For years, policymakers, journalists and campaigners have repeated claims that up to 40 percent of second-hand clothing imported into Ghana becomes waste. The claims originated with the OR Foundation, a Ghana-based NGO that has become one of the most influential voices in the global textile waste debate. Despite being widely cited, the figure has never been independently verified and remains heavily contested. And as these claims gained influence around the world, The OR Foundation grew from a relatively small NGO into an organisation with annual revenues exceeding $8 million and received millions of dollars from funders including ultra-fast-fashion giant Shein. This article is part of Reuse News' ongoing investigation into claims surrounding the alleged textile waste crisis in Ghana. Reuse News has reported that several locations frequently presented internationally as evidence of a textile waste crisis consist predominantly of other forms of waste, particularly plastics. We have also found that robust independent studies verifying the waste volumes commonly attributed to second-hand clothing imports remain largely absent. Previous articles: What looks like mountains of textile waste, is actually not. It's plastic. The missing logic behind the textile waste claims The rise raises an obvious question. How did one organisation become both a leading source of information about a global environmental crisis and one of the largest recipients of funding linked to it? The project that changed the conversation The global spread of the 40 percent claim began with Dead White Man's Clothes, a 2021 multimedia project published by The OR Foundation. The project presented a stark picture of the global second-hand clothing trade. Images showed beaches, waterways and dumping sites apparently covered with discarded clothing. Market traders described increasing difficulties handling unsold garments. Its most influential claim was that up to 40 percent of imported second-hand clothing effectively became waste. That figure spread rapidly. OR Foundations multimedia project published in 2021 Major media outlets repeated it. NGOs cited it. Researchers referenced it. Policy reports adopted it. Within a few years, the number had become one of the defining facts of the global textile waste debate. As international attention grew, The OR Foundation increasingly became one of the primary sources through which journalists encountered the story. Major international outlets relied on the organisation for interviews, local context, research, access and visual documentation. In many cases, the same images, statistics and framing travelled together. Yet Dead White Man's Clothes was not a peer-reviewed academic study. It was a multimedia research and storytelling project built primarily around interviews, observations and visual documentation. Despite this, the figure became widely treated as established fact. Before Dead White Man's Clothes The ideas behind the project did not emerge from nowhere. Five years before Dead White Man's Clothes was published, OR Foundation co-founder Branson Skinner submitted a master's thesis examining the second-hand clothing trade in Ghana. Many of the ideas that would later become central to the textile waste narrative were already present. The thesis argued that increasing volumes of low-quality clothing were arriving at Kantamanto Market and that significant quantities were becoming waste. Yet the evidence was limited. Rather than systematic waste audits or large-scale measurements, the conclusions were largely based on interviews, observations and estimates from market participants. The thesis became an early foundation for arguments that would later reach governments, international organisations and global media outlets. From narrative to funding As the textile waste narrative gained momentum, funding followed. The same year Dead White Man's Clothes was published, The OR Foundation became a key partner in Design for Decomposition, a €2.5 million initiative funded by Laudes Foundation. The project was built around the idea that Accra had become a major destination for textile waste and that new systems were needed to address the problem. The timing is notable. At the same time the 40 percent figure entered the global debate, major philanthropic funding began flowing into projects focused specifically on textile waste in Ghana. The OR Foundation was positioned at the centre of several high-profile initiatives. This was not simply research. A new ecosystem was emerging. Foundations, innovation programmes, advocacy campaigns and policy initiatives increasingly focused on the idea that second-hand clothing exports were creating a waste crisis in Africa. Then came Shein The most controversial partnership arrived a year later. In 2022, ultra-fast-fashion giant Shein announced a three-year commitment worth $15 million to The OR Foundation through its Extended Producer Responsibility Fund. The partnership was publicly celebrated by both organisations. The OR Foundation argued that fashion brands should contribute financially to addressing environmental impacts linked to clothing consumption. Yet the agreement also highlighted a striking contradiction. Shein had become one of the world's most criticised fast-fashion companies, frequently accused of accelerating overproduction and disposable consumption. At the same time, one of the most influential voices promoting the textile waste narrative was now receiving millions of dollars from the company. The partnership illustrated how rapidly resources were beginning to flow into initiatives built around textile waste in Ghana. The numbers tell their own story Public tax filings show how dramatically The OR Foundation's finances changed after the publication of Dead White Man's Clothes. In 2021, the organisation reported revenues measured in only a few hundred thousand dollars. By 2022, revenues had surged to more than $5 million. In 2023, they approached $8 million. By 2024, annual revenues exceeded $8.3 million, while total assets reached more than $12 million. Source: IRS Form 990 filings compiled by ProPublica. The growth coincided almost exactly with the period in which the textile waste narrative became globally established. Whether measured in media attention, policy influence or funding, few organisations experienced greater growth during the rise of the issue than The OR Foundation itself. Some of the media reports that followed after OR Foundations Dead White Man's Clothes in 2021. A narrative with consequences As Reuse News has previously reported, field observations in Ghana raise questions about how some of the most widely circulated images have been interpreted. Many locations presented internationally as evidence of a textile waste crisis were found to consist primarily of mixed waste streams dominated by plastics, packaging, construction debris and household waste. Textiles were present, but often represented only a very small visible share of the waste mass observed. The question is whether the images and statistics that travelled around the world accurately reflected their scale. Other questions remain unresolved. Even where discarded garments are present, determining whether they originated from imported second-hand clothing, local consumption, manufacturing waste or other sources is often difficult. The evidence required to move from observation to attribution is rarely straightforward. Critics also question the economic logic behind claims that large volumes of unsellable garments are routinely shipped halfway around the world only to become waste upon arrival. "If we don't have the right information, then the wrong information is going to create the wrong perception, and the wrong perception is going to lead to wrong policies being formulated." That concern is no longer limited to academic debates. Today, the 40 percent figure continues to shape discussions around Extended Producer Responsibility, textile export restrictions, Basel Convention classifications and future regulation of the global second-hand clothing trade, but the evidence behind the claim remains contested. The stakes extend far beyond a single statistic. The policies currently being discussed could influence the future of a trade that supports millions of livelihoods across Africa and provides affordable clothing to large parts of the population. Critics warn that restrictions based on inaccurate assumptions could reduce access to reuse markets, increase textile destruction in exporting countries and undermine one of the world's largest existing circular systems. Written by Thomas Lundkvist Previous articles in this investigation: What looks like mountains of textile waste, is actually not. It's plastic. The missing logic behind the textile waste claims How did an unverified claim become a global truth and reshape global policy Sources: Shein Funding: Pressrelease Laudes Foundation: Design for decomposition The 2021 OR Foundation Report: Dead white man's clothes Original Thesis OR Foundation Tax filing Editor's note: The OR Foundation was given an opportunity to comment on the information and claims presented in this article. No response was received before publication. The organisation's perspective is therefore not reflected in this article.

