Capture the Carbon

The basic vision of CCS, or ‘smart carbon usage’ as the industry refers to it (EUROFER 2019), is to capture carbon dioxide and store it underground to prevent it from being released into the atmosphere. The idea of CCS was first suggested in 1977 (Reference MarchettiMarchetti 1977), and it has mainly been considered in relation to the continued use of fossil fuels in power production. Expectations for global CCS deployment in the power sector were high in the early 2000s as it offered an economic future for the fossil fuel industry and power plants despite the necessity to reduce carbon dioxide emissions. However, the rapid development of renewable energy technologies, notably solar and wind, as well as the cost of CCS and a sceptical public has resulted in waning political support and interest for CCS in power production, such that at the time of writing, there has been no large-scale deployment of this technology.

Despite its infancy, the CCS idea was picked up by the steel industry as exemplified by the European Ultra- Low carbon dioxide steelmaking (ULCOS) research programs 2004–2015, involving all major European steel companies and co-funded by EU (Reference Quader, Ahmed, Dawal and NukmanQuader et al. 2016). ULCOS explored and tested several technologies, but the focus of its effort was on developing different concepts that included CCS, with names such as ULCOS-BF, HIsarna, and ULCORED. The main aim was to reduce emissions by at least 50 per cent, that is, from about 2 tons of carbon dioxide per ton of steel to about 1 ton of carbon dioxide. The largest emission reductions among those options, about 80 per cent, were shown to be possible by combining the HIsarna technology with CCS, a solution championed by Tata Steel.

With CCU, the idea is to capture carbon dioxide or carbon monoxide, mainly from BF gas, and use the carbon as a building block for chemicals and hydrocarbon fuels such as ethanol and methanol. Prominent examples include the Steelanol project by ArcelorMittal and the Carbon2Chem project involving ThyssenKrupp. CCU offers an attractive vision in which the words and images of ‘carbon-neutral steelmaking’, ‘smart carbon usage’, and ‘circular economy’ through ‘carbon valorisation’ are used in industry communications rather than CCU (see e.g. ArcelorMittal 2020; Reference Tönjes, Mölter, Pastowski and WitteTönjes et al. 2019). The ArcelorMittal vision of ‘Smart Carbon’ even goes as far as to label the ethanol produced as ‘bioethanol’: ‘[W]e are building an industrial-scale demonstration plant to capture carbon off-gases from the blast furnace and convert it into 80 million litres of bio-ethanol a year’ (2020: 5). This claim is made under the dubious pretence that future BF gas can contain only ‘circular carbon from the end of life plastics and from sustainable biomass’ (ArcelorMittal 2020: 4). The Carbon2Chem project envisions a broader range of chemicals (methanol, ammonia, etc.) from BF gases and involves several large chemical companies. It has been granted an impressive 60 MEUR of funding from the German government for the first laboratory phase 2016–2020. The vision includes carbon dioxide-neutral steel, circular economy, and getting higher-value products from BF gases (Reference Tönjes, Mölter, Pastowski and WitteTönjes et al. 2019).

Electrification

Assuming ongoing growth in primary steel production, the alternative to CCS and CCU is to use hydrogen as a reduction agent or electricity directly in electrolytic processes. These two types of technologies hold the promise that primary steelmaking can become completely fossil-free. In this vision, the electricity and hydrogen are assumed to be produced from renewable resources. The steel industry would become a key part of the ‘hydrogen economy’ – a long-touted vision for a clean energy future. Hydrogen direct reduction builds on extensive previous experience of direct reduction using natural gas. The idea of using hydrogen to strip the oxygen from iron oxides to produce iron and water (as a by-product) is rather old, although it was not until 2016 that this hydrogen vision gained serious traction with the Swedish companies Vattenfall (electricity), LKAB (iron ore mining), and SSAB (steelmaker) announcing their plans for their Hydrogen Breakthrough Ironmaking Technology (HYBRIT) for fossil-free steelmaking. Several other steelmakers have followed suit since to announce the development of various hydrogen projects.

One potential implication of the hydrogen or renewable electricity vision of decarbonised steel is that it may serve to rework the geographies of production. Current steel plants are in places to which iron ore and coking coal can be easily transported. In the future, it may be advantageous to produce iron in regions endowed with renewable energy. One such region is Australia where, in several places, there are good coexisting solar and wind resources. In addition, Australia has large iron ore resources, producing 38 per cent of the world´s iron ore and is a large exporter (Reference Wood, Dundas and HaWood et al. 2020). In this vision, Australia’s current ‘carbon workers’ in coal mining or oil and gas extraction are to find future jobs in green iron and steelmaking. In such a vision, briquetted iron can be exported, possibly mixed with scrap, and made into steel in EAFs in other parts of the world where steel mills already exist, or the steel can be produced in Australia and then exported.

Scrap Economies

Scrap has been a valuable asset and recycled ever since the Iron Age. Globally, around 80–90 per cent of the steel that goes out of use is already recycled (IEA 2020a). Steel industry visions, as, for example, expressed in industry roadmaps, generally include the option of recycling even if it is not as central as the visions of CCS/CCU or hydrogen. Actors within the sector emphasise steel’s material qualities and the possibility this affords to recycle it without losing quality. For example, the World Steel Association states that ‘today’s steel products will become tomorrow’s cans, trains, bridges and buildings’ (World Steel Association 2020), while the Swedish steel producers’ association declares that ‘[s]teel is 100 % recyclable, for eternity’ (Reference JernkontoretJernkontoret 2018: 16). The implication is that should demand for steel stabilise, there would, in principle, no longer be a need to mine for iron ore to produce primary steel. In this vision, which often accompanies the technological pathways for new steel mentioned previously, it is relatively straightforward for steel to move through a cycle of production, static use, and release for recycling. Given that primary steelmaking uses much more energy than the secondary scrap-based route and that steel recycling can be powered by renewable electricity, the idea that scrap steel can be continually reused is central to visions of how the sector can bring its carbon footprint under control.

It is worth noting, however, that this scrap vision has largely pushed out a different, but related, vision of a low-carbon steel future: that which centres around the reuse of steel. As Reference Santos and LaneSantos and Lane (2017) demonstrate in relation to the building sector, the dominance of a vision in which scrap steel is put to new purposes should be attributed not only to steel’s material qualities but also to the existence of a stable ‘scrap regime’ consisting of building owners, demolition companies, and state-based regulation and certification schemes, which continue to favour recycling over reuse visions. Nonetheless, there are examples where a reuse vision of steel is emerging. In Portland, Oregon, for example, the municipal authority has developed a ‘deconstruction’ fund to support the deconstruction rather than demolition of older buildings, such that useful materials can be taken and reused in the building sector (Reference MetcalfeMetcalfe 2016). Analysis undertaken by the C40 Cities Climate Leadership Group suggests that by 2050, ‘[…] construction companies could reuse at least a quarter of structural steel through improved coordination between the demolition and construction phases’ (C40 2019: 32).

Move over Steel?

In addition to steel visions, the substitution of other materials, particularly timber, in building construction is attracting increasing attention. This has been facilitated by two processes. First, there has been a growing concern for the emissions associated with the built environment. Second, the growth of material innovations that have the potential to enable timber to replace steel, such as the development of cross-laminated timber (CLT) – a technology that was developed in Austria during the 1990s motivated by the need for sawmills to develop higher-value products (Reference Brandner, Flatscher, Ringhofer, Schickhofer and ThielBrandner et al. 2016). CLT consists of several layers of solid wood laminations glued together crosswise and can be produced in various lengths and shapes in elements that are stable and load bearing. This has made wooden construction function on a par with steel, such that even wooden skyscrapers are now possible as exemplified by the 18-storey and 85-meter-high Mjøstårnet in Norway completed in 2019 and now the tallest wood-framed building in the world. Elsewhere, there continues to be an arms race between who will build the next tallest ‘plyscraper’, with a plethora of projects either proposed or under construction across major cities around the world, including a 180-meter hybrid timber/steel tower proposed in Sydney and a 350-meter-high one in Tokyo.

Figure 4 The 85-meter-high Mjøstårnet in Norway. The building’s structure is composed of both glued laminated timber and cross-laminated timber

Source: The photo is provided by Moelven 2019

This vision of the plyscraper has come together through a loose coalition of rural (e.g. vertically integrated forestry companies such as Stora Enso and Sumitomo and regional politicians) and urban actors (city officials and leading architectural firms), who see in CLT the potential to revive both rural economies and tackle carbon emissions from the urban built environment at the same time. Politicians in the US state of Oregon went as far as to declare CLT ‘essential’ to the state’s economic interests, changing regulations that would allow higher timber towers (in primarily urban areas) to help the state’s ailing rural forestry industry (Reference ManningManning 2019). What is particularly notable is how this vision of the new ‘age of timber’ is propelled, through glossy architectural renderings – often reproduced in international news items on the latest plyscraper announcement – that emphasise timber’s aesthetic qualities over its low-carbon credentials. Through timber’s aesthetics, such representations thus seek to present a new desirable urban future, with steel, in the words of New York City Mayor Bill Reference de Blasiode Blasio (2019), little more than a remnant of the past:

Cold Comfort from Carbon Capture?

