Every now and then, a public policy problem hits you right on the noggin.
Such a moment occurred for me when I drove up to the bottle redemption center I’d been using for the last quarter century, and found it had disappeared.
The old, decrepit but friendly bottle drop was gone, replaced by a freshly striped parking lot. The liquor and wine store once attached had been recreated as a bright new store, complete with a tasting area.
When I inquired about where one might be able to get one’s five cents back – 15 cents for wine and liquor – I was told that the capital had no such outlets, though one does remain, open four days a week. The nearest open one was in Gardiner, so I packed up and headed south.
There, I found an even more decrepit – but still friendly – bottle drop where I cashed my winnings. But for how much longer?
It’s not exactly news that fewer and fewer stores take returnable bottles. Statewide, licensed redemption centers fell from 374 in 2019 to 328 this July.
Maine was the third state to pass a “bottle bill,” with redemption beginning in 1978, and support has never wavered.
It appeals to Democrats, for its environmental benefits; to traditional Republicans for its thrift and waste reduction; and to just about everyone for dramatically reducing roadside trash.
Even today, while hamburger wrappers biodegrade, recyclables are scooped up by those for whom a nickel saved is a nickel earned.
Yet if there’s nowhere to take the bottles, the system will crash. The solution, some believe, is that reliable standby of the past four decades: the private sector.
In this case, that means CLYNK, the for-profit, nationally expanding recycling firm that’s won contracts with Hannaford and at municipal recycling centers throughout southern Maine – where there’s volume.
CLYNK proclaims a “single sort” system, which in practice means it’s sorted at a huge collection center and, markets for recyclables being what they are, much of it is thrown away or burned.
One hopeful legislator recently opined that the redemption center shortage might be solved by using more of CLYNK’s wondrous technology. One idea is to scan 20% of all collected material, then extrapolate to credit the consumer’s account.
Count me skeptical. When I used CLYNK, briefly, they never accounted for the thick milk bottles I returned, forcing me to call repeatedly to get my $2 back.
CLYNK is bundling two separate systems: recyclables and returnables. The former is an private and municipal operation; the later a state-created system to draw beverage containers out of the waste stream.
What works for CLYNK is not necessarily good for Maine. Collection rates for deposit containers is far higher than for plastic, tin cans, and newspaper we must remember to take to the dump, or put out with the trash.
What’s the reason for the sharp decline in redemption centers, conveniently located in most towns, let alone cities as large as Augusta?
It’s simple: the five-cent deposit on soda and beer has been in force for nearly a half century. Five cents in 1978 is now worth about a penny.
And since redemption center get just 4.5 cents for handling containers, it’s just not worth their while, even combined with a beverage store.
The answer, is to raise the deposit to a dime and increase the handling fee; Connecticut, a relatively late convert to the bottle bill, decided this year to go to 10 cents, starting in 2024.
The change is expected to keep more redemption centers open, especially in rural communities that have limited access to services like CLYNK – even if you think for-profit businesses are a desirable addition.
Who will be the courageous Maine legislator to propose doing this, to keep redemption centers in Corinna and Eastport – and perhaps bring more back to Augusta?
I’m serious about this. Even when a fee or tax has gotten ridiculously low through inflation – Exhibit A is the gasoline tax, still a pitiful 30 cents a gallon in Maine, with another 18.3 cent federal tax, unchanged since 1993 – it’s supposedly political suicide to propose any change.
Our aversion to “tax increases” has gotten so far out of hand we can’t even acknowledge when adjustments are needed to keep the system working.
Reality is still reality. If we want to keep people bringing back bottles, or putting them out at the curb, we’ve got to go to a dime.
It’s a deposit, after all. As consumers, we get every penny back. To channel Barack Obama from the long-ago 2008 New Hampshire primary: “Yes, we can.”
Douglas Rooks, a Maine editor, commentator and reporter since 1984, is the author of three books, and is now researching the life and career of a U.S. Chief Justice. He welcomes comment at drooks@tds.net
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