For years, one number has dominated the debate around second-hand clothing exports to Africa. 40 percent. The claim is repeated across media reports, NGO campaigns and policy discussions: that nearly half of all imported second-hand clothing immediately becomes waste. But there is a question that is rarely asked. Who would make money from that? The global second-hand trade is not a charity system. It is a business built on buying, sorting, shipping and reselling products across continents. Every bale imported into Ghana has already passed through collectors, sorters, exporters, shipping companies, customs, wholesalers and traders. At every stage, somebody pays. And according to the people actually working inside the trade, the economics behind the 40 percent claim simply do not add up. In our previous investigation from Ghana, we visited the beaches, dumping grounds and waterways repeatedly described in international reporting as evidence of a textile waste crisis. What we found complicated the picture. From a distance, the waste often appeared to be mountains of discarded clothing. But up close, much of it turned out to be plastic waste, packaging and synthetic debris rather than textiles. Related article: What looks like mountains of textile waste, is actually not. It's plastic. That raised another question. If the images themselves were often being misinterpreted, what about the economic logic behind the claims? Because the idea that up to 40 percent of imported second-hand clothing immediately becomes waste also assumes something else: that traders and importers are somehow operating a business built around massive and permanent losses. And according to the people actually working inside the trade, that simply does not make sense. “It does not add up” “40% of second-hand clothing being waste is synonymous to somebody bringing products into the country whereby 40% of it they can’t make any money off,” says Marlwin Owusu from the Ghana Used Clothing Dealers Association (GUCDA). “From the business perspective, it does not add up.” That argument returns again and again in interviews with traders and importers in Ghana. “We are in business to make profits,” says Maame Serwaa, Retailer and importer in Accra, Ghana. “If you have a significant amount ending up as waste, you will also have an equivalent amount of losses being made. And that’s not true.” Another importer, Kwaaning Asante Boateng, puts it even more bluntly: “We can’t be in business spending good money to import goods only to end up selling 60% and throwing away 40%.” The logic is difficult to avoid. If nearly half of all imported clothing immediately became worthless waste, somebody in the chain would absorb catastrophic losses. But the trade continues to operate across Ghana, Kenya and other countries at enormous scale, supporting millions of livelihoods. A narrative built on repetition According to both industry representatives and traders in Ghana, the problem is not only the figure itself, but how often it has been repeated. “The 40% figure has stemmed from one particular source and one NGO”, says Owusu. Jessica Franken, Vice President of Government and External Affairs at SMART, says the same number has been recycled repeatedly throughout media and policymaking. “That statistic comes from one single study that was never published, was not conducted with any clear methodology and was based largely on anecdotal evidence”, she says. “And yet that’s the number that keeps getting circulated because it’s kind of a sexy number.” According to Franken, more systematic studies conducted in countries such as Ghana, Kenya and Guatemala have repeatedly pointed in another direction. “These studies repeatedly show that the material that might be considered waste is anywhere from 5 to 10 percent, sometimes as low as 1 to 2 percent”, she says. Owusu points to studies conducted or commissioned by GUCDA, research involving GIZ and studies by Oxford Economics. “If we don’t have the right information, then the wrong information is going to create the wrong perception,” he says. “And the wrong perception is going to lead to wrong policies being formulated.” Similar conclusions have been reached by organisations that participate directly in the second hand trade through charitable collection systems. Karolina Skog, Chair of the Nordic Textile Network and former Swedish Minister for the Environment, says organisations such as the Swedish City Missions closely monitor the sustainability of the trade because public trust depends on it. “The trust from our donors is our most important thing,” she says. “The investigations and Swedish research that we have taken part in reach the same conclusion: that the trade from the NGO sector in Europe to African countries is sustainable. Otherwise we would have withdrawn from it.” Skog says her confidence is based both on independent Swedish research and third party assessments used within the sector. “Otherwise, I would recommend my board to withdraw immediately.” Even the “waste” still has value The logic becomes even more complicated when looking at what actually happens to lower-grade material. Because in many cases, even garments considered unsellable according to European standards, are not simply discarded. Owusu describes how parts of this material are repurposed inside local economies. “Some of these garments can be repurposed when you go to the Kantamanto market,” he says. “They can be repurposed by tailors into different items. They can be used as fillers in mattresses. They can be used as mops.” “So even what we classify as textile waste, there is still some value in there.” That reality directly challenges the simplified idea that imported second-hand clothing moves in a straight line from container ship to landfill. The business model that doesn’t exist Part of the narrative around textile waste exports is built on the assumption that Europe has economic incentives to ship unusable textile waste to Africa instead of dealing with it domestically. But clear evidence for such a large-scale business model remains difficult to find. In practice, textile waste in Europe already has established disposal routes, including incineration and domestic waste management systems that are often significantly cheaper and simpler than paying to export containers across continents. For such exports to make economic sense, multiple actors across the chain would also need incentives to continuously absorb transport, handling and dumping costs. Someone would need to pay to get rid of the material. Someone else would need to pay to receive it and somebody would still need to manage the waste once it arrived. Yet despite how frequently the idea is repeated, hard evidence of a systematic trade built around exporting worthless textile waste remains limited. Much of the confusion instead appears to stem from blurred distinctions between reusable second-hand clothing, low-grade textiles, unsold garments and actual waste — categories that are treated very differently under both customs systems and existing legislation. The policies already taking shape But despite the unresolved questions surrounding the waste