------Based on conversation with Alex Lingum

The linear economy—the system of "take, make, dispose"—is sustained not only by industrial design but by the very language we use to describe materials at the end of their useful service. The single, potent word that drives this destructive cycle is "Waste." How we describe something defines what it becomes. When we categorize a spent coffee cup, a retired vehicle, or an obsolete smartphone as "waste," we are not merely describing a physical state; we are imposing a philosophical and economic verdict: worthlessness. This linguistic declaration immediately designates the material as something to be expelled, a burden to be offloaded, rather than an asset to be recovered. The Philosophical Burden of "Waste" The term "waste" carries an inherent finality, a conceptual black hole.

1. It Erases Value: To call something "waste" is to strip it of its embedded energy, its material integrity, and its economic history. A discarded aluminum can, for example, represents the mining of bauxite, immense energy input for smelting, and complex manufacturing. When labeled "waste," all this investment is conceptually annihilated. The value of the object becomes less than the cost of its disposal.


2. It Justifies Neglect: If something is worthless, then treating it with care becomes irrational. The designation of "waste" encourages aggregation, contamination, and a general lack of stewardship. We throw disparate materials together because their individual identities no longer matter. This immediately makes high-quality repurposing and recycling exponentially more difficult, thereby reinforcing the initial judgment of worthlessness.


3. It Limits Imagination: The most damaging effect of the term is its limitation on our perception. Once an item is waste, the only possible outcomes are landfill or incineration. We cease to ask, "What components can be reused?" or "What new form can this material take?" The conversation stops at disposal, short-circuiting the creative and engineering problem-solving necessary for a Circular Economy.

The Circular Reframing: Shifting the Lexicon The transition to a circular system is fundamentally a linguistic and conceptual endeavor. To change our material flows, we must first change our definitions. Instead of "waste," circular thinking introduces terms like:

• Resources for Recovery: This term immediately focuses on the potential value locked within the discarded material, making recovery an economic imperative rather than an environmental obligation.


• Nutrients (Technical or Biological): In the influential "Cradle to Cradle" framework, products are defined as either technical nutrients (synthetic materials designed for continuous cycling) or biological nutrients (materials that can safely return to the biosphere). This term provides a designated, positive destiny for every component.


• End-of-Service Assets: This business-oriented language positions the material as a capital good that has merely completed a usage cycle, maintaining its status as a piece of property that requires proper management, tracking, and re-deployment.

There are companies who have already adjusted their practices to eliminate “waste” and see products and materials differently, which generates more economic opportunities and new business models.

1. Reframing the Product as a Service

This business model fundamentally eradicates the concept of "end-of-life waste" for the customer, as the company retains ownership. This incentivizes them to design for durability, repair, and eventual re-manufacture, effectively reframing the product as a "Functional Asset." The lighting giant Philips (now Signify) exemplifies this shift with its Light-as-a-Service (LaaS) model. Instead of selling light bulbs and fixtures, major clients pay a fee for the light they use. Philips owns all the hardware, meaning they are motivated to use durable materials, repair components, and recover every part when the lighting system is eventually upgraded. The retired product immediately becomes a technical resource for them, not "waste" for the client. Similarly, Michelin’s Fleet Solutions leases tire services to trucking fleets, charging them by the distance driven, not by the number of tires purchased. This encourages Michelin to maximize tire lifespan through maintenance, re-treading, and durable compounds, transforming the worn tire into an asset for material recovery.

2. Reframing Agricultural By-products as Biological Nutrients

These companies seize upon materials traditionally defined as agricultural or food "waste" and use them as inputs for new, high-value products, often following the Cradle-to-Cradle principle. Companies like Biohm and Ecovative are using biology to refashion building materials. They take agricultural by-products (like corn husks or wood chips) and combine them with mycelium (the root structure of mushrooms). The mycelium grows around the waste, binding it into a high-performance, fire-retardant, and carbon-sequestering insulation or packaging material. When its life ends, it can safely biodegrade, acting as a biological nutrient for the soil. In the biomaterials sector, PolyBion takes waste materials from fruit processing (like peels and cores) and feeds them to bacteria. These bacteria produce a flexible, biodegradable material called Celium, which mimics plastic or leather. Here, former "food waste" is ingeniously transformed into a raw manufacturing input. Furthermore, companies like Circular Food are taking by-products from distillation and fermentation processes, such as spent grains from breweries, and using patented technology to convert them into new types of flour. They directly promote the principle of "waste as a resource" by creating a valuable food ingredient out of a discarded stream.

3. Reframing End-of-Life Goods as Technical Resources

This approach focuses on closing the technical loop, ensuring that synthetic materials maintain their identity and are perpetually available for industry, rather than being downgraded. As we have discussed in “The language of Sustainability”, the outdoor apparel company Patagonia drives this conceptual shift with its Worn Wear Initiative. Patagonia reframes used clothing as "gear that is ready for another adventure." The program offers repairs, repair guides, and runs an online marketplace for used products, which extends the product's life and maintains the material's value, reducing the need for new resource extraction. Finally, the Australian company Close the Loop takes traditionally difficult "waste" streams, such as toner from printer cartridges and soft plastics, and blends them with recycled glass and asphalt to produce a high-performance, longer-lasting road surface. They transform low-value, difficult-to-recycle mixed plastic waste into a durable infrastructure component. By replacing the term "waste" with these alternatives, these companies instill the necessary behaviors: stewardship, meticulous sorting, and design for disassembly. The materials are no longer trash; they are ingredients awaiting their next life, part of a continuous, closed-loop cycle. The most powerful tool for dismantling the linear economy is not necessarily a new machine, but a new word. Until we shed the notion of "waste" and accept the continuous material identity of all products, we will continue to treat finite resources as infinitely disposable, trapped by a language that ensures their premature burial.