjoyed going from strangers to effective collaborators in a few short days.

TOUCH DOWN, HOME

UNLEASH week was a LOT. Staying in dorms, surviving a heat wave, being around people practically 24/7. When I got home, I spent a full day alone watching crappy TV. Later, I found time to reflect. What did I learn from this crash course?

• First and foremost was working effectively in a multi-cultural team. It’s not every day you work with a Vietnamese robotics expert living in Norway, a French sustainable construction advocate living in Switzerland, a Nigerian material scientist living in the UK and an Italian-French UN employee living in Denmark (plus me, a Dutch-American plastics expert). It was a lot of differences in culture, expertise and language to juggle. When our group found our groove, it was pretty special to be a part of.

• Second, it was a reminder that innovation is hard. Finding a truly innovative idea, that can actually work, is no walk in the park. There is a reason that most innovations fail, and it’s usually not because of a bad idea, but an immature market, a struggle to get data or set up supply chains, a lack of customers. We came up against that over and over again.

• Third, knowing your problem is key. I am not a built environment expert, and in the beginning most of what I added to the debate was pure conjecture or drawing parallels to the plastics/packaging sector. We had enough expertise on our team to make up for it, but it was a reminder of the importance of understanding your problem before looking for a solution.

• And finally, full-day programs are tough. I realized I needed solo breaks, so I took walks when I could to get a change of scenery and time alone in my head. The program was full on, with site visits, talks and working time. Ever since I took a facilitation course from Mischief Makers (highly recommend!), I can’t be a naive participant. I notice when energy in the group lags, when there is a missed opportunity for connection or reflection, the importance of beginning and closing rituals. These are even more critical when managing such a large group for a long period of time, and I saw many times where some playfulness could have been injected (and I’ll be sharing my feedback!).

Many lessons to take home, and maybe you can learn a few from my journey! If you are youth-ish and want to experience this for yourself, I recommend checking out the UNLEASH website and follow them on LinkedIn.

Shout out to Mona, Cuong, Sodiq and Marco for being such a great group, and Henry for leading us along the way! Cheers to Spilled Coffee!

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P.S. THE DERAILMENT

This article has a plane metaphor, but originally, a train metaphor would have been more apt because I had booked a train to Copenhagen. It would have been a journey that would wind through Hamburg and require 3 stops and 12 hours (not counting getting to and from the train stations on either end). A long day, but I could work, chill, look out the window. I’ve done this train route before, years ago, and remembered that, at one point, the train unexpectedly drove onto a ferry (!!!). All the passengers were required to disembark and hang out on the deck for the Baltic crossing. We then got back on the train, which then clicked into the tracks in Denmark and continued on its merry way. I was looking forward to experiencing this wild feat of logistical engineering once again! Spoiler alert: I did not end up on the train. Heat waves across Europe caused massive rail delays, and the morning of my trip, the Dutch rail service told me my route was ‘no longer possible’. I’d miss my connection and be stranded in Germany, better to cancel and book a flight. Sigh. My attempt to do the climate-friendly thing and go by train was derailed by the climate effects I would in turn be contributing to with my 80 minute flight.

Venting my train frustrations, I also told many UNLEASHers about the train-on-ferry experience. Some had even managed the train from Hamburg. None had been on a train that went on a ferry, I think they thought I was crazy (I started to wonder if I was crazy). Turns out this ‘Bird Flight Line’ was discontinued in 2019 in favor of an overland route, and a tunnel is being dug as we speak. Not crazy! Just older than most of my fellow innovators…

And the number wasn’t pretty. 4 to 12 million tons a year based on 2010 production and waste management data. Famously translated to “one garbage truck every minute”. Yikes.

But as my career in ocean plastic continued, so did the science. That original estimates were found to be too high for some areas, too low for others. And microplastic research entered the scene in a BIG way, these insidious, tiny particles act very differently than big plastic pieces… sinking, clustering, being eaten by animals. The list goes on.

In my latest article for Plastic Odyssey, we trace a decade of ocean science research, outlining what we know and what we are still trying to figure out.

Read the full article on Plastic Odyssey » How much plastic is really entering the ocean?

Read here

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More on plastic from newsletter

More on this topic from Plastic Odyssey

• Henderson Island Expedition Site

• Aldabra Atoll Expedition Site

• Plastic Odyssey and UNESCO Join Forces to Restore Marine World Heritage Sites

• Henderson Expedition: The World’s Most Polluted Protected Island Gets Rid of 9 Tons of Plastic Waste

This seemed strange to me at first. I am an ocean lover, but I was never a space junkie. The idea of an undiscovered expanse of nothingness, black holes, entire universes that may look exactly or nothing like ours, and may or may not contain aliens…. That terrifying, infinite unknown freaks me out.

The ocean, on the other hand, feels like home. I was born on an island in the Mediterranean, Cyprus, the same island Aphrodite is fabled to have emerged from the sea-foam, fully-formed. I was a water-baby, happy to splash in a sink, dive in a pool or snorkel for hours. The comfort of water feels almost completely opposite to the far away terror of deep, dark space.

But scientific understanding does not match my personal experience. The ocean, which covers 71% of the Earth’s surface, has much more in common with space than first meets the eye.

Deep, dark and unknown

The ocean, for all the benefits it provides (seafood, shipping, coral reefs, scuba diving and 50% of the oxygen we breathe, to name a few) is still relatively shrouded in mystery. Humans have mapped less than 30% of the ocean seafloor (and observed only 0.001%!!). If this seems shockingly low, it is. Consider that we have mapped 100% of Mars and the moon’s surface, with more firsthand human observations recently logged thanks to Artemis 2. Deep in our own ocean, things get complicated. The extreme darkness and pressure makes things complicated and costly. The use of sonar and autonomous vehicles is speeding things up, and the Seabed 2030 Project hopes to get to 100% by 2030.

Scientists estimate there may be between 700,000 and 1 million species in the ocean, two-thirds of which have yet to be discovered. And the deeper you go, the funkier the animals get. There is the carnivorous harp sponge (like a deep-sea venus flytrap) and the giant phantom jelly that truly looks like a space ship (complete with a starry night sky). So much exciting work on deep-sea life is being done by Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI), documenting but also raising awareness about life in our oceans through science communication. They even created a Pokemon style game for deep sea creatures!

And this type of research has led to important discoveries. In the 1970s, a submersible expedition found something truly surprising. Microbes in the pitch dark who are able to convert chemical energy into organic nutrients in a process called chemosynthesis. Previously unfathomable, this discovery changed our understanding of what conditions are necessary for life to emerge, offering a new hypothesis for Earth’s origin of life and expanding the potential of finding life on other planets. You don’t need to go to space to find aliens: you may just find them deep in our oceans.

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Space junk

As the world watched the recent Artemis II expedition to the moon, I was thinking about all the new space debris entering Earth’s orbit. Space junk (yes, thats the technical term), is all the thousands of inactive satellites, spent rocket parts and tiny fragments of paint, rock and metal that are orbiting Earth. This junk, even the small stuff, is traveling so fast it essentially becomes a mine field of speeding rockets and bullets. This is a danger for space expeditions and other orbiting satellites, and the challenges increase exponentially as more debris is added.

The big fear is something called the Kessler Syndrome. It describes a cascade where debris hits a space object, creating new debris, setting off a chain reaction of collisions that eventually closes off entire orbits and damages huge amounts of satellites. This has yet to happen, though in 2009, two satellites did collide, creating debris fields that now have to be carefully avoided by other satellites and the International Space Station. Scientists suggest that even if we stop launching everything tomorrow, existing debris would keep colliding and fragmenting.

The pollution parallel

When researching space debris, it was uncanny how much it parallels with the problem of ocean pollution.

First, the compartment. A vast, mostly unexplored, seemingly infinite expanse not owned by a single company or country. So big, would it really make a difference if there was some waste floating around?

Second, responsibility. Due to the lack of ownership and jurisdiction, no one actor is responsible for managing, monitoring or cleaning up the pollution. In environmental terms, the tragedy of the commons. In practice, an endless blame game.

Third, fragmentation. In both space and the ocean, debris fragments into smaller and smaller pieces. Harder to track, but still dangerous. In the ocean, microplastics are sinking to the seafloor. In space, microfragments can ‘sandblast’ satellites, spaceships and the International Space Station (ISS).

For both problems, we are now facing the consequences of pollution while increasingly recognizing that action is necessary to stave off catastrophe.

What we can learn from space waste

Despite the scale of the problem, space actually has surprisingly good regulatory precedent and may offer a blueprint for how we can handle ocean pollution.

The Outer Space Treaty of 1967, ratified by over 100 countries, is one of the earliest examples of preemptive international environmental governance. It established that space must be used for peaceful purposes, that countries are responsible for damage caused by their space objects, and that harmful contamination must be avoided. Importantly, its built on the “polluter pays” principle, the idea that the party deploying a space object is liable for any damage it causes.

More recently, the European Space Agency (ESA) introduced the Zero Debris approach, with the goal of making space operations debris-neutral by 2030, with more than 100 organisations and 12 countries participating. Innovative space cleanup solutions have been proposed, and are at nascent stages of deployment. The RemoveDEBRIS mission in 2018 ran testing of various proposed solutions, including a net, harpoon and dragsail and Japan’s Astroscale led a debris monitoring mission 2024. Significant debris removal operations have yet to happen but a first satellite removal mission, aptly called ClearSpace-1 is scheduled for 2029.

Like ocean cleanup, space cleanups are costly, technically complex, and few countries or companies are eager to go first. But a threat was identified, documented, and brought to the international table. Countries agreed on the scale of the challenge and potential for future harms, and committed to seeking collective solutions.

A waste problem was identified, and the threat was documented, and countries came together to seek solutions. Although the problem has not been ‘solved’, there has been dedicated effort and international agreement on the scale of the challenge and the importance to collectively seek solutions.

We are still waiting for this moment with plastic. The United Nations Global Plastic Treaty was meant to be that instrument: a binding global agreement to manage pollution across its full lifecycle, on land and at sea. Negotiations are ongoing and in the meantime, hundreds of millions of tonnes of plastic have already entered Earth’s waters, fragmenting into microplastics and becoming even more difficult to manage.

The framework for space junk was developed in anticipation of a future crisis. When it comes to plastic pollution, we are squarely in the middle of the crisis (and it’s only getting worse), and we are still missing a critical international regulatory framework.

Explore to protect

I recently attended an event called Day of Exploration in Monaco, and a theme that consistently came up in every talk and conversation was a deep love for our world (and universe). And I was reminded that love drives action. We protect what we love. It really is that simple.

There were many photos of my first love (the ocean) at the event. Orca whales in the Arctic, tiger sharks in the Maldives and ancient shipwrecks in the Mediterranean. Her deepness, Sylvia Earle with Hussain Aga Khan in front of his pictures of alien looking seahorses. The space talks, I’ll admit, left me less moved. There are only so many shades of grey a person can appreciate. But as a scientist showed images from deep sea vents, alien creatures floating in inky black skies, the connection between space and the ocean became more clear.

The deep ocean and deep space aren’t opposites, they are the same kind of unknown. They are both dark, vast unexplored territories full of promise and wonder. People are drawn to explore them because they know that understanding is the first step to protecting.

I came away from the event still an ocean person, but I do think I’ll look at the sky a bit differently now, with a little less fear and a little more awe.

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A few months delayed in sharing, but I think the message will still resonate. The video and text are almost the same, so pick your poison!

A lesson on Friction

A few weeks ago, I read an article in the magazine ‘The Cut’. I think it came up on my Instagram feed when I was mindlessly scrolling, bypassing my screen-time popup telling me I’ve reached my daily limit (shut up judgmental screen time app!).

The Cut is a magazine known for its critique of pop culture moments and modern society gripes, it tries to give you fresh and peppily controversial takes on whats really going on for women these days. Mostly eye rolls but some hard hitting stuff, too.

This article was called In 2026, We are Friction-Maxxing. It declared that 2025 was the year of self care and #protectyourpeace and that 2026 was the year of friction, which I think we normally consider to be a bad thing. But It gave examples of aspirational frictional activities. One was stopping sharing your location on find my friends in order to force people into the frictional action of having to ask where you are. Another was inviting people over when your house wasn’t fully clean (the horror!). It even suggests sending children on small errands that they might mess up. It was clear the author doesn’t live in the Netherlands where children are self sufficient the second they learn to pedal a bike, while American kids are driven to their driveway.

The main thesis of the article is that friction is the foundation of connection, and connection creates community (Duh).

But community is a word tossed around a lot, its what a lot of people yearn for but don’t quite know how to cultivate. Community is the solution to our lonely, phone-addicted, bored lives and yet, if we are scared of friction, we will not get community. We will not make it, have it and then be able to be supported by it in times of need.

