The secret side of stuff
And a cheap and cheerful way to cut back on embodied carbon
One of the big problems about climate change, they say, is that carbon is invisible, that so much environmental destruction happens in places we’ll never see. We only see the tip of the (melting) iceberg, and “externalities” like pollution from extraction, production, and disposal of materials all happen offscreen. You may feel guilty when you buy something that arrives in many layers of packaging, but imagine how you would feel if you had to wade through an orange river, meet a woman with asthma thanks to a factory’s emissions, or a child with cancer linked to nearby fracking.
I recently read a great Walrus article about Chris Magwood, a sustainable construction consultant. Green construction may bring to mind LEED certifications, airtight windows, and slick LED lights, but Magwood wanted to highlight something we’re usually missing: in designing green buildings to reduce emissions over their lifetimes, we are often racking up a huge carbon debt right now. This “embodied carbon” — the carbon and other pollution that goes into making everyday materials like cement or glass or insulation — lurks behind the Matrix of our everyday life. And in the case of construction, accounting for embodied carbon changed the stats radically, accounting for 20 to 60% of lifetime emissions before the building was even used. (Also remember when we looked at cellphones? 80% of the emissions were just from making them.)
This matters because now, and in the next few years, we desperately need to release as little carbon as possible to avoid setting off the catastrophic feedback loops that are an utterly terrifying part of climate change science. For example, ice and snow reflect sunlight, meaning less heat is absorbed by the Earth, but if it melts, the darker land or water absorbs more heat, speeding up warming, meaning even faster melting . . . You get the picture. So, yes, buildings that conserve energy in the long run are useful, but reducing emissions right now is vital.
Since most of us aren’t erecting any buildings anytime soon, I want to apply this idea of embodied carbon more widely, to our everyday stuff. The average American home contains 300,000 objects, and almost none of them were made without emissions. Everything around you has a pollution price tag.
Now, pause your guilt spiral, because this isn’t really on you. You’re not one of the Exxon supervillains who decided to lie about climate change, you don’t set environmental standards or run pollution-spewing factories making gerbil bikinis or something equally useless. Plus everything we own we were primed psychologically to buy. Our whole lives we’re programmed into thinking that being a good citizen is being a good consumer. Buying has been positioned as everything from an everyday economic engine to a disaster response. Stuff is also a way we signify status and pursue happiness, thanks to thousands of ads in front of our eyeballs every day.
And I want to focus on that psychology, because not only does it have the potential to fritter our lives away (in the words of Metric, “Buy this car to drive to work/Drive to work to pay for this car”) it’s feeding so many of our environmental problems, from air and water pollution, to CO2 emissions, to plastic in the oceans. We might know the price of things, but we certainly don’t know the cost. And when it comes to cost, it’s usually poorer, racialized people who are paying it.
As a society, we need to get externalities on the balance sheet ASAP, even if that makes product more expensive for customers and less profitable for shareholders. By ignoring externalities, we’re essentially taking an exploitative payday loan — sure, we get some money now, but getting out of debt becomes more expensive, even impossible, with each passing week.
On a consumer level, it’s almost impossible to know what externalities we’re causing unless packages have emissions information like they have nutritional information, and while some companies like Unilever are trying it, so far they’re the exception. So in the meantime, what do we do?
I’m so glad you asked! Because I have a radical proposition that will make you happier, richer, more energized, give you more free time, and keep your house cleaner. It’s called “The Stuff Diet.” (Okay, yes, diets are a toxic mythology, so let’s call it “Lower-Stuff Living.”) I’m not suggesting we all become barefoot minimalists with all our worldly possessions in a single backpack, or even minimalists at all, since I think minimalism is a lifestyle/aesthetic that requires considerable privilege. But I do think most people could cut back on the packages arriving on our doorsteps. My friend recently returned home after her family lived out of suitcases for a couple of months. While you think she’d be relieved to return to fresh stuff, she texted me, “Returning home makes me want to get rid of half our clothes, toys, and shit.” We have so much already.
Going forward, how can we reduce our consumption and our true carbon footprint that reflects not just operational emissions, but our embodied carbon? Happily, it’s pretty easy.
I like to consider a few questions before I add something new to my dragon’s hoard of stuff:
Do I need this or do I just want it? Why?
How often will I use it? Do I need to own it?
Is this a tool? Is it one that will allow me to do something significantly differently? (I’ve found some of my best investments have been in things that qualify as tools.)
Do I need it now, or can I wait? (Tip: unless it’s truly urgent, wait 72 hours. You’d be surprised how fast an urge to splurge passes.)
After I’ve run through those questions, I may decide to buy it. At which point it’s time to consider where it comes from. Here’s a list of options, from lowest impact to highest.
