If this feels familiar, it is because we have observed a similar pattern with other innovators in alternative materials. Natural Fiber Welding, the maker of Mirum, announced that it would wind down operations in the United States after years of investment and high-profile partnerships. Good ideas still require durable unit economics, scale, and clear end-of-life pathways. When these are absent, glossy promises encounter hard limits.

There is also a technical fact that should not be overlooked. Even the most natural-sounding textile innovations often depend on synthetic chemistry to achieve performance. Piñatex describes finishes that include resin top coats and a high solid PU transfer coating for its performance line. In other words, to meet durability standards, the materials revert to polymers that are difficult to recycle at scale today. That does not make the effort invalid, but it does challenge the idea that these offer a straightforward path to cleaner supply chains in cars.

End of life is where the story worsens. Across Europe, only a tiny fraction of textiles is actually recycled, with most ending up in incineration or landfill. Coated and composite textiles are among the hardest to recover, which poses a challenge for many leather-look alternatives made from polyurethane or other polymer systems. When we design interiors for a useful life measured in years and then produce waste that persists for much longer, we are not solving for sustainability. We are simply delaying it.

Why are we still searching for a replacement for something that already exists as a by-product of the food system and has been proven in automotive duty cycles? As long as people eat beef, hides will be available. Turning that unavoidable by-product into long-lasting automotive leather is a practical way to reduce waste, support value in rural economies, and provide a cabin material that drivers genuinely enjoy living with. When we fail to use hides, more of that resource risks becoming waste, while the market fills the gap with fossil-based substitutes that are destined for disposal. That is the opposite of circular economy.

We should also maintain some perspective. Vegans still make up a small part of the world’s population. Repeated national surveys show that the vegan share hovers around two to three percent, with a much larger group choosing moderation instead of total elimination of animal products. Many in that broader audience accept the simple logic that if meat is consumed, then the responsible approach is to use the hide well. In the automotive industry, this means specifying genuine leather that is responsibly tanned and finished, with audited supply chains and ongoing efforts to reduce impact.

This brings us back to marketing language. Is the push to badge fossil-based leather alternatives as vegan truly about the planet, or is it a label that creates a premium story while neglecting the end-of-life and performance realities? Vegan is a dietary choice. It is not a guarantee in material science. When the label is used to suggest a universal environmental benefit without clarity on inputs and disposal, it becomes greenwashing under another name. The recent business failures in this sector do not prove that innovation is pointless. They indicate that slogans cannot sustain a product through the tests of cost, durability, repair, and real-world recovery.

Automotive brands seek cabins that age gracefully, clean easily, and improve with time. They also require supply chains that withstand scrutiny. Genuine automotive leather provides this combination when sourced from responsible tanneries and specified with modern finishing systems that meet strict chemical and performance standards. It is a material derived from a resource already in use, not a new product reliant on additional fossil inputs. If we design cars to last, we should opt for materials that do the same, and we need to be transparent about where those materials end their life. This is how you craft interiors that drivers love and tell a story that remains credible once the headlines fade.

The key issues the signatories are calling on the COP forum is to…

• Recognise the cyclical, climate efficient nature of leather and its potential for a positive contribution to reducing the climate impacts of consumer products. In particular, a full and proper impact assessment of the unevidenced claim that leather is a driver of deforestation and the development of reliable measures of the lifespan of materials and products and their impact on consumption are required.
• Support LCA methodologies that accurately account for the environmental impact of all materials, in particular when by-products are compared to determining products, including end of life properties and the consequences of use and substitution.
• In keeping with the aspiration for reduced consumption, greater circularity and reduced waste, to promote ‘slow fashion’, durable bio-based materials and products, and items that can be used many times, repaired and refurbished, and last for years.
• Wherever feasible to encourage the use of natural renewable fibres like leather and reduce unnecessary reliance on fossil-fuel-based materials.

Please read the full manifesto below.

Leather and the Measure of What Matters

In August of this year, UN negotiations once again failed to develop a landmark treaty to end plastic pollution. Insurmountable differences of opinion between those nations seeking reductions in plastic production and those in favour of increasing recycling resulted in yet another deadlock in discussions that have been taking place since 2022. As we see every year with the COP negotiations, resolving differences of opinion and achieving global consensus on how best to protect the planet and people is a huge challenge. A significant factor is the often opposing views of the negotiating parties and their presentation of the evidence given to support those views. The failure of the plastics treaty and the challenges of COP show us the same truth: sustainability debates are skewed by narratives and numbers that obscure reality.