I must admit, reading this article. I had to shamefully cringe a bit. I, Hanna Dijkstra, can be a friction-avoider (to the max). I’ll give you an example. …. I dance salsa and I take salsa classes (sounds like friction, right?). I go to these classes and I plan to arrive just a few minutes before class starts. In those few minutes, I beeline to a corner where I change into my bold red salsa shoes (they are smooth on the bottom), where I busy myself with the somewhat complicated clasps . I’ve perfected the art of putting on my shoes so it takes juuuust the exact amount of time until the teacher starts the class. I take the class, chatting and smiling with partners as we bumble our way through choreography. But as the class ends, I rush to a corner, fiddle with the clasps again, grab my phone and avoid eye contact on my way out. You know what they say the best thing to do to meet new people is? Get a hobby! I got one, and I still manage to avoid the friction of meeting new people…

So in this season of new beginnings, as we take stock of what 2026 could have to offer, I give you some examples of friction and community which I have learned from my best friend Trudy, who is the best community building, most friction-maxxing person I know. I invite you to be inspired as well.

1. Coming up with an idea for a greeting card that has a little girl with an upside down umbrella, Banksy style, that says ‘kutweer’ (a not-so-polite Dutch phrase about the weather). She loved it, printed an example and walked into a card store asking if they would sell it (just because she thought it would be fun)

2. Going to a Michelin star restaurant, just for dessert (I didn’t know that was allowed)

3. Starting a walking dinner with her houseboat neighbors where they go into each others houses for one course, then walk to another. She kicked it off and now its a recurring thing.

4. Always asking for fresh mint AND ginger tea mixed (yes, you can do that! no, they don’t usually charge extra. but I don’t really know because I don’t dare try.)

5. Inviting friends in a band to play a concert on her houseboat for friends and the neighborhood, just because. And when Waternet (Dutch canal police) comes to check on noise complaints as the sound echoes up the canals? Inviting them to join of course.

The article’s example of friction (like using a recipe instead of ChatGPT when deciding what to eat) are pathetically mundane in comparison to what Trudy’s friction-full life looks like.

Proof of the houseboat concert feat Amsterdam locals Primos:

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And two final things to remind us how serendipitous the universe can be sometimes…. One. When I was writing this article, Trudy texted in the Whatsapp group we use for our Dutch class with our teacher. She sent us a new Dutch phrase she had learned and wanted to use, “zonder wrijving geen glans”, the english translation? without friction, there is no shine. It was spot on.

Two. A few weeks later, Trudy dragged me along to ‘Gluren bij de Buren’ (peeking at the neighbors), a national event where people open their living rooms to host micro-concerts for their neighbors. We shared an apple pie as a passed the plate back to her I noticed a Delft blue plate in the background over her head, one of those white and blue ones with a Dutch phrase painted on. The phrase? ‘zonder wrijving, geen glans’. It felt like another lesson from my friend about the joy you can find when you leave your house on a cold, lazy Sunday.

So as we enter spring, let’s embrace friction, and if you need inspiration, I point you to Trudy! Cheers!

On my first remote island cleanup to Henderson Island, I lived those brief sentences, and let me tell you, they were not easy nor short. Traveling across the open ocean is both tedious and uncomfortable (hello seasickness) and when you are two days away from the nearest people, planning ahead is a matter of success or failure (let alone life or death). Plastic Odyssey has now gone through this process across three very different but similarly challenging remote islands: Henderson, Coco and Aldabra. Each island was different, forcing innovative solutions to new challenges.

Read the full article on Plastic Odyssey » Engineering the Unreachable: Innovation in Remote Island Plastic Cleanups

Read here

More on this topic from newsletter

More on this topic from Plastic Odyssey

• Henderson Island Expedition Site

• Aldabra Atoll Expedition Site

• Plastic Odyssey and UNESCO Join Forces to Restore Marine World Heritage Sites

• Henderson Expedition: The World’s Most Polluted Protected Island Gets Rid of 9 Tons of Plastic Waste

But as Plastic Odyssey continues to sail around the world, stopping to inventory and clean up ecologically significant (and remote and challenging) islands, they do get asked this question. Over and over.

Remote cleanups are expensive, logistically complex, and sensitive by nature. However, they also deliver lasting impacts, gather critical scientific data and inspire wide action. Together we dive into the research to tackle the question; why clean up the places no one lives?

Read the full article on Plastic Odyssey » Why Clean Up the Places No One Lives? Plastic Odyssey’s New Mission with UNESCO

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More on this topic from my blog

More on this topic from Plastic Odyssey

• Henderson Island Expedition Site

• Aldabra Atoll Expedition Site

• Plastic Odyssey and UNESCO Join Forces to Restore Marine World Heritage Sites

• Henderson Expedition: The World’s Most Polluted Protected Island Gets Rid of 9 Tons of Plastic Waste

One topic that seemed to get brought up in every conversation this holiday season, with friends and family members, boomers and Gen-Z alike was AI. I don’t remember this being such a popular topic last holidays, showing just how much this technology has inundated our lives across generations.

My journey with AI feels like an old-fashioned rollercoaster. You start off chugging skyward, the view of the world expanding in an exhilarated climb. Then, you zoom downwards, much faster than you rose. The momentum from the drop carries you forward on dips and turns as you whizz along. As the momentum dies, you slow and find yourself back where you started, in a dizzy equilibrium with the world.

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My use of AI started slowly but quickly found itself into all aspects of my life, work and relationships (hello, AI therapist). Before I knew it, I was sipping the AI kool-aid and turning to ChatGPT before using my brain in many, often unnecessary, situations. The exponential increase in efficiency, the expert wordsmithing when I had writers block, the kind, but firm friend when I had a dilemma. I was sold! Then the cracks started to show. First, was the completely made up scientific articles. Again and again, my AI friend would send me the perfect source for a citation I needed. The journal was legit, the authors I recognized, but click the link and I would get a 404 error page. The article didn’t exist, my friend had lied to me. ‘Oops, you’re right, let me find another one’. Thanks Chat, but please don’t do it again. Despite repeated pleas with my robot companion, the false citations continued and my frustration spiked.

The next dip came from the now infamous em-dash. The long hyphen found in almost every AI response, but rarely used by humans in everyday writing. When reading a novel, the pages are chock-full of em-dashes, but before ChatGPT, I never saw them in normal communications. It was too much time to type two dashes and it frankly looks strange to attach the dash to the letters before and after—like this. After learning about the ChatGPT em-dash, I began seeing it everywhere. In student assignments, research copy, Substack essays, LinkedIn statuses, even a thoughtful WhatsApp message from a friend. It freaked me out to think about how much of the text I was consuming was written (or at least polished) by AI. I can’t unsee this dreaded dash and its made me question my own relationship with AI.

My best friend, Chat

Last year I launched my Substack, and ChatGPT was a godsend. It was my editor, my brainstorm pal and most importantly, my cheerleader. It was incredibly peppy and positive and had glowing reviews of my newsletter idea, my blog outlines and my writing. I was bashful and buoyed and it honestly was a big reason I managed to publish this newsletter, Ripples to Waves.

But it was not the only reason (and definitely not the main one!), which was the mentorship and support I received from Luke, Linzi and my cohort of the Undercurrent program. This program, which focuses on developing skills for strategy and stoke, led to important lessons about marketing strategy and planning, and my mentors encouraged me to begin my communication journey and ‘find my voice’.

I would not have started this newsletter without Luke and Linzi, but I’m also not sure I would be writing to you if I didn’t really have ChatGPT in the beginning. I used it to confirm that my ideas were good, that my writing was interesting enough and it really helped me figure out the logistics of setting up a Substack and improving my website.

In the beginning, I always plugged my ideas into Chat for feedback, and it would respond with full fledged essay outlines, suggestions for alternate content or spinoff pieces. I was enamored by these responses. Chat would often suggest a sentence or paragraph so pithy and human, I felt it had taken my voice and improved it.

But then I started to question, were these quippy sentences and paragraphs objectively better? Or were they just made by an algorithm who has ingested literally everything ever published on poetry and prose? A tool that has embedded into its mathematical formula the tips and tricks writers spend decades learning on narrative and engagement.

I found myself re-reading my own ‘Welcome to my Substack’ email, half written by me, half by Chat. I read some sentences, clearly run-ons, clearly my own, which felt human and messy and true. I read others, which felt almost too polished, subtle alliteration, an almost forced emphasis on ‘humanity’ and ‘realness’. I decided it was time to edit the AI out and temper my relationship with this tool.

Do we prefer content written by AI?

But my curiosity was piqued. Do we as humans recognize AI writing? Can we pick out a piece that is oddly mechanical or polished, can we feel it in our bones, especially for content that is being sold as personal or philosophical?

So let’s conduct a little experiment. For the following two reflections, one was written purely by me, with a normal amount of editing. The other, I plugged the general idea into ChatGPT and asked it to give me some options for 300 words on the topic. I chose one and copied it below (and removed the tell-tale em-dashes, dead giveaway!).

Let’s test your AI-radar. The topic is “Home for the holidays, wrapped in plastic”.

Reflection 1

Home for the holidays always begins the same way: the door, the familiar smell, the immediate sense of slipping back into an earlier version of myself. But this year, as with most years, what strikes me first isn’t nostalgia, it’s packaging. Plastic layered on plastic. Food wrapped not once but twice, sometimes three times, each layer quietly justifying the next. Cheese sealed into perfect squares. Vegetables encased like fragile artifacts. A trash bin already filling before anything has been cooked. No one remarks on it. That’s the point. Plastic has become so normalized that it barely registers as material anymore. It’s background infrastructure, invisible until you stop to look. And once you do, it’s impossible to unsee. This isn’t about blame. These are thoughtful people, careful in many ways. They compost. They recycle, mostly. They care about the world their children will inherit. But care has been outsourced to systems that promise cleanliness, safety, convenience. Plastic performs care on our behalf. It signals responsibility while quietly displacing it. I notice how quickly love and logistics intertwine here. Feeding people is an act of generosity. So is making things easy. Plastic thrives in that overlap. It thrives in moments when no one wants friction, especially not during the holidays, when peace is prized and critique feels like intrusion. And yet, this is exactly where the problem lives. Not in abstract supply chains or distant factories, but in kitchens like this one. In good intentions scaled up by industrial design. In systems that teach us that protection always requires a barrier, and that the barrier should be disposable. Being home reminds me that plastic pollution isn’t an external crisis. It’s intimate. It’s familial. It arrives wrapped in tradition, sitting quietly on the counter, asking nothing of us except that we don’t look too closely.

Reflection 2

During my layover in Salt Lake City, a wave of fast casual nostalgia washes over me. So many salad bars, burrito spots and semi-healthy bowls on offer that I can’t get living abroad in Europe. I walk the length of the carpeted terminal, killing time and savoring the choices, before settling on a local Tex-Mex chain that I remember from a High School visit to Utah. I plug my order into a screen (no humans necessary!) and my name pops up on a monitor under the ‘Being Made’ column. I watch a woman make a salad, she moves in and out of vision as she doles various toppings into my bowl, a plastic bowl. I see her scoop a tiny amount of guacamole into a tiny plastic cup which she slaps a plastic lid on. She does the same for a teeny scoop of corn salsa. I shudder. The plastic lid is next, then the plastic bag. I jump forward to protest but its too late. I accept the bag and turn to find a fork. My only options, unsurprisingly, plastic. I get what I need and find a seat. I struggle to remember if there was a ‘dine-in’ option on the screen, did I miss it? I spy on someone placing their order at the screen, no option for real cutlery or plates. I resign myself to eat my salad, the enjoyment tempered by the growing mound of single-use plastic on the table in front of me. The lifetime of that plastic bag was… maybe 3 seconds? The time it took me to walk to my table. The guac and salsa… less than a minute? I immediately dump them into my bowl. The discomfort of reverse culture shock melds with the slight nausea and sleepiness of jet lag. I try to focus on how much I missed Mexican food. It’s time to mentally prepare for the next few weeks wrapped in plastic.

I’m super curious to know. Which do you prefer? Did one feel more meaningful or human? Are you ready to know which was which? The answer? Count the number of goats in the photo and divide by two. That is the one written purely by me, a human. The other, fully Chat.

Please please share in the comments your experience with this mini-experiment. Writing this felt like coming up with a Black Mirror episode, but I also think it’s important we confront the way AI will inevitably end up in spaces previously reserved for human creatives. Some see it as a tool, to help with writers block, to support the tedious process of editing, to organize and gather thoughts. Others, a black hole, absorbing creativity and emotional experience until nothing is left (oh, and taking all our jobs). I haven’t figured out where on the spectrum I fall. For now, ChatGPT will confirm that my content planning isn’t missing anything, help brainstorm titles, draft social media posts, structure ideas and support editing, but when it comes to writing here, that’s gonna be me!

Last words

Last year, I was at a summit for young ocean conservation leaders and one of the cohort members, Alejandra Lievano (who works with Casa Múcura, preserving ancestral knowledge in Colombia) said something that really stuck with me. She said (loosely): What do we do if we don’t know the answer to something? Before we Google it, we should ask an elder. They may not have an answer, but they have a story. So maybe next time you want to fix the hole in your jeans or make a birthday cake, call an aunt or a grandparent. They may not have all the answers, but I’m sure they have a better story than anything Chat could ever come up with.

[Disclaimer: I am still an active AI user! I’m even working now for an environmental solutions company that has its own AI model, check out Ubuntoo. I think AI can be an incredibly useful tool when used as that: not as a replacement for human creativity and analysis, but as a support system.]