CCS could in theory allow for the continued use of BFs, but the realities are that it is not viable to capture more than perhaps 50–60 per cent of emissions through retrofitting existing plants (Reference Quader, Ahmed, Dawal and NukmanQuader et al. 2016). The multitude of source points of carbon dioxide emissions across mills, retrofit costs, and limited physical space constrain the potential and efficiency of CCS. It increases production costs without any clear additional benefits beyond emissions reduction. The HIsarna process, which requires new build plants, in combination with CCS, can reach zero emissions if about 20 per cent of the fossil coal feedstock is replaced with biogenic carbon or charcoal. This makes HIsarna an attractive option, but the question remains whether it will be perceived as green steel by markets, regulators, and policymakers as it still relies on fossil feedstock. This technology dates back to the 1960s but was revived in 1990 to improve energy efficiency and reduce emissions by replacing coke with powdered coal in a different type of vessel than the conventional BF. It was revived again through the ULCOS programmes since it is more suitable for CCS than the BF. Another option is hydrogen steelmaking using natural gas and CCS to produce ´blue´ hydrogen instead of ´grey´ hydrogen where the carbon is emitted. Both ´grey´ and ´blue´ hydrogen are currently less expensive than the ´green´ hydrogen envisioned in renewable electricity futures.

Despite the industry framing of CCU as promising means for carbon-neutral steelmaking and smart carbon usage, such a process is still dependent on the use of fossil carbon in the making of steel and on the production of carbon-intensive by-products whose market is as yet uncertain. It may lead to 30–50 per cent lower emissions – for example, the steel off-gasses can be used as feedstock in the chemical industry, which then avoids using other fossil feedstock – but it does not lead to zero emissions. While the steelmaker may be relieved of their responsibilities for this carbon, the question as to what the downstream chemicals company makes of this prospect is as yet unknown and untested. Indeed, such a shift may suggest that the decarbonisation of one carbon-intensive sector does little more than to move the carbon around the economy like so many deckchairs on the Titanic. Given the regulatory conditions and financial implications of producing large volumes of carbon within the EU ETS, how the accounting for carbon and the allocation to different products should be done in cases like this is already highly contested. As such, it is uncertain whether technological innovations that are likely to generate further strain in this system are likely to be successful.

Clean Steel and Renewable Electricity Futures

Hydrogen-based primary steelmaking appears to offer some promise, if only under the assumption that affordable, emissions-free, and preferably renewable, electricity is available in sufficient quantities. Production costs may increase, but the option offers interesting co-benefits to electricity systems through flexible electricity demand and hydrogen storage. Forecasts suggest that this could require an additional 210–355 TWh/yr of electricity in Europe if fully implemented (Material Economics 2019). This is equivalent to 20–35 per cent of current EU industrial electricity demand (about 1,000 TWh/yr), corresponding to an increase by 7–12 per cent of the total EU electricity generation (about 3,000 TWh/yr). The large amounts of energy needed for stripping iron oxides of their oxygen are unavoidable and underscore the importance of recycling and material efficiency to reduce the need for primary steelmaking.

The high electricity demand in the ´green´ hydrogen vision also has wider implications. It will make economic sense to locate primary production in places that are rich in low-cost renewable electricity from wind and solar. At present, iron ore, coke, and coking coal are shipped to steel plants around the world. But renewable electricity and hydrogen are harder to move over such long distances. It is possible to ship hydrogen carriers such as ammonia (NH₃), methane (CH₄), and methanol (CH₃OH), but it makes more sense to locate the iron – or steelmaking near the renewable electricity and then ship the briquetted iron or the steel for further processing and finishing (Reference Wood, Dundas and HaWood et al. 2020). However, what may seem to be the most efficient from an engineering perspective will, in reality, be balanced against national political-economic interests and concerns for resource security or well-being of regional communities and jobs.

The HYBRIT project starting in 2016 exemplifies the importance of these material and geographical realities. The steel company SSAB was faced with the prospect of refurbishing their coke oven and a BF. The electricity company Vattenfall was looking for new markets for their emissions-free Swedish electricity, and LKAB has the only iron ore mine in Europe. Vattenfall and LKAB are state-owned, and all companies are headquartered in Sweden, facilitating short decision paths and serving to build trust. In the light of Swedish climate policy and the Paris Agreement, ULCOS’s ambition of reducing carbon emissions by about 50 per cent were not low-carbon enough for SSAB who wanted to reach zero emissions (Reference Tönjes, Mölter, Pastowski and WitteTönjes et al. 2019). Although it was still unclear how to build the value chain and business models, it was decided to go for hydrogen reduction and for a joint venture called HYBRIT Development AB. A one-ton-per-hour pilot plant went into operation in 2020. It was also decided in 2020 that the large-scale demonstration plant originally planned for 2035 should be bought forward to be in place by 2026 in order to accelerate the transition.

Recycling Constrained

Scenarios for future steel demand model widely different futures, from possible decline to increases in demand in the next 20 years. These overall changes in demand are expected to affect the quantity of scrap steel in circulation. A reduction in demand is associated with a more scrap-based (70 per cent versus 40 per cent today) steel economy, but even under this scenario it is predicted that in 2050 the EU will still need to produce or import millions of tons of primary steel (Material Economics 2019). However, the realities of the recycling vision are further complicated when we consider how the ideal of frictionless material flows run up against the materialities, temporalities, and geographies of steel. In terms of materialities, a key challenge to recycling is copper contamination which may render the scrap-based steel unsuitable for high-quality applications, for example, those which require high-strength and lightweight steel. Thus, the claim that steel is ‘100 per cent recyclable’ (Reference JernkontoretJernkontoret 2018: 95; World Steel Association 2020) must be taken with a pinch of salt. Changes in product design and improved separation processes at end-of-life are important to increase the share of scrap-based steel. However, constraints on recycling are not simply technical in nature. Steel’s material qualities – in this case its long lifespan – also shape the potential for recycling due to the ways it intersects with temporalities. As Reference Santos and LaneSantos and Lane (2017) note, important decisions about the use of steel in buildings are made at three stages of its life cycle: demolition, recycling, and construction. However, due to the long lifespans of buildings, decisions at different stages of their lives are generally made independently of the others. Decisions about design, construction, renovations, re-purposing, and demolition of buildings can be spread over more than 100 years, making coordination difficult and creating barriers to the ease with which steel could be recycled. In addition to this temporal challenge, there is also an important geographic dimension that shapes the prospects for recycled steel, for as with other resources for steel, ‘resource recovery engenders highly complex and brokered forms of governance’ (Reference Crang, Hughes, Gregson, Norris and AhamedCrang et al. 2013: 12). The spatial organisation of the value chain – local scrap-recycling regimes embedded in a fragmented global regime – shapes what steel gets collected, where it gets processed, and when it gets used. And although some aspects of the recycled steel flows can be governed through national regulation or standards, such efforts run up against a global landscape that shapes the pathways and possibilities for a more sustainable steel future (Reference Santos and LaneSantos and Lane 2017).

The Coming Age of Wood?

Despite the recent interest in substituting steel with timber of other materials, particularly in buildings, the so-called coming age of wood is not without its challenge(r)s and complexities. To understand the challenges that timber faces in replacing steel, it is worth considering the particular material’s qualities and how these are communicated in order to position timber as a desirable replacement. A focus on materials and materiality draws attention to issues such as how much weight a wooden beam can hold or how long it takes to deteriorate. While the emerging plyscrapers in European and North American cities help demonstrate what timber is capable of, as wood technology is still developing, errors will also be made along the way. Such as in Oregon, where a section of the third floor of a timber building under construction gave way and crashed onto the floor below (Reference ManningManning 2019). Material substitution is far from straightforward, requiring new ways of assessing material qualities, the reskilling of actors, and renewed supply chain coordination.

As new technologies or materials emerge, the promise of ‘the next big thing’ thus soon comes up against the systems and practices that are already in place. How does the weight that CLT can hold compare to steel? What is its lifespan? Is there a risk of fire? And, for our purposes, is it actually more ‘green’ than steel? The deemed suitability of materials is strongly shaped through standards and regulations, established forms of calculation through which it becomes possible to compare timber with other materials (Reference Santos and LaneSantos and Lane 2017). While there are multiple ongoing attempts to pin down timber’s carbon benefits, for example, through the development of new standards for life cycle analysis (LCA) and other calculative practices, calculating the carbon impact of timber remains challenging. Although new standards provide an overarching framework to calculate emissions from construction, it has been left to users to decide on the system boundaries for their analysis (Reference Giesekam and PomponiGiesekam and Pomponi 2017). These details and choices are often not made publicly available, making it difficult to externally evaluate and compare the carbon impact of different materials. However, CLT’s growing prominence means it is increasingly coming under scrutiny in these debates.

Bio-Based Futures

Given an opportunity to produce plastics differently, a vision of a bio-based plastics economy has taken hold. In bio-based plastic economies, plastics are used in the same way as today. It is not a pathway that challenges our use of plastics, nor does it require more plastics to be recycled. To move towards such an economy is an intriguing opportunity for European policymakers, for it starts to disconnect plastics from its dependency on fossil fuels in turn reducing dependency on foreign oil and opening up new possibilities for channelling subsidies to different constituencies, such as to support rural development through biorefineries. In the preparatory roadmap of the European Commission’s strategy on plastics, a ‘high dependence on virgin fossil feedstock’ was identified as one of the three main interrelated issues that the strategy aimed to address (European Commission 2017). The roadmap highlights the need to work on alternative feedstocks, technical barriers to feedstock recycling, and incentives for feedstock diversification. However, in the final Plastics Strategy (European Commission 2018b), the emphasis on plastics’ fossil content shifted in favour of addressing plastic pollution, leading this particular vision to be devalued in favour of ‘circular solutions’ (see later in the text). The niche-character of bioplastics, the uncertainties of land-use questions, and a fear of repeating previous mistakes where biofuels with high negative climate impacts were promoted within the bioeconomy framework appear to have driven this change (DG ENV Official 2018).

