Given the catastrophes of the past few months, I want to spend a bit of time today reflecting on how I’m factoring the climate crisis into my personal actions right now. A lot of corporate and special interests money is spent distracting us from the sobering climate crisis reality of our time, and I’m often grateful that I have vivid memories of what childhood was like in the 1990s before climate damage started to rapidly intensify to anchor myself in reality — a decade when the only hot periods in Upstate NY and western MA where we visited family every year started in August, and the hot periods were over by mid-September. That may seem unimaginable now with heat waves often beginning in mid-spring.
Earth, in many cultures, has been closely associated with the Great Mother. In the Platonic tradition, the planet is associated with Hestia (the abiding place of the Gods who does not move; she’s also associated with the Earth’s axis, which is why facing North in the Northern Hemisphere while praying to her is recommended), in addition to Gaia and other Goddesses related to fertility and growth. It has also been associated with Hades (the sublunary demiurge) and the underworld.
Polytheistic religions — and religions centered around the awareness of Gods and spirits — are at their most full expression when they impact our daily life choices and the ways we construct our societies. A society that truly values the Gods, nymphs, forest spirits, and so on, would put granting rivers personhood on full blast; ensure that waste products for everything are fully biodegradable and fully recyclable; and focus on regulations for production that prioritize the sustainable use of resources, perhaps using information from de-growth researchers.
I’d like to end this introduction by citing an open access paper about the global quality of life if we implemented sustainable solutions:
To avoid catastrophic ecological collapse, it is clear that drastic and challenging societal transformations must occur at all levels, from the individual to institutional, and from supply through to demand. From an energy-use perspective, the current work suggests that meeting these challenges does not, in theory, preclude extending decent living standards, universally, to a population of ~10 billion. Decent living is of course a subjective concept in public discourse. However, the current work offers a response to the clichéd populist objection that environmentalists are proposing that we return to living in caves. With tongue firmly in cheek, the response roughly goes ‘Yes, perhaps, but these caves have highly-efficient facilities for cooking, storing food and washing clothes; low-energy lighting throughout; 50 L of clean water supplied per day per person, with 15 L heated to a comfortable bathing temperature; they maintain an air temperature of around 20 °C throughout the year, irrespective of geography; have a computer with access to global ICT networks; are linked to extensive transport networks providing ~5000–15,000 km of mobility per person each year via various modes; and are also served by substantially larger caves where universal healthcare is available and others that provide education for everyone between 5 and 19 years old.’ And at the same time, it is possible that the amount of people’s lives that must be spent working would be substantially reduced.
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The challenges of changing this trajectory shouldn’t be understated (Semieniuk and Yakovenko, 2020). In the Global North, the trends towards sufficiency-levels of consumption that exist – such as Transition Towns and the minimalism movement – are notoriously middle class and white, and are the exception rather than the norm (Aiken, 2012). In the Global South, consumption of the upper-classes has leapt well beyond sufficiency levels, while hundreds of millions remain left in poverty. This leaves crucial questions for future researchers to address: What sort of political-economy could create a world with both low throughput and high livings standards and the levels of equality that achieving these requires? What sort of culture would accept and support the necessary policies and institutions? Where, from the individual- to institutional-level, are potential leverage points for moving towards such changes (Pirgmaier, 2020, Brand-Correa et al., 2020)?
Currently, there’s a widespread misunderstanding that sustainability equals deprivation. The paper concludes with this paragraph:
Overall then, the present work is consistent with long-standing arguments that the economic and socio-political changes necessary to address the magnitude of present ecological challenges are enormous, while the technological solutions already exist. What we add is that the material sacrifices are, in theory, far smaller than many popular narratives imply. And quite the opposite is true for the ~4 billion currently living in poverty (that is, on less than $7.40 PPP per day), for whom life could, conceivably, be substantially improved.
In other words, the biggest challenges we face are political, not technological. 80,000 Hours lists climate change in its top five pressing world problems. The climate crisis is a contributing factor to many challenges we face today, including the risks of pandemics and wars that rank above it in the 80,000 Hours list.
Many of the problems are regulatory/political and corporate, in other words. One of the ways I’m trying to do my part — and to overcome the cynicism common in people who realize that their reusable bags and straws are not going to calm storms or mitigate sea level rise on their own — is via changing corporations’ cost-benefit analyses when it comes to the recyclability of their products. Working in a large organization has given me insight into how change happens. Internal changemakers need a lot of customer or user feedback in order to argue to management and administration for product changes. This includes designing products with the wastestream in mind.
