“If your bathtub’s overflowing, you don’t try to empty it with a spoon. You turn off the tap. You stop the flow of water into the tub. And it’s the same thing with plastic pollution. We first need to stop the flow of plastic into the environment.”
Jennifer Congdon, Beyond Plastics
Last month was Plastic Free July—an annual campaign that began in 2011 with the goal of reducing plastic pollution around the world. The initiative aims to draw attention to plastic waste in our personal lives by challenging us to go “zero-waste” and live without the plastic items that we would normally use.
In theory, reducing plastic waste (or even ending it entirely) is a perfect idea. No more plastic pollution would enter the environment, and we could focus all of our efforts on cleaning up what remains.
But as with many conservation efforts, making an individual effort to curb pollution—using environmentally-friendly cleaners and soaps at home, walking instead of driving, or going plastic-free—can quickly get exhausting. What does it matter if I forget my reusable bag at the grocery store and fill a couple of plastic bags instead, just this once? Why take the time to clean out my reusable mug every day when the coffee shop on the corner can hand me a to-go cup in under five minutes? Do my individual actions even make a difference?
A Culture of Disposables
The United Nations Environment Programme estimates that single-use, disposable plastic products make up half of our total plastic production worldwide. About 40 percent of plastic production goes towards plastic packaging—all of the shrink wrap, bags, and containers that keep our food fresh and our liquid products leak-free.
But plastic hasn’t always been so ubiquitous. Although similar synthetic polymers have existed since the late 1800s, plastic didn’t take off as a consumer good until after World War II. Fueled by population booms and a burgeoning consumer culture, plastic solidified itself as a newfound necessity over the next several decades. Items like plastic bags only became common fixtures in our grocery stores starting in the 1980s.
Even so, about half of the plastic ever produced has come into existence during my lifetime. We’ve become used to convenience and cleanliness: our skincare products stored safely in plastic bottles, meats and vegetables packaged up to prevent contamination. For many restaurants, taking out a trash bag of disposable plates, cups, and utensils is preferable to spending time and money washing reusable tableware.
Going Zero-Waste
The alternative, of course, is to go plastic-free in our personal lives. This means all fabrics, including bags, made from natural materials; all containers made of glass, metal, or wood; food bought fresh and free of plastic packaging; household products like cleaners, soaps, or toothpaste sourced from companies that purposely design their products without plastic containers.
In short, going plastic-free would be a transition from disposable to reusable—a key pillar of the zero-waste movement. When we aren’t wasting our resources by throwing them into a landfill, we won’t want (or need) to buy new ones, and we’ll be able to recycle what we can no longer use.
In a sense, this lifestyle shift would almost be a return to the way things used to be before the advent of plastic. But culture has shifted a lot since then: towards convenience and efficiency, and the mass consumption of cheap goods. How then can we merge our modern society and expectations with old-fashioned ways of life?
For now, the solution is to go zero-waste—imperfectly.
Modern Trend or Ancient Knowledge?
It’s hard to pinpoint where (or when) the idea of “zero-waste” began. Some point to the origins of Urban Ore, a California organization that collects items from landfills for resale. Since its inception in the 1980s, Urban Ore is estimated to have brought 8,000 tons of waste back into the economy every year. Its founder, Daniel Knapp, has since shared his concept of “Total Recycling” worldwide.
The underlying concepts of zero-waste, however, have existed for centuries, if not longer. The phrase “Waste Not, Want Not” gained popularity during both World Wars and the Great Depression; before the advent of plastic, reusing containers was a common practice. Going even further back, Heream points to the zero-waste practices of Indigenous peoples in North America in her article Who Invented Zero Waste? Acknowledging Indigenous Wisdom in Modern Environmental Practices.
Now, going “zero-waste” is both a social media trend and a corporate buzzword. In essence, the end goal of zero-waste is to reduce the amount of trash produced as much as possible (for more definitions, see this article by the United States EPA). Every disposable item (plastic or otherwise) is either recycled, reused, or composted; if it can’t be, it’s off the table. Ideally, the end result is a circular economy: no landfills, just reducing, reusing, and recycling all the way.
Small Changes, Ambitious Goals
For some influencer households, going zero-waste results in a year’s worth of garbage contained within a single Mason jar. But for the average layperson, such a goal can seem daunting, if not impossible. Indeed, a zero-waste lifestyle really can be impossible in areas that lack access to fresh produce, bulk goods, or strong recycling and composting programs.
Furthermore, reducing plastic waste can still be a challenge. Companies that produce plastic-free goods can still use plastic earlier in the production or transportation phase. Consuming a plastic-free item can still drive plastic waste, albeit indirectly.
In the grand scheme of things, a few zero-waste influencers going entirely plastic-free will have very little impact. On the other hand, should an entire state or country choose to go plastic-free in even one area—think plastic bags, or disposable drinkware—the impact could be significant. One analysis from Vox found that a community choice as simple as a plastic bag ban or tax successfully curbed plastic bag litter in municipalities across the country.
Hence the idea of going zero-waste imperfectly: if a lot of people make one or two small lifestyle changes, that impact adds up quickly.
Reduce, Reuse, Recycle
When I was in elementary school, I learned Jack Johnson’s The 3 R’s for a school music program. I’ve been able to recite them for most of my life: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. The golden trio of sustainability and environmentalism.
When it comes to plastic waste, the most important member of the trio isn’t “recycle”. Nor is it “reuse”. For plastic pollution, “reduce” is arguably the most important step. Transitioning to a plastic-free lifestyle is one small component of that.
Will your personal decision to go plastic-free in one area of your life make a significant environmental impact? Statistically, no, although one or two sea turtles or zooplankton may thank you. But as more and more people join in, cultures of convenience and consumerism begin to shift, companies and politicians begin to take note, and large-scale change begins to happen ever so slowly.
Ultimately, the promise of a world free of plastic doesn’t rest in your hands alone. But a plastic-free lifestyle change can help us get there—and prepare you for broad systemic changes further down the road.
On Wednesday’s podcast episode, you’ll hear from Novel Hand team members as we discuss how we try to reduce plastic waste in our personal lives. The final article in our Plastic Waste series will debut on Monday with a summary of several proposed solutions to our plastic problem.
- A Dose of Climate Optimism from 2021 - January 20, 2022
- When It Comes To Climate Change, Language Matters. Here’s Why. - December 28, 2021
- The EPA Wants To Take A Few Years To Regulate PFAS. Here’s Why. - October 28, 2021