These difficulties may explain why it is not very common to find arguments supporting a bioplastic economy on their own, but rather a part of a broader strategy to decarbonise the plastics system. For the German organisation Nova, bioplastics are a ‘drop-in’ solution that only requires moderate changes in production lines, without the need to replace too much infrastructure and refineries. Such growing economies around ‘biogenic carbon’ will create European jobs and competitiveness. Nova Institute suggests that out of the total raw material demand of the chemical industry in Europe, the 14 per cent share covered by biomass in 2015 could double or triple by 2050 (Reference Carus and RaschkaCarus and Raschka 2018). In their calculations towards a fossil-free plastics economy, out of a 1,200 global Mt production in 2050, the Nova Institute envisage how 750 Mt could be covered by recycling or recycled feedstock. The remaining virgin production of 135 Mt would come from biomass and 325 Mt carbon-dioxide-based production (CCU). While fossil-based plastics in this scenario become less viable as prices for fossil-fuels rise, bio-plastics visions still often rely on the carbon economy for their viability.

Closing the Loop

Many ideas of a circular plastics economy have come to the foreground in recent years. It is a variegated but encompassing vision, backed by many influential industries and with few opponents. A closed loop of plastics with 100 per cent recycling would reduce the need for virgin feedstock, increase overall resource efficiencies, and prevent carbon from reaching the atmosphere. Currently, circa 40 per cent of plastic waste in the EU is collected for recycling (PlasticsEurope 2019) but not all of that is actually recycled. Of all the 8.3 billion tons of plastics ever produced, only 9 per cent has been recycled (Reference Geyer, Jambeck and LawGeyer et al. 2017). To achieve 100 per cent recycling, we would need to see massive recycling schemes being implemented, both mechanical (reusing the plastic material) and chemical (reusing the chemicals). These schemes would have to be mandatory, not just for plastic packaging but for plastic across the economy, for example, in the automotive industry, textiles, and construction.

The European Commission’s ambition is that by 2030 all packaging in the EU market is either reusable or recyclable in a cost-effective manner and that more than half of the plastic waste in EU is recycled (European Commission 2018b). Similarly, Stockholm-based influential consultancy firm Material Economics (2019) envisaged in their Industrial Transformation 2050 report that by 2050, heavy industry sectors in EU would achieve net-zero carbon through the circulation of materials. For plastics, this means a combination of mechanical and chemical recycling to make end-of-life plastics a major feedstock for the European plastic industry. The chemical industry itself has put out similar ideas, as found, for example, in Molecule Managers: A journey into the Future of Europe with the European Chemical Industry (CEFIC 2019). In this report, the control of chemicals is key to strengthening the EU economically and diplomatically. Recycling is also increased dramatically (three-fold) in the IEA’s 2018 scenario The Future of Petrochemicals: Towards more sustainable plastics and fertilisers (Reference Fernandez-Pales and LeviFernandez-Pales and Levi 2018), as well as in the global NGO the Ellen MacArthur Foundation’s (n.d.) Vision of a Circular Economy for Plastic. Despite its lack of coherence and often-heroic assumptions, it is this vision for a decarbonised plastics future that dominates the sector.

Less Is More

A rather different vision is that we use less plastic, mostly living our lives without it. Within social media, this has in the past years become popular through notions of plastics dieting, plastic-free months, and zero-waste stores. Living a life without plastics is central to the zero-waste movement that has recently gained momentum. One example is Bea Johnson, who started blogging about zero waste in 2010. She documented and kept a detailed tally of the annual amount of waste her household was generating (Reference JohnsonJohnson 2016). When word got out that a family of four could fit a year’s worth of waste in a single mason jar, media interest picked up. Her 2013 book has been translated into more than 25 languages, and she now counts more than 350,000 social media followers and has featured more than 100 times on television. Already in 2010, The New York Times called Bea Johnson the ‘priestess of waste-free living’. Another emerging trend is the plastic-free supermarket. What these stores have in common is an approach to retail that seeks to eliminate disposable packaging – especially plastics – and food waste. This requires customers to bring their own bags, containers, and jars and buy goods by weight according to how much they need. Despite being a seemingly marginal phenomenon in the retail sector, the significance of zero-waste retail is, however, not really about market share, but how it carries a vision of different food, plastics, and retail systems, as well as how they craft new relationships of producers and consumers.

Between ‘circular plastics’ and ‘life without plastics’, there are many suggestions for how less use of plastics could be achieved. The report by NGO Reference EuropeZero Waste Europe (2017), Seizing the opportunity: Using plastic only where it makes sense, called for tougher targets and eventually bans on many single-use plastic items. The message is that although increased recycling is welcome, Europe cannot recycle its way out of plastic pollution, instead, it must have a clear strategy to reduce plastic use. This requires designing things differently, substituting plastics with other materials (paper cotton bud sticks, steel bottles), and different forms of governance and regulation. It also involves changing habits and relations around reuse. The return of reuse is an integral part of the visions for a plastic-free world and has come to the forefront as one particular site of socio-technical innovation. The Ellen MacArthur Foundation (2019) envisions four general models that could change the mode of personal (plastic) packaging logistics: (1) return from home – packaging is picked up from home by a pickup service (e.g. by a logistics company); (2) refill at home – users refill their reusable container at home (e.g. with refills delivered through a subscription service); (3) refill on the go – users refill their reusable container away from home (e.g. at an in-store dispensing system); and (4) return on the go – users return the packaging at a store or drop-off point (e.g. in a deposit return machine or mailbox). One emerging innovation is around setting up a public library system for reusable items such as toys, clothes, and tools in order to drastically decrease demand for various items.

If ‘bio-based plastics’ was about producing plastics differently, ‘life without plastics’ is a reimagination of the whole system in which plastics is seen as essential and normal. These visions of less use are often focussed around getting rid of particular objects – bags, bottles, food packages, and single-use plastics – which are increasingly contested focal points for social movements and NGOs targeting plastic consumption (Reference Nielsen, Holmberg and StrippleNielsen et al. 2019). There are repeated calls for political authorities to regulate, for example, through taxes, levies, or otherwise getting rid of certain types of plastics applications (or additives and fillers) through bans or public procurement guidelines. The United Kingdom (UK), European Commission, and India have, in parallel, proposed legislation to reduce the consumption of a range of single-use plastic objects including plastic utensils, plates, and straws (Environmental Audit Committee 2018; European Commission 2018b).

Fossil-Free Clothing?

Fossil-based synthetic fibres, such as polyester, elastane, and polyamide constitute an increasingly large part of the fibres produced to make our clothes yet often remain outside the critical gaze of fossil-fuel protestors. The production of oil-based fibres is estimated to consume 342 million barrels of oil annually, and the fashion industry is estimated to be responsible for 1.2 billion tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent, more than that of international flights and maritime shipping combined (Ellen MacArthur Foundation 2017). Tierra is a Swedish outdoor clothing manufacturer who has made a jacket consisting of 100 per cent bio-based synthetic fibre called Deterra. The process of producing the jacket started just after the international climate change agreement in Paris. The use of bio-based plastics in clothing is not new, but they are most commonly blended together with fossil plastic. There have been efforts made to recycle clothing plastics; however, there are so far few companies producing clothing made by 100 per cent fossil-free fabrics. The innovation of Deterra is thus the exclusion of fossil fuels altogether in the choice of textiles, leading to the production of the very first 100 per cent fossil-free modern jacket.

Rather than designed to be a market success, the jacket was made to answer the question: is it possible to produce a 100 per cent fossil-free jacket? The jacket was born within a protected space and brought to the market by a dedicated company. Supply chains for textiles are complex and lack transparency, with a long list of suppliers and subcontractors spanning the globe. Making the jacket led Tierra to investigate along the value chain and find out the origin, production conditions, and social impacts of the bio-based material, though it proved impossible to identify where the castor beans used in its manufacture had been grown. This may be one reason why, compared to other emission-intensive industries, clothing has been relatively ungoverned. The Sustainable Apparel Coalition develops a set of standardised supply-chain measurement tools for the footwear, apparel, and textile industry. However, the organisation’s sustainability measure, the Higgs Index, is not evaluated by an external organisation. The global non-profit organisation Textile Exchange focuses on collecting and disseminating best practices regarding farming, materials, processing, traceability, and product end-of-life. They provide standards to ensure sustainability claims (e.g. recycled materials, organic cotton). While standards like these are important for knowledge sharing across the value chain, they are not enough to provide a reliable framework for bio-based textile materials. Finding materials that substitute the range of qualities provided by plastic fibre, compounded with a lack of trust in the ‘green’ credentials of alternatives, means that decarbonising clothing through bio-based plastics seems unlikely to catch on.

Since work started on the jacket, bio-based synthetic fibres have become more commonplace both within the outdoor sector and in conventional clothing. Now you can find these materials in shoes, activewear, and eveningwear. Thus, although more 100 per cent bio-based forms of clothing have not been seen on the market, there have been some mainstreaming of fossil-free component parts. However, it remains a miniscule niche of the clothing market where recycled polyester has become the primary ‘renewable’ fabric of choice. There is also much hope for large-scale closed-loop recycling of materials, which would not force clothing producers to radically decrease volume or alter their business models. But many barriers remain, such as the mixing of fabrics, labour-intensive sorting, undisclosed chemical content, and the low price of virgin fibres. At the consumer end, the donation of clothes back to producers and to second-hand stores has increased in recent years – but the industry has not been able to integrate this waste-stream into their operation. Only one per cent of clothes collected through H&M’s recycling initiative made it into new clothes. Overall, though, this secondary market has decimated clothes industries in the Global South.

