Captain Soumitro Roy of the Elegant Exit Company argues that defending the current ship demolition model may seem pragmatic, but it risks locking the industry into a compromise it was never meant to uphold.
Dr. Anand Hiremath is correct in stating that South Asia has ship recycling capacity, and that capacity is improving. However, capacity alone does not equate to progress, and this is where the argument begins to falter.
The Hong Kong Convention (HKC), adopted in 2009 and set to take effect in 2025, was never intended to be the gold standard. It was a compromise—a framework to regulate existing practices, including beaching, with incremental improvements. It was meant to be a starting point, not the ultimate goal. Yet today, it is increasingly treated as the endpoint. This is not evolution; it is stagnation.
Scaling existing practices may sound practical, but it is also the fastest way to ensure that nothing fundamentally changes. History offers parallels: there was a time when cargo was carried manually through ship holds. It worked, it scaled, and it employed thousands. But it was eventually replaced by gantry cranes and automated terminals. Workers didn’t disappear—they moved up the value chain.
A similar transformation is evident in other industries. Barefoot rickshaw pullers have been replaced by electric rickshaw operators, who are now owners rather than laborers. Progress didn’t eliminate livelihoods; it elevated them.
This raises a critical question for ship recycling: are we defending jobs, or are we defending the conditions under which those jobs are performed?
Images of manual cutting in open environments, exposure to hazardous materials, and labor operating at the edge of risk still define parts of the industry. But these are not inevitabilities—they are choices. While it’s true that “capacity cannot appear on demand,” capacity does emerge where capital, regulation, and intent align. Ship recycling is now at that crossroads.
HKC-compliant yards represent progress, but they fall short of full containment, zero discharge, dock-based dismantling, and integrated circular systems. These are not lofty aspirations—they are the standards already achieved by other heavy industries.
Frameworks like the EU Ship Recycling Regulation and emerging UAE models are advancing toward closed-loop, industrialized processes. Treating HKC compliance as “the solution” risks freezing the industry at a level of compromise rather than pushing it toward meaningful progress.
Lifecycle arguments, such as those defending rerolling, are often used to justify the current system. While valid, they are incomplete. If lifecycle thinking is the benchmark, then transparency on hazardous waste, pollutant traceability, and independently verified emissions must also be non-negotiable. Too often, they are not.
The argument that recycling must remain where it currently exists is equally fragile. Ecosystems are not static; they are transitional. If they weren’t, containerization would never have replaced breakbulk shipping.
The real risk is not a lack of capacity but an industry that becomes too comfortable with a version of itself that no longer meets evolving expectations. HKC-compliant yards are not the problem, but they are not the endgame either. They are a bridge, and bridges are meant to be crossed.
The commercial landscape is already shifting. Decisions once driven purely by cost are now influenced by capital providers, cargo owners, and regulators demanding verifiable sustainability. The question is no longer “What is cheapest?” but “What can withstand scrutiny?”
A principle that remains underemphasized is accountability at the source. Ships are not accidental waste; they are engineered assets. Yet, end-of-life responsibility is largely externalized. This disconnect is unlikely to persist. The future of ship recycling points toward integration: dismantling as reverse engineering, not improvisation; dry docks instead of tidal flats; skilled, permanent industrial workforces instead of exposure-based labor; and risk contained within auditable systems.
This is not idealism—it is the trajectory of every high-risk industry. The choice is not between geographies or methods; it is between comfort and change.
There was once enough breakbulk capacity and enough legacy systems, yet the world moved on. Ship recycling will too. The question is whether the industry will lead this transition or be forced into it, as it was with double-hull tankers.
Many stakeholders working with the Elegant Exit Company are already seeking non-beaching solutions, and capacity is beginning to scale accordingly. Market expectations, not HKC compliance alone, are driving this shift. Therefore, HKC should not be treated as a panacea—it is merely a step on the path to a more sustainable future.