If your canned oolong drink run suddenly feels more expensive, you’re not imagining things. Honestly, this one isn’t just inflation doing inflation things. It’s also about recycling. Yep, that shiny new Beverage Container Return Scheme is coming, and while the idea is clean and green, the price tag? A bit messy, sia.
So let’s break it down properly. No fluff. No government-speak. Just the real talk.
What’s Actually Happening?
From April, most bottled and canned drinks in Singapore will come with a 10-cent refundable deposit. You pay first. You return the empty container. You get the money back. Simple, right?
But here’s the thing. That 10 cents is just the headline. Behind the scenes, businesses are dealing with a whole buffet of new fees. And businesses, as we all know, don’t absorb costs out of kindness. They pass it on. Straight to you. Confirm-plus-guarantee.
That’s why some drinks could end up costing 25 to 60 cents more, according to CNA. And no, that’s not a typo.
Why Importers Are Sweating Buckets
Actually, the biggest pain isn’t for the big brands. It’s the small guys and importers.
Right now, heartland shops sell imported canned drinks for as low as 70 cents. Local ones? Closer to a dollar. That gap made cheap drinks… well, cheap.
But under the new scheme, importers must:
- Register their products
- Replace overseas barcodes
- Stick new BCRS-approved labels on every single can or bottle
- Pay producer fees
- Pay security deposits to prevent fraud
All this costs money. A lot of money.
One importer moving nearly a million cans a month basically said, “No choice, lah.” If costs go up, prices go up. End of story.
Meanwhile, big local producers can print the required codes directly during manufacturing. No stickering. No extra manpower. Less headache. You see where this is going.
Craft Beer Sellers: Double Confirm Stress
Now let’s talk about craft beer. The atas-but-chill crowd.
Craft beer importers bring in small batches. Seasonal designs. Different labels every time. That creativity? Suddenly a liability.
Every new design needs to be registered. Approval can take 12 to 16 weeks. That’s brutal when your beer only has a shelf life of about a year.
So by the time you’re allowed to sell it, the clock is already ticking loudly. Add extra manpower for labeling, and suddenly margins start crying quietly in the corner.
Honestly, it’s not that they hate recycling. They just don’t know what’s happening half the time. Information feels fragmented. Uncertainty is the real killer here.
The Fees Nobody Talks About Enough
Let’s zoom out. These are the costs businesses are dealing with:
- One-time registration fee: S$500
- Each product registered: S$5
- Producer fee per unit:
- Aluminium cans: ~3 cents
- Plastic bottles: ~4 cents
- Special barcode stickers for imports: 4 to 18 cents per unit
- Security deposit for imports:
- Up to S$28,000 upfront for 100,000 units
- Possible penalties for mistakes or late declarations
So yeah. That “10-cent deposit” is just the tip of the iceberg.
Why Big Brands Aren’t Panicking (As Much)
Big players like Coca-Cola aren’t immune, but they’re better cushioned.
Their factories run at insane speed. Up to 1,000 bottles a minute. They can update packaging designs, adjust systems, and spread costs across massive volumes.
They also got more time to clear old stock thanks to a transition extension. Smaller players? Not so lucky.
Still, even the giants admit this isn’t a small change. It affects packaging, logistics, systems, and operations across the board.
What You’ll See as a Consumer
Moving on to your daily life.
Reverse-vending machines are coming. Over 1,000 machines islandwide. Supermarkets first. Then HDB estates and hawker centres.
You return your empty bottles there. Refund likely via PayNow or something similar. Details still being finalised.
If machines are easy to find, people will use them. If they’re hidden like rare Pokémon, then good luck.
The On-the-Ground Reality, I tried it
Let’s talk about the part nobody puts on slides.
Using a reverse-vending machine in Singapore is often more frustrating than rewarding. First, you bring two big bags of cans and bottles, feeling all responsible and eco-minded. Then you start hunting for the machine. When you finally find one, it’s either full or out of order. Strike one.
Say you get lucky and it’s working. Next problem: the queue. Progress is slow because the machine is extremely sensitive. You can’t just drop a can in. You must insert it slowly and carefully. Too fast, and the machine rejects it. The bottle gets spat back out, and you’re stuck retrying while the line behind you grows longer and more annoyed.
Barcode scanning is another gamble. Some drinks go through smoothly. Others don’t. New products or imported drinks are often not recognised at all. When that happens, there’s no workaround. After carrying everything there and waiting your turn, you’re left with no choice but to throw the drink into a nearby bin.
That’s the part that breaks the momentum. People don’t mind recycling. What they mind is effort without payoff. If returning containers feels like a chore, motivation disappears very quickly.
For the scheme to truly work, the machines must be reliable, fast, and everywhere people actually go. Otherwise, the system risks teaching people one thing only: that trying is more troublesome than giving up.
Recycling Reality Check
Here’s the uncomfortable truth. Singapore’s household recycling rate dropped to 11% in 2024. That’s… not great.
Plastic recycling? About 5%. Compare that to Taiwan, Germany, or Norway, where deposit systems push rates above 90%. Suddenly the scheme makes sense.
Economists say deposits work better than cash handouts. Because pain is immediate. You feel it at the checkout. You remember it when you’re about to throw the bottle away.
I get why people are annoyed. Prices going up always hurts, especially when you’re just trying to buy a cold drink after work. And yes, this scheme clearly hits small businesses harder than big corporations. That imbalance needs fixing, or at least more support.
But also? We’ve been terrible at recycling. Like, objectively bad. Blue bins everywhere, still wrong items inside. If a 10-cent “eh don’t waste lah” reminder is what finally wakes us up, maybe it’s worth the annoyance.
The key is execution. If machines are everywhere, refunds are fast, and education is clear, this could actually work. If not, it’ll just feel like another quiet price hike dressed up as sustainability.
And Singaporeans hate feeling played.
This scheme isn’t perfect. There will be loopholes. Some brands will try to dodge it. Enforcement only fully kicks in later.
But if done right, it could change habits for good. Less waste. More recycling. Fewer excuses.
Just don’t be shocked when your “cheap drink” isn’t so cheap anymore. Now you know why.