Organising Alternatives

In contrast to the more techno-economic innovations further up the plastic value chain (such as new types of plastics or new ways of producing them) or further down (innovations in recycling and waste management), zero-waste supermarkets stand out for representing innovations of a more social nature. There is no complicated technology or infrastructure that enables them. Neither is the organisational and business model of the zero-waste store overly innovative in comparison to conventional supermarkets. Although many new stores of this type have been opening in recent years, they still represent a minuscule fraction of turnover in the retail sector. And yet, from the very first day of business, zero-waste grocery stores have received industry and press attention, scrutiny, and criticism on a level that is entirely disproportionate to their tiny footprint. In light of this, how should we understand the organisation of zero-waste retail and its transformative potential?

Some of the earliest zero-waste stores opened in the mid-2000s, with the first store in 2006 considered to be Unpackaged in London. Today, several hundreds of zero-waste stores exist across Europe, with Germany having more than a hundred. All zero-waste stores see themselves as symbolically connected to the global zero-waste movement. It is their intention to become a space for sharing knowledge, provide tools and data on zero-waste and bring together different constituencies. There is a shared understanding that waste itself is problematic and an indication of how modern society is living without respect for nature. Any amount of waste that is generated is an indication of unsustainability – the logical conclusion is therefore to eliminate it by tackling its root causes rather than to recycle this material through the economy.

Zero-waste supermarkets are very closely linked to the local environments in which they exist, and, as a result, few of the owners show aspirations towards scaling up the scope or reach of their organisation, potentially removing its links to specific contexts. In this regard, zero-waste supermarkets challenge the arrangements that characterise the world of modern, industrial, global retail, especially: global supply chains, cheap products, convenience, disposability, and powerful intermediaries. Their zero-waste message is that retail as a whole needs to reconsider global supply chains if they are serious about sustainability, and shift towards local, organic, seasonal, and predominantly vegetarian products. It is thus interesting how something so mundane as a grocery store can engage in such prefigurative politics. As a form of activism, prefiguration is concerned with the ‘attempted construction of alternative or utopian social relations in the present’ (Reference YatesYates 2015: 1), thereby anticipating or partially actualising the ultimate goals of a movement. In the end, it is not merely to get rid of packaging but to reconfigure the relations and institutions of modern retail altogether and manifest them in the present.

Paper Efficiencies

Much is invested in continued energy efficiency to reduce the (fossil) energy demand in the paper sector, for example, the IEA states that ‘[r]aising the energy efficiency of pulp and paper production is one of the key strategies to decarbonise the sector’ (IEA 2020b). Ever since the oil crises in 1970s, pulp mill owners and specialised engineering firms have worked to develop processes and technological equipment that are more energy-efficient and less dependent on foreign supplies of fossil fuels with some success: despite a global increase in paper production of 25 per cent since 2000, energy demand in the sector rose by only 5 per cent, indicating a reduction of 16 per cent in energy intensity in the sector (IEA 2020b). In addition to efficiency measures, fuel switching has also been part of the drive to decarbonise the sector. In Europe, the paper industry has increased its use of biomass significantly while decreasing the use of fuel oil and coal – increasing the share of bioenergy from 44 per cent to 59 per cent of total primary energy consumption from 1991 to 2018 (CEPI 2020). Further, there has been a sustained effort at pulp mills to make use of internally available ‘waste’ residues as fuels, the largest of which is black liquor – the liquid containing the non-fibre parts of the wood which are separated from the cellulose fibres in the pulping process – which is combusted in the recovery boiler and supplies most of the energy to modern pulp mills.

The drying processes in paper mills are high consumers of heat, the demand for which is primarily met through the use of natural gas, as well as some oil and coal. Paper drying represents up to 70 per cent of the fossil fuel demand in the sector (CEPI 2020). Visions for decarbonising paper mills through improved efficiency measures therefore focus on new and improved drying technologies. These include efficient pressing technologies and innovations such as microwave heating which enables fossil fuels to be switched for (renewable) electricity and simultaneously reduces energy demand. Evidence suggests that microwave heating could reduce ‘the dryer energy consumption by 12% by increasing the temperature and drying efficiency’ (Reference Moya and PavelMoya and Pavel 2018: 39). Despite having been tested and developed for years, these breakthrough technologies have not diffused within the sector. It is likely to take time before they do, given that it requires reconfiguring significant parts of the production processes – a type of change few actors are willing to lead in this risk-averse industry (Reference Wesseling, Lechtenböhmer, Åhman, Nilsson, Worrell and CoenenWesseling et al. 2017).

Visions for efficiency improvements are almost always combined with the idea that the fossil fuels used in the processes must be substituted for biofuels or other forms of renewable energy, for example, electrified heating and drying processes running on renewable electricity. CEPI – the European trade association representing the paper industry on the continent – in their roadmap for 2050 aim for a reduction of 80 per cent of GHG emissions by 2050 and argue that the two of the largest potentials for decarbonising the industry internally are energy efficiency improvements and fuel switch measures (CEPI 2011). While most fossil fuel use at pulp mills has been substituted with biofuels, a few key processes have, for different reasons, remained dependent on oil for a long time. One of the hardest nuts to crack has been how to decarbonise the lime kiln, a piece of equipment that is crucial for chemically regenerating the lime needed in the pulping process. This requires high temperatures properly distributed along the kiln and thus high-quality fuels.

Towards a Paper-Based Economy?

Beyond industry-led visions for a more resource and efficient sector, visions for the role of paper in decarbonisation extend to its role in the economy as a whole. A vision that has rapidly grown in popularity in the past two decades – despite early origins in the 1980s – is the idea of converting pulp mills to forest biorefineries (Reference Söderholm and LundmarkSöderholm and Lundmark 2009). The vision portrays the future of pulp mills as advanced processing units that use wood to produce a wide range of products beyond conventional pulp and paper, including bio-based plastics and complex chemicals, new types of textile fibres, and biofuels to be used in cars or other vehicles (Reference Bauer, Coenen, Hansen, McCormick and Voytenko PalganBauer et al. 2017). Although the biorefinery vision is varied, it can be divided into two main ideas: in the first, the primary output of pulping processes – wood cellulose fibres – are repurposed for new applications; in the second, by-products, side streams, and residues from the pulp-making process are captured for the production of new products. If in the second vision, such new outputs remain essentially a sideline to the main economy of papermaking, in the former the use of paper is itself reduced to make space for new forms of economic activity.

The potential role of the pulp and paper industry in the bioeconomy has been central to the vision of the forest biorefinery – as promoted by the EU, OECD, and other policy organisations (Reference de Besi and McCormickde Besi and McCormick 2015). These visions connect important political discourses on renewable energy, rural development, and green industrial growth to promote the use of domestic natural resources for the production of biofuels and other bioproducts (Reference BefortBefort 2020). The policy visions and support for developing production of other advanced materials and products has however been weaker. The European pulp and paper industry has thus had different drivers to push the vision of developing biorefineries: their access to and knowledge of processing large volumes of bio-based raw materials, regulations mandating the use of biofuels, as well as changes in markets and consumer behaviour away from traditional products (Reference Brunnhofer, Gabriella, Schöggl, Stern and PoschBrunnhofer et al. 2020).

Industry actors also promote this vision, especially the large Scandinavian firms which own or have access to forest raw materials – five of the ten largest firms in the European pulp and paper industry are indeed Scandinavian. The Finnish firm Metsä, one of the largest forest industry groups in the world, decided on upgrading their pulp mill at Äänekoski not only to make it ‘the largest wood processing unit in the northern hemisphere’ but also to move away from the traditional focus on producing pulp and instead make it a ‘bioproduct mill’ capable of producing multiple outputs such as biogas and biocomposites (Reference FibreMetsä Fibre n.d.). The mill was also designed to run development and demonstration projects to test new processes for textile fibres and fertilisers, which – if successful – can be implemented in full scale later. The old Swedish firm SCA, which owns both forests and pulp mills, is planning a biorefinery for large-scale production of biofuels for cars and vehicles when expanding one of their pulp mills in Sweden. The biorefinery will use solid residues such as wood shavings and bark as well as black liquor from the pulping process. There are, however, also examples of initiatives outside the Scandinavian region, such as the new biorefinery being developed by the Finnish firm UPM in connection to the Leuna chemical cluster in Germany, where they will produce biochemicals by directly substituting fossil ones used in the production of PET plastics as well as bio-based filler materials, which can also be used in plastics and rubbers.

Renewing Recycling

Finally, recycling is a strong vision in the pulp and paper industry as evident from the use of ‘recycled’ as one of the keywords in the slogan for CEPI: ‘renewable, recycled, responsible’ (CEPI n.d.). The European industry today produces more paper from recycled material than from virgin materials. The process for making new pulp out of old paper is more efficient than making virgin pulp and thus has the potential to contribute to decarbonisation – if the energy used is renewable. The European Paper Recycling Council on their homepage proudly states that ‘Europe is the paper recycling champion!’ with a recycling rate of 72 per cent in 2017 – compared to 66 per cent in North America and 58 per cent totally in the world. Driven by both public concern and European regulations, the collection of paper has been established throughout the EU and is already fairly efficient, for example, when compared to plastics, which has much lower recycling rates. The EU packaging and packaging waste directive has the most ambitious targets for paper and board packaging recycling, stating that in 2025 75 per cent of all paper and board packaging should be recycled and that this rate should increase to 85 per cent by 2030. This can be compared to the targets for plastics and aluminium, which are 50 per cent in 2025, to be increased to 55 per cent and 60 per cent, respectively, by 2030. As packaging is the largest demand category for paper in the EU, this shows that there is a large potential for the production of recycled papers, and today they can also be used for many applications. However, the recycling vision is at the same time limited to certain pulp and paper value chains – few are proposing recycling schemes for used napkins and diapers. Such sanitary and household paper products make up about 10 per cent of total paper consumption in Europe (CEPI 2020), which thus sets a limit on the products which are available for recycling, unless consumers move away from their preference for disposable products of this type and embrace the use of ones which can be washed and reused many times.

