Abstract
Beginning with my technical work, my team and I developed an initial design and assessed the feasibility of a molecular PET recycling plant. Our process is centered around methanolysis, which serves as the driving force to break down post-consumer PET plastic into its constituent components. These products then undergo transesterification to reform PET monomers, followed by a series of liquid-phase and solid-state repolymerization steps to rebuild polymer chains. Within the repolymerization processes, careful control of reaction conditions and composition is required to achieve bottle-grade specifications, particularly an intrinsic viscosity (IV) of approximately 0.8 dL/g, which serves as a key indicator of polymer quality and molecular weight. The final product is clear, bottle-grade PET pellets that can be marketed as a high-quality recycled material and sold at a premium. Our design takes advantage of the growing demand for recycled plastics, particularly within the food and beverage industry, while also demonstrating that high-purity recycled PET can be produced through a technically rigorous and economically viable process. In doing so, the plant provides a service that is not only financially competitive, but also aligned with broader sustainability goals, while highlighting the level of infrastructure and control required to make true material circularity possible.
In my sociotechnical writing, I examine the tensions between the terminology used to describe recyclability and the ultimate fate of the same product. My analysis uses the Social Construction of Technology (SCOT) as its guiding framework, with particular emphasis on the principle of “interpretive flexibility.” I argue that the term recyclable is not a stable technical truth, but rather a socially constructed and strategically flexible definition—one that can be manipulated to garner consumer trust. At the point of purchase, this flexibility is often hidden behind an implied “asterisk,” where a product may only be recyclable under specific conditions such as proper sorting, low contamination levels, or access to appropriate regional infrastructure. My writing emphasizes that the consequences of this flexibility, described as greenwashing, are not the fault of a single bad actor or group. Instead, they emerge from an equilibrium between consumer expectations, corporate incentives, and ambiguous labeling, creating a self-reinforcing system in which misleading claims persist. For example, consumers often rely heavily on labels and visual cues when making decisions, leading to behaviors such as “wishcycling,” where items are disposed of with the assumption they will be recycled regardless of actual system capabilities. At the same time, corporations face strong incentives to signal sustainability to remain competitive, often finding it far easier to adjust language and marketing than to invest in costly infrastructure changes. These dynamics are illustrated through specific examples and engagement with existing literature, followed by an in-depth qualitative case study of Nestlé. This case study demonstrates how interpretive flexibility operates in practice. Nestlé shifts from claims of “100% recyclable” packaging, to language describing products as “designed for recycling.” This allowed Nestlé to report progress while the underlying meaning of the commitment evolved from its original claim. The paper concludes with a call for greater standardization of recyclable terminology, alongside a shift toward outcome-based metrics that tie sustainability claims to measurable recycling rates, ultimately placing greater accountability on producers rather than consumers.
Together, these two works highlight a critical disconnect between the technical realities of recycling and how those realities are communicated to consumers. While my technical design demonstrates that producing truly recyclable, bottle-grade PET requires a highly controlled, multi-stage process with significant infrastructure, energy, and economic considerations, my sociotechnical analysis shows that none of this complexity is reflected in the simple claims found on product labels. The term recyclable ultimately depends on systems that extend far beyond the material itself—sorting technologies, contamination thresholds, regional infrastructure, and market demand—yet these dependencies are largely invisible at the point of purchase. This disconnect allows corporations to rely on flexible terminology to signal sustainability, even when the conditions required for actual recycling are rarely met in practice. In this way, my technical work provides a grounded understanding of what recycling truly entails, while my sociotechnical work explains why that reality is often obscured. When placed in parallel, they suggest that improving recycling outcomes is not only a matter of better technology, but also of more transparent communication and accountability, where claims are tied to measurable, system-level outcomes rather than broad and easily manipulated definitions.
.