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After four intensely complicated travel days, I finally glimpsed the infamous East Beach of Henderson Island. Peering through binoculars from the crow’s nest of the Plastic Odyssey vessel, I was fizzing with anticipation. With bare eyes, the yellow strip of sandy beach looked like paradise. I had just endured two sea-sick days crossing one of the most deserted parts of the Pacific ocean. Two days of nothing but endless waves, where we were lucky to spot even a solitary bird. Seeing land ahead and boobies curiously swirling above felt like arriving to heaven. I now could personally relate to seafaring movies or books when a sailor would gleefully shout ‘Land, ho!’.

Focusing through the binoculars, the beach positively glittered. It should have been a landscape colored in beige, green, blues and brown, and maybe the occasional red puffed chest of frigate bird. Instead, the sand was punctuated by unnatural neons, pinks and dots of bright white and yellow. It was a visceral confirmation of the reason why we were there. Why a dedicated crew battled logistical, operational and financial challenges to get to this tiny, uninhabited atoll; to monitor the state of pollution and remove as much as humanly possible. We were a glorified garbage crew, here to pick the beach clean for the birds, the hermit crabs, and even the native Pacific rat. We had our mission, carefully strategized plans, manpower, tools and technology - we were ready! The goal? To restore this UNESCO World Heritage Site to a pristine state.

If only it would be that simple.

Infamous Henderson Island

Henderson Island’s East Beach became world famous in 2017 and hit the spotlight again in 2019 for its excessive debris accumulation. The atoll, rarely visited by tourists or locals from the ‘nearby’ Pitcairn Island, was recorded to be one of the most polluted beaches in the entire world. Scientists have been visiting Henderson Island rarely since the 1990s, mainly to study endemic and endangered birds, and in 2015 a pivotal study on the sheer amount of plastic made global headlines. Unfortunately, plastic is not new for this island. A study from 1995 described Henderson as having ‘oceans of garbage’ and a sailing travelogue from 1997 noted it was “absolutely covered with debris”.

Though there is no such thing as an “island the size of Texas made of plastic’” floating in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, there is a lot of plastic swirling in our seas. Litter from beaches, rivers and boats ends up in the ocean and due to winds, waves and currents, much of it ends up in large, slowly moving gyres. Unlucky islands (like Henderson, but also Rapa Nui and the Galapagos) find themselves in the path of these currents and slowly but steadily get inundated with waste that may have been deposited thousands of miles away.

The 2024 Henderson cleanup mission was spearheaded by the ambitious Plastic Odyssey team, an expedition circumnavigating the globe to share and support low-tech plastic recovery and recycling solutions. When they heard about the polluted island, and realized they would be in the neighborhood, founders Simon Bernard and Alexandre Dechelotte knew they had to make a detour. The team set to work navigating the bureaucracy to visit this protected island, assembling a crew and preparing Plan A, B and C for getting on and off the island. I joined the crew in French Polynesia as the on-board plastic scientist, armed with monitoring plans, measuring tape, scales and gloves. After spending years researching innovative solutions for marine pollution for my doctorate, I was ready to get out from behind my computer and get my hands properly dirty. The crew assembled and we set off from Mangareva, a far-flung island in French Polynesia on our two-day trip to Henderson.

So there I was, binoculars in hand, after months of planning, reading and preparing, finally seeing the mounds of trash with my own eyes. It was exhilarating and devastating at the same time. I was happy to have a purpose, to count and map the plastic, but sad to see just how much was visible, even from the boat. Soon, I landed on the island, which was a feat in and of itself, thanks to the shallow, sharp fringing reef typical of coral atolls, and was floored (should I say beached?). I dropped to my knees and gathered a handful of sand, as it flowed through my fingers so did wisps of fishing net, glints of pink, blue and yellow.

Cleaning an island where nobody lives

I could write a book about my week spent cleaning up East Beach. The island became a microcosm of the world; a society developed, a career in waste management started, peaked and retired, scientific studies implemented and abandoned, relationships formed and broke. Camp became home, complete with work, chores and a certain coziness, and the hermit crabs constantly crawling across our makeshift kitchen became part of the wallpaper.

Throughout the week, my job was to record the amount of waste collected and removed. The first time we successfully removed a load of plastic using a raft and winch system, the team cheered and we hugged each other on the beach. The counts in my note book gradually ticked upwards, 10 super sacks removed, then 15, then 20. At the end of the week, we managed to collect over 3.5 tons of plastic which had accumulated on East Beach since the previous cleanup in 2019. We also processed and removed 5.5 tons of plastic from the 2019 expedition. In total we managed to clear 9 tons from the beach: the weight of an elephant.

And removing the weight of an elephant was no easy feat. We faced brutal, tropical summer sun and lack of shade on the island. We would wake up while it was still dark, trying to get a head start on the sun and trudge endlessly up and down the beach. Though East Beach is only 2.5 kilometers (about a mile and a half), walking to the edge of the beach felt endless, let alone if you were dragging sacks full of waste. To clean the beach we had to get creative, stringing chains of buoys to pull through the shallow water, much easier than on shore. The Plastic Odyssey team even rigged a parasail to fly bags of waste over the coral reef (see the clip here). We would collapse into our sleeping bags at the end of each night, proud of the work done that day, while simultaneously calculating the work still to be done. After eight delirious days, we fell asleep on our final night knowing we’d done as much as we could, proud but saddened by the microplastics and fragments we know we’d leave behind.

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Being on Henderson Island was an emotional experience, at times it even felt religious. I felt so incredibly lucky to be on this speck of sand, where so few humans will ever get to see the bright pink sunset as frigates wheel overhead. So few will spot the endemic Henderson fruit dove or Henderson petrel, which nest only on this island. How incredible to spend a week serving nature, helping a beach transform from polluted to paradise.

Turning off the tap

It has been a year and a half since I returned from the Pacific, but the memories stay strong. The research we conducted on the island has been published, and new plastic has washed ashore on the island. What I learned on Henderson is that there is no ‘away’ with our waste. Even if we live in developed countries with advanced waste management, we cannot convince ourselves our consumption is not tied to waste in our oceans, our air, our bodies and on that beach.

In 2019 the beach was fully cleaned, in 2024 we went back to find it covered. If East Beach was a canary in the coal mine of our consumption, it would be dead. We cleaned the beach last year, but I fear the canary is again battling to breathe. We can keep cleaning our most precious places, fighting the good fight against consumption and waste, but perhaps there is a better way.

This year I’ve focused a lot of my attention on regulation and the United Nations Plastic Treaty. I know we need strong, international commitments to turn of the tap of production and save our oceans, our beaches and places like Henderson from pollution.

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Further reading

Plastic Odyssey is continuing their work restoring UNESCO World Heritage Sites and educating on plastic solutions. Check out their expedition to Aldabra Atoll and support their work here.

The Pitcairn Island Marine Protected Area is one of the most biologically unique and rich ocean ecosystems in the world. Find out more here.

The United Nations Global Plastics Treaty is one of the most important tools to turn off the tap of unchecked plastic production. Check out my article on the treaty here and sign the Greenpeace citizen petition for an ambitious treaty here.

Two articles with the scientific results of the Henderson Expedition have been published open access

• The Henderson Island microcosm: plastic pollution accumulation in the South Pacific (Dijkstra, 2025)

• Assessing strategies for remote island beach cleanups: Lessons from the Pacific and Alaska (Dijkstra & Tirman, 2025)

A dedicated website with logs, pictures and videos of the Henderson expedition is here. There is also a feature length documentary about the expedition in French and English, want to host a screening? Get in touch!

Special thanks to Howell Conservation Fund for their support of the scientific mission, check out their catalytic grant program here.

The incredible photos in this blog are by Olivier Löser, find him here.

PPWR. Pee pee double you are. Spoken so many times over two days I never wanted to hear those six syllables again. And yet, the regulation it stands for - the Packaging and Packaging Waste Regulation - was heralded by all at the conference as the saving grace of Europe’s plastic pollution crisis. It was “the most ambitious piece of packaging legislation ever introduced” and it was going to leap Europe forward towards the circular economy and fix the messes of previous legislation and harmonize standards and catalyze innovation and save the world.

As someone who has been following the promise and demise of the UN Plastics Treaty (more here), I was a little skeptical. Especially because when big multi-national corporations are fans of legislation, I’m suspicious. What candy company would want their massive amounts of plastic packaging covered by strict regulation?!

So as the conference progressed and PPWR was brought up again and again, by advocacy groups and big business alike, I decided to dive in. As my role supporting the Innovation Alliance for A Global Plastics Treaty (and building on my PhD research into sustainable plastic entrepreneurs), I also wanted to understand what this big piece of legislation could mean for the startups and small businesses also in the industry.

Keeping all that in mind, here’s my take on PPWR.

Europe (and the world’s) plastic crisis

Europe is undoubtedly the front-runner when it comes to plastic regulations and solutions, unfortunately, that’s not saying much.

Although many European countries have excellent infrastructure and limited pollution by global standards, there is still a gap between what we as Europeans think (and hope) happens to our diligently separated waste and the reality of the situation. We have rising packaging waste generation per capita while recycling rates have plateaued. We still export much of our waste and rely on incineration for a large portion of the rest. Our waste situation is not great. Enter: regulation.

Policy fixes and policy misses

Europe has tried to tackle this plastic problem through a bunch of different policies. Some more effective than others. Here’s how we got here:

Note: in the EU a directive is a law that is left to each Member State to ‘transpose’ (aka translate) into their own national regulation. A regulation is unilaterally applied across all Member States.

1994 - Packaging and Packaging Waste Directive (PPWD)

Europe’s first attempt to manage packaging waste, which was already becoming a problem. The PPWD set broad targets, but left Member States free to design their own systems.

2000s - Rise of national EPR

Following the PPWD, Member States developed their own extended producer responsibility (EPR) schemes to manage waste, but each country created its own system with different fee structures, material categories, reporting formats, and design guidelines

2008 - 2018 - Slow tightening of recycling targets

PPWD amendments increased recycling goals, but still didn’t tackle design standards or provide uniform definitions for key terms such as “recyclable,” “compostable,” or “recovered.” This leaves Member States to define for themselves, creating confusion and loopholes.

2019 - Single-Use Plastics Directive (SUPD)

A big political win and one of my favorite pieces of legislation: monitoring of the most littered items found on European beaches directly fed into the design of this law. Epic example of science influencing policy… but alas, implementation varies widely. Member States have different interpretations, levels of enforcement and stringency.

2020-2023 - Ecomodulation & further divergence

Countries introduced eco-modulation, which is supposed to reward ‘more sustainable’ products and packaging and penalize ‘less sustainable’. The goal is to incentivize sustainable design but again, each country takes their own pathway to do so.

2023-2024 - Corporate voluntary commitments stall

Recycling targets and reuse pledges from major brands are missed or delayed. Reports show rising packaging waste despite years of commitments, reinforcing that voluntary action alone isn’t closing the gap. The United Nations Plastics Treaty negotiations begin and stall.

2024-2025 - Packaging and Packaging Waste Regulation (PPWR)

The EU moves to replace a 30-year-old directive with an enforceable regulation. This will be a single rulebook meant to solve the fragmentation that defined the last three decades and lead to genuine progress.

The promise of PPWR

What is so exciting (and clearly why so many big brands and companies are behind PPWR) is the promise of all-mighty harmonization. This regulation sets one set of targets and standards across all Member States. The targets are clearly outlined and there was a promise by European Commission representatives at the event that these targets would not change. Interestingly enough, changing rules is more of a fear than ambitious targets for business. As industry reps said over and over again at the conference, the best thing for business is certainty. If they know which targets they have to meet and by when, they will make it happen. They’ll pressure their suppliers and partners to make changes, they’ll invest in R&D and new machinery. They’ll finally scale up reuse. They will because they must. PPWR is clear: if you don’t meet the requirements, you cannot put your product on the market.

The carrots of voluntary commitments did not lead to significant changes, and now with PPWR, the EU is wielding quite a big stick.

So what’s in the PPWR? There are targets on:

• Minimum requirements for recyclability

• Limits on empty space and overpackaging

• Standardizing EPR fees and reporting

• Recycled content targets

• Reuse requirements

• Banning harmful substances (bye bye, PFAS!)

This is an ambitious scope, and it’s promising precisely because it’s comprehensive. Although bureaucracy moves slowly, this is decades in the making, badly needed and could meaningfully change our plastic management system.

Time and time again when doing my PhD research into startups building companies to tackle plastic pollution, the entrepreneurs told me the same thing: they need regulation to make their business case work and to scale. And PPWR is an opportunity to make the business case for better plastic use and management, from small companies to major corporations.

What now?

Next year will be a big, messy, complicated and important year. Manufacturing companies will be required to begin submitting information about their PPWR compliance by August of 2026, and in the meantime many questions remain. PPWR promises harmonized definitions, but many of these have not yet been defined. This means business and governments are trying to align, gather data and report without fully knowing the playing field. I’m assuming this will mean delays, frustrations and a huge administrative headache. But just because transitions are hard, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth it.

Will PPWR strangle or sustain startups?

Regulation is also going to be challenging for startups. I spoke with one mycelium packaging innovator at the summit who was panicking about PPWR: it was incredibly unclear if their biological packaging would be incentivized or penalized by the system. To them, PPWR could truly make or break their business case, but since definitions and standards have not yet been released yet, they still don’t know which it will be.