figures, the narrative is already reshaping policy. Across Europe and internationally, regulators are discussing stricter export controls, new sorting requirements and broader classifications of used textiles as waste under frameworks connected to the Basel Convention. Franken warns that some proposals risk fundamentally disrupting the global reuse system itself. “If you shut down exports and trade, you end up basically breaking the circular system because that’s a key function in order for it to work,” she says. She also argues that many policymakers are acting with good intentions, but often based on incomplete information. “There is a natural tendency for policymakers to identify the problem as one thing that can be easily solved. But everybody is looking for the quick fix.” Written and produced by Thomas Lundkvist Previous articles in this investigation: What looks like mountains of textile waste, is actually not. It's plastic. Everyone talks about textile waste exports. Nobody can explain the business model. How did an unverified claim become a global truth and reshape global policy Studies & Reports: All studies and reports mentioned you can read and download here: Reports

We travelled to Ghana looking for the mountains of textile waste that have become famous around the world. We did find waste. A lot of waste. But what looked like mountains of discarded clothing turned out to be something else. Plastic. That discovery became the starting point for a deeper investigation. Because if the images at the centre of the textile waste debate are not showing what people think they are showing, what else might be wrong? Over the past year, Reuse News has followed that question from the beaches of Accra to the heart of global policymaking. What we found raises fundamental questions about one of the most influential narratives in the circular economy. Over the past year, Reuse News has investigated the claims behind the textile waste narrative. We travelled to Ghana. We interviewed traders, importers, researchers, policymakers and industry representatives. We reviewed studies, reports and policy proposals that are now helping shape the future of the global textile trade. What we found raises fundamental questions about one of the most influential stories in the circular economy. First discovery: The mountains of textile waste were nowhere to find Images from Accra, Ghana have become some of the most widely used evidence supporting claims that second hand clothing exports are creating an environmental crisis. From a distance, the images appear devastating. Vast accumulations of waste seem to consist of discarded garments. But when we visited the locations repeatedly used to illustrate the problem, a different picture emerged. There was waste. A lot of waste. But not textile waste. What appeared to be textile waste from afar turned out to be plastic bags, packaging and other non-textile debris when examined up close. The textile mountains that have become central to the global narrative were nowhere to find. What we found on the ground was also reflected in the reactions of the people who work in Ghana's second hand trade. Importers, traders and market organisations repeatedly told Reuse News that they do not recognise the picture that has been presented in international media. Many expressed frustration at seeing Ghana portrayed as a dumping ground for foreign textile waste. "If 40% of what you import would be trash and unsellable, you wouldn't be able to stay in business for very long. It just doesn't make sense," says Marlwin Owusu of the Ghana Used Clothing Dealers Association. Others pointed to a growing disconnect between what is being reported abroad and what they experience every day in the market. For many traders, the issue is no longer only about waste. It is about how an entire industry, and the livelihoods that depend on it, are being portrayed to the rest of the world. Read the full investigation: What looks like mountains of textile waste, is actually not. It's plastic. Second discovery: The economics don't add up The most widely repeated claim in the debate is that up to 40 percent of imported second hand clothing becomes waste. If true, the implications would be enormous. But there is a simple question that is rarely asked: Who would make money from that? The second hand trade is not a charity system. It is a global commercial network involving collectors, sorters, exporters, shipping companies, wholesalers and traders. If nearly half of all imported clothing immediately became worthless waste, somebody would be absorbing catastrophic losses. Yet traders, importers and market organisations consistently describe a functioning business built around selling products, not importing waste. As one importer told us: "We can't be in business spending good money to import goods only to end up selling 60 percent and throwing away 40 percent." Read the full investigation: The missing logic behind the textile waste claims Third discovery: Nobody can explain the business model Environmental scandals usually follow a familiar pattern. Somebody profits. Somebody saves money. Somebody benefits from shifting costs onto someone else. That logic has become central to the textile waste narrative. But when Reuse News searched for evidence of a large scale business model built around exporting textile waste from Europe to Africa, we found something unexpected. We found assumptions, theories and concerns. But we found remarkably little evidence explaining how such a system actually operates. There are no no verified commercial models or clear evidence showing that exporting textile waste is more economically attractive than disposing of it domestically. The business behind the narrative remains surprisingly difficult to identify. Read the full investigation: Everyone talks about textile waste exports. Nobody can explain the business model. Fourth discovery: The narrative is already changing policy Across Europe and internationally, policymakers are now developing new rules governing textile collection, sorting and exports. And much of it is based on the assumtions about the textile waste export. Discussions within the Basel Convention could fundamentally change how used textiles move across borders. New regulatory frameworks are being designed to stop waste exports. Several experts interviewed by Reuse News warn that policies intended to solve one problem could unintentionally damage one of the world's largest circular systems. The question facing policymakers is no longer simply whether textile waste exists. The question is whether the evidence is strong enough to justify reshaping an entire global reuse system. Read the full investigation: How did an unverified claim become a global truth and reshape global policy? The question that remains This investigattion shows that one of the most influential narratives in the global textile debate may rest on assumptions that have received far less scrutiny than the policies now being built around them. A claim became a headline. The headline became a narrative. The narrative became a policy concern. The policy concern became a regulatory agenda.

