In 2006, Massachusetts legislators passed a law that prohibited the sale of thermostats that contain mercury. They weren't alone; over the past decade, 15 states have passed similar laws, in response to increasing concerns about the serious public health risks posed by mercury.

The laws had a measurable effect. According to a new report by a coalition of environmental protection groups, the use of mercury by the largest thermostat manufacturers dropped a dramatic 73 percent between 2001 and 2007 as the companies shifted to alternative products that could be sold in those states that now banned their mercury-based products. (And the drop in mercury use wasn't limited to thermostats, the report notes; over that same period, manufacturers' use of mercury—which can show up in products ranging from lamps and batteries to dental amalgam—dropped by 46 percent overall.)

But while those state laws have prompted impressive reductions in the manufacturing use of mercury, another daunting problem remains: what about the mercury thermostats that are still in use in millions of homes, businesses, schools and other buildings across the U.S.?

That includes, ironically, the thermostat hanging in the Boston office of Clean Water Action, one of the groups behind the new report. The thermostat (which was hung by the building's owner) works, noted Elizabeth Saunders, Clean Water Action's environmental health legislative director.

But some day it will have to be replaced, and that's when the problems begin.

"It's not a harmful item when it's on the wall," Saunders said. "It becomes a harmful item when it's removed from the wall."

According to the new report, there is little effort to safely recycle those thermostats when they come out of circulation. The result is an ongoing public health risk.

"Given that mercury-containing thermostats can last 15 to 30 years or more, this vast reservoir of mercury currently on the walls in homes and businesses will be making its way into landfills and incinerators for decades to come unless effective collection programs are created," the report warns.

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According to the federal Environmental Protection Agency, most Americans have at least trace levels of methyl mercury in their bodies, although not enough to cause health problems. One significant exception are people who've been exposed to major amounts of mercury in the workplace. In those cases, the affected person can suffer a range of problems, including nervous and cognitive disorders, headaches and kidney problems.

For most people, exposure to mercury comes from eating fish from contaminated waters. This is a particular risk to young children, whose developing nervous systems are especially vulnerable to mercury; it's recommended that small children, as well as pregnant and nursing women, should avoid any fish that might contain mercury. "Impacts on cognitive thinking, memory, attention, language, and fine motor and visual spatial skills have been seen in children exposed to methyl mercury in the womb," according to the EPA.

Last week, the Mercury Products Campaign (whose members include Clean Water Action and the Vermont and New York Public Interest Research Groups) released a report, "Turning Up the Heat," in which they warned that as existing mercury thermostats are eventually retired, they will only add to the problem unless significant changes are made.

"While intact mercury-containing thermostats do not pose a public health risk, when they are disposed of in landfills or incinerators, the mercury can be released into the environment where it makes its way into lakes, rivers, and streams and contaminates fish," the report states.

The report's subtitle—"Exposing the manufacturers' lackluster mercury thermostat collection program"—makes it clear where the groups lay the blame for the problem. In the late 1990s, the three largest thermostat manufacturers—General Electric, Honeywell and White Rodgers—established the Thermostat Recycling Corporation, which collects old thermostats for recycling. Under the program, TRC provides interested wholesalers with collection containers where contractors can drop off old thermostats. TRC pays to ship the collected thermostats to a Honeywell facility, where they are dismantled and disposed of. The program began in just a handful of states but has since been expanded to all 48 mainland states.

While the program sounds like a good idea, it's had a very limited effect. According to the Mercury Products Campaign report, the TRC program collected 3.65 tons of mercury between 1999 and 2008. During that same period, the EPA estimated that thermostats containing a total of somewhere between 70 and 100 tons of mercury were taken out of use—meaning the TRC program captured less than 5 percent of the mercury being disposed of.

TRC maintains that its efforts have, indeed, had a significant effect, and says that it's collected more mercury that the Mercury Products Campaign report says.