For me, this shows that there remains a huge gap in the SME-policy interface. We know that corporations engage in lobbying and have the resources to both shape and track policy developments. The science-policy interface is fed by academia and EU programs that bring researchers and policy makers together. Most scientific funding includes some element of advocacy and policy engagement. But what about the startup/SME-policy interface?

Although SMEs employ 65% of the workforce in the EU, their options in engaging with policy makers is tragically dismal. This was a main finding of my PhD research (political engagement is important but under-resourced for startups) and a reason I’m so excited to work with the Innovation Alliance for a Global Plastics Treaty. As great as the PPWR seems, it could be a regulation that ends up strangling startups: drowning entrepreneurs in administrative burdens and implementing bans that unintentionally undermine innovation. And that would be a huge loss.

So I’m looking ahead, cautiously optimistic, and watching carefully how this plays out for entrepreneurs. 2026 will be a big year, and if we get even half of PPWR effectively implemented, this will be great strides towards managing plastic pollution. Plus, I think PPWR can be an example of the benefits of regional alignment that will only make the case for the UN Plastics Treaty more solid.

I’m curious what you think after reading this deep dive - do you feel PPWR will be a policy win or a policy miss?

P.S If you think someone from your team or within the plastic / sustainability world may find this useful - please forward this newsletter on!

P.P.S I studied abroad in Utrecht during my 3rd year of university. The experience led me to choose the Netherlands for my Master’s and eventually my PhD, and its where I’m now building my career. Quite a full circle to be back in this city all these years later at a leading industry conference.

New York Climate Week, maybe you’ve heard of it, maybe it means nothing to you. For me, it was always something I was vaguely aware of but never fully on my radar, mostly because I haven’t been living in the US and I don’t work directly on climate.

This year, though, the invitations started rolling in. When my friends at Plastic Odyssey asked me to join an event and, on the very same day, my dad offered airline miles that were about to expire, the universe had clearly decided for me. I booked a relatively last minute flight to the Big Apple, not sure what I had in store. When I talked to friends who had been before they said somewhat ominously “its intense”.

What exactly is New York Climate Week?

New York Climate Week aka NYCW aka Climate Week NYC aka CWNYC as I’ve seen it written many different ways kicked off in 2009. The event coincided with the yearly UN General Assembly (UNGA) meeting happening at the UN headquarters and was a way to keep the climate conversation top of mind while all the important delegates were in the city. Since then, it has become the place for the “who’s who” of the climate and sustainability world to host events, give presentations, and network, in other words lots of free food and open bars.

The main platform is hosted by a non-profit called Climate Group, but there is no central venue and instead organizations and businesses host hundreds of events all over the city in all types of locations. This year, I heard of events happening in saunas, on islands, in the basement of bars, while running around Central Park, on a boat and on the 91st floor of a fancy building. I made it on a boat and to the 91st floor, but the sauna will have to wait ‘til next time (and running is never going to happen). These events range from exclusive invite-only breakfasts with C-suite executives to awareness raising events open to the general public. For a full week, New York is swarming not only with UN delegates - and their extensive entourages - but with climate wonks and sustainability professionals.

What is it like on the ground?

It’s the Big Apple! The streets are buzzing, the subway is screeching, the pizza is delicious. Because Climate Week is dispersed across hundreds of venues, you don’t see the usual clusters of fleece vest and lanyard-wearing conference-goers. Most New Yorkers barely notice it’s happening, unless they commute near the UN, where traffic is jammed by bulletproof Escalades.

My Climate Week

To those “in the know”, there is a LOT going on. Too many events to wrap your head around, let alone get from one end of the city to the other to attend. I was speaking at three events for Climate Week, two on Monday and one on Tuesday. Battling jet lag and a layover from hell (thanks to a bomb scare in Dublin that turned out to be a medical device), I decided to focus on staying sharp for my events.

On Monday I woke up at the crack of dawn (thanks jet lag) and managed a walk along the wharf to catch sunrise over the silhouettes of skyscrapers in the Lower East Side and the Brooklyn Bridge. I had an emotional moment watching the sky lighten; New York is a city that holds both feelings of home and heartbreak for me. I wiped a tear and smiled at a dog walker, surprised at how many people were out and about at such an early hour. It truly is the city that never sleeps.

Speaking gig 1: Climate Film Festival

After caffeine and a shower, I was off to my first event - a lightning talk at the Climate Film Festival with Alexandre Dechelotte to talk about the power of science and storytelling in the context of the documentary made about the Plastic Odyssey expedition to Henderson Island. We shared a big hug in front of the SVA Theater, laughing in disbelief that we were meeting in New York City after meeting on a remote Pacific island. Then we parted ways, walked in opposite directions, turned, put on big smiles, walked to each other and shared another big hug. Alex had a cameraman with him, filming another chapter in the Canal+ documentary series on Plastic Odyssey, and he needed to get the shot from multiple angles. And let me tell you, having to ‘replay’ moments for a second or third time (without nervous laughter or awkward commentary) is not my strong suit! Sorry to my high school drama teacher, you taught me well…but I’m still incredibly awkward in front of a giant camera.

I digress. After some filming on a park bench (very NYC), we headed inside for our talk. While images from the Henderson Island expedition played in the background we talked about the importance of including both science and storytelling in the expedition. Science to offer legitimacy, collect data and contribute to monitoring and decision making. Storytelling to increase awareness, inspire and create behavior change on a larger scale. By including both, the expedition could maximize impact and we reflected on how science needs more storytelling and storytelling needs more science.

Speaking gig 2: The Ocean Awakens

First talk done, Alex and I had some great conversations with audience members, snagged a slice of pizza from the green room and hailed a cab - on to the next. And this was the big one. Plastic Odyssey had organized a half-day event, inviting well-known names to speak about ocean action, on a tall ship, overlooking downtown Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge. No big deal (it was a very big deal).

The ship was beautiful and the venue could not have been more fitting. The sun was shining, reflecting off the skyscrapers of the Financial District. My jet lag mixed with energy from a successful first talk and nerves for the upcoming panel into a pleasant delirium. The Ocean Awakens panels from Act I, II and III (a nod to Star Wars) flew by, we heard about corporate action on environmental issues, innovations in packaging and marine transport, the importance of financing and finally it was our turn : Act IV on storytelling. Benjamin Von Wong opened with his signature blend of large-scale art and activism; Andi Cross spoke about finding ‘positive deviants’ around the world; Ana Blanco reminded us that we all have marine ecosystems worth protecting close to home; and Mark Haver, ever the performer, kept the crowd engaged before unleashing us all on the open bar (with blue margaritas!).

Fabien Lamaison from Plastic Odyssey Fund had pulled off an incredible event, practically as a one-man show. Night fell and part of the group deliriously walked to Grain de Sail II a cargo sailboat that carries wine and chocolate with minimal emissions. After a tour of the ship and a taste of the goods, I staggered back to my hotel. New York Climate Week day one was over.

Speaking gig 3: The plastic / climate solution

Not much sleep was had as I had an early alarm to prepare for my third and final talk on Tuesday morning. The talk “Can managing plastic waste be a climate strategy for the built environment?” was hosted by CRDC Materials at the Citco building on Park Avenue - not too shabby. I took the subway uptown as I practiced my notes over and over. My presentation today would be more scientific, I was discussing a novel framing of the waste hierarchy, a framework used to make waste management decisions, that could be useful when deciding how to spend extended producer responsibility (EPR) fees. If that sounds jargon-y, its because it is and I was trying to strike a balance between offering some technical insights while being understood by the general public. I was excited about this session because it was a chance to present alongside Ross Gibby and Don Thomson from CRDC, a company that turns mixed plastic waste into concrete aggregate. I learned about their technology during my PhD and have been following them for years. We would be joined by Belter Tech, a sustainable construction company. The goal: convey the benefits of considering plastic and climate as twin crises, not separate challenges, and how solutions that tackle both can deliver outsized impacts.

The talk went smoothly (despite a late start thanks to Trump’s extended motorcade on Park Avenue), and the audience asked interesting questions, turning the panel into a true dialogue. As I walked off stage, I let out a HUGE sigh of relief. My role at climate week had officially changed from speaker to attendee.

The whole panel was recorded and can be watched back here. Enjoy!

Climate Week as an Attendee

Though I was no longer responsible for presenting, being an attendee at Climate Week is no less hectic. I found myself racing around the city, trying to prioritize on the go - could I make it to Bushwick for a mycelium and mangrove inspired happy hour? Which innovation summit would be most useful to attend? Will the next event have enough hors d’oeuvres to count as lunch? I ended up selecting a few priority events, while also squeezing in visits to friends and family. Sleep would have to wait. A short view of some other NYCW events:

• Plastic Treaty Side Event at the UN General Assembly (UNGA) - critical for my work with the Innovation Alliance for a Global Plastics Treaty. Since the UNGA was in session, getting in to the UN building involved more security than the airport, but the session was an opportunity for member states to reinforce their view that we need a strong global treaty (see my other posts on the treaty for more details!)

• The Reassembly - a showcase by Regeneration.VC featuring innovators, keynotes (including the fantastic talk by Svanika Balasubramanian) and ending with a 91st floor rooftop mixer. This event had the most interesting talks, novel ideas and probably the best views.

• Dialogues in a Gallery - an intimate discussion in a gallery (with Picasso sketches framing the panelists) on retail and consumer packaging impacts. The panel was a nice spread of stakeholders expertly moderated by Nico van Exel. Smaller events are definitely better for targeted networking and connections.

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Is it worth going to NYCW?

For me, yes - mainly for the speaking gigs and the chance to reconnect with partners and collaborators. I’m trying to build out my portfolio and network for the Innovation Alliance. NYCW is well known in the industry, and since so many innovators and organizations would be in one place at one time, it felt like an important place to be. I was lucky to have airline miles to cover my flight and friends and family to stay with, which made the (normally prohibitively) expensive trip to NYC relatively affordable.

As an attendee, figuring out how to make the week “worth it” would be challenging. It’s hard to tell which events will be the best opportunities for networking or engagement, and some fantastic events I only heard about after the fact. Events are scattered, oversubscribed, and often overlap leading to decision paralysis and logistical dilemmas. By hosting an event, you at least can guarantee that those interested in a specific challenge, solution or sector will come find you. Will I go to NYCW in the future? Let’s see. New York in September is quite lovely, and I’ll take any excuse to see my cousins and their babies. So perhaps I’ll see you there next year (and if you need a panelist or moderator, give me a shout!).

Thanks for reading this latest “behind-the-scenes” reflection. If you’re curious about other big sustainability events and what is really like to be there, check out more below!

If you’re new here, it's worth checking out the post “Sustainable choices and tough questions” that kicked off the series which gives the three principles of my sustainability practice;

1. Waste less

2. Choose local

3. Don’t beat yourself up in the process

This article tackles tip number two for living a tiny bit more sustainably without losing your mind: choosing local in our incredibly globalized world.

I have been putting off writing about principle #2, not because I don’t believe it, but because I have not exactly been living true to it lately. This year I have had the opportunity to head to some pretty incredible events around the world as part of my role at the Innovation Alliance for a Global Plastics Treaty and with Plastic Odyssey. I was at the UN Oceans Conference in Nice, France in July, the plastic treaty negotiation session in Geneva, Switzerland in August, New York for Climate Week in September and Istanbul, Türkiye for the Zero Waste Forum in October.

On the one hand, my head spins to think that I get to attend these prestigious events, and not only as an audience member, but as a presenter (look, Mom, I’ve made it!). On the other hand, I slide into guilt thinking about the impact of all these trips (and whether they are truly worth it?!).

So I write this post with full transparency that I have not been practicing what I preach (though I never wanted this to be preachy).

What ‘Choose Local’ means to me

The main idea behind choosing local is that, in general, shorter supply chains tend to be more sustainable. Products that travel longer distances lead to greater transport emissions, if they are perishable, they require refrigeration or freezing which adds to its environmental impact, and the more steps along the chain, the less likely there is effective monitoring and transparency. The closer we are to the farms, people and factories making our food and products, the easier it is to see and monitor the impacts, and the harder it is to ignore them.

Choosing local could mean:

• Buying fruits and vegetables at farmer’s markets or through community supported agriculture (CSA) programs

• Going on a staycation to a nature area in your area instead of flying on a city trip

• Taking note of seasonal produce and buying within season

• Getting your bread, milk, eggs, cheese etc. from local producers

• Taking a train vacation instead of distant flight

• Getting clothes from your neighborhood second hand store

• Taking your ripped jeans to your local tailor to get them fixed

• Buying gifts at a local boutique

Of course… local does not always mean ‘low impact’. A tomato grown in a heated Dutch greenhouse in winter can have a higher footprint than one shipped from Spain (see some LCA studies here and here). But as a general rule of thumb, buying local builds the kind of awareness and connection that sustainability requires.

The anti-Amazon economy

What you may notice about almost all of my tips above (some of which I clearly struggle to live by!), is that they involve a little bit of work and are more place-based. Many of them involve having to physically bring yourself to a location to buy or fix something instead of ordering online. This is one of the main ethos behind this principle and a bit of a psychological trick. I know I’m a sucker for an impulse buy, which is harder when you are forced to walk to the store, find the item and decide if you need it. Sure, you may end up buying even more things on a trip to the store, but you are also supporting a local business in the process.

