Spring

Waste & Zero Waste

Scorpio necklace, Paws for peace T-shirt, Meat free athlete sticker, The Bostonians, Henry James, Sister Carrie, Theodore Dreiser, Cake mascara, The Underground Railroad, Colson Whitehead, Under Armour running tank top, Burgundy running socks, Water bottle, 3 Lives, Gertrude Stein, The Awakening, Kate Chopin, The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton, The Wasteland and Other Poems, T.S. Eliot, The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, The Sun also Rises, Ernest Hemingway, The Great Gatsby, F.Scott Fitzgerald, PTA Thrift Shop pot & lid, White cereal bowl, Spatula, Bee’s wrap, Ladle, Rolling pin, Wooden spoon, Spatula, Popcorn bucket, Sheet pan, Cooling rack, Peas and Thank You Cookbook, Sarah Matheny, Vegetarian Cooking Cookbook, Measuring spoons/cups, Loaf pan, Frying pan, Serving spoon, 3 plates, International adapter, Cake pan, Bamboo toothbrush, Simply Co. laundry detergent in jar, Natural deodorant in jar, Reusable mason jar ziplocks, Fish dish towel, Tape measure, Team tank top, Gnome on a snail figurine, Vassar T-shirt, Romper, Blue T-shirt, Grey quarter length sleeve tee

Waste

Several items I accumulated in spring were cheaply-made items that were made mostly of plastic, and fell apart quickly, destined to be sent to the landfill. These compound objects are very difficult to dispose of once they inevitably fall apart, contributing to the United States’ huge problem with waste. Though I didn’t catalog single-use plastic in this project, spring is a good opportunity to discuss this.

Single-use plastic includes plastic items made to be disposable such as, “cigarette butts, plastic drinking bottles, plastic bottle caps, food wrappers, plastic grocery bags, plastic lids, straws and stirrers, other types of plastic bags, and foam take-away containers,” and it has become the primary villain of the zero waste movement. Because plastic is derived from fossil fuels, is cheaply made, and takes up to a thousand years to biodegrade, when it is not recycled — and, according UN Environment, “only nine per cent of the nine billion tonnes of plastic the world has ever produced has been recycled” — it is a serious threat to environment, particularly when it breaks down into microplastic particles and makes its way into the ocean, where it is difficult to clean up and harmful to aquatic life. Waste also negatively affects human health and — given that environmental hazards such as landfills, toxic waste facilities, incinerators, and sewage treatment plants are disproportionately located in black and brown neighborhoods — this contributes to environmental racism on local and global scales.

The average American throws away 4.4 pounds of municipal solid waste (MSW) per day, according to the EPA. Some of this is due to personal choices — i.e. whether or not to turn away a plastic straw at a restaurant — but much of it is simply built into the way our society and industries operate. In a linear economy based on growth and profit such as that in the United States, raw materials are extracted, manufactured, distributed, used, and eventually disposed of. Not only does every step along this process create waste in the forms of pollution and emissions, but also many of these items become waste themselves when they are eventually thrown away.

In contrast, a circular or “zero waste” economy has sustainability built into its very foundation. This entails designing products that can be reused, recycled, or composted, thus circumventing the landfill entirely. The circular economy aims to limit the amount of MSW that is incinerated, sent to a landfill, or ends up in the ocean; however, according to a report called “Garbology 101,” municipal solid waste, that “highly visible trash generated by residents, schools, and businesses and picked up at the curbside or in parking lots … makes up only a tiny fraction — 3% to 5% by weight is a good estimate — of the total waste that humanity generates.” That means that the vast majority of waste is “invisible,” and comes as a byproduct of our capitalist industry, through agriculture, mining, manufacturing, distribution, and fossil fuel combustion. The report further explains the zero waste movement on an industrial scale:

some waste professionals would like researchers and companies to spend more time thinking about the front end of the waste stream, in other words, reducing how much trash we generate in the first place. That’s the concept represented in a widely used “waste hierarchy,” issued by the European Union in 2008, which depicts five options for dealing with trash. In descending order of preference, they are reduce, reuse, recycle, recover, and dispose. Many in the “zero waste” movement, in fact, see waste as the product of poor planning. “Waste is just a design flaw,” asserts Montgomery County’s Davidson. “If materials are created in such a way that they can’t be recycled, then they need to be redesigned. And that’s what we need to work on.