Personally, while I’m not a climate expert, I’m more concerned about plastic waste than in reducing energy in manufacturing; if glass is able to be melted down, yet requires a bit more to produce, I’ll go for the glass. Plastic is an endocrine disruptor and has too much of a negative physical impact on ecosystems (humans included) to be blasé about its use. It should only be used where materials science says it is necessary.
I habitually email companies whose products I like to encourage them to rethink their packaging. For example, I emailed Nulo and Inaba this week. They both make pet food products. Nulo is the brand my pickier cat likes. I appreciate that Nulo is using seafood species in its products that are more sustainable, like mackerel and sardines. Both Inaba’s Churu treat and the Nulo flavors my picky cat likes come in pouches.
Neither company I emailed had plans. Nulo has apparently partnered with TerraCycle to provide free envelopes to consumers, but on further inspection, the free pouches are actually limited to dry dog food package recycling — not very helpful. Inaba has never thought about packaging Churu in glass baby food containers. Honestly, with how I use Churu as a reward for my cats doing what I ask them to do, it’s almost always on a lick mat, and I’d rather scoop something out of a glass jar than have to press it out of the little packets. The packets are annoying and messy.
The more we push on companies to do the right thing, and the more we lobby for legislation that addresses toxic materials like plastic in the waste stream, the more change will happen. I know that there’s a chance that, if enough people get in the habit of emailing their favorite brands like this, sustainability will become a bigger and bigger topic during product launch and redesign. There are a few pet food packaging initiatives and container supply companies who are starting to make inroads, for example, connecting with companies that want to market their products as fully recyclable.
Where I can, I also do individual things. Yes, this means metal straws and fabric bags, even though they won’t save the world.
It also means making my best effort to avoid buying things that are going to end badly. “End badly” is my euphemism for a product being discarded before its lifecycle is up because it was a foolish idea to purchase it or buying something prone to breaking quickly. The examples below mostly focus on pet products, as I adopted cats in May, and with that came some home goods expenses.
Most products in Instagram ads are in the “end badly” camp. I see a lot of them because my private Instagram, which is mostly shared with people I went to college with and older relatives, is about 80% cat photos. I took a lot of photos of Yoyo, and I take a lot of photos of my twoest of floofs now. The algo shoves heartwarming cat stories at me in between reminders to breathe and tips on women’s personal finance and ads for affordable linen clothing and a lot of ads for cat stuff. Only about 30% are not junk items, and about 5% of those are things I may actually consider buying if I need to replace something for my cats or find fabric-wear holes in my work clothes. The other 70% are “end badly” ideas. I learned my lesson when I bought a floppy fish for Yoyo years ago based on an Instagram ad. If you are a cat guardian with an Instagram account, I’m 99% sure you have seen it. Do not buy it. Now, I know that natural feather replacements for interactive wand toys, catnip pillows, and cotton-fill kicker toys are really all my cats want. Recently, I’ve been vindicated in my boring toy choices — textile dyes are unregulated, cats chew on dyed toys, and I don’t want to unintentionally harm them.
The “end badly” camp is the reason why I have never purchased an automatic litter box. I can see myself, after it breaks in three years or the plastic becomes fully perfumed by cat excrement, having to pay $120+ to have a hauler remove the broken object because renters in my city don’t have easy access to municipal waste hauling, and it’s too large for bagged trash. There is no chance on Earth I’m getting a Litter Robot, basically. Ever. Instead, I bought two Less Litter Earth 316 stainless steel litter boxes that will last decades — maybe beyond the lifetimes of my current cats. Steel is completely recyclable. No hauler necessary. And I also get to use my purchasing power to demonstrate that there is a market for sustainable litter products, which will increase the number of companies that offer sustainable box options, reducing the price. The boxes do not hold smell. The cats love how ergonomic they are. I didn’t find the company in Instagram ads, but after researching sustainable plastic-free options for litter boxes. Katchit sells ceramic, ergonomic pans that are slightly less expensive, even shipping from the EU, but the lower sides (5.51 in/14 cm) are a dealbreaker for me in a rental.
