I AM a recovering sachet user. I am not totally off sachet use yet because the Philippines is a sachet economy, but I am redesigning my life to minimize and totally refuse sachet packaging.
I am embarrassed to admit that my “Aha!” moment came late in life. I have been mindlessly consuming things without thinking of where the packaging goes after I throw it away. I just assumed someone would worry about it for me and take care of it. That’s why it seemed convenient. Because I do not have to think about the consequences.
But when I saw a graph that showed the Philippines is the number one plastic polluter of oceans in the world, it shocked me. Especially when I saw that the number two polluter, India, with its more than a billion population, trailed far behind with 50 percent less plastic waste than the Philippines.
I realized then that no one was taking care of my sachets after I threw them out, even when I segregated my waste. They all end up in the ocean and come back to me in the form of microplastics in the food I eat, which are absorbed by my body.
And, apparently, I am not alone. Because it takes millions of Filipinos to take us to the number one status in contributing to plastic pollution on the planet.
The Philippines is a sachet economy. It is heavily reliant on small, single-use plastic packets — sachets — for affordable essentials like shampoo, laundry and dishwashing soaps, coffee, condiments, and snacks.
Over 164 million sachets are used daily, making up over half of the country’s plastic waste. The multi-layered plastic/foil sachets are hard to recycle and end up clogging landfills, rivers, and oceans.
If this trend continues, plastic is expected to outweigh all the fish in the sea by 2050.
I was born in 1970, and I can still remember a time when there were no sachets in grocery and sari-sari stores. So I researched how the sachet economy started.
The history of the sachet is a story of adaptation —from a delicate scented bag to a revolutionary business model, and finally to a global environmental crisis. Its evolution shows how a simple packaging concept was adapted to serve corporate expansion, often at the expense of both low-income consumers and the environment.
The word “sachet” comes from the French word meaning “little bag,” derived from the Latin saccus (sack or bag). The concept dates back centuries with a completely different purpose.
In Ancient China (Warring States period), scented sachets (xiangbao) were worn on the body to absorb sweat, repel insects, and ward off evils. In Medieval Europe, sachets were known as “plague-bags,” filled with herbs and aromatic ingredients believed to protect against disease. In 15th-Century Europe, velvet and silk garments that could not be washed were perfumed using small fabric bags filled with herbs and fragrances.
These early sachets were reusable cloth pouches — the opposite of today’s single-use version.
In the 19th century, the sachet took on a new form. Pharmacists needed a way to dispense individual doses of powdered medicines. A brass sachet folder was used to fold sheets of paper into small packets, each containing a single dose. This established the sachet as a single-dose unit — a format that would later be commercialized on a massive scale.
The modern plastic sachet emerged in the 1980s as a deliberate corporate strategy to penetrate emerging markets. The pivotal moment came in 1983, when the Indian company, Cavin Kare, began selling shampoo in small plastic packets instead of large bottles. The innovation was simple but profound — by selling tiny, affordable quantities, they could reach consumers who could not afford a full-sized bottle.
Multinational corporations quickly recognized the opportunity. According to a patent document, the sachet concept “originated in the Asian markets as a way of making FMCG (fast-moving consumer goods) products available and affordable to the common man.” Companies like Unilever, Procter & Gamble, and Nestle aggressively adopted and expanded the model across Asia, Africa, and Latin America.
Today, over 855 billion sachets are used globally every year, with projections reaching one trillion by 2030 if the current trend continues.
The sachet model is built on a deliberate business strategy. For consumers, sachets offer a low upfront price — just enough for one use. This makes it accessible to low-income consumers who live on daily wages. For corporations, the per-unit price is dramatically higher, therefore, more profitable. Consumers pay a “poverty penalty” — often two to three times more per milliliter than buying in bulk. Sachets also create brand lock-in, expand market reach into informal retail networks, and externalize waste costs onto communities and governments.
This profitable business strategy is an environmental nightmare. Modern sachets are made of multi-layer laminates (typically combinations of polyethylene, aluminum foil, polyester, and other materials). This construction is essential for preserving liquid products and preventing leakage, but it makes sachets virtually impossible to recycle.
In the Philippines alone, sachets make up 52 percent of residual plastic waste. They break down into microplastics that contaminate oceans, marine life, and eventually human food systems.
The most ironic aspect of the sachet story is what it replaced. The Philippine traditional practice of “tingi” (buying in small quantities) had long existed, but it was not sustainable. Consumers would bring their own glass bottles and jars to purchase soy sauce, vinegar, and cooking oil, effectively operating their own refill and reuse systems.
Multinational corporations “hijacked” this tradition, reframing it into a profit-driven model of disposability. By the 1990s, reusable containers and local refill systems were systematically replaced by single-use sachets across Asia.
Despite public sustainability commitments, major corporations continue to produce billions of sachets annually, and Reuters reported in 2022 that they are actively lobbying governments in India and the Philippines against passing legislation banning sachets.
The history of sachets shows that today’s environmental crisis was not an accident. It was the predictable outcome of a business model designed to maximize market reach while externalizing costs.
The solution lies not in “better” disposable sachets. Biodegradable versions remain more expensive and still represent single-use waste. The solution is in reviving the very systems that sachets displaced — refill stations, reusable containers, and community-based distribution.
Davao City, which always leads public health and environmental protection initiatives, started the Davao Refill Revolution in August last year. Under the GreenTAYO Project — led by the TAYO Community, the Kahayag Foundation, and the Mothers for Peace Social Enterprise, Inc. — the project aims to return Davaoeños to practices that served our communities well before the sachet transformed convenience into crisis.
With the Davao Refill Revolution, Davaoeños don’t just save money or reduce waste; they gain health, dignity, economic stability, and genuine control over their resources. This transforms our local economy from one of extraction (corporate profits, externalized waste) to one of circulation — where value stays in the community, nourishes families, and regenerates the environment for generations to come.