The convenience creep

I’m terrified of the convenience economy and how quickly it has become the norm. How easy it is to order random things online knowing you can easily return them (which is dangerous, as most items may never reach another consumer). But e-commerce also makes economic sense: you want an ice cream scooper for a party, you find the best reviewed one online, see it can be delivered by tomorrow and it’s cheaper than what you can find in the store... its a no brainer!

But I’m suggesting to see it differently sometimes. Ordering online means no human interaction necessary, it means the beautiful neighborhood kitchen store is not getting any business, and it can contribute to a sense of overconsumption that is overwhelming society. Perhaps the burden of going to the store means you give up and don’t end up buying the ice cream scoop (big spoon for the win!). Or perhaps you go, have a nice chat with the shopkeeper and end up buying the scoop and some reusable silicone food storage bags. Now you’ve supported the local economy and eliminated your use of single use plastic bags. Double-win!

In defense of community

This holds true for your local bookshop, toy store, clothing boutique, tailor, hardware store, speciality food market etc. These shops may be more expensive than ordering online, and there is no guarantee you’ll find what you need. But taking the time and putting money into your community stores creates rewards through relationships, appreciation and protection of brick and mortar stores. My aunt has a toy store in Manhattan in New York City, I’ve grown up visiting that store and the smell upon entering is instant nostalgia. During COVID, it was unclear if the store would survive. It did, mainly thanks to e-commerce, but now I cherish the opportunities when I get to visit the shop (its called Kidding Around, in case you find yourself in NYC). I know the staff truly wants to help you find the best toy for your niece or gift for your best friend’s baby shower, and that kind of service.. well you can’t get it on Amazon.

The complicated math

By spending money at local shops instead of at big online retailers, you may also be shopping more sustainably. Instead of one delivery box for one gadget to your house, it is bulk delivery to the store, saving transport emissions and packaging. While writing this, I did a deep dive into the sustainability comparison between e-commerce and brick-and-mortar retail. The results are mixed, depending on product type, transport efficiency, and return rates. Some analyses, suggest that online shopping has lower impact when done efficiently. Others, highlight that delivery, packaging waste, and overconsumption can negate those benefits. Sustainability decisions are complex, but I stand firm in my belief in supporting community!

Rediscovering home

There’s a great ad I’ve seen around Amsterdam for a website that allows you to book a house in nature (the company is literally called “NatureHouse” in Dutch). The ad says “not flying, but still landing” which I love. Its clever and it reminds me of what many of us learned during COVID lockdown - there are plenty of places in our own backyards to explore.

There are many exciting exotic vacation destinations (and I’ve done more than my fair share of world travel), but there are also incredible places in our neighborhoods, cities, countries and regions. Not only is staying local better for the environment, it is also better for our sense of community and belonging. When you explore your home, you may find yourself developing newfound appreciation or re-energizing your hometown pride.

In the Netherlands, there is an area called the Veluwe; rugged dunes, wind swept trees, forests. This national park is one of my favorite places to visit in the Netherlands, it feels wild but accessible. The park has hundreds of white bikes parked at each entrance, when you enter, you grab one, adjust the seat and head off. If you stop at a cafe or museum, you drop the bike (unlocked), knowing that with the ebbs and flows of crowds, there should be a different one waiting for you. The park houses a famous art museum (the Kröller-Müller), several different ecosystems, walking paths and of course a pancake house. Visiting with my mom has been a highlight of my time in the Netherlands, and one of my strongest memories with her despite the fact that we have traveled all over the world together. Perhaps because showing her this beautiful nature site in the Netherlands was a source of pride - this was my new backyard!

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Small choices, big ripples

Choosing local won’t fix the climate crisis, but it changes the way we participate in it. Every purchase or trip is also a vote with our dollars and our time for the products and places that we cherish. These tiny daily choices can coalesce into meaningful impact for our communities.

When I get overwhelmed by the state of our planet, I walk to my favorite local cafe, order an oat milk cappuccino from the barista that I recognize, shop for vegetables at the market down the street, and resist yet another Instagram ad for sustainable sneakers. These small choices feel like tiny acts of resistance against convenience and distance in favor of connection and community, and I feel much better afterwards. Maybe you will too.

So why do I, and many others working on the topic, remain hopeful? Perhaps we are naive optimists, or perhaps see dynamics unfolding that don’t always make the headlines. Let’s dive in.

A quick reminder of what’s at stake

The Global Plastics Treaty is meant to be the first legally binding international agreement to tackle the full life cycle of plastics, from production and product design to waste management and pollution. Without a strong treaty, plastic production is predicted to triple by 2060. For all the details on this process, see my previous article;

Arriving in Geneva

I arrived in sunny Geneva hopeful. There was a buzz in the air that first day: delegates and observers alike spoke with cautious optimism. People said they didn’t want to leave without a treaty. After the disappointment in Busan, many promised not to let history repeat itself. Some even framed the week as history-making, the moment the world would finally agree to end plastic pollution.

As the summer heatwave intensified, so did disagreements between countries. Should plastic production be capped or regulated? (Full lifecycle approach vs. waste management only.) Should measures be mandatory or voluntary? How would developing countries finance implementation? Even basic definitions - what counts as "plastic pollution"? - remained contested. The debates felt like endless ping pong matches: one country would argue that a full lifecycle approach was necessary, only for another to reiterate that the treaty should focus on waste management. Back and forth, back and forth, with no agreement, limited compromise, and minimal progress.

Though many countries continued to emphasize that this treaty must "end plastic pollution," it became clear there was no agreement on how to achieve that goal.

The final drama

Things escalated dramatically on August 13th. That afternoon, the Chair released a compromise text without prior consultation. It cut out standalone articles on health and supply and softened the language on financing. Delegates erupted in plenary. On both sides of the debate, negotiators said the Chair’s draft was unacceptable. The plenary meeting devolved into countries taking the floor to reject the text, over and over. Dejectedly, the chair adjourned the plenary, scheduling regional meetings to try and find compromise and a path forward.

Those regional meetings continued well into the evening, and then into the next day. On August 14th (the final day of negotiations), there was supposed to be a planned final plenary at 3 PM. In theory, this would be the meeting where an agreed upon plastics treaty was presented. This was clearly not going to happen. Instead, the plenary was moved to 7 PM, then 8 PM, 9 PM, and finally 11:30 PM. Just before midnight, the exhausted chair postponed the session to the morning, somehow managing to publish a new draft text at 1 am. New text in hand, heads of delegation met through the night, shuffling straight into a 5:30 a.m. plenary. Many delegates were visibly depleted, or missing entirely.

Then came the anticlimax: the Chair declared the text had been “rejected.” Several countries pushed back, clarifying that it hadn’t been formally rejected, only that consensus was absent. But before debate could continue, the United States requested adjournment and Kuwait concurred, stating continuing the discussion any further would become a health risk to the negotiators. And that was it.

From the hopeful sunshine of the opening day to the heavy, sleepless early hours of August 15, the session was over and in that moment, it felt there was nothing to show for it.

Failure or just a setback?

Many have categorized what happened in Geneva as a failure: a failure to deliver a treaty, a failure of international diplomacy, a failure of leadership. Others take a different stance. They believe no treaty is better than a weak treaty and know that multi-lateral agreements take time (often a very long time).

Nobody is cheering for this process to drag on forever, but there are important distinctions between failure and postponement, between collapse and continuation.

Here’s how I see arguments on both sides.

The case for despair

• We’ve run out of time: The two-year timeline set in 2022 has expired and we are entering year three of negotiations. The original contract is broken and it is unclear where we go from here.

• The financial strain: Tens of millions of dollars have already been spent on these negotiations. In today’s political climate, international financing for environmental negotiations is far from guaranteed.

• Momentum is fragile: News cycles move on, politicians lose interest, and public attention wanes. Postponing the process will lead to a weaker treaty that gets less attention from politicians and the public.

The case for hope

• Regroup and refresh: There is little room to argue that a treaty can be achieved by consensus, when consensus has clearly failed. This may open opportunities for refreshed negotiators to regroup and try to change tactics, for example at the UN Environment Assembly meeting in December. Majority vote, anyone?

• The buzz grows: Every week it seems another scientific article or popular podcast covers the topic of plastic. The impacts of microplastics on health and the links to climate change are strengthening. Rather than lose steam, concern about plastic is going mainstream. Public interest can fuel political will and lead to a stronger treaty, in time.

• Stakeholders take action: Businesses see the writing on the wall, regulation on plastic is coming, be it from the treaty, extended producer responsibility (EPR) or EU laws. NGOs, innovators and communities are keeping up the good fight, and will continue their on-the-ground work and advocacy. Just because talks stalled, doesn’t mean people have.

In conclusion, there is no conclusion

The truth is, we don’t know what comes next. In a way thats frustrating, but its also exciting. I’ve never had the chance to follow along a political cycle in any meaningful way. I didn’t study law or politics, my understanding of regulation has been generic and surface level. The first time I attended an INC negotiation process, I remember trying to follow along the diplomatic proceedings and being simultaneously confused and bored out of my mind. During the negotiations in Geneva, things were different. I could pick out delay tactics from petrochemical states and blocker countries, I could anticipate sassy come-backs from certain negotiators. I knew that the real progress would likely happen in the last 24-48 hours, and potentially run late into the evening (as it did). I had clear positions I was advocating for, in order to support innovators as part of my work with the Innovation Alliance for a Global Plastics Treaty, and could track progress throughout the weeks.

So yes, we left Geneva with no treaty. But we also didn’t leave with a weak treaty, and importantly we (the community of people tracking this progress closely), left with a crystal clear view that consensus can not work. My hope is that the UN Environment Assembly meeting is an opportunity to change the rules of procedure, to provide opportunities to break deadlocks and force compromise. If that happens, there is a chance some countries choose to leave the treaty process. However a lot of people agree its better to move forward with fewer countries towards a stronger treaty than all countries towards a weak treaty. We live in a globalized economy, even if a few countries bow out of the UN Plastics Treaty, they will be forced to reckon with the regulations through trade and import and export regulations.

Final Thought

We didn’t get a treaty in Geneva. But we also didn’t commit to a weak one. The next critical moment comes at December's UN Environment Assembly, where procedural rules could change to allow majority voting instead of consensus - potentially breaking the deadlock.

The path forward is uncertain, but uncertainty also opens the door to possibility. For the first time, I’m actually on the edge of my seat about a slow, bureaucratic diplomatic process. Stay tuned!

When you work in a bubble, you forget there is a whole world of people who don’t swim in the same circles as you. For those of us in the ‘plastics bubble’, the next two weeks are all about the treaty, and for those not in the bubble, you may be wondering what this ‘treaty’ is. Acronyms like INC and CG mean nothing and phrases like ‘like minded coalition’ and ‘zero draft’ sound like nonsensical jargon. As someone who works in this space, these words are loaded.

I’ve been following treaty negotiations closely and I’m currently in Geneva for the latest round (INC5.2). I will be rubbing elbows with important people and advocating for the startups and innovators as part of a new role supporting the Innovation Alliance for a Global Plastics Treaty.

As I broke down what it was like to attend the UN Oceans Conference, I wanted to write an explainer about the UN Plastics Treaty. I’ll explain what the treaty is, how we got here, where we are now, and what might come next.

The Basics: What is the UN Plastics Treaty?

The UN Global Plastics Treaty is an opportunity to create an international agreement to end plastic pollution. Think of it as the “Paris Agreement” for plastic, with potential to address the root causes of the plastic crisis, not just the symptoms.

The process started in March 2022, when UN Member States adopted Resolution 5/14 at the UN Environment Assembly (UNEA) in Kenya. This resolution called for the creation of a global treaty with legally binding measures to tackle plastic pollution, including in the marine environment.

Since then, the negotiations have been unfolding through a series of formal meetings called Intergovernmental Negotiating Committees (INCs). Each INC session aims to refine and eventually finalize the treaty text, though, as with all international agreements, progress is often slow and contentious.

Here’s the quick timeline of the process so far, as illustrated in the figure above:

• UNEA (March 2022, Kenya) Resolution 5/14 is adopted

• INC-1 (Dec 2022, Uruguay): Initial rules of procedure for the negotiations are debated.

• INC-2 (June 2023, France): Negotiations properly begin, with contact groups starting to shape a first draft of the treaty.

• INC-3 (Nov 2023, Kenya): Work intensifies on the draft text, but disagreements emerge over key elements and definitions.

• INC-4 (April 2024, Canada): Discussions focus on lifecycle measures, obligations, and control mechanisms, but divisions remain.

• INC-5.1 (Nov 2024, South Korea): The intended fifth and final round highlights major disagreements over the scope of the treaty and upstream versus downstream measures.

• INC-5.2 (Aug 2025, Switzerland): Second round of the fifth and ‘final-final’ negotiation session where countries are calling for compromise and confirmation.

At its core, the treaty aims to do what individual countries can’t do alone: set an international direction, identify priority regulations, and create globally accepted targets and definitions. But as the process has unfolded, it’s clear there are disagreements on how to best tackle plastic pollution and what the role of international regulatory frameworks should be.

Why does this matter?