"TRC is proud of what it has accomplished as a voluntary manufacturer lead program," Mark Tibbetts, the program's executive director, said in an email to the Advocate. "TRC has recovered over 4 tons of mercury through the program to date. TRC recognizes that more mercury thermostats need to be captured before they enter the waste stream and actively markets the program nationwide."

Tibbetts added that TRC is open to improving its program. "We also recognize the voluntary program can be strengthened and in fact support the majority of the policy recommendations in the report," he said.

The TRC isn't a universal failure. In fact, a state-by-state analysis of the program shows that recycling rates vary greatly.

At the high end is Maine, where in 2008 42.2 thermostats were collected for every 10,000 residents. The third-highest collection rate was in Vermont, where 22 thermostats were collected for every 10,000 residents.

In Massachusetts, the collection rate was much less impressive: just 4.3 thermostats per 10,000 residents.

It's no secret why states like Maine and Vermont have such impressive rates: they have strict laws that force manufacturers to take responsibility for their products.

Maine's law, in place since 2006, is regarded by environmentalists as a particularly good model for other states to follow. There, mercury-thermostat manufacturers are required to set up a collection program for both contractors and homeowners, and to offer a "bounty" of at least $5 for every thermostat turned in. Manufacturers that don't comply with the requirements are prohibited from selling even non-mercury thermostats in the state.

Vermont began a pilot thermostat collection program in 2007, which allowed homeowners to bring old thermostats to participating hardware stores and get a $5 store credit in return. Over the two months of the program, "Turning Up the Heat" reports, almost 1,200 thermostats were turned in—more than had been collected over the previous five years combined. That success inspired the passage in 2008 of a state recycling law that requires manufacturers to offer at least $5 for each thermostat that's turned in.

In Massachusetts, some lawmakers would like to follow Maine's and Vermont's leads. Last year, state Rep. Frank Smizik (D-Brookline) introduced a bill that included many of the elements found in those states' laws, including the $5 incentive to return thermostats. And, as in Maine, manufacturers not in compliance would not be allowed to sell any thermostats in the commonwealth. Valley state reps Peter Kocot (D-Northampton), Stephen Kulik (D-Worthington), Ellen Story (D-Amherst) and John Scibak (D-South Hadley) all signed on as co-sponsors of Smizik's bill.

The bill also won the support of environmental activists, such as Clean Water Action. In the Statehouse, however, it was combined with a second mercury-thermostat bill, introduced by Rep. William Straus (D-Mattapoisett). The new bill, now before the Ways and Means Committee, contains some, but not all, of the provisions the Mercury Products Campaign identifies as key to a successful recycling program. For instance, while Straus' bill, like Smizik's, would require manufacturers to set up recycling programs—and would prohibit them from selling any thermostats if they don't comply—it does not include the $5 bounty that's been credited with much of the success of the programs in Vermont and Maine.

Environmental activists now hope to meet with Ways and Means staffers to discuss improvements they'd like to see made to the bill, Saunders said. Strong programs, such as those in Maine and Vermont, she said, have three key elements: a financial motivation for people to turn in thermostats, a good public education component and performance standards that hold manufacturers accountable.

Supporters of stricter standards expect resistance from the manufacturers, who presumably would prefer to stick with the voluntary recycling programs they've set up. But those programs, the Mercury Products Campaign contends, don't work without the added pressure of strong state laws. "We need the Massachusetts legislature to close the loop," Saunders said. Four years ago, lawmakers "did amazing work" in passing the ban on mercury thermostats; now, she said, "we need to finish the job."

Underlying the issue of recycling mercury thermostats is a larger issue. How much responsibility should manufacturers bear for their products—particularly ones that contain toxic elements—once they are no longer usable? "We've lived in this world acting as if there's an infinite capacity for the Earth and the world to absorb whatever we put into it. It's become increasingly clear that's not true," Saunders said.

"We think it's appropriate, and very important, for manufacturers to be responsible for the end of life for their products," she continued. Doing so would likely motivate them to institute recycling programs, to make products that last longer—and, generally, to be more thoughtful about what they're adding to the world."