The
solution to the plastic waste crisis? It isn’t recycling
John Vidal
There’s no
way of making current levels of consumption ‘environmentally friendly’
Tue 14 Jan
2020 09.00 GMTLast modified on Tue 14 Jan 2020 09.19 GMT
‘Streets full of secondhand shops depress some
people, but in an ecologically literate world they should be seen as pioneers.’
Photograph: Jill Mead/The Guardian
The Lego
Disney Frozen II Arendelle Castle Village features a princess, animals, birds
and mini dolls. It is made of 521 separate bits of plastic, it was one of the
bestselling Christmas toys, and fans of the movie on which it is based will
surely spend several hours of magical, creative play with it.
But those
few hours may well be the last that this and many other toys are used.
Thousands of plastic castles, farmyards and games, as well as myriad other
presents, have probably already been stuffed into bulging cupboards to be
thrown away in a year or two to make room for yet more plastic. And, because
most plastic is near impossible to recycle, these toys will probably have to be
landfilled or burned in incinerators, poisoning the air and further adding to
global heating.
Rather than blame meat or toy castles or
aeroplane flights, we must change consumer habits and attitudes to consumption
But would
it really make much difference if the castle, and all the 359m tonnes of
plastic that the world makes a year, was recyclable? Is the type of plastic the
problem, or is it the fact that we are overwhelmed with vast quantities of
waste we cannot process?
The
question is barely raised by the Green Alliance, whose new report, paid for by
some of Britain’s biggest plastic recyclers, laments that people are confused
about what can be recycled or composted. Companies, say the report authors,
want to use less plastic but they may be increasing our carbon footprints by
switching their packaging to glass or cardboard, which have their own
environmental impacts.
Telling
people what they can throw out and recycle is important, but corporations and
governments who are in the business of growth do not want to address the real
problem: the vast and escalating quantity of plastic and other stuff that
people buy, use a bit and then throw away. Along with celebrities,
“influencers” and PR companies they seek to create needs for things we never
knew we wanted, and then manipulate us to buy more of everything. Bombarded by
advertisements, we are then persuaded that the more we binge-shop, the more
fulfilling and satisfying our lives will be.
Industries respond
that some recycling rates are increasing and that targets are being met, but
the fact is we are burning more fossil fuels than ever to make and then dispose
of things that we just do not need. Shopping is now equated with fun and
fulfilment, our public holidays have been turned into buying fests, high-street
health is measured in sales, and the bosses of chain stores stand down if
people don’t buy more new stuff from them each year. The result is that every
person in the UK on average throws out 400kg a year of waste, and overall
recycling rates have stalled. Supermarkets switching from one sort of packaging
to another may prevent some nasties getting into the sea or being burned but
this is not nearly enough. The way to avoid ecological disaster is to starve
the beast of consumerism, by buying less and reusing more of everything. Rather
than blame meat or toy castles or aeroplane flights, we must change consumer
habits and attitudes to consumption.
The plastic
makers and supermarkets are rightly held to account, but it is the voracious
“take-make-dispose” industrial model identified by people such as Ellen
MacArthur that has led directly to the state we are now in. The plastic waste
crisis is just the symptom of a single-use culture.
Can
consumption ever be contained? Easily. Stuff can be designed better to last
longer; food chains and toy makers don’t have to make poor quality goods;
producers can use fewer virgin raw materials; waste can be made a resource; the
circular economy can be developed. Tax can make corporations more responsible;
excess can be discouraged in schools and homes; identities do not have to be
based on how much we buy.
We can shop
hyper-locally, frequent secondhand shops, grow more food ourselves, become more
self-sufficient. But above all, we can learn to just say no to buying ever more
new stuff.
There is
real hope, too. The secondhand economy of “pre-loved” goods is bigger in
Britain than in any other OECD country, with charity shops and boot sales
generating more than £700m and revitalising high streets. It is the antidote to
the throwaway corporate culture and the chain stores, which take money out of
the local communities.
Streets
full of secondhand shops depress some people, but in an ecologically literate
world they should be seen as pioneers of a new kind of socially aware
consumerism. Not only do they offer everything under the sun, but they are
popular and reasonably priced, they are run largely by volunteers seeking to
improve the lives of people in need and they prevent millions of clothes, toys,
books and furniture being dumped, buried and burned every week.
If you’re
lucky you may even find a barely used Lego Disney Frozen 11 Aredelle Castle
village in one.
• John
Vidal was the Guardian’s environment editor. He is the author of McLibel:
Burger Culture on Trial
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