New Methane Report Is Elitist Skullduggery Masquerading as Settled Science

At first blush, Now or Never positions itself as a groundbreaking piece of environmental research. It is presented as “the first publicly available methane footprint of the fashion industry”, a claim designed to lend the document authority and novelty. But behind the professional design and urgent rhetoric lies a simple truth: this is not neutral science, but an advocacy manifesto dressed up as research.

The authorship is the first red flag, as mentioned earlier. Collective Fashion Justice is not a think-tank or an academic institution, but an activist organisation with a declared mission to eliminate animal-derived materials. Its lead author, Emma Håkansson, has published extensively on veganism and animal rights, while her co-author, Mikaila Roncevich, runs a brand selling cactus-based vegan “leather”. In other words, those producing the report have both ideological and commercial stakes in the conclusions they invariably reach. Yet the document contains no clear “conflict of interest” disclosure of the sort that would be standard in academic publishing.

Equally troubling is the report’s framing. The title itself—Now or Never—signals the undisguised alarmist tone that runs through. The authors describe the industry as facing “catastrophic problems” and even warn of fashion’s “extinction alongside our planet.” Such moralistic, end-of-the-world verbiage might energise campaigners, but it alienates industry stakeholders who expect sober, evidence-led analysis. It reduces complex debates to ideological imperatives, implying that any course of action short of banning leather, wool, and cashmere is a form of moral failure.

The report also engages in rhetorical sleights of hand to inflate its importance. Its claim to novelty—that this is the ‘first’ methane footprint for fashion—tries to show a research vacuum. Earlier reports, such as McKinsey and Global Fashion Agenda’s Fashion on Climate, already incorporated methane within broader GHG assessments. By hiding prior work, CFJ positions itself as a lone pioneer, when in reality it has only produced a narrow slice of analysis to advance a predetermined conclusion.

Then there are the misleading comparisons. The most scaremongering one—that fashion emits “nearly four times” the methane emissions of France—is flagrant alarmism. Actually, it is more.

So, here’s the thing: according to CITEPA, which is the French National Emission Inventory Agency, in 2023 methane accounted for 14% of greenhouse gas emissions. In 2023, GHG emissions were 403.4 MtCO₂e. So, methane would be 56.476 MtCO₂e. According to the Directorate General of Energy and Climate, in 2023, GHG emissions in France (excluding LULUCF) would have been 372.9 MtCO₂e, of which methane would have comprised 15% i.e. 55.935 MtCO₂e. Even the Climate Transparency Report – France 2024 says: France's methane emissions (excl. LULUCF) decreased by 19% from 1990–2019 to 56 MtCO₂e. Now, the 8.3 million tonnes of methane (that the CFJ expects industry to emit every year) can be converted like this: Mt CO₂e = Mt CH₄ × GWP100 i.e. 8.3 Mt CH₄ × 29.8 = 247.34 Mt CO₂e. That’s as per the IPCC AR6 formula. That’s close to four times that the CFJ projects.

But, here's the catch. The 8.3 million tonnes per year figure is for a 20-year-period. So, one would opt for the GWP20 metric instead of GWP100. That would mean: 8.3 million tonnes CH4×81.2 = 673.96 Mt CO₂e. Now, this—at 12 times that of France—is way off the charts. We need new numbers.

Taken together, these factoids show how the report’s presentation is less about transparency and more about persuasion. Authorship conflicts are hidden, peer review is made a sham of, and language is forked. This is not the neutral scaffolding of credible research, but some frenetic outpouring not even adequately disguised as a campaign tool. For a movement seeking to influence policy and industry at scale, such tactics may rally supporters. But they erode trust where it matters most: among decision-makers who demand evidence, not ideology, as the basis for action.

If the report’s framing already compromise its neutrality, its methods all but dismantle any remaining credibility. Now or Never claims to rely on a “systematic literature review” and “lifecycle inventory” to calculate fashion’s methane footprint. Yet the methodology is so thinly described that it is impossible to replicate or verify. That’s central to any scientific thesis. Scientific studies need to be described clearly so that other researchers can repeat them and determine whether the original findings are reliable. Replication verifies that results are not one-off coincidences but robust findings that contribute to scientific knowledge. But in the case at hand, critical choices—such as which studies were included or excluded, or how data gaps were handled—are left vague, forcing readers to take the results on faith. That is not science; it is rhetorical skulduggery.