What happens when an unverified and disputed claim becomes the foundation for international policy? As the debate over textile waste in Africa continues, support is growing for new regulations that could reshape the global trade in used clothing. The question is whether policymakers are addressing a real problem or an imagined one, and putting one of the world's largest circular textile systems at risk along the way. The first two parts of this investigation examined one of the most widely repeated claims in the global textile debate: that large volumes of unsellable or unusable second hand clothing are exported to Africa and quickly become waste. After more than a year of reporting, research and fieldwork in Ghana, Reuse News found no evidence supporting that claim. Related articles: What looks like mountains of textile waste, is actually not. It's plastic. The missing logic behind the textile waste claims Yet the narrative continues to shape international policy. From report to reality The modern textile waste narrative can largely be traced back to 2021. Images of waste sites in Ghana began circulating internationally. Reports and media coverage described a growing crisis caused by unwanted clothing arriving from Europe and North America. The figure most frequently repeated was that up to 40 percent of imported second hand clothing immediately became waste. The claim spread rapidly. It appeared in newspapers, documentaries, NGO campaigns, policy papers and political speeches. Within a few years, terms such as "waste colonialism" had become established parts of the public debate. According to Jessica Franken, Vice President of Government and External Affairs at the Secondary Materials and Recycled Textiles Association (SMART), one reason may be the way the claim circulated between media and policymakers. "That figure has just been continuously recycled and reused throughout the media and frankly throughout policymakers." Franken describes the process as self reinforcing. "It's somewhat bidirectional and self reinforcing." As journalists cited policymakers and policymakers cited media reports, the original claim increasingly became treated as accepted fact. From narrative to regulation As part of this investigation, Reuse News did not only examine the evidence behind the textile waste claims themselves. We also examined how those claims travelled through the policy system. Tracing references across reports, policy papers, consultation responses and regulatory discussions revealed a striking pattern. The same claims, figures and descriptions appeared repeatedly across media articles, NGO campaigns, policy briefings and institutional documents. Yet when those references were followed back to their source, they often led to the same small number of reports and observations published in the early years of the debate. One example is the widely repeated claim that up to 40 percent of imported second hand clothing in Ghana becomes waste. Reuse News identified the same figure and underlying narrative in publications from influential policy organisations, including the European Environmental Bureau (EEB), where it was presented as evidence that used clothing exports had become a significant waste problem requiring regulatory intervention. As the narrative gained traction, it increasingly appeared in government discussions and international policy processes. In 2024, France, Sweden and Denmark jointly called for new global rules on textile waste exports through the Basel Convention, arguing that Europe must stop exporting its textile waste problems to developing countries. What Reuse News found far less evidence of was a parallel effort to independently verify the scale of the alleged problem. Over the same period, the policy discussion appears to have focused primarily on how textile exports should be regulated rather than on whether the central assumptions behind the narrative had been adequately demonstrated. Reports, consultations and policy proposals frequently referenced one another, reinforcing a shared understanding of the problem while relying on many of the same original sources. By the time the issue reached international policy forums, the central question often no longer appeared to be whether large scale exports of unsellable or unusable second hand clothing had been demonstrated, but how such exports should be regulated. In effect, a claim became a narrative, the narrative became a policy concern, and the policy concern began shaping regulation. When narratives become policy Across Europe and internationally, policymakers are now redesigning how textiles are regulated. The European Union is implementing new textile collection requirements, developing Extended Producer Responsibility systems and tightening rules governing waste shipments. At the same time, UNEP is developing guidance intended to distinguish reusable textiles from waste, while discussions within the Basel Convention could fundamentally alter how used textiles move across borders. Taken individually, these initiatives may appear unrelated. Together, however, they reflect a common assumption: that international flows of used textiles represent a significant waste problem requiring stronger regulation. The remarkable thing is not that policymakers are acting. The remarkable thing is how quickly a largely unverified claim became embedded in policy discussions at multiple levels of governance. The evidence gap Reuse News found no evidence supporting the central claim that large scale exports of unsellable second hand clothing are driving the waste crisis now informing policy discussions. Yet many of the policies currently under consideration appear to assume precisely that. According to both Jessica Franken and Alan Wheeler, one striking feature of the debate is that a number of systematic studies have already been conducted, including research carried out in importing countries themselves. These studies generally report figures far below those that dominate public discussion. "Those studies repeatedly show that the material that might be considered waste is anywhere from 5 to 10 percent, sometimes as low as 1 to 2 percent," says Franken. A 2023 study commissioned by Germany's development agency GIZ, found that the overwhelming majority of imported second hand clothing entering Ghana remained within the reuse economy. The study estimated that approximately 5 percent became waste immediately upon arrival, far below the figures that have become widely associated with the textile waste narrative. Alan Wheeler, Chief Executive of the UK Textile Recycling Association, points to a similar pattern. "The evidence suggests that it's not nearly as big as some people think it is." What makes this particularly noteworthy is that many of these studies have received far less attention than the claims that helped shape the original narrative. While figures suggesting that 40 percent of imported clothing becomes waste have been repeatedly cited in media reports, advocacy campaigns and policy discussions, studies producing substantially lower estimates have rarely played a comparable role in the debate. The result is an unusual disconnect. Some of the most influential claims in the discussion are not necessarily those most strongly supported by evidence, while studies