Where your recycling really goes
Follow one bottle from the kitchen bin through magnets, eddy currents, infrared scanners and a global commodity market — and find out why one greasy pizza box can send a whole lorry load to the incinerator.
You drop it in the bin
It all begins with a two second decision at the kitchen bin. That one choice decides whether an object comes back as a new can next month or sits in the ground for four hundred years, and almost nobody ever sees what happens after the lid shuts.
The lorry works the street
The lorry is not just a bin on wheels. Its hydraulic ram crushes the load down to roughly a quarter of its volume, and a single round can gather about twelve tonnes from a thousand or so homes before it heads for the depot.
Tipped onto the sorting floor
At the materials recovery facility everything is tipped into one enormous heap and pushed onto a moving belt. From this moment on nothing is sorted by brand or by bin colour. Machines separate it purely by shape, weight, magnetism and the colour of reflected light.
A spinning drum screens out card
First comes a huge rotating drum full of holes, followed by rows of spinning star shaped discs. Flat cardboard rides over the top of them while bottles and cans tumble down through the gaps. Shape alone does the entire first separation.
Magnets lift out the steel
Then an overhead magnet does the easiest job in the building. Steel cans leap straight up out of the moving stream. Steel can be recycled endlessly without ever losing quality, and melting scrap takes only about a third of the energy needed to smelt fresh iron ore.
Eddy currents fling out aluminium
Aluminium is not magnetic, so it takes a trick. A fast spinning magnetic rotor induces an electric current inside each aluminium can, which makes it briefly magnetic and literally flings it off the belt. Recycling aluminium uses about a twentieth of the energy of making it new.
Infrared scanners read the plastics
Now the plastics. Infrared scanners shine light onto every item and read how it bounces back, because each type of plastic has its own fingerprint. A puff of compressed air then knocks the chosen bottles into their own bin, dozens of times a second.
People pick out what machines miss
Machines still miss things, so people stand at the end of the line pulling out carrier bags, garden hose, nappies and the occasional bowling ball. It is loud, fast, thankless work, and it is what keeps the material clean enough to actually sell.
One dirty item can spoil a bale
This is where good intentions do real damage. A greasy pizza box, a half empty bottle or a bag of loose paper can soak or dirty an entire bale, and one carrier bag wound around a spinning shaft can shut the whole plant down for hours.
Is the batch clean enough
So every batch gets judged on how contaminated it is. Buyers set strict limits, often under five percent, because a mill cannot afford to melt down a load and only then discover that a good part of it was ordinary rubbish.
Dirty loads are burned or buried
Loads that fail go to an incinerator or a landfill. That is why wish cycling, hopefully binning something when you are not sure, is worse than simply throwing it away. On average roughly one part in six of kerbside recycling never gets recycled.
Clean material is baled
Material that passes is compressed into dense bales, each weighing around a tonne, wire tied and stacked up like giant bricks. This is the exact moment your bottle stops being rubbish and turns into a commodity with a price on it.
Bales are sold by the tonne
Those bales are then traded on a genuine market. Prices swing with the oil price, because cheap new plastic makes recycled plastic hard to sell, and a tonne of baled aluminium is worth many times more than a tonne of mixed paper.
Washed, shredded and melted
At the reprocessor the bale is broken open, washed, shredded into flakes and melted into pellets or ingots. Glass is crushed into cullet, which melts at a lower temperature than raw sand and saves energy on every single furnace load.
Back on a shelf as something new
Then it comes back, usually as something completely different. Bottles become fleece jackets, cans become engine parts, and the whole loop can close in about six weeks. The bin was never the end of the journey. It was only a junction.
Watch it explain itself
Every step above is narrated aloud. Play it, or open it in the editor and make it yours — no account needed.