This obfuscation has also blighted perceptions of leather. Leather, durable, repairable, and deeply woven into our cultural identity, is one of humanity’s oldest materials. For millennia it has clothed, sheltered, and protected us. And yet, in today’s sustainability discourse, leather is largely misunderstood—sometimes vilified, often mismeasured, and rarely recognised for what it truly is: a renewable, circular byproduct of livestock farming. This manifesto seeks to correct that imbalance and to position leather as a positive, renewable biomaterial within a circular economy

The story that is told about leather is distorted. It is often assumed that cattle exist only to produce hides, ignoring their status as a byproduct of the meat and dairy industries. In this sleight of hand, leather’s role in creating value from what would otherwise be waste is erased. Leather is often conflated with industrial animal agriculture’s impacts—deforestation, methane emissions, water use. Reports and headlines frame leather as a driver of environmental harm, but this is a distortion born of flawed accounting.

Cattle are not raised for hides. They are raised primarily for meat and milk. Hides represent only a small fraction of the animal’s economic value; on average, only 1.5%. However, current Life Cycle Assessments (LCA) typically assign disproportionate emissions to hides and the resulting leather. This flawed methodology makes leather appear environmentally costly when, in fact, it is part of a circular system that valorises what would otherwise be waste. Each year millions of hides go unused—discarded into landfills or incinerated—precisely because of reduced demand for leather. To abandon leather is not to save a cow. It is to squander a durable, repairable material and replace it with synthetics derived entirely from fossil fuels.

The reality is that leather, when responsibly tanned, is a natural, renewable biomaterial with an unparalleled lifespan. A well-made leather product lasts decades, is repairable and biodegradable in ways other materials cannot emulate. Leather bridges utility and heritage: a boot that wears in, not out; a bag that can be passed down, not thrown away.

To treat leather as a sustainable material is not to deny its origin in livestock farming, but to recognise that, as long as meat and dairy are produced, hides will exist. The choice is not between leather and no leather but between using hides responsibly or wasting them and replacing them with fossil-based substitutes.

Leather embodies the principles of circularity. Leather extends the value of existing resources, prevents waste, stores carbon and offers durability that reduces consumption over time. Unlike synthetics, it develops character through age, repair, and reuse. Unlike plastics, it returns to the earth when its life is done.

Moreover, the value of leather is cultural as much as material. It carries histories of craft, artistry, and longevity. It resists the throwaway culture that plastics fuel. In a world awash with fast fashion and disposable products, leather reminds us that quality, function, beauty and respect for resources are still all an option.

Therefore, we, the undersigned organisations, again request the COP to endorse our call to:

• Recognise the cyclical, climate efficient nature of leather and its potential for a positive contribution to reducing the climate impacts of consumer products. In particular, a full and proper impact assessment of the unevidenced claim that leather is a driver of deforestation and the development of reliable measures of the lifespan of materials and products and their impact on consumption are required.
• Support LCA methodologies that accurately account for the environmental impact of all materials, in particular when by-products are compared to determining products, including end of life properties and the consequences of use and substitution.
• In keeping with the aspiration for reduced consumption, greater circularity and reduced waste, to promote ‘slow fashion’, durable bio-based materials and products, and items that can be used many times, repaired and refurbished, and last for years.
• Wherever feasible to encourage the use of natural renewable fibres like leather and reduce unnecessary reliance on fossil-fuel-based materials.

Signatories to the Leather Manifesto

• Alliance France du Cuir (AFC)
• American Leather Chemists Association (ALCA)
• Associação Portuguesa dos Industriais de Curtumes (APIC)
• Association pour l’Assurance Qualité des Fabricants de Bracelets Cuir (AQC)
• Australian Hide Skin and Leather Exporters’ Association Inc (ASHLEA)
• Centre for the Brazilian Tanning Industry (CICB)
• Centro Tecnológico das Indústrias do Couro (CTIC)
• Confederation of National Associations of Tanners and Dressers of the European Community (COTANCE)
• Chamber of the Tannery Industry of the State of Guanajuato (CICUR)
• China Leather Industry Association (CLIA)
• Fédération Française des Cuirs et Peaux (FFCP)
• Fédération Française Tannerie Megisserie (FFTM)
• International Council of Hides, Skins and Leather Traders Association (ICSHLTA)
• International Council of Tanners (ICT)
• Is It Leather? (IIL)
• International Union of Leather Technologists and Chemists Societies (IULTCS)
• Leather & Hide Council of America (LHCA)
• Leather Naturally (LN)
• Leather UK (LUK)
• One 4 Leather (O4L)
• Sustainable Leather Foundation (SLF)
• Türkiye Deri Sanayicileri Derneği (TDSD)
• Verband der Deutschen Lederindustrie e.V. (VDL)
• Wirtschaftsverband Häute/Leder (WHL)
• Zimbabwe Leather Development Council (ZLDC)

That same reasoning prompts an important question for another natural material facing similar confusion: leather.

