Greens insist that reductions in carbon emissions will more than compensate for increased levels of potentially toxic garbage; others fret that renewable energy advocates have not been forthright about their lack of eco-friendly plans and the technology to handle the waste.
“Nobody planned on this, nobody had a plan to get rid of them, nobody planned for closure,” said Dwight Clark, whose company, Solar eWaste Solutions, recycles solar panels. “Nobody thought this through.”
In the headlong effort to make solar and wind seem as inexpensive as possible, net zero advocates have not included fees that address the eventual cost of disposal, which could leave taxpayers holding the bag.
“With the existing energy infrastructure, a lot of end-of-life questions have never been addressed,” the alliance’s executive director, Logan Burke, told RealClearInvestigations. “It may be that those costs have to be embedded in the front-end, but somehow we need to make the market circular. How do we find that market at the end of their useful life?”
Just how many panels the United States will dispose of or retire each year is also unclear. No clearinghouse keeps track of national figures, according to Meng Tao, energy engineering professor at Arizona State University and a consultant on renewable waste issues.
Critics say even the high end of those numbers seems suspiciously low given the hundreds of millions of panels now in use and tens of millions yet to come.
“Both PV [photovoltaic] and wind power infrastructure waste streams require special handling and recycling methods that are not widespread in Europe today,” the EU wrote.
The United States accounts for roughly 10 percent of the waste, according to several experts. Tao estimated that it would be producing roughly 2 million metric tons of solar waste per year by 2043, but other studies have a much higher figure. A 2019 study in renewable energy predicted roughly 10 million metric tons of solar waste between 2030 and 2060.
“Solar waste will grow exponentially in the next 20 years,” Tao said. “Globally, we produced 20 to 25 million tons of solar panels in 2023. They will come offline in roughly 20 years. That is 20 to 25 million tons of solar waste a year in 2045.”
The push to make renewable waste renewable has smacked up against basic questions of profitability, according to Jesse Ausubel of Rockefeller University.
“The recycling industry overall is not one that has blossomed in the last 50 years; it’s just not a booming industry,” he said. “You’re going to need enormous amounts of installations and this stuff is made to last, made tough, which is the enemy of recycling. So it’s all still a big challenge and I think there are a lot of unanswered questions or we’ll be left with a lot of stranded assets.”
Tao agreed that, absent more profit, the recyclable future for renewable equipment is dim.
“We still don’t have a perfected technology for recycling them, we’re not there yet,” he said. “We’re trying to see how the industry will move forward, but there are multiple challenges, including the fact it is not profitable.”
Renewable energy champions insist that all this will mean big business, perhaps as much as $2.7 billion in solar recycling in 2030, according to one estimate. But for now, it isn’t. Clark said his company clears about $5 from each panel.
It isn’t only the lagging technology and market pressures. At root, there isn’t much in the panel worth recycling. There are tiny amounts of silver and copper, along with some silicon, but those wafers are deep within a compressed sandwich of glass and other elements. Crushed glass has some limited value in construction, but extracting the small amounts of valuable components is an intensive, high-tech process, Clark said.
Ausubel said he thinks that the smaller residential solar market can probably handle itself and that the real work will be disposing of millions of panels in the sprawling fields.
Because unraveling the panel’s crunched knot is difficult and expensive, it only makes sense to recycle panels in the thousands, and the residential solar market is of less interest, Clark said.
“It’s like mining that way,” he said of the process. “The way they are assembled, stacked, with the cells intertwined and wired together amid sheets of plastic, resins, glue and the like.”
And all leaching cannot be prevented. While the hazardous materials contained in each solar panel, like its valuable elements, are slight, they could present a long-term problem. Even if a landfill strictly adheres to Environmental Protection Agency regulations, the leaching from potentially millions of panels poses health risks that Tao compared to mercury poisoning.
Laws mandating recycling have proved difficult to enforce.
For example, Washington passed a law mandating solar panel recycling in 2017, but it has yet to be enforced. Currently, the law is set to take effect on July 1, but the Department of Ecology opposes that date in part because manufacturers and consumers have proved reluctant to pay the recycling costs, crimping the solar market there.
“The state’s clean energy transition is facing a setback if the law goes into effect on July 1, 2025,” the department stated. “If the law is unchanged, it would disrupt the supply and cost of panels available for sale in Washington.”
Legislatures in some states, such as Louisiana, are moving to address that vacuum and prevent taxpayers from being stuck with the cleanup bill.
“No existing projects here have required decommissioning, unless that’s part of a private contract with a landowner,” he said.
“It’s sort of a ‘nice’ way of dumping, really,” Tao said. “Because those places have no clue what to do with it in the end.”
“Solar panels are mostly glass, so glass is easy to recycle,” he said. “Wind turbines are mostly metal; again, easy to recycle. Most of the concern about ‘recycling’ is fear, uncertainty and doubt from the usual suspects.”
It’s true that turbines, which have a lifespan of about two decades, are mostly metal, but they nonetheless present their own set of end-of-life problems. While most of it may be recyclable, breaking down and transporting the gigantic contraptions on land or offshore requires tremendous labor—and energy. The thousands of tons of concrete that make up their bases will likely remain in the ground or on the ocean floor in some form for decades, according to Mills and others.
Blades on offshore turbines today can be as long as a football field, and the structures are equal in size to 10-story buildings, with those offshore sitting on an ocean floor slab as big as a city block.
“These offshore things are not renewable and not clean—it takes boat loads of equipment out to the sites to build and maintain them, and it will take boat loads to bring it all back,” said Robin Shaffer of Protect Our Coast NJ, a grassroots group that began fighting a since-scuttled offshore project in New Jersey.
“The government has let them off the hook by shaping their policies around climate activism,” Shaffer said. “They’re not putting down escrow money for decommissioning and someone’s going to have to come along and remove them, or we’ll be staring at these rotting towers in the ocean.”
The blades are so big that they are usually broken into three pieces when decommissioned, and the giant chunks of fiberglass, resin, and composite materials go to landfills or warehouses.
“You can’t reuse turbines, and there are now thousands upon thousands of blades just sitting there in warehouses already,” Isaac said. “It’s an environmental disaster we’re looking at.”