that attempt to quantify the problem systematically have received comparatively little attention. Basel and the next stage The growing disconnect between evidence and policy is perhaps most visible within the Basel Convention. Current discussions include proposals that could subject textile exports to a system known as Prior Informed Consent. Under such a framework, shipments could require approvals from exporting countries, importing countries and transit countries before moving. According to Wheeler, such measures could significantly increase costs and complexity. "It can take months to arrange and it would add tens of thousands of pounds or euros or dollars onto the cost of each shipment." The intention is to prevent waste exports. The question is whether the regulations are being designed to address a problem that has never been adequately demonstrated. If reusable textiles become entangled in systems designed for waste, the consequences could extend far beyond the original policy objective. What happens when assumptions become regulation? The debate over textile waste exports is often presented as a dispute about conditions in Ghana, Kenya or other importing countries. Increasingly, however, the real story may be something else. It is a story about how narratives become policy. Karolina Skog, former Swedish Minister for the Environment and now representing the Nordic Textile Network and Sweden's City Missions, sees a growing contradiction. "I think there is a discrepancy of what policymakers say that they want and what is done." Most policymakers say they want more circularity, more reuse and longer product lifetimes. Yet some of the policies now under discussion risk making international reuse more difficult. The irony is hard to ignore. Over the last four years, a claim became a headline. The headline became a narrative. The narrative became a policy concern. The policy concern became a regulatory agenda. What remains surprisingly difficult to identify is the evidence that started it all. Written by Thomas Lundkvist Previous articles in this investigation: What looks like mountains of textile waste, is actually not. It's plastic. The missing logic behind the textile waste claims Everyone talks about textile waste exports. Nobody can explain the business model. Sources and further reading: 2021 OR Foundation Dead White Man's Clothes 2023 EEB Europe's free pass to dump clothing cast-offs in the Global South must end 2024 Joint statement to stop textile waste exports 2024 GIZ-REPORT Used textiles at Kantamanto Market

The idea that Europe is exporting textile waste to Africa has become one of the most powerful narratives shaping the future of the global second hand trade. It rests on a simple assumption: that somebody is making money by shipping unusable clothing across continents and transferring disposal costs to poorer countries. Reuse News spent more than a year investigating that assumption. We found no documented business model, no economic incentives and no clear evidence explaining how such a trade is supposed to work. Yet despite the lack of evidence, the theory is increasingly influencing international policy and regulation. In the first article of this investigation, Reuse News travelled to Ghana to examine one of the central claims behind the textile waste debate: that large volumes of imported second hand clothing are ending up as waste. What we found was something very different. The locations repeatedly presented as evidence of a textile waste crisis turned out to be dominated by plastic waste rather than discarded clothing, and we found no evidence on the ground supporting the scale of the problem commonly described in media and policy discussions. Related article: What looks like mountains of textile waste, is actually not. It's plastic. In the second article, we examined the economics of the trade itself. If 40 percent of imported clothing really became waste, as is often claimed, traders would be operating businesses built on enormous losses. Yet importers, wholesalers and market organisations described a functioning market where products of different qualities continue to find buyers and where livelihoods depend on making those transactions work. Related article: The missing logic behind the textile waste claims That left us with a third question: If the waste exists, who is making money from it? Because behind almost every environmental scandal lies an economic incentive. Someone saves money. Someone gets paid. Someone profits. Without that incentive, the system usually does not exist. The assumption behind the narrative At a conference in Gothenburg, Sweden, trade law expert Rodrigo Polanco offered what may be the most common explanation for how such a system would work. "If it's trash and you know it, then you're getting paid to get rid of things that you should get paid in the country where these things are produced," he told Reuse News in an interview. When asked who would be paying, his answer was straightforward. "Someone from the exporting country is paying you to get rid of it." Rodrigo Polanco Rodrigo Polanco is a professor of international economic law at the University of Bern. His recent research has focused on international trade and the regulatory challenges surrounding textiles, waste and circular economy policies. His perspective is noteworthy because it reflects a view increasingly found in policy discussions: that if textile waste is appearing in importing countries, somebody must be benefiting financially from exporting it. The logic is easy to understand. If large quantities of unusable textiles are ending up in countries such as Ghana , somebody must be avoiding disposal costs somewhere else. The exporter saves money. The importer gets paid. The waste problem is transferred from one country to another. Versions of this argument appear throughout the wider debate. Sometimes explicitly. Sometimes only as an underlying assumption. The problem is that assumptions are not evidence. And when Reuse News began searching for evidence of such a system, the picture became much less clear. Following the money Imagine a company in Europe sitting on a container full of genuinely unusable textiles. Not second hand clothing. Not low grade garments. Not products that can be repaired, repurposed or resold. Actual waste. In most European countries, established disposal routes already exist. The material can be incinerated, processed through domestic waste systems or, where economically viable, recycled. Exporting the same material to another continent is a much more complicated undertaking. It requires collection, sorting, baling, transport to port, container shipping, customs procedures, local transport and, ultimately, disposal after arrival. Every additional step introduces cost. For the model to work, somebody must save enough money to make the export worthwhile. Somebody else must be willing to receive the material. And somebody must still deal with the waste once it arrives. Yet despite years of claims about textile waste exports, Reuse News was unable to identify a documented business model explaining how such a system operates in practice. We found no studies tracing payment flows from exporters to importers for the purpose of accepting textile waste. We found no documented