In several countries, the use of the word “leather” for plastic-based materials is already prohibited. Italy has introduced clear legislation reserving the term exclusively for materials made from animal hides. France has taken similar steps, ensuring that only genuine leather can carry the name. Even outside Europe, countries such as Brazil and Mexico have adopted rules that protect the term. These regulations recognise the importance of linguistic honesty in safeguarding traditional industries and maintaining consumer trust.

Yet despite this, we still see the word “leather” being used across Europe to describe materials that contain no leather at all. They are often made from fossil-based plastics or coated textiles and then marketed under names such as “vegan leather”, “eco leather” or “plant leather”. These words sound appealing, but they disguise a very different story. They describe materials derived from oil and chemicals, with a lifespan and recyclability far removed from the natural origin and circular potential of genuine leather.

This poses a significant challenge for both transparency and sustainability communication. When a fossil-based imitation uses the same word as a natural, renewable material, it distorts facts and hampers informed decision-making. Genuine leather is a by-product of the food industry and a natural material whose carbon footprint comes from the grass cattle consume, not from oil wells. It is renewable, durable, repairable, and recyclable in ways that synthetic leathers simply are not. Its performance and longevity make it a vital part of a circular economy, helping to keep materials in use for longer. When oil-based materials use the same terminology, it blurs that distinction and misleads consumers who are trying to make responsible choices.

Consumers deserve clarity. Just as the EU is now working to protect the definition of “meat”, there is a strong case for safeguarding the meaning of “leather”. Doing so would not only prevent misleading claims, but also assist drivers, designers, and car manufacturers in making more informed and responsible choices. Additionally, it would reward brands that invest in traceability, responsible sourcing, and certified material stewardship, rather than allowing imitation materials to benefit from the same trusted terminology.

Imagine an EU-wide regulation that reserved “leather” exclusively for genuine material derived from animal hides. Every buyer selecting an interior could immediately understand what they are purchasing, whether it’s leather or a synthetic imitation. This clarity would foster trust and strengthen the relationship between car brands and their customers. It would also create a level playing field across markets, ensuring consistent communication in every European language and jurisdiction.

The automotive industry, in particular, would benefit. As brands compete on design, comfort, and sustainability, consistent and truthful terminology is vital. Drivers increasingly want to know what is inside their vehicles, how it was made, and how long it will last. The ability to use the word “leather” confidently, and to distinguish it clearly from plastics and coated fabrics, would help consumers make decisions based on substance rather than marketing spin.

The European Parliament’s decision demonstrates that the EU is committed to addressing misleading terminology in the food sector. Applying the same approach to materials would foster a wider culture of clarity and responsibility. If words like “steak” and “burger” are worth safeguarding, then so is “leather”. The term embodies heritage, craftsmanship, and verifiable environmental credentials supported by lifecycle data.

Leather deserves recognition for what it truly is: a natural, responsible material shaped through centuries of expertise, not a synthetic imitation made from oil. Clear language helps consumers make better choices, manufacturers communicate with integrity, and society move closer to a truly transparent circular economy.

For the automotive industry, it serves as a reminder that the story of sustainability is still being written in data, not marketing copy. Many so-called “vegan” or “synthetic” leathers are derived from plastics such as polyurethane or PVC. When the fossil feedstock behind those polymers is shown to emit significantly more methane than previously thought, the balance shifts. The new figures make plastics seem more harmful to the planet and bolster the case for materials that extract carbon from renewable, biological cycles.

That includes real leather. Leather begins with grass and sunlight, not oil wells. The carbon in every hide starts its journey in the atmosphere, absorbed by plants and converted into protein through the natural carbon cycle. When tanneries turn that by-product of the food industry into something long-lasting and beautiful, they are not adding new carbon to the environment; they are keeping existing carbon in use for decades.

This distinction between fossil and biogenic carbon is vital. Leather is part of a circular system: cattle are primarily raised for food, hides are a secondary product, and the tannery provides that material with lasting value. If those hides were not utilised, they would quickly become waste. Choosing leather means engaging in that circular flow instead of extracting more carbon from the ground.