By now, you’d be living under a rock if you weren’t aware of the challenge of plastic pollution. You may hate soggy paper straws or be terrified by yet another article about microplastics found in our bodies, but the reality is plastic pollution is one of the most visible environmental challenges of our time. The shocking statistic that two garbage truck’s worth of plastic enters our oceans every minute is particularly visceral and plastic production is projected to triple by 2060 - which will only increase the amount that then enters our oceans, environment and bodies.

Despite all the beach cleanups, recycling initiatives, and anti-littering campaigns, the majority of plastic waste still ends up in landfills, incinerators, or the environment. Only about 9% of plastic ever produced has been recycled.

This isn’t just a waste issue. It’s about:

• Climate: Plastic is made from fossil fuels. If plastic were a country, its greenhouse gas emissions would rank among the top emitters globally by 2050.

• Health: From toxic additives to microplastics in food, water, and even our bloodstreams, plastics are increasingly recognized as a threat to human health

• Biodiversity: Marine animals, birds, and ecosystems are choking (sometimes literally) on plastic waste. I saw firsthand on remote Henderson Island.

• Equity: The impacts are not evenly distributed. Many low- and middle-income countries are disproportionally dealing with the health and ecosystem impacts of waste with limited capacity to manage it.

That’s why a global treaty matters. No country can solve this alone. Plastic pollution is a transboundary problem — products are designed in one country, manufactured in another, used in a third, and dumped in a fourth. Current regulations and efforts have not been able to keep up with production and pollution.

What’s at stake

The UN Plastics Treaty offers a chance to:

• Set global rules on product design, material use, and reduction targets;

• Fund transitions in lower income countries through fair and inclusive financing mechanisms;

• Hold countries and companies accountable for their contributions to the problem - and their role in the solution.

There’s a split between countries pushing for strong, binding global rules (the “High Ambition Coalition”) and others advocating for national targets and voluntary measures ( the “Like-minded Coalition”). At this stage, nearly every article in the draft treaty includes multiple, conflicting options, which in treaty lingo means the text is in bracketed. Brackets = [disagreement], and here’s a little taste of what that looks like:

• Scope: Should the treaty cover [all plastics] or just pollution? Only waste, or also [upstream production]?

• Measures: Should there be [caps on production]? Extended producer responsibility (EPR)? [Bans ]on certain [polymers] or [additives]?

• Implementation: How will it be enforced? Who pays? What happens if countries don’t comply?

• Finance: How will lower income countries be supported?

• Monitoring: What counts as success — and how do we track it?

The big tension remains: Should the treaty be binding and global, or voluntary and national?

Where are we now (in Geneva, August 2025)?

We’re nearing the end of the formal negotiation timeline (which had the goal of resolution within a year), but many questions remain unresolved.

The hope is that negotiations, which started yesterday (August 5th) wrap up by August 14th. But as soon as the talks started, debates began. Reports from the negotiation rooms show that countries were already disagreeing. This probably means long meetings that will lead to long nights. The treaty is based on consensus - which means all countries have to agree before anything is accepted. With 175 countries at the table, you can imagine total agreement is rare. In Geneva, negotiators are trying to focus on compromise solutions and may be moving away from the most ambitious and politically charged topics.

What could happen next?

In my view, the best-case scenario is a treaty that sets global rules to reduce plastic production, redesign products, eliminate harmful chemicals, and fund the transition to circular systems. A treaty that’s science-based, ambitious, and enforceable.

Best-case scenario:

• Binding treaty with lifecycle scope, clear reduction targets, robust financing mechanisms, and strong enforcement.

Middle-of-the-road:

• Treaty with flexible national plans, a mix of voluntary and mandatory measures, and general lifecycle language.

Worst-case:

• A treaty that lacks ambition, relies fully on voluntary, nationally determined targets and focuses primarily on waste management.

But there’s a real likelihood of something weaker: a voluntary agreement, vague commitments and a heavy focus on waste management and cleanups. Important work, of course, but this won’t stem the flow of plastic that is drowning our society.

What I’m watching for at INC5.2

As negotiations unfold this week in Geneva, I’m particularly focused on the targets set by the treaty, and thinking about how this will play out in national implementation in the years to come. As I already heard spoken in one session, good regulation can drive innovation, whereas bad regulation can actually hamper innovation. I’m hoping we leave with good regulation, which can encourage research and development, catalyze funding in niche sectors, and encourage creativity - all good things in my book.

I’m also here supporting the Innovation Alliance, a coalition of entrepreneurs, innovators, and ecosystem enablers pushing for a treaty that’s not only ambitious, but inclusive of real-world solutions. Some of our key priorities include:

• Advocating for financing mechanisms that support early-stage innovation, especially in regions where investment is currently lacking.

• Ensuring that SMEs and informal actors aren’t sidelined in implementation — but supported and recognized as key players in circular transitions.

So, should you care?

Plastic touches everything in our daily lives: packaging, clothing, cosmetics, electronics and transport. The outcome of this treaty could change what products are made of, how they’re designed, who’s responsible for cleaning them up, and what infrastructure gets funded.

If done well, this treaty could reshape global supply chains and accelerate a shift away from our over reliance on plastic toward smarter design and use. If done poorly, it’ll be a missed opportunity where there is serious international momentum, where governments, civil society, businesses and scientists are advocating for change (you can feel it in the air in Geneva!).

Even if you’ve never heard of INCs or treaty texts before, the decisions being made now will shape the plastic landscape for decades. I’ll be writing another takeaway article in a few weeks with my thoughts on how this all plays out. In the meantime, wish us all luck as we advocate for a strong global treaty!

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My first instinct was to get defensive, but on the advice from a wise friend, I reached out instead. To my surprise, the ‘haters’ responded thoughtfully and kindly. We toyed with the challenge together over LinkedIn messages. What started harshly ended as honest feedback. Is there hope for online discourse yet?

The interaction reminded me that sharing my ideas also means inviting critique, and that is actually a good thing. So if you disagree with anything here, please tell me! Let’s talk, learn and maybe find some common ground.

This is the first in a three-part series where I explore what a personal sustainability “practice” looks like to me. Today’s focus: Waste Less.

My sustainability practice

Like yoga, I’ve begun thinking of sustainability as a practice. I used to shy away from some of the woo-woo phrases and concepts extolled by yogis, but maybe a 5,000 year old art form that blends spirituality, health and mindfulness and is practiced by millions around the world is worth taking cues from. The term practice is used to imply that there is no end goal, no ‘winning’ and the journey itself is the point. Some days are better than others, but you can also push yourself and try to get better. Its both forgiving and encouraging, which is how I try to live sustainably.

My sustainability practice has three core principles:

1. Waste less

2. Choose local

3. Don’t beat yourself up in the process!

This post focused on the first principle and Parts 2 and 3 will follow.

What ‘Waste Less’ means to me

When I first wrote this principle I wrote “consume less” but that didn’t sit quite right. Telling people to consume less feels preachy and invasive. Plus I think what is key is creating less garbage, extending product lifespans and reducing excess waste.

For me, this means:

• Reducing food waste

• Buying second-hand clothes and thrifting

• Choosing quality over quantity

• Repairing instead of replacing

• Finding new purposes or uses for products I might toss

• Being (mostly) intentional about single-use products

How I’m tackling food waste

I’ve become super aware about food waste and trying to reduce it. Sometimes this means finishing my plate when I’m already full at restaurants, but more often it means getting creative with wilting spinach or using slightly sour wine to deglaze pans.

I also recognize for myself, if I buy less I’m likely to waste less. I try to be thoughtful about grocery shopping to not over stuff my fridge and forget about veggies going bad at the back of a shelf. I also started home composting in my garden, diverting a small amount of food scraps from landfill to turn into high quality soil for my garden. I googled at home composting and bought a plastic bin and tried my hand - a work in progress, but already rewarding.

Resisting fast fashion (most of the time)

I try to resist the temptation of cheap fast fashion and prioritize higher quality clothes I know will last longer. I learned visible mending from a dear friend and took my jumpsuit to fix up at her weekly Amsterdam repair cafe. I challenged myself to not buy anything new for three months (thanks to the Slow Fashion Season campaign) and now have seriously reduced my shopping habit.

Living circular

I take inspiration from those around me. A friend who told me she put everything she wanted to toss on an online marketplace (everything) ensuring her things would find a new, even old pop CDs! It’s her way of emulating the circular economy. In high school, I remember showering with buckets at our feet in summertime, using the water for our garden during California droughts. My mom made dozens of jars of jam from the overflowing plum tree in our yard, preserving the fruit we could never finish.

Practice (does not make) perfect

But I’m far from perfect. I toss old clothes into those big donation boxes in Amsterdam when my local consignment shop won’t take them, even though I know this is “wishcycling”. I can wishfully imagine my clothes being carefully sorted and thoughtfully redistributed or going through high-tech recycling, with fabric unwoven and rewoven into new styles. But I know the reality is much less sparkly, and likely involves massive depots full of textiles or landfills. Maybe my old tank top ends up choking a beach in Ghana, the polyester slowly shedding microplastics into sand and sea…. Not wanting that future for my clothes doesn’t make it less likely, which is why I try to find new homes through resale, repair and my personal favorite, clothing swaps.

If you want to go deep into the reality of clothes donations bins, I highly recommend this investigative piece by El País.

I'm also still a sucker for "good deals." The dopamine hit of shopping is real, and most of my clothes are second-hand, gifted, or bargains. I'm working to change this, recognizing that feelings are fleeting and quality matters more than trends, but I doubt I'll ever completely break the habit.

My single-use cup nemesis

Coffee cups have become my sustainability nemesis. I try my hardest to avoid them when I can, knowing that in the scheme of things its a tiny thing. I carry a reusable white metal tumbler with “Bridesmaid” in cursive across the front - a gift from bride nearly eight years ago. I love this tumbler and even though my bachelorette duties have long lapsed, it still serves a purpose, thus it stays in rotation!

If I forget a reusable, I try to sit down and drink from a mug. A few years ago in San Francisco’s Hayes Valley, I went searching for a cappuccino to drink from a real cup. I swear I tried ten places, each offering to-go cups only, even for dine in customers and coffees. I was horrified. for all the slowing down COVID forced, it also increased our use of single use plastics.

But I was determined that Saturday morning. If I could find a real cup, it would be one less single-use cup thrown away. (Yet grocery store sushi - with its abominably tiny plastic soy sauce containers and ginger packets - is my guilty pleasure. We all pick our poison). Back in San Francisco, I had the luxury of time to walk around find a spot that would serve me in ceramic. It ended up being a nice French brasserie and the bill was rather steep: much more than the dozens of corner stores and coffee places serving cheaper brews in disposable go cups.

This example highlights the challenge: choosing the sustainable option often requires time, money, or both, privileges not everyone has. What used to be the norm (reusables, repair, real plates) now feels like a luxury.

Small experiments, real impact

Most of my sustainability practices started as an experiment that slowly became more of a norm; compost, repairing, packing my reusable cup, slowing down on shopping.

Through my work, I’ve done deep dives into the benefits of reusable products instead of single use. My alma matter in Amsterdam switched from single use coffee cups to these blue BillieCups that you pay a fee for at check out, which is returned (or taken off your bill) if you bring it back. Many innovators and pilot projects are fighting the good fight for reuse, trying to remind us that we used to live in a world without cheap styrofoam takeout containers and disposable beer cups. There is evidence that reusable systems are better for the environment: create less waste, have lower carbon impacts, create jobs and may even be preferred by the consumer (like me on my mission for a ceramic cup of coffee). When we support these systems, with our wallets and willingness to participate, we are showing the market that sustainability is important and asking consumers to do a tiny bit more work (in returning a cup, for example), doesn’t have to be an insurmountable barrier. Why not give it a try?

I encourage you, dear reader, to think about how you could potentially waste less in your daily life. If there are small (or big) switches you could make. If there was an experiment you could run to reduce food waste and find ways to save or cook up veggies you’d normally toss. If you could start a compost bin at home, or find a repair cafe to take your broken microwave instead of ordering a new one on Amazon. Perhaps its a fun DIY to dye a favorite stained t-shirt, giving it a new life in a new color. Or you might search for a refurbished phone over new when you need an upgrade. There are SO many ways to reduce waste by consuming more thoughtfully. No need to strive for perfection, just practice every now and again and it might make you think more creatively, enjoy more fully and see the world a bit differently.

Thanks for reading. I’ll share Parts 2 and 3 of my sustainability practice (choose local and don’t beat yourself up in the process) in future posts. In the meantime, I’d love to hear how you’re practicing sustainability in your own way.

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The movie is incredible; it shows the challenges of getting to a remote, polluted island, the hard work of cleaning up a sweltering beach and includes some delightfully cinematic moments of plastic sailing over a coral reef carried by a pink and purple parasail (check out the trailer below). I’ve been both proud and squirmy about sharing this movie with friends and family. Its pretty epic to see yourself cinematically portrayed, but so cringey to hear your own voice. There’s also one scene where I have a big verbal slip-up. The first time I saw it, I had to turn the movie off and come back to it, I was so embarrassed. But I reminded myself that most people wouldn’t notice this small error, and the movie as a whole makes up for it in spades with impressive shots of the tropical Pacific and powerful images of seabirds nesting amongst plastic.