The circular economy also claims to be able to keep up the same quality of life for those who already enjoy it by just changing the means of production and disposal. Moving to a circular economy anytime soon is a dim prospect given our current administration’s anti-environment pro-growth agenda, making the individual choice of buying less stuff and creating less waste seem a viable solution, or at least a good stop-gap. The logic goes that by participating less in a wasteful economy, people can “vote with their dollar” to change the system as a whole to a circular economy premised on sustainability. This is the aim of folks in the individual zero waste movement, which I explore in greater detail later in the spring.

According to the EPA, most municipal solid waste (MSW) is actually organic material like paper and food scraps. With more planning, this waste could be re-directed toward recycling or composting plants. Some industries and corporations are already working toward this goal. But I’m left wondering if corporate and industrial changes toward zero waste actually address the underlying issues of capitalism and associate power structures which amplify our waste problem. And, in a culture that stresses consumption as a part of citizenship, it is hard to avoid the allure of buying more and more stuff.

Waste is dangerous to environmental and human health, and given that landfills and other environmental hazards are disproportionately located near communities of color and indigenous communities, it also contributes to the perpetuation of hierarchies of power which harm certain groups more than others. This is one aspect of environmental racism, which I discuss more in here. The harms of waste and consumerism led me to the zero waste movement in which individuals try to limit the amount of trash they personally send to landfills and incinerators by making “conscious” and “ethical” choices with what they purchase. But this kind of individuation of a planetary problem does little to reveal the underlying causes of environmental issues I hope to address such as environmental racism, patriarchy, capitalism, and more in the other seasons.

Zero Waste

Zero waste is a potential (albeit temporary) solution to the waste problem on an industrial level, but zero waste has become a movement of individuals. Most of the solutions offered to the individual involve limiting use of single-use plastics and avoiding sending anything to a landfill. The zero waste movement is a noble stab at a huge societal problem. I discovered the online zero waste movement sometime in my first year of college watching a YouTube video of a young white woman in a sleek minimalist kitchen making her own toothpaste with coconut oil, baking soda, and essential oils in a tiny mason jar. The woman was Lauren Singer, a then 24-year-old recent college graduate who was on a mission to create as little waste as possible­ — which she defined as anything you would send to a landfill. She’s since become quite an icon for young, mason-jar-toting, Whole-Foods-bulk-aisle-shopping, beauty-supply-making, lifestyle-blogging women striving toward the zero waste ideal. A quick search of “zero waste” on YouTube reveals a series of bloggers, predominantly young, white women, aspiring to stop using single-use plastic products and promote sustainable lifestyle choices.

Bea Johnson of Zero Waste Home, Lauren Singer of Trash is For Tossers, Lindsay Miles of Treading my Own Path, Kathryn Kellogg of Going Zero Waste, Celia Ristow of Litterless, and Ariana Schwarz of Paris To-Go are a among the most popular zero waste lifestyle bloggers, and most fall into a similar demography. Rob Greenfield and Colin Beavan are some of the few men prominent in the movement, and Hajar Moujib, Olivia Lapierre and Chanelle Crosby are some of the women-of-color zero waste bloggers, the latter two of whom criticize the classist and racist elements that underpin a movement that rests on (privileged) individual choices as the primary driver of change.

The thought behind the zero waste movement goes that consumerism has caused the huge waste problem, discussed earlier, and to counteract this, zero-wasters limit their own consumption habits in part to diminish their own environmental impact and to bring attention to environmental issues. By limiting their personal waste, they hope to serve as an example for others to do the same and engage in fewer environmentally harmful behaviors. This is exemplified in the large quote on the Going Zero Waste homepage: “I believe that health and wellness of SELF is inextricably linked to the health and wellness of the PLANET. I believe that your efforts no matter how big or small have a POSITIVE impact! It’s not about perfection; It’s about making better choices.”

