Across the Balkans, many Roma families live in the shadow of landfills, surrounded by the waste that much of Europe prefers not to see. What might look like a coincidence on a map is, in truth, the product of deep-rooted environmental racism and decades of neglect. For thousands of Roma people, plastic pollution isn’t an abstract environmental issue; it's the air they breathe, the ground they walk on, and the water they drink.

This crisis exposes how environmental injustice and social inequality collide. The Roma, Europe's largest ethnic minority, numbering around 10 to 12 million people are often forced to live in areas that others have abandoned or deemed undesirable. These communities, already struggling with poverty and exclusion, are now bearing the heaviest burden of Europe’s plastic waste problem (Tsiakalos, G. 2025).

Spatial Segregation

Across the Balkans, it’s common to find Roma settlements built just a short walk from sprawling landfills. This isn’t an accident. Studies show that Roma communities are deliberately pushed into these hazardous areas through what researchers call “racialized policy choices” decisions that quietly determine where pollution goes and who must live with it   (Tsiakalos, G. 2025).

These neighborhoods have been called by activists as places where environmental and human harm are accepted as the cost of progress. The policies that keep Roma people in these zones are often disguised as urban planning or environmental protection. Governments justify forced evictions under the pretense of “cleaning up” illegal settlements, yet rarely provide safe, adequate housing elsewhere (Dunajeva, J. 2025). The result is a cycle of displacement and exposure, where families are moved from one hazardous site to another, never escaping the pollution that defines their environment.

Health Impacts and Occupational Hazards

For many Roma families, collecting and sorting waste is not just a livelihood, it's a means of survival. Men, women, and even children spend long hours scavenging through piles of discarded plastic, sorting what can be sold or recycled. But this work comes with enormous risks. Without gloves, masks, or any form of protection, these informal recyclers handle materials contaminated with chemicals, industrial residue, and sharp debris (Dunajeva, J., & Kostka, J. 2022). Researchers who have spent time in Roma settlements around Belgrade describe a quiet, persistent form of suffering, what sociologist Dunajeva calls “slow violence.” Over time, this daily exposure to toxins leads to respiratory illnesses, skin conditions, and chronic fatigue. Yet because their work is informal and unrecognized, Roma recyclers often lack access to healthcare or social protection.

Outside of the work itself, the settlements are marked by crumbling housing, unsafe water, and poor sanitation. Many have no legal status, meaning residents can’t access municipal waste collection or clean water systems. The same policies that place them next to pollution also deny them the tools to protect themselves from it. (Škokić, T. 2025).

Conclusion 

What’s happening to the Roma in the Balkans isn’t just an environmental issue, it’s a human rights crisis. It reveals how systems of inequality are built directly into our landscapes, where entire communities are treated as expendable for the sake of economic convenience. Solving this problem requires more than charity or short-term aid. It demands a rights-based approach that recognizes Roma people as equal citizens entitled to clean air, safe housing, and a healthy environment. Governments, NGOs, and the international community must work together to dismantle the structures that have made environmental racism so enduring.

The plastic waste crisis is a mirror reflecting Europe’s broader failures. It reminds us that environmental sustainability cannot exist without social justice. Until Roma communities are included in decision-making and protected from environmental harm, Europe’s green transition will remain incomplete and unjust.