Making Efficiencies

Since the 1970s, pulp mills across Europe have improved their energy efficiency and reduced their energy and carbon intensity. Whereas environmental regulation pushed the development of processes which reduced emissions of sulphur and other local pollutants, efficiency improvements have been driven largely by increasing energy prices following the energy crises of the 1970s and the industry fearing increasing competition for their raw materials in Scandinavia (Reference Bergquist, Söderholm, Särkkä, Gutiérrez-Poch and KuhlbergBergquist and Söderholm 2018). Through continuous upgrades and retrofits, the boilers, evaporators, and other process equipment have been exchanged for more modern equipment with higher capacities and levels of efficiency. Slowly but surely, pulp mills and integrated pulp and paper mills have thus been able to reduce and remove boilers and heaters running on coal, oil, and gas and replace them primarily with energy from the recovery boiler. Significant decarbonisation has thus been achieved, but a large part of this has not been driven directly by climate policy (Reference Lindmark, Bergquist and AnderssonLindmark et al. 2011).

With these improvements undertaken, attention has turned to removing the last link to fossil-fuel use in chemical pulp mills: to decarbonise the lime kilns. Lime kilns are crucial parts of chemical recovery – a series of processes which enable the recirculation and reuse of most chemicals used in the pulping process – at chemical pulp mills and have been difficult to decarbonise due to their technical specifications. Their central role in the pulp mill has also made them difficult to experiment with – without an operating lime kiln the pulp mill has to shut down, which makes new solutions a great risk for fear of losing production and hence profit. Yet, some examples can be found where this risk has been mitigated. A case in point is SCA, one of the largest integrated wood products and pulp and paper firms which had strategically aimed to reduce their environmental impact, including carbon dioxide emissions in the 2000s. When deciding to upgrade the lime kiln at their pulp mill Munksund in central Sweden in 2009, they decided to aim for a fully biofueled lime kiln. Together with the specialised technology developer and engineering firm Andritz they developed and installed a new lime kiln in 2011, which runs on wood powder from one of the pellet production units in the company. Andritz were able to overcome technological difficulties of using solid fuel by learning from decades of development of other powder burners – some of which had been used to partially supply energy to other lime kilns – to reach 100 per cent biofuel utilisation in the lime kiln. Following this, Valmet – a competitor to Andritz – also developed a similar solution, which SCA then went on to install in another pulp mill a few years later. Now both firms – which are two of the largest technology suppliers to the pulp and paper industry in the world – offer this as a standard option for pulp mills when retrofitting or upgrading. Other forms of innovation are also emerging for contexts where access to wood powder is not possible; for example, at the previously mentioned Äänekoski mill in Finland, the kiln successfully runs on gas from a bark gasifier.

As the lifetime of many of the large and central pieces of equipment such as recovery boilers and paper machines is very long and the investments very large – investment cycles are usually 20 years –meaning that only one or two more major investment opportunities remain until 2050. Continued improvements in efficiencies are thus likely to be adopted by the industry but will not suffice to remove the remaining GHG emissions. An industry roadmap expects that getting below 50–60 per cent reductions by 2050 requires breakthrough technologies to be developed by 2030 and applied in coming investment cycles thereafter (CEPI 2011). As several of these breakthrough technologies – especially for paper-making – rely on electrifying the processes instead of directly using fuels the industry relies on a decarbonised electricity system.

Fibre Economies

Visions for increasing the recycling of paper and for generating new kinds of economy are becoming entwined as the industry is increasingly positioning itself not as a producer of paper products per se, but of fibre. This shift has led not only to those within the pulp and paper sector seeking new markets for their products, such as textiles, but also paper recycling companies recognising their opportunities to recycle textiles, of which many are also cellulose fibres. While the textile and fashion industry has become notorious for its use of resources and low capacity for recycling, several established firms in the pulp and paper industry – or new firms with their knowledge base in the industry – have found their knowledge applicable to a new domain in dire need of new solutions. In the past few years, recycling of textile fibres has thus been pioneered by large firms such as Södra (Sweden), which feeds cotton fabrics into their OnceMore process, mixing them with wood to produce pulp which can then be used for new textile fibre. Lenzing (Austria), a major producer of lyocell fibres, has developed a process called Refibra in which they mix cotton from used textiles with wood to produce new lyocell fibres. A firm that has taken it one step further is the Swedish entrepreneurial firm Renewcell, which in an old pulp mill has started up production of Circulose, a pulp based completely on recycled textiles. These examples clearly show how decarbonisation efforts – in this case through circulating and recycling materials – are creating new connections across traditional industrial boundaries and how existing knowledge bases can make important contributions for developing new solutions.

Such boundaries are also becoming blurred when it comes to plastics. Although paper and plastics are competing materials – for example, in packaging solutions – they can sometimes also merge into one material. A biocomposite is a material consisting of two (or more) mixed materials, of which at least one is biobased. The mixing of fibres and plastics increases the strength and decreases the weight, factors which have contributed to their use in cars and other applications, yet they have still remained a niche category of materials (Reference HolmesHolmes 2019). The Finnish firm Stora Enso has developed a biocomposite called Durasense in which wood and cellulose fibres from their pulp production are mixed with a plastic. The development came out of a need to revive a mill which had shut down a large part of the production but coincided with the increasing interest in finding alternatives to plastics in many applications. Together with local collaborators, Stora Enso developed, tested, and marketed the new material, aiming to identify markets where consumers could see and make sense of its bio-based content. The biocomposites allow for substituting up to half of the plastic with fibres from wood, thus reducing the need for virgin fossil-based plastics. As the fibres also provide new structural properties, it allows for use with recycled plastics which would otherwise not be of high enough quality. The downside is of course that as it is a mixed material it is very difficult – if not impossible – to recycle at the end of life.

The drivers for the development of new processes, products, and materials are however not just sustainability concerns. As most of the markets and industries described, the pulp and paper industry has become increasingly globalised over many decades and international trade has increased. The growing global competition from production in countries such as Brazil and China has contributed to the pressure on actors from old industrialised regions for reinvention of their businesses and outputs (Reference Novotny and NuurNovotny and Nuur 2013). While traditional European firms have developed and built value chains for new types of products on local networks – as in the case of Durasense mentioned earlier – many of them have also invested in new production capacity in South America during the past 20 years. Simultaneously, they are thus both resisting the global competition and contributing to it. To what degree this contributes to diffusing new solutions for decarbonising the industry or whether the increasing price competition leads to decreasing opportunities for innovative investments remains to be seen.

Making Meat Differently

For many, meat remains a central component of future consumption practices in a decarbonised world such that the need to address its carbon footprint focuses on producing it differently either as a result of technological innovations or as a result of rethinking the ways in which supply chains are organised.

There are numerous versions of this vision to be found in its reformist expression, where innovations in the ways in which meat is produced or substituted by products with meat-like qualities are considered the way forward while doing little to challenge the role of meat within our food cultures. As perhaps is to be expected, one proponent is the livestock industry as it comes to recognise the need to align itself with a low-carbon world (e.g. NFU 2019). Smart agriculture based on efficiency principles in terms of natural resource use, waste, and fossil fuel for transport and refrigeration is proposed by intergovernmental bodies and committees as the means through which carbon can be removed from the meat supply chain (UNEP 2016). These include propositions around more effective use of ecosystem services, better-feed conversion, higher nutrient efficiency along the supply chain, and reduction of food losses and food waste. At an experimental phase are alternatives that aim to change the gut microbiome of cows in order to produce less methane while digesting food. In New Zealand, for example, cows have been injected with a substance that targets microbe species. If successful, this vaccine developed by AgResearch is intended to be used for other animals as well. At the moment, however, there is lack of definite proof that this vaccine indeed cuts the amount of methane produced by cows (Reference WattsWatts 2019).

A second subset of visions, which are also reformist in orientation, centre on alternative ways of sourcing animal protein. The promotion of insects as an alternative source of animal-based protein is one example, while cultured meat is another, albeit currently at a prototype phase. Cultured meat is grown in vitro from animal-derived stem cells using a growth medium, and as such, it is biologically equivalent to meat but not harvested from live animals. The ‘first wave’ of the development of cultured meat was primarily driven by university laboratories (sometimes in collaboration with industry). Reference Stephens, Sexton and DriessenStephens et al. (2019) neatly describe how a 2013 press conference – where the first laboratory-grown burger was cooked – was key to shaping the emergent vision of cultured meat. By staging the public eating of this burger, cultured meat asserted both its ‘realness’ as food and its potential in delivering environmental, human health, and animal welfare benefits. Furthermore, the event enabled this nascent industry to bring ‘a new aesthetic to the field, focused on style, slickness, and confidence’ (Reference Stephens, Sexton and DriessenStephens et al. 2019: 4). This new aesthetic bought forth a shift in how this vision was to be realised. Since 2013 start-up companies have become central to the sustenance and realisation of this vision, supported by circuits of venture capital (Reference Froggatt and WellesleyFroggatt and Wellesley 2019). It is estimated that the value of the global cultured-meat market could reach $94 billion by 2030 (Research and Markets 2021), although as we explore in the next section, questions remain around the promise and reality of cultured meat.

In contrast to either a focus on process efficiency or cultured meat, both of which remain tied into global circuits of capital and technology, the transformative expression of this vision is associated with the development of short food supply chains initiatives and platforms that aim to support local economies and ethical supply chains. These visions seek to undo the carbon content of meat through challenging its political economy – attempting to (re)connect consumers with producers, making visible the different human and non-human elements of the networks that supply our food and encouraging the development of more caring relationships between them. At the heart of this vision are numerous actors, often rooted in social movements, that promote small-scale, geographically specific, and directly marketed foods grown in an ecologically sustainable manner. One such example is the Open Food Network, a global network of people and organisations trying to build a new food system. Founded in 2012 in Australia it has evolved into a locally led international community across the globe. Its flagship project is the development of an open source software platform used by farmers to set up their own online stores, collaborate and sell together. According to the network this has led to the creation of food collectives and given stallholders more secure sales.

