No Impact Man

What we'd gain if we built things to last

That's my little girl Isabella's Teddy. He's forty years old. Back when my wife was a little girl, her own mother brought Teddy home from Italy. He's so well made that he's lasted all this time.

Lots of nights we have talks about Teddy. Isabella wants to know about when her mom was little and how she played with Teddy, too.

As things age, they collect stories. Stories of our families that connect us to them.

In my own case, I have a pair of my grandfather's cufflinks and his watch. When I have to give a talk or go to a meeting that tests my confidence, I wear them. It makes me feel like something about him is there backing me up.

In other words, when things are made well, and they last, we can often get way more pleasure from them than we might from something new. We come to cherish our things. We come to cherish our lives.

Yet, these days, instead of making things to last, manufacturers make things to break. Everything from poorly made Teddy bears to watches you throw away when the battery runs out to cell phones and even fridges.

When you think about it, it's crazy.

Things are built to break or go out of date, so that we have to work really hard to buy the same things over and over again. Meanwhile, remaking all of this stuff plunders our planetary resources and makes for clouds of carbon dioxide which causes global warming.

What if we only had to buy our possessions once? Our telephones, once. Our computers, once. Our furniture, once. Our watches, once. Our teddy bears, once.

Maybe the objects we surround ourselves would end up being like old friends. Maybe, with having to manufacture so much less, we'd end up with is a more healthy planet along with a lot more fond memories.

Remembering My Mom's Lessons About Waste

As you may know, Japan has lower per capita carbon emissions than any Western European country. For that reason, I asked my friend, Sean Sakamoto, who recently moved to Japan and who blogs at I'd Rather Be In Japan, to check in with us every so often. I thought we might be able to learn a little something about "happier planet, happlier people" lifestyles from Sean's experience there.

Here is Sean's latest dispatch:

If you've ever studied a second language, you know that one of the most interesting aspects is seeing how culture is reflected in the words that are used. One of the first words I learned in Japan is a great example.

My first day at work, I was writing something on a piece of paper and I made a mistake. I reached for a new piece to start over, and my coworker suggested I just cross out my mistake and keep using the same piece.

"Mottainai," he said. I cocked my head in my standard look of "I don't know what that means" and he explained that "mottainai" means "don't waste." It became a word I heard many times, in many situations.

In the past year, I've learned that "mottainai" does in fact mean 'don't waste' but it also means more than that. There is the sense that it is a genuine shame to waste something. This concept is not entirely new to me.

When I was a kid, growing up in the '70s in Kalamazoo, Michigan, I was scolded if I ever wasted something. I remember that throwing something out that still had use was wasteful, but it was also just plain wrong.

We used a cloth to clean the table instead of tearing off sheets of paper towel. We never ate off paper plates. One obvious reason for this was because we didn't have the money to waste on disposable items or brand new stuff all the time. But it went beyond saving money. It was simply wrong to be wasteful.

When my sneakers got old and faded, my mom died the outside to make them look new again. My mom even bought me pants that were too long, sewed cuffs into them, and then let them down as I grew. It saved money, but I had white circles where the creases has been. There were two sides to this, of course. I also got teased at school for having 'creased pants.' Not everyone thought it was so great to not waste and save money.

When I got a family of my own, I forgot some of what my mother taught me about not wasting. I got used to the convenience of using something once and tossing it out. My values shifted. It started to feel cleaner, more hygenic, and more modern, to use disposable products. I wanted the latest, and newest, of everything.

Now I'm living in rural Japan on a much smaller salary than I had when I lived in New York. The emphasis on not being wasteful is nostalgic, and it's also practical.

Now, when I hear the words, "mottainai" I feel a sense of nostalgia. It's like I have an old friend back, this value I grew up with, that it's good to make something last longer, to get more use of the things I have, and to be more creative. I like being frugal again. I like it that reusing stuff and saying 'mottainai' is the trump card in most situations. I'm glad my son is learning this too. That said, I won't be creasing his pants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What does success mean to you?

A friend told me of an experiment today.

He said that a researcher would leave a four-year-old in a room with a marshmallow and tell the kid that he would be gone a few minutes. The kid was allowed to eat the marshmallow, but if it was still there when the researcher got back, the researcher said, then the kid could have two marshmallows instead.

Here's what happened. The kids that delayed their gratification in order to get the second marshmallow were more likely, later in life, to get better SAT scores and have higher grades in school. They were more likely, as my friend said, to "be successful."

But it struck me. What does it actually mean to "be successful." Does it mean to make more money? Does it mean to get more stuff? Does it mean to climb higher on the career ladder? These are all economic goals that are associated, on many levels, with consumption and resource use (the more money you make, the more you spend, the more resources get used up).

