In the global fight against climate change, we often picture scientists in labs, diplomats in conference rooms, and engineers erecting wind turbines. Rarely do we cast our eyes to the city dumpsites and landfills, where an army of unsung warriors battles on the front lines of adaptation every single day. These are the informal waste pickers, the invisible architects of urban sustainability, and their contribution to reducing our cities’ carbon footprints is monumental, yet almost entirely unrecognised.
Urban waste management is a cornerstone of sustainable development. When done equitably and efficiently, it protects public health, conserves resources, and crucially, mitigates global warming. For waste is not just an eyesore; it is a potent contributor to the climate crisis. Decomposing organic matter in landfills generates methane, a greenhouse gas over 80 times more potent than carbon dioxide in the near term. The open burning of waste, a common practice in overstretched systems, pumps black carbon and toxins directly into the atmosphere.
Standing between this ticking environmental bomb and our cities are the informal waste pickers. They are the men, women, and often children, who navigate treacherous landscapes of refuse with nothing but grit and their bare hands. They are the human infrastructure of recycling in much of the Global South, recovering plastics, metals, and paper that would otherwise pollute the environment and release harmful emissions. It is estimated that in Nairobi alone, informal waste pickers are responsible for collecting and recycling up to 60% of the post-consumer plastic, a statistic that puts many formal, corporate-led systems to shame.
Yet, for this invaluable service, they pay a devastating personal price. Theirs is a life of profound vulnerability: working without protective gear, facing health hazards from toxins and pathogens, enduring social stigma, and operating with no job security, living wage, or social safety nets. They are the epitome of a marginalised demographic, doing the world’s dirty work for the world’s lowest pay.
The international community has taken note. The Paris Agreement acknowledges the imperative of a “just transition” for the workforce, and the UNFCCC has explicitly recognised the role of waste pickers in its discussions, stating that their integration is vital for successful climate action. This is not just charity; it is climate justice. The individuals least responsible for the crisis are bearing the heaviest burden of both its impacts and the solutions.
This justice is what we strive for at the grassroots. Through initiatives like the BEGI-NI-RADAR project in Kayole, Nairobi, my organisation, Community Engage, works directly with waste picker communities. We are pushing for formalisation as a core just transition strategy—not to erase their informal systems, but to strengthen, recognise, and remunerate them. This means organising into cooperatives, accessing fair prices, and gaining legal recognition. Similarly, empowerment is key. In Wajir, supported by Islamic Relief Kenya, I had the privilege of consulting as a trainer, helping to establish a community-led plastic waste management model. This ushers waste pickers into the circular economy, transforming them from scavengers into micro-entrepreneurs.
Tragically, as the world moves towards legislating sustainability, new threats emerge. Kenya’s Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) regulations, which rightly hold manufacturers accountable for the lifecycle of their packaging, risk placing informal waste pickers at the periphery. If not carefully and inclusively designed, the system will be captured by large, corporate Producer Responsibility Organisations (PROs) that greenwash by meeting collection quotas while sidelining the very communities who have done this work for decades. We are already seeing community-led PROs being stifled, a move that exacerbates inequality and negates the principles of a just transition.
This cannot stand. We need a paradigm shift.First and foremost, governments must mandate inclusive EPR frameworks that formally integrate and compensate waste picker cooperatives, ensuring the financial flows from polluters reach the grassroots heroes. Simultaneously, manufacturers must move beyond rhetoric to truly adhere to the polluter-pays principle, investing directly in and partnering with the community-based collection and recycling systems that are already proven to work. Finally, the international development and climate community must consciously direct funding and support to the grassroots organisations that are building the power and capacity of waste pickers from the ground up.
The path to a sustainable, low-carbon future is not paved by corporate reports alone. It is built with the calloused hands of the waste picker in Dandora, in Kayole, in Wajir. They are our frontline emission reduction warriors. It is time we stopped looking through them and started recognising, remunerating, and respecting them. Our planet’s health, and our claim to justice, depend on it.