1. Rent or borrow.
Often “you don’t need a drill, you need a hole in the wall,” as sharing economy advocates say. If you just need something for a little while, ask friends or neighbours, or consider joining somewhere like the very cool Toronto Tool Library, which for a $55 annual membership allows you to one-stop-rent all kinds of home gadgets and other seldom-used items like camping gear or hosting equipment.
You can also rent all kinds of things on Ruckify (and offer up your own stuff), rent an fancy outfit from somewhere like The Fitzroy (assuming we all have reason to get out of our sweatpants one day), or get maternity clothes that grow with you from Sprout. (More on dialling back the impact of clothes here!)
And let’s not forget the OG library, which allows you to take out books, ebooks, audiobooks, magazines, DVDs, and sometimes even things like musical instruments. (And yes, book-industry folks support libraries! Libraries forever.)
2. Start with secondhand.
If you want to own a thing, buying secondhand is like getting an emissions free pass, plus it can save you a ton of money. When I finally caved and got myself a Vitamix, I got it for $200 on Kijiji rather than shelling out $800 for a new one. If you want something specific, try setting up an alert to get notified when something with your keywords is posted.
You can also, of course, try thrift stores, or turn to bartering or a local Buy Nothing group. In Toronto, searching on the Bunz app or the Palz Facebook group will often get you what you’re looking for, even if it’s super specific. Among recent scores for me is a favourite out-of-production David’s Tea mug and a six-month-old issue of Reader’s Digest. If you’re bartering, you may also be able to get rid of stuff you don’t need in exchange for something you do. Win, win!
3. Buy it better.
If used really isn’t an option, look for ways to do some good (or do less bad) with your shiny new whatsit. If you can swing it, buy something made to last, ideally that has a good warranty or is reparable. Look for other ways to give that purchase value, like buying locally. Maybe you can buy the greener version of the product, something made with recycled materials, or with a social mandate. This often comes at a markup though and isn’t possible for everyone. It’s easy to get caught up in the world of slick eco products, but always remember the greenest thing is one that already exists. Whatever you buy, take care of it — making something last two or three times as long is also a way of dramatically lowering its impact.
And for any of these approaches, when it’s time to get rid of you stuff, be sure to do it responsibly.
This system isn’t perfect and won’t work 100% of the time. Sometimes you need something very specific, and fast. But since it’s my default approach and I have the privilege of living in a large city, it works 95% of the time for me. Challenge yourself and try a new-stuff ban for a month (or more!) and see how you feel. Chances are, you’ll feel totally fine. Great even! Living with less won’t save the world, but it’s guaranteed to do some good, for your life and the planet’s.
Reader wisdom
After last week’s edition on the Amazon rainforest, seasoned agriculture reporter Alexis had a call with Canadian Cattlemen Association’s representative on foreign trade. He told her we don’t take much South American beef, and when we do it’s most likely to end up in grind for fast food. Even then it’s only seasonal and when we have demand. He also noted that there are devoted South American ranchers fighting hard for more sustainable beef industry that protects the rainforests. It’s really nice to know there are people fighting to change the system it from the inside.
Thanks, Alexis, for going deeper. If you ever have more to share about a particular topic, please click reply on your email!
TL;DR
While we often consider the pollution that comes from using an object, we tend to forget the pollution that goes into making it; when it comes to CO2, that’s “embodied carbon,” and it can be more damaging than using an object over its lifetime.
To cut down on the pollution in your name, try renting, borrowing, or buying used. If neither of those are possible, buy a quality item and take good care of it.
The greenest product is the one that already exists.
Wins of the Week
“Hope is always accompanied by the imagination, the will to see what our physical environment seems to deem impossible. Only the creative mind can make use of hope. Only a creative people can wield it.” — Jericho Brown
You guys keep serving up victories worth celebrating. Here’s what people have been up to:
Anne switched to Ecosia for her internet searches a few months ago. She says, “I’m really liking it. Just as good as Google but better for the environment!”
Dave and his daughter, Holly, picked up trash in the nearby ravine every Saturday in August. Four-year-old Holly took great pride in being a “thing-finder” (à la Pippi Longstocking).
I’m starting a seed library at my co-op, which means members will be able to “borrow” free seeds, and hopefully return more they’ve saved at the end of the season. (There are other seed libraries all over the city through the Toronto Seed Library.)
If you have wins, please send them my way to keep the engine of this section running. Thank you for reading, for clicking that heart, for sharing this newsletter with friends, parents, strangers on the internet. This team gets a little bit bigger every week, and with every new reader, our potential to do good grows. That’s the kind of invisible impact I’m happy to see.
xo
JK
Five Minutes for Planet is written by me, Jen Knoch, and edited by the incredible Crissy Calhoun. Opening photo by Michael Weidemann on Unsplash.