This thought process didn’t come from thin air, as early environmental activists encouraged individuals to limit their impact using quick fixes such as taking shorter showers and turning the water off while brushing your teeth. The highly individualized, moral undertone to the zero waste movement too grows out of environmental ethics such as deep ecology which, “believed that a fundamental ethical shift was required that would dethrone human interests as the centrepiece of political life and extend ethical concern deep into the natural world.” The movement’s framing of good and bad habits, ethical and unethical consumption is an attempt to extend consideration and value to the non-human, however it necessarily builds “hierarchies … usually arrived at on the basis of taking the valued attribute in question and arguing that some entities or collections of entities have more of this attribute than others and therefore weigh more heavily in the moral balance.”

This hierarchy-building is problematic for feminists who would argue that building dualisms and binaries of any kind, including morally, play into the logics of oppression of certain groups for the benefit of another. The classic example is how the so-called differences between men and women have been politicized in such a way that legitimizes the oppression of women and other non-(white)-men. Undoing this binary thus has intimate stakes for women. Another dualism that ecofeminists are concerned with includes the divide between “nature” and “culture,” and the human and non-human. Donna Haraway for example, devised the term natureculture in order to emphasize the ways the different realms influence and construct one another.

Another issue with the moral tone of the zero waste movement is the deep individualization of a planetary calamity. This can’t be good on one’s mental health, and taking the weight of the world on one’s shoulders through such restrictive behavior first of all doesn’t sound very fun. The carbon footprint model, for example, attempts to calculate the amount of CO2 an individual or a business is accountable for based on their energy usage, transportation, and lifestyle choices. There are plenty of calculators available online, and carbonfootprint.com even offers an easy way out of the panic induced by said calculation: “Just click the ‘Offset’ button after you have finished your calculation. It takes only a few easy clicks and costs only a few Pounds/Dollars/Euros per tonne CO2. You also get a personalised Certificate recognising your offsetting — makes an ideal gift too!” It is also similar to the logic behind veganism, for example, which attempts to disengage from the monstrosity of the meat industrial complex through a personal lifestyle choice: a good start, but does little to destabilize a global industry. Both these examples show how a personal lifestyle choice can obscure larger issues as well as uphold moral hierarchies.

The language of “choice” is also an important aspect of the zero waste movement, which I discuss more in summer, if you’re interested. I also wonder if the moral licensing of living such an austere lifestyle allows those involved to “slip up” in other areas, such as collective action and more holistic environmental justice movements that have to do with much more than plastic straws. Over the years, zero waste bloggers have faced criticism, particularly in terms of the identities of people who serve as its face. The bloggers receive comments that the lifestyle is inaccessible or that it does not address larger issues beyond the individual’s life, such as the linear economy and structural oppression. Several of them have responded to these comments head-on with reflections about privilege, ableism, race, and religion. For example, Ariana Schwarz of Paris To Go wrote in a post on the subject:

I’m definitely guilty of saying anybody can be zero waste, and I’m sorry for that, because it isn’t practical for everyone and not always appropriate. Judging by the comments on most articles about zero waste bloggers, many feel disproportionately represented by young, affluent women who can afford pricey stainless steel containers and have the time/ability to run all over town for ingredients before investing the labor necessary to make vegan food and natural beauty products. What about people suffering arthritis, or those using wheelchairs? How about those who are on food stamps or rely on food pantries? Shaming people for buying plastic or pre-peeled fruits and vegetables isn’t an effective motivator towards environmental change. Nobody should feel obligated to lead a zero waste life — being conscious and aware of our environmental impact is good, but people shouldn’t be judged for their personal choices, which vary by circumstance. … Those who can may drive consumer demand for biodegradable materials on the retail end, and those who can’t shouldn’t feel bad about using products that improve their quality of life.