Going without Meat

Rather than seeking technological solutions, a second set of visions for decarbonising meat brings to the fore the nature of our demand for meat and the degree to which we can go without – from meat reduction to a switch to vegetarian and vegan diets. This vision is primarily driven by social movements, consumer groups, and individual ethics, although producers of meat substitutes are also important players.

Today about 18 per cent of the global population are considered vegetarian (Reference Leahy, Lyons and TolLeahy et al. 2010). While the first vegetarian societies were established in the middle of the nineteenth century (Reference Jallinoja, Vinnari, Niva, Boström, Micheletti and OosterveerJallinoja et al. 2018), there has been a sharp increase in vegans and vegetarians in many Western countries in recent years: in the United States the number of vegans grew 600 times between 2014 and 2017, counting 19.6 million people (Reference SocietyThe Vegan Society 2019). Similarly, the number of vegans in the United Kingdom quadrupled between 2014 and 2019, and it is projected that vegans and vegetarians will make about a quarter of the British population by 2025 (Reference SocietyThe Vegan Society 2019). In its transformative expression, veganism is supported by multiple narratives and (dis)connections to meat culture and characterised by a strong moral and ethical stance. The parts of the vegan movement that were most visible in European countries in the 1980s and 1990s were often associated with counter-cultural movements and radical environmental protest, eco-centrism, and post-materialistic values, alongside the promotion of a philosophical worldview that emphasises a more egalitarian relationship between human and non-human animals (Reference Jallinoja, Vinnari, Niva, Boström, Micheletti and OosterveerJallinoja et al. 2018). In recent years, however, there are some indications that the growth in veganism has been accompanied by a shift in concerns away from animal welfare, to the climate and environmental impacts of animal agriculture (Reference HancoxHancox 2018).

However, being meat-free is also an individual, ‘do-it-yourself’, form of activism, reliant on individual lifestyle change. And it is this individualised form – that does not require the consistent alignment between all of someone’s actions and values – that has gained the most traction in recent years, resonating with the high value placed on consumer choice and individualism in Western societies (Reference Jallinoja, Vinnari, Niva, Boström, Micheletti and OosterveerJallinoja et al. 2018). This reformist expression of being meat-free is often referred to as ‘plant-based’ or ‘flexitarian’, indicating a diet that consists primarily of plant-based products which may contain some meat or other forms of animal protein. These labels can appear less threatening to food-based cultural identities compared to the term vegan and its overt political connotations (Reference Judge and WilsonJudge and Wilson 2015). In this reformist expression, various flexible solutions have emerged for reducing, but not abolishing, meat consumption. These interventions such as ‘meatless Mondays’ promote a reduced-meat diet for environmental, but also increasingly health, concerns. The idea of meatless Mondays was first introduced during the First World War by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration in order to reduce the consumption of key staples to aid the war and was reintroduced by President Roosevelt during the Second World War (Reference Mullendore and LutzMullendore and Lutz 1941). Since 2003, it has grown into a global movement supported by hospitals, schools, and individuals around the world. The shift to a reduced-meat diet is increasingly recommended by international organisations, such as the International Resource Panel Working Group on Food Systems and Natural Resources and the EAT Forum (Reference Willett, Rockström, Loken, Springmann, Lang, Vermeulen, Garnett, Tilman, DeClerck, Wood, Jonell, Clark, Gordon, Fanzo, Hawkes, Zurayk, Rivera, De Vries, Majele Sibanda, Afshin, Chaudhary, Herrero, Augustina, Branca, Lartey, Fan, Crona, Fox, 89Bignet, Troell, Lindahl, Singh, Cornell, Srinath Reddy, Narain, Nishtar and MurrayWillett et al. 2019).

There are, however, overlaps between the two visions. In particular, the promotion of vegetarianism or veganism often goes hand in hand with the promotion of meat substitutes. While some vegetarians and vegans reject the idea that plant-based meals should mimic meat, the recent wave of meat substitutes fits the reformist version of this vision: promoting vegetarian alternatives to meat-eaters who wish to reduce their consumption of animal-based protein rather than forego it all together. Such substitutes, especially in the form of meat analogues – that is, products that proximate certain aesthetic qualities and chemical characteristics of specific types of meat (Reference Joshi and KumarJoshi and Kumar 2015) – straddle the boundary between the two visions. Meat analogues are made from plant-based ingredients and are intended to provide an alternative to those who want to reduce meat consumption as well as give more diversity in vegetarian choices. In the Western world, meat analogues started to develop in the early 1960s, while products such as soy and tempeh have been consumed in Asia for centuries (Reference Wild, Czerny, Janssen, Kole, Zunabovic and DomigWild et al. 2014). Today, the popularity of meat analogues is increasing, particularly as a result of advancing technologies in creating a fibrous texture from plants and tastes that are similar to meat. Experts expect that genetic engineering can enhance the quality of plant-based food products further, thus contributing to a larger uptake of these products in the market (Reference Joshi and KumarJoshi and Kumar 2015). While such products emphasise their non-meatlike qualities in order to set them apart, they do not reject the idea of meat altogether. Not only do such products increasingly seek to mimic the textures, flavours, and colours of meat, but also to highlight the presence of favourable nutrients, especially protein. Rather than setting meat substitutes apart, according to some experts this focus on protein can thus serve to break down the boundary between animal and non-animal foods by emphasising their ‘sameness’, thus aiming to make the transition easier (Reference Sexton, Garnett and LorimerSexton et al. 2019).

Reducing the Carbon Footprint of Meat

Reducing the carbon footprint of meat value chains through waste reduction, different feed, and different breeds has potential but these strategies alone are insufficient to bring us to a decarbonised future. For example, it is estimated that around 14.5 per cent of meat is wasted at the retail and consumption stage and saving this loss can reduce GHG emissions by leading to less meat production in the future (FAO 2011). However, it is unclear what the exact contribution to climate change would be from this form of intervention. Changing animal feed and animal breeds could lead to GHG emissions reduction between 10 per cent and 30 per cent but not without side effects (Reference Aan den Toorn, Tziva, van den Broek, Negro, Hekkert and WorrellAan den Toorn et al. 2018). For example, reducing methanogens could prove toxic to cattle, while we know little about what this means for other animals. And the possibility of developing breeds that produce less methane could create ruminants which suffer from adverse effects in their digestive system (Reference Aan den Toorn, Tziva, van den Broek, Negro, Hekkert and WorrellAan den Toorn et al. 2018).

Politically, carbon reduction measures in the meat economy are also not fully supported momentarily. For example, the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP) hinders decarbonisation efforts as it is still centrally focused on productivity-based measures that promote the increased intensification of food production. Studies show that the CAP has very limited capacity to deliver on climate action because it lacks instruments to address emissions from livestock production and those resulting from imported feedstock from overseas (Reference Pe’er, Lakner, Müller, Passoni, Bontzorlos, Clough, Moreira, Azam, Berger, Bezak, Bonn, Hansjürgens, Hartmann, Kleemann, Lomba, Sahrbacher, Schindler, Schleyer, Schmidt, Schüler, Sirami, von Meyer-Höfer and ZinngrebePe’er et al. 2017). In addition, while the CAP supports organic farming and more environmentally sensitive agricultural methods, it simultaneously incentivises intensification and offers disproportionate support for meat and dairy products (Reference Pe’er, Lakner, Müller, Passoni, Bontzorlos, Clough, Moreira, Azam, Berger, Bezak, Bonn, Hansjürgens, Hartmann, Kleemann, Lomba, Sahrbacher, Schindler, Schleyer, Schmidt, Schüler, Sirami, von Meyer-Höfer and ZinngrebePe’er et al. 2017). The European Commission tried to address some of the CAP’s negative environmental (and by extension climate) impacts by introducing green payments to farmers in 2013. This mechanism was expected to enhance the environmental performance of CAP by rewarding farmers to provide environmental public goods. However, a report by the European Commission (2018c) found that the new payment scheme lacks clear and ambitious climate targets. For example, there are no compulsory measures for emission reductions from livestock, only optional ones. The report concludes that ‘the CAP measures are therefore not relevant to a significant proportion of the EU’s climate mitigation needs’. (European Commission 2018c: 39; emphasis added). While some commentators see rather little evidence of meaningful ongoing or future changes to the CAP that would enable decarbonisation (Reference Pe’er, Lakner, Müller, Passoni, Bontzorlos, Clough, Moreira, Azam, Berger, Bezak, Bonn, Hansjürgens, Hartmann, Kleemann, Lomba, Sahrbacher, Schindler, Schleyer, Schmidt, Schüler, Sirami, von Meyer-Höfer and ZinngrebePe’er et al. 2017, Reference Pe’er, Zinngrebe, Moreira, Sirami, Schindler, Müller, Bontzorlos, Clough, Bezák, Bonn, Hansjürgens, Lomba, Möckel, Passoni, Schleyer, Schmidt and Lakner2019), others see a game-changing potential of the EU’s Farm to Fork Strategy now being implemented as part of the Green Deal (Reference Schebesta and CandelSchebesta and Candel 2020).