I’m also not getting a cat tree that is horrible to clean or for which I can’t find replacement parts. All of my cat trees can be repaired. One company that appears in my Instagram ads is Tuft & Paw. Their furniture is beautiful. I actually really like the look of their Sprout Cat Tower, which is not in my financial plan to purchase. Not only is the price point something that would involve saving up for a bit because it would put me over my cat onboarding budget given my investment in Less Litter boxes, but I saw a review that mentioned unsustainable packaging. Maybe it was made of corn and could be soaked away, but the reviewer didn’t know. Maybe it was real styrofoam. Tuft & Paw does not have a sustainability section on its website to clarify. They also keep promoting a plastic litter box in the Instagram ads, which annoys me. By contrast, Mau Lifestyle’s Castillo was at my price point (it’s definitely a splurge in comparison to the other things I selected for my cats’ play area, and honestly, my cats are totally fine with a blanket I set out on the large storage containers by one window, so not all of their stuff is fancy; I’m aiming for a “good enough” space as per this research), and I liked that all of the soft components are replaceable. The company has a sustainability commitment and is well-loved by a cat behaviorist whose YouTube videos helped me a lot throughout the adoption process, so it was easy for me to say yes.
Beyond avoiding “end badlies”, and to leave the pet example for a moment, I do what I mentioned in a previous post — I try to avoid synthetic fabrics, which is easy unless I’m looking for workout clothes or bras, and I also avoid making “fandom/merch” purchases. (If I like a film or story or whatever, I can just download computer wallpaper and listen to the movie soundtrack. No need to buy plastic figurines or anything.) What I’ve discovered since making that commitment a few years ago is that it’s not as hard as I initially thought to find affordable things. (I found a pair of work-appropriate linen pants at Marshalls for $20 recently, for example.) All it takes is to have an awareness of when companies offer sales and to focus on modular basics, not on outfits or “looks,” and to make sure companies know in reviews that the reason one purchased their product was due to the materials — again, give their staff something to work with when they need to compile data. Reviews are so powerful. I will dock stars for unsustainability even when I love the product. I also use shampoo and conditioner bars instead of bottles now. A single shampoo bar lasts me about 10 months (short hair). The one I’m currently using also came from Marshalls. I use a face cleanser bar that was a sample packed in with my last incense purchase. Instead of using nonstick skillets, I’m using stainless steel pans … also from Marshalls.
Some of what I’ve discussed obviously comes from a place of financial thoughtfulness, enabled by being in my mid-30s and having more life experience (so, fewer “end badlies” — although they still happen sometimes) and reaching mid-career when I can start to breathe a bit. Pre-pandemic, when I was still trying to get on my feet and paying student loans and so on, I sometimes made regrettable purchases because they seemed cheaper and on-budget. Some of that drive was structural — there’s only a certain amount of money each of us has beyond our zero-sum living expenses — but far more of it than I want to admit could have been prevented by taking a pause and thinking through a product’s life cycle and the likely end scenario. Science has consistently shown that people make bad decisions while stressed. Studies also show that people are extremely vulnerable to impulse purchases based on social media ads, whether it’s an Influencer showing a haul on TikTok or a targeted ad on Instagram for a cat anxiety solution, and based on what they think people in their peer group are doing. We collectively waste a lot of our hard-earned dollars on that even when finances are tight or the impulse is not in line with our values or spending plan. This is one of two reasons why I’ve stopped sharing photos of my shrine (for the most part; I shared a photo of a redesign that was deliberately sized to be too small to see well, for example, and I’m OK with sharing what a popup shrine looks like because it’s very bare-bones). I’ve had a shrine since I was an older child — when my parents started allowing me to burn candles unsupervised — and I don’t want to encourage reckless spending even on spiritual items. I’ve literally had decades to get it to where it is! Sharing doodles of schematics is far less likely to result in someone making FOMO occulture purchases.
In sum: It’s reassuring to know that there are things that I can do without being high-income and ways to make sustainable commitments affordably. While up-front investment in sustainable litter boxes or items from companies that commit to better packaging is definitely not accessible to everyone, for those of us who can swing the occasional sustainable splurge, making the effort matters. Sharing what we did and why in a public place, be it a review or something else (why I created this post, fwiw), in addition to direct email feedback, helps product teams at companies make better choices, especially when they see that many more people would make the same choices if they could. These actions do not fix our unsustainable culture because they still rely on companies being concerned about their growth and making changes out of fear of losses. We have to do much more to get to where our societies need to be, but consumer pressure serves a function all the same.
KALLISTI 