contracts. We found no verified examples showing that exporting textile waste through second hand channels is systematically cheaper than managing it domestically. What we found instead was a widespread belief that such a system must exist. A trade that should be visible The absence of evidence becomes even more striking when viewed against existing regulations. Alan Wheeler, Chief Executive of the UK Textile Recycling Association, explains how textile waste exports from OECD countries to most developing countries are already heavily restricted. "Exports of textile waste to countries such as Ghana are already prohibited. The evidence increasingly shows that what is being traded is predominantly reusable second-hand textile products, with independently verified studies finding only low levels of non-reusable material in sorted bales." he told Reuse News. Alan Wheeler Critics of the trade may disagree with Wheeler's conclusion. But his observation highlights an important point. If large scale exports of textile waste are taking place, evidence showing how existing controls are being systematically circumvented should exist. There should be documented cases, identifiable actors, financial incentives and observable payment structures. Finding that evidence has proven remarkably difficult. A theory searching for a mechanism What makes the issue particularly difficult to assess is that clear evidence remains remarkably scarce. Over the course of this investigation, Reuse News searched for studies documenting cases, identified actors benefiting from the alleged trade, verified cases of textile waste being exported through second hand channels, or evidence showing that such exports are economically preferable to domestic disposal. We found none. The absence of evidence becomes even more noteworthy when viewed against how the trade actually operates, which we have described in this article: The missing logic behind the textile waste claims International shipments of used textiles already pass through a range of commercial, regulatory and customs controls designed to distinguish reusable goods from waste. If large volumes of textile waste are systematically being exported under the guise of reuse, evidence of how these systems are being circumvented should be visible. Karolina Skog Karolina Skog, former Swedish Minister for the Environment and now representing the Nordic Textile Network and Sweden's City Missions, believes this distinction is important. "If there were indications of systematic waste exports, we would not be involved in this trade," she told Reuse News. The statement illustrates a broader reality. Many of the organisations operating within the reuse system insist that they are participating in a market for reusable products, not a trade in waste. Despite years of investigation and growing policy attention, clear evidence showing otherwise remains surprisingly difficult to find. From presumption to policy Perhaps the most revealing moment came near the end of our conversation with Polanco. Discussing the idea that importers may effectively be receiving waste disguised as reusable clothing, he paused before explaining the logic. "Well, this is what you would presume." That single word captures the challenge at the centre of the textile waste debate. Presume. After several years of headlines, reports, campaigns and policy discussions, the existence of a large scale business model for exporting textile waste is increasingly being treated as established fact. Yet after more than a year of reporting, Reuse News found remarkably no evidence explaining how that business is supposed to work. The assumption has become powerful enough to shape international regulation but the business behind it remains surprisingly hard to find. Written by Thomas Lundkvist Additional articles in this investigation: What looks like mountains of textile waste, is actually not. It's plastic. The missing logic behind the textile waste claims How did an unverified claim become a global truth and reshape global policy

From a distance, it looks like mountains of discarded clothing. That image has travelled the world — repeated, amplified and turned into a defining narrative about textile waste in Africa. But when we went there, the picture changed completely. What had been described as textile waste was mostly something else. Yet this narrative is already reshaping policy and regulation across Europe — with potentially far-reaching consequences for trade, livelihoods and the future of global textile reuse. For years, a single idea has dominated the global debate on second-hand clothing: that large volumes of unusable garments are exported from Europe to African countries, where they end up as waste. The claim is repeated across media, policy papers and public debate. Images of beaches and landfills covered in what appears to be discarded clothing have become emblematic of a system in crisis. The conclusion has seemed obvious. Africa is being used as a dumping ground for discarded clothes from Europe and other parts of the global north. A picture we have seen before. The shoreline in Accra, Ghana drowning in what appears to be textile waste. But there is a problem. When we went to the places where this waste is supposed to be — and spoke to the people who live and work there, another story began to emerge. What is being claimed The most widely cited figure in the debate is that up to 40 percent of second-hand clothing imported into African countries is unsellable and ends up as waste. In most reports Accra, the capitol of Ghana is used as the worst example of this, with clothes and textile waste piled up on the beaches and in the rivers and landfills. This number and these images has been used to support calls for stricter regulation of second-hand exports. It has shaped how policymakers, NGOs and the public understand the trade. But the figure itself is far less solid than it appears. “That 40% figure has just been continuously recycled and reused throughout media and policymaking. In reality, it comes from a single unpublished study based largely on anecdotal evidence.” These are the words of Jessica Franken. She is the Vice President of Government and External Affairs at SMART, an international industry association representing companies involved in the reuse and recycling of textiles and secondary materials. “There is a clear gap between what is being claimed in public debate and what the available data actually shows", she says. In Ghana, those who work in the industry are not so pleased with the way their trade is being portrayed in western media. And in several ways they are now hitting back. Marlwin Owusu from GUCDA, Ghana Used Clothing Dealers Association: "First of all, if 40% of what you import would be trash and unsellable, you wouldn't be able to stay in business for very long. It just doesn't make sense." Local importers, traders and dealers describe the same reality. "People say 40% is waste. But we sell what we import. That's why we buy it," says Maame Serwaa, Importer and Trader in the Kantamanto Market in Accra. What we found If the 40% figure were to be true, the physical impact would be expected to be visible at scale. The scale would be impossible to miss. And yes, this is what the pictures we have seen in the media reflects. In