Removing Meat from the Economy

It appears from the above discussion that removing meat from the economy is necessary in supporting decarbonisation efforts. One important set of realities here that challenges these interventions comes from industry incumbency and the current structure of the meat industry. Industry incumbents can have a significant influence on innovation success, especially when market power is concentrated (as in meat) and through the influence of public regulation and discourse (Reference Smink, Hekkert and NegroSmink et al. 2015). As a result, the impact of technological alternatives, and meat analogues in particular, can go in two directions. On the one hand, they can pose a threat to conventional supply chains by shifting consumers away from conventional meat with negative implications for meat industry incumbents. On the other hand, meat analogues offer an opportunity to the meat industry to diversify and reduce future risks. Early funding for analogues – in particular, cultured meat – often came from alternative sources of finance, including crowdfunding and venture capital firms who banked on cultured meat’s potential to ‘disrupt’ the existing food system (Reference Stephens, Sexton and DriessenStephens et al. 2019). However, in recent years many of the meat giants have come to embrace meat analogues. Examples include meat processing company Tyson foods, with investments in Memphis Meats and Beyond Meat, and Unilever, with investments in the Plant Meat Matters consortium and the Vegetarian Butcher (Reference Froggatt and WellesleyFroggatt and Wellesley 2019). The explanation offered by the Chief Sustainability Officer at Tyson food is particularly insightful: ‘we don’t want to be disrupted … We want to be part of the disruption’ (Reference Koning BealsKoning Beals 2018). It is important to emphasise, however, that there are currently no cultured meat products on the market. Instead, their growing importance in envisioning a low-carbon meat future – and the ability to attract increasing sums of investment – is largely premised on a set of promissory narratives, centred on what it is that cultured meat will achieve once it is on the market and presenting it as the logical solution to meat’s multiple problems (Reference Sexton, Garnett and LorimerSexton et al. 2019).

The realities of cultural incumbency also matter and play a role in resisting the introduction of new narratives. Cultural incumbency can create resistance to changes that threaten lifestyles, identities, and traditions. In many countries in the Global North products of animal origin are often deemed superior to plant foods and cereals, a pattern that has not changed since it was first studied in the 1970s (Reference Schösler, de Boer and BoersmaSchösler et al. 2012). Throughout history, complex societies made use of meat to establish social distinctions of wealth and status, as well as to unify people through the symbolic manipulation of animals in ritual (Reference deFrancedeFrance 2009). In modern times, celebratory meals such as during Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving are associated with particular types of meat cooking and eating. However, in current Western diets, meat is of course not restricted to special meals, and its consumption is heavily routinised through its incorporation in everyday meals. Addressing meat consumption will mean attending both to meat’s special status and the routine forms of consumption that are the result of industrialisation and expansion of the meat industry (Reference Schösler, de Boer and BoersmaSchösler et al. 2012).

The introduction of a novel innovation, such as meat analogues, thus requires a process of ‘sense-making’ – a process through which meaning is given to an innovation or practice and which tries to establish its desirability. This is particularly relevant in relation to cultured meat, as it has not always been clear where this fits in the animal/non-animal dichotomy. This has resulted in an inherent paradox in the way in which it has been presented: as both ontologically similar and different to ‘conventional’ meat (Reference Stephens, Sexton and DriessenStephens et al. 2019). As the number of stakeholders involved in the development of cultured meat (and other meat analogues) has grown, this process of sense-making has become entangled in competing values over what a protein food system should look like and what (in)tangible services it should deliver (Reference Sexton, Garnett and LorimerSexton et al. 2019). Equally, this process of sense-making is highly differentiated across social groups. A case in point here is the gendered consumption of meat. The idea that ‘real men eat meat’ is attributed to the time of hunter gatherers and men participation in hunting large game and subsequent meat-sharing activities, gaining them a reputation of being tough and daring (Reference RothgerberRothgerber 2013). Although advances in gender equality and a more shared commitment to domestic activities by men challenge this attitude, women continue to be more likely to reduce their meat consumption than men, and groups that attach traditional roles to men and women are more resistant to replacing or reducing meat consumption than others (Reference HancoxHancox 2018).

Given these economic and cultural incumbencies, state actors are often at the forefront of seeking to enable change. While some focus on providing knowledge to individual consumers to change to their diet, maintaining the idea that food remains a matter of individual choice (Reference Sexton, Garnett and LorimerSexton et al. 2019), others seek out approaches that actively support technological innovation. For example, in the Netherlands, governmental actors support the innovation in meat substitutes, partly because it is an opportunity to respond to growing public pressure without directly challenging the meat sector. In general, the promotion of innovation is politically more feasible than the promotion of reducing consumption or decreasing production capacity of established sectors (Reference Tziva, Negro, Kalfagianni and HekkertTziva et al. 2020). Public procurement can also play a role in protecting the vegetarian niches and allowing them to grow. Universities and schools, for instance, can offer more if not exclusive vegetarian options. Public procurement criteria for food across the EU now stipulate that there should be an increased offer in plant-based menus by introducing weekly vegetarian days and plant-based proteins in catering services (Reference CommissionEuropean Commission 2019a).

However, in other areas, states and their regulatory systems have acted in ways that may hamper the introduction of alternative products. In some places, contestation over meat analogues has resulted in the introduction of legislation that prohibits the use of the label ‘meat’ for food that does not originate from conventional (slaughtered) animals. The use of genetic modification in some cultured meat products also remains a source of regulatory uncertainty within the EU. Even if cultured meat companies seek to comply with current regulations, it is highly like that relevant regulations will change to deal with the novel challenges cultured meats poses (e.g. regarding traceability), which may delay the introduction of such products in Europe (Reference Stephens, Sexton and DriessenStephens et al. 2019). The emergence of alternatives thus needs to be accompanied by changes that challenge existing production systems.

Good Milk Futures

Recognising the need to engage with the climate agenda, major actors in the dairy sector have set out their visions for their role in low-carbon transitions with actors such as Arla, one of the largest dairy companies in the world, committing to reaching ‘net-zero carbon’ by 2050, while the UK’s National Farmers Union seeks to achieve this goal by 2040. Tied into this vision of milk as low-carbon is a continued emphasis on its qualities in delivering a ‘good life’. Far from being part of the problem, in this vision the dairy industry positions itself as part of the solution to decarbonising the economy.

To date, the climate story told by the dairy industry has focused on emphasising the improvements made in reducing the emissions per kg milk produced. For example, Dutch dairy company FrieslandCampina sought to make emissions efficiency visible through translating it into a target of ‘climate-neutral growth’ (increasing production without increasing emissions) for the company. It is thought that emissions intensity can be reduced by a further 50 per cent in Europe and North America by 2050 through efficiency increases and technological innovation (e.g. Reference Hedenus, Wirsenius and JohanssonHedenus et al. 2014). It is, however, unlikely that emissions can be reduced much further without eliminating the source of much of these emissions: the cow. Production processes used to make fresh milk ready for market are only responsible for a small proportion of emissions. Instead, the vast majority of emissions – about 85 per cent according to Arla (2019c) – come from the farm, in the form of methane and nitrous oxide. As such, as Arla, FrieslandCampina, and others acknowledge, decarbonising the dairy chain is likely to be impossible. Instead, Arla’s vision, as well as other visions emergent from the dairy industry, relies heavily on improved land management practices and investing in carbon offsetting programmes in order to achieve the net-zero goal (see Arla 2019c). With these measures in place, Arla was able to declare in an advertising campaign in 2019 ‘we have the future in our hands – welcome to the dairy of the future’ and to launch their first climate-neutral dairy range.

In making the case for milk, both its nutritional properties and socio-economic importance are emphasised. For example, the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) together with the Global Dairy Platform (a global industry body for the dairy industry) suggest in their report on the role of the sector in a low-carbon future that ‘dairy products are a rich source of essential nutrients that contribute to a healthy and nutritious diet’ (FAO and GDP 2018: 6). At the same time, companies such as Arla emphasise how the continuation of the dairy sector is critical for meeting the Sustainable Development Goals, such as Goal 2 – Zero hunger, Goal 3 – Good health and well-being, and Goal 12 – Sustainable consumption (e.g. Arla 2019b). Making milk climate neutral is therefore positioned as a means through which these benefits can continue to be realised while at the same time meeting carbon responsibilities.

Getting Beyond the White Stuff

For other actors, these visions of dairy as part of the solution are difficult to swallow. Alternative visions – promoted by actors including animal and environmental activists, alternative food producers, and some in the science community – suggest instead the need to imagine a future with reduced or no dairy consumption. Long-standing concerns from animal rights activists about the prominence of milk in our diets are now joined by those pointing to its environmental impacts. One case in point has been the development of the ‘planetary health diet’, advocated by a coalition of 37 scientists from 16 countries brought together in the EAT-Lancet Commission. Its aim was to reach scientific consensus by defining targets for sustainable food production and healthy diets. In their report, the Commission argued that guidelines for dairy consumption in developed nations (especially the United States) are often based on limited evidence, while the optimum amount of dairy consumption remains uncertain (Reference Willett, Rockström, Loken, Springmann, Lang, Vermeulen, Garnett, Tilman, DeClerck, Wood, Jonell, Clark, Gordon, Fanzo, Hawkes, Zurayk, Rivera, De Vries, Majele Sibanda, Afshin, Chaudhary, Herrero, Augustina, Branca, Lartey, Fan, Crona, Fox, 89Bignet, Troell, Lindahl, Singh, Cornell, Srinath Reddy, Narain, Nishtar and MurrayWillett et al. 2019). In arguing that ‘a wide range of intakes are compatible with a good health’ (Reference Willett, Rockström, Loken, Springmann, Lang, Vermeulen, Garnett, Tilman, DeClerck, Wood, Jonell, Clark, Gordon, Fanzo, Hawkes, Zurayk, Rivera, De Vries, Majele Sibanda, Afshin, Chaudhary, Herrero, Augustina, Branca, Lartey, Fan, Crona, Fox, 89Bignet, Troell, Lindahl, Singh, Cornell, Srinath Reddy, Narain, Nishtar and MurrayWillett et al. 2019: 456), the Lancet report thus directly challenges the vision presented by the dairy industry, which places dairy at the heart of the vision for a good and healthy life. Unlike previous campaigns, these scientific endeavours do not necessarily seek to promote veganism – which is still often seen as socially unfeasible – but instead focus on a shift towards diets with lower levels of dairy consumption than the current average European or North American diet. Climate and environmental scientists have sought to model what impacts such shifts could have, finding, for example, that in 64 per cent of countries the GHG emissions footprint of a ‘no dairy’ diet was lower than that of a vegetarian diet in which the protein derived from meat is replaced by protein derived from dairy (Reference Kim, Santo, Scatterday, Fry, Synk, Cebron, Mehonnen, Hoekstra, de Pee, Bloem, Neff and NachmanKim et al. 2019).