It also matters how we measure. Much of the public debate around materials relies on attributional life-cycle data, which is useful for averages but limited when comparing real-world choices. Consequential assessment considers what happens if we choose one option over another. In that context, using a by-product like leather prevents waste and avoids creating more synthetic alternatives. When durability and long service life are included, the environmental benefit increases further.

Automotive leather’s lifespan is measured in decades. It resists wear, sunlight, and temperature changes that quickly age coated fabrics. It can be repaired, recoloured, and kept in service far longer than most plastic substitutes. Every additional year of use spreads the original impact thinner, reducing emissions per kilometre and per occupant.

What the new RCI findings truly emphasise is the importance of honest data. If emissions from fossil feedstocks increase by 20 to 30 per cent, as the study indicates, then many older comparisons between leather and synthetics are outdated. The discussion about sustainable materials must adapt to the evidence.

For One 4 Leather, this confirmation reinforces what we have said from the start: sustainability is about transparency, circularity, and the responsible use of nature’s resources. Genuine automotive leather, responsibly made, naturally aligns with that vision. It forms part of a bio-based system that renews itself, is designed to last, and is grounded in verifiable science rather than shifting claims.

Better data not only updates our understanding but also restores balance to the discussion. When we measure fairly, leather’s role as a responsible, long-term material for car interiors becomes clearer than ever.

Leather is not an industry that developed in isolation. It exists because people consume meat. Every hide processed in a tannery comes from an animal raised for food and dairy. Without the demand for beef, there would be no supply of hides. And without tanneries, those hides would simply become waste; millions of tonnes of organic material that would need to be burned or buried. Instead, the craft of leather-making transforms what nature provides into something useful, beautiful, and durable.

A single hide that might have been discarded becomes leather capable of serving a purpose for decades. Inside cars, it withstands sunlight, movement, and time in a way very few materials can. It’s not single-use nor disposable. It embodies a circular economy, where nothing is wasted and everything has a purpose.

What’s often misunderstood is that cows are not part of the fossil fuel carbon problem. The carbon that moves through cattle starts with grass, not with oil wells or gas fields. The plants that livestock graze on absorb carbon dioxide from the air through photosynthesis. When cows eat that grass and then breathe out, or when their manure breaks down, that carbon returns to the atmosphere in the same form it arrived — as part of the natural cycle between land, plants, and air. This is known as the biogenic carbon cycle, and it has been in balance for millions of years.

Much of the debate centres on methane, which is often used as a weapon against livestock farming. However, methane from cows is also biogenic. It doesn’t remain in the atmosphere indefinitely — it breaks down over about twelve years, returning to carbon dioxide that is then reabsorbed by growing plants. In a stable cattle population, the methane produced roughly equals the methane that decays, and the system reaches equilibrium. This is fundamentally different from the carbon emissions from burning fossil fuels, which release new carbon into the atmosphere that has been locked underground for millions of years and cannot be reabsorbed on human timescales.

If we removed cattle from the landscape, the environmental story would not be the happy ending many imagine. Pastures would vanish. Grasslands would be ploughed or abandoned. The intricate relationship between grazing, soil health, and biodiversity would be broken. In parts of the world, rural economies dependent on animal agriculture would collapse. And practically, we’d still need to feed billions of people, probably by growing more crops, using more fertiliser, and consuming more fossil energy.

Leather plays a vital role in making that system genuinely circular. It’s where agriculture meets craftsmanship and durability. Every leather seat, jacket, or pair of shoes is a tangible example of how humans have learned to utilise every part of what nature provides, transforming potential waste into lasting value. It’s not nostalgia. It’s common sense.

And that leads us to the uncomfortable truth about alternatives. Many so-called vegan or “eco” leathers are not derived from nature at all. They are produced using plastics and fossil-based materials that will never biodegrade and which contribute directly to the carbon problem we are trying to address. To label them as sustainable while dismissing genuine leather, which originates and concludes in the natural carbon cycle, is to misunderstand the difference between renewable and replaceable.

Perhaps the question we should be asking isn’t whether we should stop eating meat or using leather, but how we can continue to do both responsibly. Because when livestock are raised on well-managed land, when tanneries operate under strict environmental standards, and when the resulting leather is used for years instead of months, that system supports the planet, rather than harms it.

Leather isn’t a relic of the past. It’s part of a balanced present, one where using what we already have is the most sustainable choice. Choosing leather isn’t about indulgence. It’s about respect: for the animal, for the land, and for the natural cycles that make life on Earth possible.

Ultimately, sustainability isn’t about invention. It’s about understanding. When we grasp the circle that links the grass, the cow, and the things we create from them, we may realise that we already exist within the solution; we’ve simply forgotten how to appreciate it.