Accra, Ghana, there are a handful of locations that are repeatedly featured in reports about textile waste. We went to all of them. We also spoke to traders, workers and people living in the areas. Jamestown Beach. Korle Lagoon. Landfills and informal dumping grounds. What we found was indeed waste. But the overwhelming majority of it was plastic, not textile. The illusion At first glance, the images make sense. From a distance, large accumulations of waste can look like piles of fabric. But as you get closer, that impression disappears. The closer we looked, the more the visual narrative began to break down. It is not textiles. It is plastic. Plastic bags. Packaging. Synthetic debris. There are garments present. But they are few. Across the sites we visited the overwhelming majority is plastic. Where are the mountains Across the sites we visited, and in conversations with those working in the trade, we did not find evidence of large scale accumulation of imported textile waste. Despite its widespread use, the 40 percent figure is rarely accompanied by transparent methodology or clearly referenced underlying data. Requests for clarification around how the number was produced have often yielded limited detail. Yet the figure continues to circulate across media, advocacy and policy discussions. Once repeated often enough, a number can begin to take on the appearance of fact — regardless of how it was originally derived. We went to Ghana looking for the mountains of textile waste. But what we found was something very different. What the data actually shows When more systematic studies and analyses have been conducted, the picture has often looked very different. Multiple studies carried out in countries such as Ghana and Kenya — including national analyses and research involving international institutions — point in the same direction: that the share of imported material that cannot be reused is significantly lower than commonly claimed. Many of these studies were commissioned only after the widely repeated 40 percent figure had already become established in public debate, despite being based largely on anecdotal and non-systematic evidence. Several were initiated by organisations within the industry itself, partly because little verifiable field data existed at the time. But while these studies are often more systematic and transparent in their methodology than the claims they challenge, they are rarely referenced in mainstream reporting on textile waste exports. What is already changing This debate is no longer just about images, media narratives or disputed numbers. Across Europe and internationally, new rules are now being developed that could fundamentally change how used textiles are collected, sorted, classified and exported. These include stricter requirements on textile sorting, tighter controls on exports within and outside Europe, and discussions under the Basel Convention that could move second-hand clothing further into the realm of waste regulation. The intention is understandable. No one wants unusable clothing to be dumped on countries with weaker waste systems. But if the underlying assumption is wrong, the consequences could be severe. “If you shut down these flows, you don’t fix the problem, you break the circular system entirely,” says Jessica Franken. Regulations designed to stop waste exports may instead restrict the movement of reusable clothing. They could make it harder to redistribute surplus garments, increase the amount of textiles sent to incineration or landfill in Europe, weaken an existing circular trade, and reduce access to affordable clothing and livelihoods in countries that depend on the second-hand sector. In other words, policies meant to fix one problem may end up damaging one of the systems already helping to reduce it. Written and produced by Thomas Lundkvist Studies & Reports: All studies and reports mentioned in the article you can read and download here: Reports Read more: The missing logic behind the textile waste claims Everyone talks about textile waste exports. Nobody can explain the business model How did an unverified claim become a global truth and reshape global policy

Over the past few years, few issues have received more attention in textile policy discussions than exports of used clothing. Reports, campaigns and regulatory proposals have increasingly focused on what happens to garments after they leave Europe. Questions about waste, exports and end-of-life management now dominate much of the public debate. Yet the numbers suggest a different perspective. According to the European Environment Agency, textile consumption in the EU generated around 159 million tonnes of greenhouse gas emissions in 2022. Most of that impact comes from producing new textiles, not from reusing existing ones. Europe also generates millions of tonnes of textile waste every year. Addressing that challenge is important. But even if every concern currently being raised about second-hand exports proved correct, the debate would still be focused on a relatively small part of the textile system. The overwhelming environmental footprint of fashion is created long before a garment reaches a second-hand market. It does raise a broader question: has the debate become disproportionately focused on the end of the textile value chain, while paying less attention to the production systems that create most of the industry's environmental impact in the first place? As policymakers seek solutions, maintaining that perspective may be just as important as resolving the export debate itself.

The debate around used clothing exports appears to be evolving. A few years ago, public discussions were largely dominated by claims that vast quantities of second-hand clothing were being exported to Africa only to become waste. Figures such as the widely cited "40%" estimate became central to media coverage, NGO campaigns and policy discussions. Those claims continue to play an important role. But increasingly, a second argument is emerging. Many organisations are now focusing less on how much clothing becomes waste and more on the nature of the clothing itself. As ultra-fast-fashion grows, they argue, textiles contain larger amounts of synthetic fibres, chemical treatments and materials that may create environmental and health concerns throughout their lifecycle. In recent submissions to the Basel Convention, several organisations have argued that used textiles should be viewed not only as a waste issue but also through the lens of hazardous substances, chemicals and pollution. The shift is significant. Claims about waste volumes require evidence about what happens to clothing after it arrives in importing markets. Arguments about chemicals focus instead on the characteristics of the products themselves. Whether this represents a genuine change in thinking or simply an expansion of existing concerns remains open to debate. But it suggests that the discussion is moving beyond questions of quantity and increasingly toward questions of material composition and product design. That distinction may matter. If the primary concern is the chemical and material content of modern textiles, the policy debate may increasingly focus on how clothes are produced rather than what happens to them after they enter second-hand markets.