It is not only milk’s carbon credentials that are under scrutiny: what is noticeable about this second set of visions is that the need for dietary change in relation to decarbonisation is connected to other concerns around animal welfare and biodiversity, and also seeks to challenge established wisdoms regarding dairy’s role in a healthy diet. While in the case of the meat economy, suggested dietary changes include alternative animal products to beef, we find there is limited engagement with animal-based milk alternatives – such as goat milk – which already have niche markets for those with lactose intolerance. Yet as we will explore further in the text, attempts to think beyond and around the cow are now emerging as the realities of how to live without the white stuff come to be put to the test.

Dialling Down Dairy’s Carbon Footprint

Farmers, scientists, and other stakeholders from the agricultural sector are primarily seeking to govern milk’s carbon qualities by reducing the emissions intensity of the value chain by targeting two key sites: farms and factories. Given that the majority of emissions are to be found ‘on farm’, this is a critical site for intervention. Of the emissions from livestock, approximately 44 per cent is in the form of methane (Reference Gerber, Steinfeld, Henderson, Mottet, Opio, Dijkman, Falucci and TempioGerber et al. 2013) with much of the remainder being nitrous oxide. Unfortunately, these emissions are also among the hardest to tackle. Interventions include those that try to address reductions in enteric methane (the production of methane by microbes living in cows’ guts); reductions in nitrous oxide through manure management; sequestering carbon in pastures; implementation of best animal husbandry and management practices, which would have an effect on most GHGs; and land-use practices that also help sequester carbon. Of these, the most promising tend to be those that try to address enteric methane – which is primarily emitted through cow burps. Feed supplements that reduce the efficiency with which microbes produce methane can potentially deliver methane reductions of up to 30 per cent, although much of the research is still in the early stages. While single solutions are limited in their potential, there are promising indications that in combination they may have the potential to reduce farm-based methane and nitrogen emissions by up to 50 per cent (Reference Aan den Toorn, Worrell and van den BroekAan den Toorn et al. 2021). This, however, still leaves 50 per cent of on-farm emissions unaddressed, requiring some level of ‘offsetting’ in order to realise carbon neutrality.

The second place where the dairy industry has begun to target emissions is in its processing factories. Here, emissions are related to electricity use and can be readily achieved through efficiency measures and existing technologies such as the use of solar energy, biomass or bioenergy, or other forms of process optimisation (Reference Monforti-Ferrario, Dallemand, Pinedo Pascua, Motola, Banja, Scarlat, Medarac, Castellazzi, Labanca, Bertoldi, Pennington, Goralczyk, Schau, Saouter, Sala, Notarnicola, Tassielli and RenzulliMonforti-Ferrario et al. 2015). Nonetheless, as only a small percentage of all dairy emissions originate from these factories (likely to be in the region of 10 per cent or less), the overall decarbonisation potential is rather small. What is notable about attempts to increase the efficiency of milk’s use and to offset the (carbon) impacts of its production is that such interventions usually do not cross the threshold from the sphere of production into the various places in which milk is consumed. This is notable as estimates show that approximately 7.5 per cent of milk is wasted at the retail and consumption stage (FAO 2011). Furthermore, the foodservice sector (e.g. cafes) is a major purchaser of dairy. As the COVID-19 pandemic showed, when consumption in this sector suddenly declines, it can create tremendous wastage upstream in the supply chain (Reference TatumTatum 2020). Although eliminating wastage could thus theoretically reduce demand for dairy production whilst still maintaining its role in Western diets, the nature of the dairy supply chain makes this a challenging prospect.

From Milk to Mylk: The Emergence and Growth of Plant-Based Alternatives

Rather than making milk more carbon-efficient, a second set of interventions align with visions which see its reduction or removal from our diets as the way forward. One key element here has been the development of ‘plant-based’ milk alternatives. While such ‘plant milks’, especially soy milk, have a long history in China, they were not produced on a commercial scale in the United States or Europe until the mid-twentieth century (Reference Mylan, Morris, Beech and GeelsMylan et al. 2019). Early iterations of plant-based milk tended to be based on soy, rice, or almond, popular amongst a minority with special dietary needs. Seen as a specialised niche, such plant-based alternatives struggled to demonstrate their necessity in the face of the stable reproduction of milk’s dietary qualities. Yet, this has begun to change as milk has come under pressure because of its environmental impacts in the past decade. Although the share of plant-based milks is still relatively small – averaging 5–10 per cent of the market share compared to liquid dairy in Europe and North America (Reference Mylan, Morris, Beech and GeelsMylan et al. 2019) – sales of plant-based milks continue to grow. As a result, Reference Mylan, Morris, Beech and GeelsMylan et al. (2019) conclude that plant-based milks have gained sufficient momentum and scale to now be on their way to become part of the mainstream in the United Kingdom.

An important explanation for the success of plant-based milks is that these interventions have sought not to specifically target individual behavioural choices made on the grounds of environmental concerns but rather to weave their way into the everyday routines and practices of consumption as a means through which to gain both visibility and shift consumption norms. For example, American soy and almond milk brands understood the importance of being displayed in the refrigerated aisle in supermarkets, next to the cow-based milks. Not only do such aisles attract higher traffic, but it also fosters certain cultural connotations, around the freshness of the product and its interchangeability with dairy-based milks. Oatly, a Swedish oat-milk brand, has produced a Barista Edition, seamlessly enabling the consumption of vegan milky coffees that try to emulate the texture and consistency of non-vegan versions, while also enabling its consumption outside the domestic sphere and sustaining the cultural practice of its main consumer base – relatively young urban people in North American and Northern Europe – going out for a coffee with friends or buying a coffee ‘on the go’. Not only are infrastructures thus adapting themselves to the new demand for plant-based products through the proliferation of vegan supermarkets and restaurants, but also through the introduction of plant-based alternatives in already existing (not exclusively vegan) spaces.

Oatly provides further insight into how and why plant-based alternatives may have enjoyed more success than similar products in the meat sector. While Oatly was originally designed as an alternative product for those with specific dietary needs, a company representative explained the brand’s success by pointing to its ability to tap into a wider set of desires and concerns: emphasising its planetary stewardship, sustainability, and the fostering of connections to a new type of consumer. Importantly, Oatly has not just focused on individual consumption, but rather sought to overcome inertia by creating a group identity based on not drinking milk. In doing so, the brand has balanced a fine line between emphasising its non-cowness (e.g. through its slogan ‘Wow no Cow’) and its similarity to regular milk (‘It’s like milk but made for humans’). Hence, like other producers of plant-based milk, it has conceptualised milk based on its material functions – the provision of milkiness – while simultaneously considering milk not derived from animal glands as superior (Reference Jönsson, Linné and McCrow-YoungJönsson et al. 2019). Without having to deal with the inefficiencies of cows’ ‘cumbersome corporeality’, proponents argue, milk production can become more resource-efficient, tackling both environmental and animal welfare concerns without sacrificing the functions that milk fulfils (Reference Jönsson, Linné and McCrow-YoungJönsson et al. 2019).

Yet by integrating itself into already existing spaces and practices, producers of plant-based milk can serve to not only underscore the inefficiencies of cow-milk but also reinforce the perception of milk as a desirable source of nutrition and part of an everyday diet (Reference Jönsson, Linné and McCrow-YoungJönsson et al. 2019). Indeed, the main reason for developing an oat drink is because it mimics the functionality and cultural connotations of milk (rather than the nutritional profile), enabling it to be easily integrated into already-existing lifestyles. Oatly has both positioned itself as an alternative to milk while also pointing to its similarities to dairy, thereby making a switch to oat drink convenient, while reinforcing the central role that milk plays in many Western countries.

Plant-based interventions have not gone unnoticed by the dairy industry, which has responded by contesting the environmental claims of plant-based milk proponents through developing alternative metrics for measuring the climate impact of milk. For example, researchers connected to the Swedish Dairy Association used a new metric – the nutrient density to climate impact (NDCI) index – to conclude that milk provides eight times the nutritional value in relation to its emissions when compared to oat drink (Reference SmedmanSmedman 2017). However, others have questioned such research, arguing that depending on the value you attribute to an arbitrary variable in the authors’ equation, you get different results and only in a certain span does milk come out on top (Reference Scarborough and RaynerScarborough and Rayner 2010). Such contestation does not always damage plant-based alternatives. When Oatly portrayed itself as being similar to milk, but better (‘No Milk. No Soy. No Badness’), this was resisted by the Swedish dairy industry who took the company to court over its portrayal of milk. While Oatly lost the case, it has helped to increase the visibility of the brand, ‘turning conflict into a marketing device’ (Reference Jönsson, Linné and McCrow-YoungJönsson et al. 2019: 86). Through the involvement of grassroots campaigns, the Oatly case became an opportunity for people to engage in food politics and re-assess their own practices in relation to the foods they consume (Reference Jönsson, Linné and McCrow-YoungJönsson et al. 2019).