All this to say, Tía Tina was moved by the film and after seeing her niece on the silver screen and being awed by the visuals, she asked me ‘so what can I do in my daily life to reduce my impact?’. I had spent 4+ years doing a PhD on plastic pollution and solutions. I have contributed to over 10 papers on the topic, I’ve been invited to webinars, to conferences and journalists have reached out for my expert opinion on the topic. Yet this was the first time my aunt had earnestly asked what she could do to personally reduce her plastic impact. I was taken aback by the question. Not because I never expected her to ask it, but because I didn’t have an answer. In fact, I was stumped.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly of Plastic

For someone who has spent years studying sustainability, learning about the plastic waste crisis, researching solutions and advocating for stricter plastic regulations - I had no easy answer for my aunt’s simple questions. Sure, I could tell her to completely eradicate plastic from her life, but I myself haven’t done that (and haven’t even tried). I could go into a whole spiel about how, for plastic, there is the good, the bad and the ugly, an intro I’ve used in many a webinar on plastic.

The Good - Applications that are useful and make sense, plastic used in cars make them lighter, so they use less fuel, plastic in electronics make them durable and affordable, plastic in healthcare and that preserves food

The Bad - Unnecessary products, those likely to end up as litter or with no good recycling options. Think single use plastics, styrofoam, fast fashion, crappy products that seem designed to brea

The Ugly - The really bad stuff. Plastics packed with harmful chemicals, products shedding microplastics that absorb toxic chemicals and end up in the environment, the food web and us

But that wouldn’t give her a clear answer, either. Its not so easy to see a product or packaging and immediately know how to categorize it as ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

My brain was going in roundabout circles trying to land on an answer, something simple, that she could do, that would have an impact of note, not too inconvenient…. I hemmed and hawed as I wracked my brain, surely there was a research paper somewhere that I had come across with an answer? My mind flitted over the life cycle assessment study comparing reusable tote bags to single use plastics, noting that you’d have to use the tote bag 7,000 times to make it more environmentally friendly than the plastic. Next, a recent article suggesting reusable glass drink bottles had more microplastics than their single-use plastic counterparts. I thought about my ongoing internal debate on cucumbers wrapped in plastic; seemingly superfluous plastic use, yet I know the plastic film prevents spoiling and can lead to an almost 5% reduction in food waste…

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The student becomes the teacher

I left New York without giving my aunt a clear answer. A few days later, I met with a Master’s student I was supervising. Her thesis studies which packaging Dutch grocery stores could choose to be more sustainable and meet upcoming EU regulations. She felt overwhelmed by all the conflicting information she was finding from literature and through interviews. Any time a solution would emerge, a different article or person would offer a completely different perspective (sure, paper is recyclable, but if we switched all plastic to paper, there would be no more trees). She was stressed that she would be unable to answer her research question and come up with a clear recommendation, there were too many caveats andchallenges. I had to gently explain to her that in fact, she was on the right track, and being overwhelmed trying to balance conflicting information meant she was accurately understanding the situation. Heck I’ve been working in this space for almost 10 years and I couldn’t come up with an answer when asked! Trade-offs are inherent, no single solution exists, and most of us are just trying to do our best.

I then heard one of my favorite podcasts tackle the issue of packaging complexity. I swear, it was like the universe was coalescing around this unanswerable question - forcing me to confront it. The podcast host noted that ‘there are no human activities that are good for the environment. It’s always a question of trade offs or doing less bad.’ So what are we mere humans to do? Knowing that each choice we make is basically bad, yet wanting to do good. Even if its starting small, even if its just slightly less harmful, even if its not that great.

Untangling the mess

So I thought about it. Really thought about it. I tried to synthesize the years of sustainability research, the hundreds of papers I’ve read, the internal dilemmas I’ve pondered. I considered the hardcore activist’s agendas, the cynics’ perspective, the realists propositions. I recalled the many (many) listicles on 10 ways to reduce your plastic or 5 ways you can help the environment, 15 tips to travel more sustainable and 20 easy swaps to reduce plastic in your everyday life. I balanced this against weighty corporate interests, government regulatory power and market forces. I thought about myself, about how I move through world, trying to do less bad for the planet. How I keep climate guilt from paralyzing me and also feel good enough to sleep at night while fires rage, temperatures rise and floods increase.

I haven’t figured it out by any means, but I do stand firmly behind three tips, and try my best to implement them in my day-to-day life;

1. Waste less

2. Choose local

3. Don’t beat yourself up in the process!

So stay tuned for my next post where I dive into these tips (the last is very important) and how I enact them in my daily life. Such a tease, I know, but I want to give myself the time to honestly reflect on these recommendations and what they mean to me. Because trying to do this whole ‘sustainable living’ thing ain’t easy and to sit with trade-offs and complexity is as much an emotional process as it is a scientific one.

As my wise mother once said - and I often repeat to myself as a reminder that I’m not unique nor alone in my struggles - ‘life is a series of tough choices’.

P.S Yesterday marked the start of ‘Plastic Free July’, a global initiative to encourage better plastic choices! There are tons of resources and ideas on how to get started, if this post inspired you and you want to make some sustainable swaps, here are some resources:

• Plastic Free July - take a quiz to understand plastic use, pledge to use less, find resources for your home, business, school

• Plastic Pollution Coalition - resources, webinars, pledges and guides

• Beyond Plastics - 30 day plastic free July calendar, with tips for every day of the month!

I wanted to add one of my own. I spoke on a panel, joined an epic paddle-board and swim session and indeed met many amazing people and organizations. But it felt like tossing out another generic post into a river of other posts. I thought I could add some ‘hot takes’ to make it stand out, but I’m not sure any of my takes would be hot, and I genuinely enjoyed the conference for the most part.

So I decided to write an honest account of what it was like to attend the biggest gathering of ocean enthusiasts, advocates, professionals and government representatives happening this year: the UN Oceans Conference.

Some of you may be reading this and have no idea what I’m talking about, which is super interesting! We live and work in siloes and don’t often realize how much of our environment is an echo chamber. If you are curious what the heck a big UN conference is, what the purpose is, why so many people make a huge effort to go and what actually comes out of it, I’ll also give you some answers (as much as I can make sense of it myself). So stick around!

What is the UN Oceans Conference?

The UN Oceans Conference or UNOC - pronounced you-knock by most of us - is a high level event by the United Nations organized to support implementation of Sustainable Development Goal 14 (SDG 14) to "Conserve and sustainably use the oceans, seas and marine resources for sustainable development.”

The United Nations is like the government of countries, and has a general assembly where all nations who are members of the UN discuss international politics and issues. The UN also has topic-specific conferences like the climate conference of the parties (COP) and international treaties and meetings to govern the world.

What was missing was the ocean, which covers 70% of the world and touches basically every single sector and is interconnected and global. Thus, the UN Oceans Conference was born in 2017, held in New York City and hosted by Fiji and Sweden (I know, complicated). It is supposed to happen every three years, but due to a long pause for COVID, last week was the third, hosted in Nice, France by the governments of France and Costa Rica.

How is UNOC organized?

Good question, hard to answer. This year the general vibe before the conference was uncertainty, around who was going, what type of events would be happening and which types of organizations would attend. In practice, at least for this year, the conference was organized into zones. The blue zone was the government focused assembly areas, for official, high-security events, panels and debates. The green zone was hosted in a large convention center, was open to the public and consisted of different pavilions to explore and hundreds of shorter events and panels to attend. Then, the rest of Nice was open season, there were official (and unofficial) side events happening in hotels, in parks and at beach clubs. Sound simple enough? Well, throw in 25-minute walks between zones in Mediterranean sun, delegates in suits and ties, long security lines, and back-to-back events Oh yeah, and there were also boats (big boats). The week was busy, sweaty and at-times, frustrating. More on that later!

Who goes to UNOC and why?

The conference has become a massive event. Government representatives (called delegates in UN speak), non-profits, advocacy groups, philanthropists, businesses, startups and scientists all gather to discuss ocean issues. It has become a sort of ‘who’s who’ in the ocean conservation world, and in the run-up to the event I noticed people slipping into conversation that they were ‘headed to Nice’ or ‘ busy preparing for UNOC’ (and I was guilty of doing the same!).

For government delegates, its a forum to participate in international debate, make commitments, encourage action and support momentum. For NGOs and advocacy groups its an opportunity to speak with governments, identify partners and present work. For startups and businesses, they can meet potential collaborators or investors, and advertise their innovations on a global stage. For scientists, its a chance to update key players on the latest science, and ideally bridge the science-policy gap. For everyone, its as place to meet like-minded people doing pretty amazing work and hear the latest updates on ocean issues, campaigns, challenges and wins.

My experience at UNOC 2025

So how did little ol’ me end up at the biggest Ocean conference of the year? Good question! I had heard amazing things about UNOC ever since the 2022 conference in Portugal, and thought it could be a good opportunity for me to present some of my latest research and hear more about the latest ocean conservation work. I’ve always been an ocean-lover, and though my work doesn’t always directly focus on the marine environment, my work on plastic has always hoped to reduce waste which in turn reduces waste in the ocean. I had two papers recently published, with results from a monitoring and cleanup expedition to Henderson Island (more blog posts on this soon), and I was hoping to find a place to talk about them.

Applying and deciding

Most people who go to UNOC do so attached to a company or organization that are presenting or hosting in some way, be it an networking session on a boat, an invited panelist or co-hosting an event. Luckily, I have some good friends in the ocean space, and as the buzz around UNOC grew, we decided to submit an ‘official side-event’ on storytelling and ocean conservation. The submission was relatively easy, we sent it off in the nick of time, and sat to wait, and wait, and wait….

This is where the frustration set in, we had submitted an event, but received no news from anyone for days, weeks, months. The conference was a few short months away, and we still didn’t hear anything. It felt a bit silly to attend the conference as a bystander, without an event or panel to join, but the lack of information and communication stifled many from making plans or commitments. As the days passed, the prices of flights rose and the airbnb options dwindled… The questions bubbled up. Are we going to be accepted? If so, where can we host our event? Should we go regardless? Who else is going? Argh!

We finally heard we were accepted, with 28 short days until the conference. Scrambling ensued. Luckily, Ally Dragozet of Sea Going Green (a co-organizer who happens to be one of my best friends), is incredibly well connected and managed to wrangle a spot at a hotel for an hour to host our event through partners. To be honest, I have no idea how we would have found a spot otherwise!

Getting ready and getting to Nice

So we were officially going! Airbnb and flights were hastily booked. We chased down co-organizers to confirm their commitment, budget, and logistics, and to start sharing information about our event. We were going, but we had no idea who else would, and if they would show up at our event (and if it would all be worth it!). At this point, the anticipation was growing, and my LinkedIn was constantly peppered with people sharing events and invitations for UNOC panels and side events. I was getting excited, mostly because some friends and mentors would be there, and it would be chance to reunite or meet in person for the first time. Since it is a UN event, there were different forms and security clearances to get, and Ally was once again a lifesaver offering her organization’s accreditation. Accreditation is an official UN approval of your organization’s legitimacy, and is a necessary prerequisite for UN conferences and can be used for up to five people.

The whirlwind week

Ally and I arrived to Nice on Monday, when the conference was already in full swing. The week before UNOC was a scientific conference and the weekend before was the Blue Economy Finance Forum (BEFF), up the coast in Monaco. So ocean people had already descended on Nice and the city was bustling with lanyard and suit wearing attendees, locals and tourists alike. The city was fizzing with energy! It is honestly hard for me to remember which events I went to and when, the days have melted together in the summer heat. Some memorable moments below

La Baleine and the Green Zone

La Baleine - aka the whale - was an impressive conference center transformed into all things ocean. There were different pavilions representing themes, ecosystems, focus areas like the ‘Startup Reef’ or ‘Out of Plastic’ pavilion, there was immersive art, giant photos of whales and arctic VR experiences. It was packed with children and visitors practically every day and was my favorite place during UNOC. I got to meet up with the Plastic Odyssey team (and see myself on the wall of the plastic pavilion!) and there was always something interesting happening. Highlights included Plastic Odyssey’s UNESCO partnership presentation, a VR penguin experience and watching inspiring startup pitches.