Over the course of my career, I have investigated complex issues, controversial claims and political debates. I have seen industries defend the indefensible. I have seen campaigners exaggerate problems. I have seen policymakers make mistakes. But I cannot remember encountering a case quite like this one. What has surprised me most is not that people disagree about second-hand clothing exports. Disagreement is normal. What has surprised me is how many important political and regulatory processes now appear to be influenced by assumptions that few people have seriously examined. Over the past 18 months, Reuse News has investigated some of the most widely repeated claims about textile waste exports to Africa. We travelled to the places most often cited as evidence. We reviewed reports, studies and policy documents. We spoke to traders, researchers, policymakers, industry representatives and campaigners. What we found was not what I expected. Again and again, we encountered a gap between the confidence with which claims were being made and the evidence available to support them. The further we followed the chain of evidence, the harder it became to find solid support for some of the assumptions that now underpin major policy discussions. Claims were often repeated more frequently than they were verified. Numbers travelled from report to report. Narratives became accepted truths. In some cases, the underlying evidence appeared remarkably thin considering the political consequences that could follow. As journalists, we are trained to ask simple questions. How do we know this? What is the evidence? Who measured it? Can it be verified? Too often, we found that these questions had either not been asked or had not been answered. Perhaps the most unsettling part of this investigation has been watching how rapidly these assumptions have moved from advocacy into policy. Today, governments, regulators and international institutions are discussing measures that could reshape global second-hand trade for decades. Some of these discussions are taking place within the European Union. Others are happening through international bodies such as UNEP and the Basel Convention. These are serious institutions. Like many people, I have generally assumed that systems of this scale and importance are built on rigorous analysis, extensive consultation and robust evidence. This investigation has challenged that assumption. Not because policymakers are acting in bad faith. That is something I truly don't believe. But because complex systems can sometimes develop momentum around ideas that feel true long before they have been thoroughly tested. That possibility should concern everyone, regardless of where they stand in this debate. Reuse News was created for exactly this kind of moment. The initiative grew out of a concern shared by several organisations in the second-hand sector. Over time, many felt that public reporting and policy discussions around used clothing had become increasingly one-sided, while the people and systems actually involved in reuse were rarely examined with the same seriousness. Reuse News is financed by actors within the second-hand industry. But its assignment is clearly defined: to produce independent journalism on issues related to textiles, fashion, reuse and circularity. That distinction matters. We were not created to publish industry messaging. We were created because independent journalism is the only credible way to challenge weak assumptions, test competing claims and bring complex realities into public view. We are not an advocacy organisation. We are not a trade association. We are not an NGO. Our role is not to defend a predetermined position. Our role is to ask questions. The global reuse sector sits at the intersection of environmental policy, international trade, poverty reduction, circularity and climate ambitions. Yet despite its growing importance, it remains poorly understood by many of the people making decisions about it. We believe that is a problem. Good policy depends on good information. Good information depends on scrutiny. And scrutiny requires someone willing to follow the evidence wherever it leads. That is what we have tried to do with this investigation. Readers are free to draw their own conclusions. Our responsibility is simpler than that. To ask difficult questions. To challenge assumptions. And to make sure that decisions affecting millions of people are based on evidence rather than repetition. After many months of reporting, I have fewer certainties than when we began. But I have become convinced of one thing: Before we redesign a global reuse system that supports livelihoods, extends product lifetimes and provides affordable clothing to millions of people, we should first make sure we truly understand how it works.

The debate over textile waste is no longer confined to conferences, NGO reports and industry discussions. It is increasingly shaping legislation and international policy. In the EU, separate collection of textile waste became mandatory in January 2025. Extended Producer Responsibility schemes are being introduced across member states, requiring producers to finance collection, sorting and treatment of used textiles. The EU's revised Waste Shipment Regulation will also tighten controls on waste exports, particularly to non-OECD countries. At the same time, international bodies including UNEP and the Basel Convention are examining whether existing rules are sufficient to address concerns about textile waste and used-clothing exports. Taken individually, these initiatives may appear technical. Together, they have the potential to reshape the global second-hand textile trade. This matters because the trade sits at the intersection of several policy goals that do not always align. Governments want to reduce waste and improve environmental protection. At the same time, policymakers are seeking to expand circularity, reduce resource consumption and keep products in use for longer. The challenge is that many of the proposed measures depend on assumptions about the relationship between second-hand clothing and waste. If those assumptions are incomplete or inaccurate, regulations designed to solve one problem could create others. For businesses, charities, sorters, exporters and importing countries, the decisions being discussed today may determine how second-hand trade operates for decades to come.

The Basel Convention is the world's primary treaty governing the international movement of hazardous and other wastes. Originally adopted in 1989, its purpose was to prevent countries from shifting environmental burdens across borders. For decades, used clothing largely existed outside the centre of Basel discussions. That changed in 2025, when parties agreed to begin work specifically examining used textiles and textile waste. The key question is deceptively simple: when is a used textile a reusable product, and when does it become waste? The answer matters because Basel rules apply to waste, not products. If large volumes of second-hand clothing are classified as waste, shipments could become subject to permits, notifications, inspections and additional restrictions. Supporters argue that stronger controls are needed to prevent waste from being exported under the guise of reuse. However, Reuse News' recent investigation found that the most widely cited claims about textile waste exports rely on limited evidence, contested estimates and assumptions that are often repeated more frequently than they are verified. If future regulations are built on an incomplete understanding of how second-hand markets function, there is a risk that policies intended to address waste could also restrict legitimate reuse systems that deliver environmental, economic and social benefits. The process remains at an early stage. The Basel Secretariat has collected submissions from governments, NGOs, industry organisations and other stakeholders. Those views are now being reviewed ahead of discussions at the Open-ended Working Group meeting in June 2026. What emerges from that process may become one of the most influential global reference points for how used textiles are regulated in the future.

When the Basel Convention invited comments on used textiles and textile waste, responses arrived from governments, industry associations, NGOs, charities, academics and international organisations. On paper, the process is open to all 191 parties to the convention. In practice, only a small share submitted formal comments. Twelve parties and twenty-two observers participated in the consultation. The limited participation raises important questions. Countries with extensive policy resources often have greater capacity to engage in technical consultations, while many developing countries face competing priorities and resource constraints. The responses reveal a significant divide in how stakeholders understand the problem. Many environmental NGOs and activist organisations argue that current systems allow waste to be exported under the label of reuse. They generally support tighter definitions, stronger controls and greater traceability. Industry groups, reuse organisations and many actors involved in second-hand trade tend to focus on the benefits of reuse. They argue that exported clothing is intended for continued use and warn that excessive restrictions could undermine circular systems that already exist. The disagreement is therefore not simply about regulation. It is about the underlying diagnosis of the problem. Is the primary issue waste disguised as reuse, or is there a risk that functioning reuse systems are increasingly being treated as waste? The Reuse News investigation offers a clear answer to that, but how this will be handled during Basel workshops is another story.