The Battle of Basel and Hong Kong: Ship Recycling at a Crossroads
The debate over how the world manages end-of-life ships has taken on fresh urgency. On 26 June 2025, the Hong Kong International Convention for the Safe and Environmentally Sound Recycling of Ships (HKC) finally entered into force after years of negotiation. While its arrival was hailed as a major step toward safer shipbreaking practices, it has simultaneously reignited an unresolved question: how does this new treaty interact with the older and broader Basel Convention on the Control of Transboundary Movements of Hazardous Wastes and their Disposal? The answer has far-reaching implications, not just for the shipping industry, but for the environment and public health in countries that dominate global ship recycling.
For states such as Bangladesh, where vast stretches of coastline are home to one of the world’s largest ship dismantling industries, the stakes are immense. Every year, hundreds of end-of-life vessels are beached and dismantled on the shores of Chattogram, employing thousands of workers and generating valuable steel for the domestic market. But with this economic gain comes a heavy price. Asbestos, lead paint, heavy metals, oils, and other hazardous materials flow out of these ships, raising serious questions about how such waste should be controlled once it leaves the yard. This is where the Basel Convention comes in, and where conflicts with the HKC begin to emerge.
The Basel Convention, adopted in 1989, was designed as a global shield against the uncontrolled dumping of hazardous waste, especially in developing countries. It requires strict oversight of waste once it is transported across borders and designates competent authorities within each country to monitor compliance. In Bangladesh, this responsibility rests squarely with the Department of Environment (DoE), a role embedded in the country’s constitutional Rules of Business that allocate mandates across ministries. When hazardous waste leaves a ship recycling yard—whether asbestos sheets, oil residues, or contaminated steel—their collection, transport, and disposal must be regulated under Basel and supervised by the DoE.
The HKC, by contrast, is narrower in scope. Negotiated under the International Maritime Organization (IMO), it aims to improve practices within shipyards: certifying facilities, ensuring safer working conditions, and promoting cleaner dismantling methods. Its jurisdiction stops at the yard gate. It does not dictate what happens once waste is removed from the shipbreaking site. The IMO itself acknowledges that it has no mandate to regulate downstream waste management, which falls squarely under Basel and national law.
On paper, this division of labor looks straightforward. HKC covers activities inside the yard, while Basel governs everything outside. But in practice, the dual existence of these treaties has created confusion and, critics argue, deliberate misinterpretation. Some powerful stakeholders in the shipping industry have pushed the argument that HKC, as the newer and more specific treaty, should take precedence over Basel under the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties. Such a position is attractive to states eager to keep the flow of end-of-life ships smooth, but it risks sidelining Basel’s tougher downstream requirements.
This tension is playing out in Bangladesh. The Ministry of Industries (MoI), officially designated as the Competent Authority for ship recycling under the HKC, has begun to expand its role into areas traditionally governed by the DoE. Supported by donor-funded technical assistance projects, the MoI has taken steps to issue voluntary guidelines on hazardous waste management, even though such matters are constitutionally assigned to the DoE. A recent consultation on draft “Guidance on Hazardous Waste Collection and Transport Systems from Ship Recycling Facilities,” funded by the IMO and facilitated by the MoI, is a telling example. Although non-binding, the very act of drafting such documents under the MoI’s umbrella signals a shift of influence away from environmental authorities.
This creeping overlap raises troubling questions about governance. The MoI’s mandate under the Rules of Business is to promote commerce and industry, not to regulate environmental matters. When it begins to shape rules on hazardous waste, even indirectly, the safeguards embedded in the constitution are diluted. The result is a structural conflict of interest: business-promotion agencies gain sway over environmental oversight, often prioritizing industrial growth over ecological protection.
Funding plays a pivotal role in this imbalance. Very few international projects on ship recycling in Bangladesh channel resources through the DoE. Instead, donor support flows mainly to industry-linked ministries such as the MoI, which are then positioned as the main interlocutors with international partners. This means the DoE is left with limited resources and little incentive to develop Basel-based regulations or strengthen enforcement. The imbalance is not always visible but has real consequences, tilting governance toward facilitation of industry at the expense of environmental control.
Some observers describe this phenomenon as a form of “environmental colonialism.” Unlike the territorial colonialism of past centuries, this new form of dominance operates through finance, influence, and technical assistance. Powerful shipping nations and industry bodies shape the rules of the game, ensuring they suit commercial needs. Meanwhile, the voices of local communities, NGOs, and workers who bear the brunt of environmental harm are sidelined. For Bangladesh, the risk is that the very instruments designed to protect its environment are hollowed out, leaving it to absorb the toxic burdens of global trade.
The political and economic stakes are high. Ship recycling is a lifeline for Bangladesh, supplying more than half of the country’s steel demand and employing tens of thousands of workers. Any disruption in the flow of vessels would trigger economic ripples across construction and manufacturing sectors. But the environmental and health costs of weak oversight are equally staggering. Communities living near shipyards face contaminated soil and water, workers are exposed to deadly asbestos fibers, and hazardous waste often ends up dumped in poorly managed sites. Without Basel’s downstream protections, the HKC alone cannot address these challenges.
The entry into force of the HKC should not be seen as a license to weaken Basel. Both treaties are necessary, and both must be applied in tandem. The HKC is a vital tool for improving workplace safety and environmental practices inside shipyards. Basel remains indispensable for what happens after the waste leaves. If Bangladesh and other recycling states fail to respect this division, the result will be confusion, weakened oversight, and ongoing harm to vulnerable populations.
The path forward requires clarity and political will. Bangladesh’s domestic law should explicitly confirm the division of responsibility: the HKC applies inside the yard, while Basel applies outside. This would prevent opportunistic interpretations and safeguard the DoE’s constitutional authority. At the same time, the DoE must be empowered with funding, expertise, and political backing to enforce its mandate. Without such capacity, even the strongest legal framework risks being toothless.
International donors also bear responsibility. Projects that deal with hazardous waste collection, transport, and disposal must be rooted in Basel’s framework, not outsourced to the IMO or industry-focused ministries. Civil society, too, has a role to play. NGOs and local communities must demand accountability and push back against narratives that prioritize business over environmental justice.
At its core, this debate is not about legal technicalities but about fairness. Should developing countries like Bangladesh continue to carry the toxic load of global shipping without adequate protection? Or should the world honor both its commercial and environmental commitments? If ship recycling is to be truly sustainable, Basel and HKC must work together. One governs the yard, the other the world beyond its gates. Neither can succeed without the other.
The future of ship recycling will be judged not by how many treaties exist but by how well they are respected. For Bangladesh, clarity between Basel and the HKC is not a bureaucratic issue but a matter of health, justice, and sovereignty. The world owes it nothing less.
Author: shipping inbox
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