UN official events at the Blue Zone

The Blue Zone comprised of giant (poorly) air conditioned tents along Port Lympia in Nice, full of official looking tables and chairs. If you’ve ever seen UN meetings, where each country has its own table, small sign, microphone and translation devices, imagine that, but in a temporary tent along a Mediterranean harbor. Quite a feat! There were a lot of fences and security to get in, and walking between tents was sweltering. I joined a few sessions, but I found the experience so uninspiring compared to the Green Zone, that I spent practically no time there. A bit strange to go to a UN conference and spend hardly any time at the official UN site, but there was always a side event or panel calling my name from a more inspiring location…

Side events and swimming

Side events were the cherry on top of the week. They were sprinkled throughout the city, requiring walking, trains, trams, or, in one desperate attempt when I was already late…hitchhiking. There were morning swims, evening parties, movie screenings and panels. I was lucky enough to join Protect Blue’s Wave Break event, which was a morning paddleboard and swim among the seagrass. Linzi delivered a beautiful acknowledgement of place at Villefranche (who knew that right off the beach the seafloor dropped so steeply you could fit an eiffel tower underwater) and Luke snapped epic pictures of us frolicking among the healthy poseidonia. A necessary reminder of why we all work so hard to protect this salty haven! I also joined the ‘Ocean Reels and Real Talk’ panel with Ally, presenting work from C-Faarer, alongside films from Plastic Odyssey, The Blue Quest, IN DEPTH Films and the International Ocean Film Festival. I was super nervous but the audience was engaged, asked great questions, loved our films and shared a needed glass of wine after. However the reality of the city spread and double booked agendas (and rumor has it, over 1,000 events) meant you had to make some tough choices, which brings me to:

FOMO and missed opportunities

I HAD SO MUCH FOMO. It was a sad reality that it would be impossible to attend all the events, see all the people, swim in all the beaches. In a twist of bad luck, my friend Ricky had a side event that happened to be booked at the exact same time as ours. There was a beach club that had been transformed into ‘Ocean House’ that was just a bit too far and I never made it, which I’m still kicking myself for. There were friends I didn’t catch, conversations I wanted to have and deep breaths I should have taken. I think I maybe could have (should have?) spent more time at the actual UN debates, instead of reading about the summaries and other’s rundowns of the days events. I followed closely the The Nice wake up call for an ambitious plastics treaty (signed by 95 countries!) but I can’t say I did any direct advocacy during my time in France. Things to consider for next time… I left with a long list of interesting people to follow up with, a phone full of selfies with friends new and old and a feeling of hope that there are so many dedicated people working on ocean conservation.

Final thoughts

For those who didn’t attend (or had no idea what it was), the idea of a big UN conference may seem professional, stuffy and well-organized, in fact it was often chaotic, energetic and dynamic. That being said, I’m sure official government delegates, who were stuck in the Blue Zone, had a very different experience than I did. In any case, I hope this behind-the-scenes honest account sheds some light into the reality of attending UNOC. Perhaps it makes you want to join, perhaps you will happily skip and maybe in three years when you see the next UNOC posts begin to appear on LinkedIn, you’ll have a slightly better idea of what goes on at this type of thing.

We humans never seem to quite get a grasp on the fickle nature of spring weather. One afternoon we’re sitting in tank tops, playing hooky from work and basking in the fresh sun. When warm spring days begin in the Netherlands, the sidewalks and plazas explode with people sitting al fresco on terraces. The Dutch even turned this pastime into a verb “terrassen” - which means to sit on a terrace, with a cappuccino or, even better, a glass of white wine.

But then, the cold gray days return, seemingly out of nowhere. The city shivers and the citizens shuttle back indoors. People begrudgingly pull their warm jackets out of the back of the closet where, on a warmer day, they were convinced it could be stashed for the season. Of course, there is much moaning (loudly) about the rain and the wind.

But this year we have had a glut of blissfully warm days, and I found myself spending more time in my garden than past years. The hobby was heavily encouraged by an unseasonably hot spring, and it was an excuse to be outside all day. All this time in my garden has led to a newfound appreciation for this complicated season. I’ve noticed, for the first time, how new growth emerges after a springy cycle of sunny days and bursts of rain.

The season of blooms

I know it’s cliche; “April showers bring May flowers” after all, but this year I’ve actually noticed this botanical rhythm myself. On a rainy evening walk, I stopped to marvel at a bush of tiny white flowers practically glowing in the gloom. The bush seemed so happy! It was drowned in spring sun, grew like mad, and was now nourished by a healthy dose of spring rain.

This bush does not complain about rain, then sun, then rain, then sun. In fact, this bush has evolved over millions of years, to relish this fickle season. Within its tiny petals and woody branches is the innate knowledge that when the cold starts to lift and the days start to lengthen - its GROW, BABY, GROW. I stared at this bush and imagined within it an ecstatic dance of sugar transfer and carbon harvest and sucking up nitrogen and phosphorous, and all of a sudden, a big BLOOM.

I looked this up later, and it’s called “phenological synchrony”: the careful timing of growth and flowering in response to environmental cues. After absorbing photosynthetic energy during sunny periods, plants convert rainfall into explosive growth and use stored carbohydrates for flowering. Flowering plants have delicate molecular mechanisms that detect changes in day length and temperature patterns. When these sensors detect that critical spring thresholds have been reached, this triggers a cascade of activity. What looks like a simple bloom is actually a culmination of molecular-timed events, that can be sent out of whack by changes in the environment.

An unseasonably warm spring

I’ve also noticed (alongside my fellow countrymen who are flocking to terraces) that this year we’ve had what feels like a crazy warm spring. The Netherlands has had 400 hours of sunshine since March 1, where the average is 234 - a 65% increase. Rainfall is down and average temperatures are a full degree Celsius warmer than the norm. Over the past three decades, flowering times have shifted forward compared to the mid-20th century, arriving 3-22 days earlier. Ecologists call this "season creep," and it's disrupting ecological relationships. For example, if plants flower earlier, this may be a mismatch with pollinators who haven't yet adjusted to the changing spring - a phenomenon called "phenological mismatch.”

I dragged my shorts and dresses out from under my bed much earlier this year, and my garden is exploding, but I can’t enjoy the sun without a bit of a sinking feeling; I know that sea levels are rising - more so in the Netherlands than other parts of the world - and that abnormal weather can also mean heat waves, massive storms and flooding. All events that have taken lives in Europe in recent years.

Climate change lurks behind what may feel like “better” weather. Plants and ecosystems have evolved to adapt to climatic conditions of the Holocene period, but we are no longer living within that range. We’ve entered the anthropocene, a climatic period defined by human’s impact on greenhouse gas levels and thus global temperatures and climate. Looking at the famous temperature stripe picture, I’m already sweating imagining future spring heat.

Learning resilience from plants

Back in Amsterdam, I’ve had to water the plants in my house and garden a lot more this spring; they shrivel quickly without overcast days or spring showers. Slugs, who I usually battle, are noticeably absent, unable to procreate without standard humidity. This small behavior change (increased watering) is actually a micro-climate change adaptation strategy, easy enough to do, and allows my normal way of life to continue. But I know we must both adapt and mitigate if we are to survive and thrive. We must reduce our greenhouse gas emissions while confronting and preparing for the fact that things are going to change. I’m buoyed by research identifying innovations in agriculture to prepare for drier seasons, evidence of species developing resilience to climate change and commitments big and small by countries and individuals determined to take up the fight.

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A invitation to observe your spring

I recently heard a podcast by the mindfulness teacher Tara Brach who casually said “bringing an engaged presence to the world is a medicine” and that really stuck. . This spring I’ve been observing more and been heartily rewarded. My year has been full of highs and lows and chock full of uncertainty, but one thing that is steadfast is that I find something amazing in nature every time I choose to look.

I’ve noticed how the bare canopy turns green once again, which seems to happen overnight. The naked canals, all of a sudden, trellised in thick leaves, growing to the beat of the season’s circadian rhythm. Every year I see people flock to the cherry blossoms on the canal near my house, but I wonder if they notice the gradual greening of the treetops or the glowing white bush?

I also invented a new micro-season which I’ve dubbed ‘confetti time’. If you live near one or more cherry-blossom trees, you can easily experience confetti time. All you have to do is give a flowering tree a gentle shake of a branch as you pass by. The first few days of blooming, you may have nothing to report (low confetti level). But give it a week or so, and a tug on a branch leads to a proper downpour of tiny petals. I recommend turning every walk into a tiny parade during confetti time.

I encourage you to pay a little more attention as you move through your world this spring, perhaps you can identify a micro-season. A little window when your favorite tree is all of a sudden covered with tiny leaves, looking like green peach fuzz, or when a spectacular rose bush is in full force. We don’t know how plants will respond to the ever-changing climate, so now is a good a time as ever to stop and smell those roses and embrace the rollercoaster of spring.

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It felt serendipitous that this workshop came across my Instagram feed, and when I saw it, I immediately signed up. Through my PhD research into innovations for plastic management, I had theoretical awareness of all the creative, low-tech ways entrepreneurs around the world were finding ways to recycle and repurpose waste. But in practice? I’m a total beginner.

I was giddy biking through the city on my way to the workshop. The sun was shining in what was proving to be the sunniest spring on record in the Netherlands and I was spending a glorious afternoon not behind a screen but in front of, what turned out to be, a panini maker.

The workshop was hosted by Broeii , a community collection and recycling center that works on various social initiatives. Walking into the greenhouse that housed the plastic recycling lab, I was greeted by mounds of yogurt tubs, laundry detergent bottles, and buckets of bottle caps. To most people, this looks like household trash, but I immediately recognized it as PP and HDPE, the plastic polymers of choice for at-home recyclers.

A polymer diversion

And now a quick refreshers on polymers, the building blocks of what we call plastics. Plastics are made out of chemicals, mainly by taking units of hydrogen and carbon (monomers) into repeating chains (polymers). Depending on which building block is used, these chains will have different properties or characteristics. Across the board, these chains (polymers) are very strong and long-lasting. To differentiate between these types of polymers, a standardized number code is used, see the picture below.

So when you turn any plastic product upside down, you may see the ‘chasing arrows’ symbol and letters or a number. The chasing arrows was a clever choice by plastic producers; continuous arrows suggesting the possibility of endless circulation and recycling. These symbols hoped to convince consumers that plastic could be collected, recycled and made into shiny new products, erasing the guilt of consumption by offering an easy, pro-environmental behavior: recycling.

Unfortunately, the reality of recycling is far from the shiny promise of endless recirculation. Global plastic recycling is around 9% and many plastics that are marked with the ‘chasing errors’ have no real chance of being recycled. Additionally, as production and demand have increased, so have the amounts of chemicals and additives added to plastics. These additives can make plastics shinier, more flexible, more durable and so much more: creating even more applications and even more waste… As you can imagine, tracking the harsh reality of global waste management trends can be depressing.

Back to the greenhouse

But on that day, I was determined to enjoy my sunny afternoon off. I was hoping to get reinvigorated by some good old-fashioned DIY crafting. In the greenhouse, I introduced myself to the other participants and we watched eagerly as the recycling-master showed us the subtle art of bottle cap up-cycling. Using heat, brute force and a commandeered silk screen press, bottle caps and shredded laundry bottles were transformed into tiny swirly canvases of flat plastic. The flat plastic was transferred onto a panini press, then metal cookie cutters could be pressed onto the surface, more force applied and voila, a slightly gooey mini-plastic masterpiece. The workshop filled a faint chemical sent and punctuated with oohs and aahs as participants admired their creations.

I was instantly hooked, rushing between the bins of shredded plastic, scavenging through discard piles from previous workshops, experimenting with layering bottle caps and poking holes through my creations to make tiny charms. I ended up with magnets and charms I planned to turn into earrings. Two tiny black stars, one with the slightly warped text ‘please recycle’, were made from black Coca-Cola bottle-caps. Two bluey moons were made with shredded yogurt tubs and shampoo bottles. I plan to wear these earrings to future conferences or events, a small reminder that in the face of global plastic chaos, I saved at least four caps from ending up incinerated, landfilled or in the ocean. The impact may be minuscule in the grand scheme of things, but as I biked away grinning in the sunshine, I felt renewed energy to work on plastic research and advocacy. Sometimes the most complex global problems need both grand solutions and the simple joy of a repurposed bottle cap.

Plastic crafting photo journey: from bottle cap to earring

My name is Dr. Hanna Dijkstra. I’m a plastic pollution and solutions researcher, consultant and now, communicator. After many years writing academic articles and polished reports, I recently dipped my toe into creative writing and personal narratives, and its been a game changer. Realizing I love writing has been a surprising joy of 2025, but actually sharing that writing is an exercise in facing fear. So here I go, diving straight in by launching this newsletter and inviting you to join me.

Starting a newsletter involving plastic and storytelling is also timely. On the micro and macro level, things are happening in the plastic world. Personally, I have new research coming out from an expedition I joined last year to clean up a remote island in the middle of the South Pacific. The expedition was incredibly tough, emotional and inspiring, and I’m so excited to share more. On a global level, this August will be the next (and hopefully last) negotiations of the UN Global Plastics Treaty. If an ambitious treaty is passed, this will significantly influence national regulations and industry (similar to the UN Climate COPs). But I plan to cover so much more than just plastic research and updates.

This newsletter will connect small actions and big impacts. I’ll zoom in on a single piece of plastic I found on the beach of Henderson Island and explain how currents and consumption patterns brought it there. I plan to showcase examples of inspiring people and projects working to improve their homes, communities and countries. I will try break down the latest research and plastic news to make it palatable and actionable.

Together, we can grapple with trying to live a sustainable life within societal structures that don’t always make it easy. I’ll talk about my own journey, through life, science, travel, community, relationships and (of course) imposter syndrome. Expect personal reflections and musings, like the tough realities of field work and the ongoing challenge of career development.

What I’m planning on sharing

• Behind-the-scenes essays on remote plastic research and the realities of academia

• Personal reflections on science, identity, place and purpose

• News and analysis on global plastic issues - with context

• Simple sustainable tips and powerful case studies - small ripples with potential waves

My first essays include a trip to a local recycling center in Amsterdam, a reflection from my journey to worlds most remote polluted island and musings on the beauty of spring.

Ripples to Waves is a place to make sense of living in our modern world (with plastic) and I’m so grateful you are here.

Thanks for joining, more soon.

Hanna