The most consequential methodological choice lies in how emissions from animal agriculture are divided among co-products. Leather and wool are by-products of the food industry, and their share of methane emissions depends entirely on the allocation method chosen. Or, so it would seem.

CFJ opted for a “combination of economic and biophysical allocation” without explaining what weightings were applied. Economic allocation assigns emissions according to market value: since leather often commands high prices, this method assigns it a disproportionately large share of a cow’s lifetime emissions. Had mass-based allocation been used, leather’s share would shrink dramatically. Yet the report offers no sensitivity analysis to show how different approaches would affect results. The outcome—animal-derived materials accounting for 75% of fashion’s methane footprint—is less a scientific finding and more the product of a spreadsheet trick. Ok, that’s in rhetoric, since not too many Excel sheets seem to have been used in this so-called study.

Worse, the report mindlessly conflates correlation with causation: reducing fashion’s demand for leather or wool would not automatically shrink global herds, which are driven primarily by meat and dairy demand. The report ignores this systemic interdependency. It’s not bias; it’s deceit.

If that is not all, the report misrepresents its own sources. To bolster the claim that animal agriculture is the leading driver of methane, it cites Jackson et al. (2020). But that paper explicitly finds that agriculture and fossil fuels are roughly equal contributors to global methane emissions. This is part of a wider pattern: CFJ cherry-picks data to amplify animal agriculture’s role while downplaying fossil fuels and energy-sector methane, despite their 35% share of global emissions. By selectively quoting the research, CFJ turns balanced science into a weaponised talking point. For a document that aspires to shape industry behaviour, such distortions are unpardonable.

Page 17 of the report concurs: “Animal production is the leading cause of human-induced methane emissions, as per the UNEP.” The footnote indicates Jackson et al. So, is the source UNEP, or is it RB Jackson of Stanford University? It would seem Jackson had cited some UNEP study in his paper. But if you follow the link to the paper, you will find no mention of UNEP or UN Environment anywhere. Now, if this were to be a clerical error, one would understand. Happens to all of us. But for a report that is being bandied around like a scientific treatise, this is more than glaring.

Even its use of climate science reveals a lack of rigour. The report relies on outdated global warming potential (GWP) values for methane—86 times more potent than CO₂ over 20 years and 27 times over 100 years (page 13)—that are neither here nor there. The latest IPCC Sixth Assessment Report (2021) updates these values to 81.2 and 29.8 (latter for fossil methane, the lower 27.9 figure is not preferred for GHG accounting practices) respectively, reflecting a more refined understanding of methane's atmospheric lifetime and different source categories (fossil vs. biogenic). While the numerical differences are modest, using incorrect GWP values signals a limited engagement with the most current science. Accurate climate assessments require adopting the latest AR6 metrics, which better capture methane’s complex effects and improve the precision of emissions accounting.

The scope of the analysis is also tellingly flawed. Leather and wool are treated as if their production were exclusively for fashion, when in fact large volumes go to automotive and furniture industries. Without clear system boundaries, emissions may have been wrongly attributed to fashion. At the same time, other significant sources within fashion are barely mentioned.

The result is a twisted picture in which one class of materials appears to be the industry’s overwhelming problem, while other drivers are sidelined. Even its visuals are designed to dramatise: methane shares are shown in pie charts while material volumes appear in bar charts, forcing readers to mentally reconcile separate images rather than seeing an integrated comparison. It is presentation as persuasion—as one has argued before—not illumination. Just as significant is what the report omits: there is no limitations or uncertainties section, no confidence intervals for its footprint estimate, and no acknowledgement of modelling assumptions. Presenting a single number—8.3 million tonnes—as incontrovertible fact is academically indefensible.