Schwarz admittedly belongs firmly in the “those who can” camp. In a post where she lists everything she owns, she admits, “I finally get why people feel such an attachment to material things. It’s not always about stuff. It feels good buying things with your own money that you alone chose.” This is an interesting reflection from someone who belongs to a group that has espoused the idea that material things should have little to no bearing on someone’s quality of life. She then enumerates a slim 30-item wardrobe featuring designer brands such as Dior, Louis Vuitton, Christian Louboutin, Salvatore Ferragamo, Stuart Weitzman, Longchamp, and Gucci. These brands may be made of high-quality materials and last for a long time, but when one counts “waste” as a plastic tag rather than all the labor and fossil fuel energy that went into making, distributing, and selling it, they do not seem quite that eco-friendly. For a proponent of using only what you need, she must find herself in quite a pickle.

While they advocate “refusing and reducing” over “reusing and recycling,” she and other bloggers are essentially arguing for ethical or conscious consumerism, or voting with their dollar. This sort of thinking does little to remove us from a capitalist linear economy, rather it keeps us trapped within its framework. The entire zero waste movement is premised on the idea that personal choices can make a difference. This is a common thread in talks about environmentalism; however, it fails to take into account the structure of our linear, capitalist economy and the fact that waste is built into its very framework. Even buying in bulk doesn’t mitigate the fact that the richest 10% of the population accounts for half of all carbon emissions. Many of these bloggers (and myself) take multiple flights a year and consider travel an important part of life, when air travel is environmentally disastrous. For example, Bea Johnson, founder of the zero waste movement, has travels on book and speaking tours taking her to 60+ countries and Hajar Moujib even has a “Travels & Outdoors” tab on her blog. So there is a clear disconnect between the thoughts and actions of environmentalists, and the outcomes of their actions.

What is staggering about the zero waste lifestyle is not just the perpetuation of the idea that personal choices can change the world, but also just how much stuff it takes to use less stuff. This is not an arbitrary claim, as Jo Littler explains:

Every year more products labeled as ‘green’ hit the shelves, raising questions about the extent to which environmental awareness is changing the quality of objects and services for the greater or greener good, and to what extent environmental anxieties are merely (and ironically) being seized upon and channeled into encouraging us to buy more and more stuff. … Anxieties about climate change are clearly being mobilized through a number of green products, which are marketed as ways to cut down on carbon dioxide production to ‘save’ or ‘help’ the planet, from bags for life to ‘eco’ radios and calculators.

Commodity activism clearly is at work in the zero waste movement. Consider that Lauren Singer’s presumably anti-consumption blog has a “SHOP” tab, linking to her small business, “The Package Free Shop” in Brooklyn. Or take Celia Ristow’s Litterless blog has a “Where to Shop” tab and an “Essentials” tab, which claims that “To go zero waste, you don’t necessarily need to invest in much, if any, new gear … Sometimes, though, investing in a new-to-you item can up the convenience or comfort of being zero waste.” The page goes on to list 28 items she deems “essential,” 24 of which are conveniently available on Amazon, and for one of which she has a convenient 10% coupon code. Based on a highly mathematical approach of adding all these baubles and trinkets to my shopping cart and praying I don’t accidentally hit “Checkout,” these essentials cost $662.46 total, an outrageous amount to spend on removing oneself from consumerism. Granted, no one would be likely to go out and buy all these items at once — in fact, I have purchased or acquired some version of half of them over the past few years — but these blogs advocate a radical lifestyle shift, but they are still entrenched in a linear, growth economy under capitalism.

What’s even more infuriating is how beautiful, clean, and simple it all looks against the white countertops and hardwood flooring of Ristow’s apartment. This kind of austerity and purity is not uncommon in zero waste blogs, and it creates an ascetic aesthetic that is not only unattainable for most people, but also ignores the waste that may hide behind white countertops and bamboo utensils. The “zero” in zero waste invisiblizes capitalism, the labor, energy, and waste it requires, and the people it will harm. Like a computer code, the zero waste movement is based in binary language: it’s either zero or one. The “zero” aspect of zero waste is clearly a fallacy, as it obscures the labor and energy needed to produce anything one buys, and the individualization creates an “environmentalism of one” which isolates activists from one another, and does not allow room for communal resistance and change. Yes, it’s a noble effort to change one’s life in an effort to help others, but I wonder how effective the movement can be at addressing climate change and its associated catastrophes.