The report does not need a critique really: it undermines itself, since the conclusions appear to have been written well before the research began. That’s unabashed chicanery. Methodological opacity, selective citation, and outdated data are not the hallmarks of serious analysis. By dressing the report up as science, CFJ has not illuminated fashion’s methane challenge—it has obscured it, making it harder for policymakers and industry to identify where real, evidence-based solutions lie.

Wait—there’s more. Another striking aspect of Now or Never is not what it includes, but what it leaves out. Having inflated the role of animal-derived materials in fashion’s methane footprint, the report then summarily dismisses all alternative mitigation strategies as either unworkable or unethical. In doing so, the report lays bare its true intent: not to reduce methane across the fashion system, but to argue for the elimination of animal agriculture altogether.

On page after page (there are just 30 of them anyway), CFJ insists there is “no way to significantly reduce methane emissions associated with enteric fermentation effectively.” This sweeping claim runs counter to the growing body of evidence. Feed additives such as 3-NOP (Bovaer) have been shown to cut emissions from dairy cattle by almost 30%. Selective breeding programmes are already reducing methane intensity by 10–20%. There’s a body of work here that can be easily Googled up.

Improved pasture management can both sequester carbon and lower emissions intensity. Even experimental approaches such as seaweed-based supplements have demonstrated reductions of up to 80% in controlled trials. These are not “pseudo-solutions” but legitimate, if evolving, strategies being pursued by governments, agribusiness, and climate-tech innovators alike. By erasing them from the picture, CFJ presents its preferred outcome—the phase-out of leather and wool—not as one option among many, but as the only conceivable answer.

Equally problematic is the report’s treatment of alternatives. While it castigates animal-based materials as irredeemable, it portrays plant-based and “next-gen” substitutes as low-methane panaceas. It is, what you would call, jiggery-pokery. Many vegan leathers are derived from polyurethane or PVC—petrochemical products with their own climate and microplastic burdens. Experimental materials such as mycelium or pineapple leather, meanwhile, remain at pilot scale, with little data on the impacts of scaling to the billions of square feet required by the global fashion industry. Early lifecycle assessments of faux leathers often underestimate energy, water, and chemical requirements, making comparisons with conventional leather misleading. Yet CFJ presents their superiority as established fact.

The same tactic applies to recycling: the report repeats the widely circulated claim that ‘just 1% of textiles are recycled’ without citing a source. In reality, that figure usually refers only to high-quality fibre-to-fibre recycling, whereas other forms of recycling and downcycling occur at higher rates. Presenting it without context creates a sense of hopelessness while obscuring progress

The omissions extend beyond technology. By calling for the rapid phase-out of leather and wool, the report ignores the livelihoods of millions of people in pastoral economies. In countries from Mongolia to Ethiopia, sheep and cattle are central not only to income but to culture and food security. Nor does it consider just transition planning, economic feasibility, or cost-benefit analysis—all of which are essential to credible industry roadmaps. To recommend dismantling these industries without so much as a mention of just transition principles is not only unrealistic—it is reckless. What is proposed is a material transition with profound social consequences, framed solely as a technical fix to climate change. Once again: the report constantly changes the question to fit the answer.

Finally, the recommendations themselves read less like a roadmap and more of an ultimatum. The report’s lead prescription is to rapidly reduce and phase out methane-intensive materials. Secondary measures, such as renewable energy adoption in textile production, are relegated to afterthoughts. It even implies that the Global Methane Pledge or IPCC targets require fashion alone to cut methane by 30%—a misattribution that exaggerates the sector’s policy obligations. Absent are any feasibility studies, cost-benefit analyses, or timelines—tools essential for genuine policy or industry planning. This is not strategy; it is ideology brazenly masquerading as strategy.

By shutting down viable mitigation pathways, overstating the promise of unproven alternatives, and ignoring human realities, Now or Never undermines its own cause. Fashion’s methane problem is real, but solving it requires a portfolio of solutions—scientific, technological, and social. The tragedy of CFJ’s report is that, in chasing a single, ideologically pure answer, it blinds itself to the pragmatic mix of measures that could actually deliver change.