The point here is that if these things are what make a successful human being, then the resource use is perhaps justified. But what if they don't define the real success of a human? Perhaps real success is how much we've loved or been loved or given.

Two questions for you:

1. What do you think success really means?

2. Can it be predicted by whether or not you hold out for a second marshmallow?

We're In This Together

As you may know, Japan has lower per capita carbon emissions than any Western European country. For that reason, I asked my friend, Sean Saskamoto, who recently moved to Japan and who blogs at I'd Rather Be In Japan, to check in with us every so often. I thought we might be able to learn a little something about "happier planet, happlier people" lifestyles from Sean's experience there.

Here is Sean's latest dispatch:

A few years ago, a friend of mine who works in the New York City Public School system described his students’ idea of how to deal with trash.

“They ate junk food all day and tossed the wrappers on the floor. Anytime I asked them to put their garbage in the can, they just shrugged and said that’s what the janitor was for. By the end of the day the classroom was ankle deep in trash.”

The idea that the trash is someone else’s problem, someone else who gets paid to deal with it, really struck me. In one sense, it’s true that there are folks who get paid to clean up after us. But does that relieve us of the responsibility of cleaning up after ourselves? Are we really that compartmentalized?

One of the first things visitors to Japan notice is how incredibly clean the subway stations and streets are. It’s even more surprising, considering how difficult it is to find a trash can. There are very, very few public trash cans. Often, people carry their trash with them until they get home. Even at home, the trash situation is complicated to say the least.

We sort out trash into several different clear plastic bags. We even put our names on our trash bag, and if there’s anything in there that doesn’t belong, the garbage men return the bag for us to resort. It’s a pain, and the system is far from perfect, but what really amazes me is that everyone actually adheres to it. There is a deep rooted sense of personal responsibility.

As a teacher in a Japanese school, and the parent of a first grader, I see first hand how this value is imparted. Every student and every teacher has to help clean the school for 30 minutes a day in the cleaning time. Each classroom has a small closet with brooms, dustpans, and cleaner.

Once a day, we sweep the floors, take out the trash, clean the toilets, wash the windows, scrub graffiti off the desks, you name it. We do all those things that the janitors did in the schools back home. Even the principal and the vice principals get out the dust rags and the vacuum cleaners and clean up their assigned areas.

It’s a lot harder to throw your trash on the floor when you and your friends will be picking it back up in a few hours anyway. 

Open Discussion: "You are here to be happy." True or false?

Obviously I've been in the mood for introspection these last couple of days. And I think that introspection is important in the environmental realm, because we must prioritize the use of resources. We must decide what our limited resources are best used for.

That requires introspection.

Because to know what our resources should be used for we should know something about what our lives should be used for. After all, shouldn't resources be used to fulfill the true purposes of our lives? So what is our true purpose?

Perhaps in answer, someone said to me today:

You are here to be happy.

What I'd like us to discuss is whether or not you believe that is true. Is the reason you are here on this earth to achieve your happiness? And by the way, what, actually, does that mean?

Let's talk. Let's discuss. What could possibly be more important to figure out? Please leave your comments here on the blog by scrolling down to the bottom of this post and clicking on "comments." You will see a form into which to enter your thoughts.

If you're reading this on email, by the way, you will first have to come to the web page to leave a comment (and please do!). You can get to the web page by clicking here.

Open Discussion--What products do you reuse to avoid waste?

In the last week or so, I posted about products that save planetary resources: toilet paper made from recycled paper so trees aren't cut down; mentrual cups that allow women to avoid buying and throwing away thousands of tampons; and the straight razor to avoid the use of throwaway plastic razors.

Today, I thought it would be great to hear your thoughts on other products or methods you have or use to avoid the throwaway culture. it could be anything from making rags from old clothes to avoid paper towel to a method you have for recharging batteries.

In other words, what products or methods do you use to avoid trashing resources? How did you come by the idea? How does it work for you? Is it easier or harder than the throwaway alternative?

Making green folks your customers--especially if, by green, you mean everyone

So I dropped and broke my cell phone which I bought pre-owned from ATT. Now that I had broken it, I didn't want to buy a new one--not even a new used one. I wanted to get it repaired. The personal price of new was too much. So was the planetary price (which, by the way, thanks to the use of the mineral coltan in cell phones, includes a lot of dead Congolese children).

So I called ATT. They would be glad to help me. They'd send me another refurbished phone for $100 as long as I'll sign a contract promising to be ATT's customer for another two years.

"And then you'll take back my phone and refurbish it?" I ask the customer service person.

"No, you get to keep it," she says.

"But then I'll have two phones. I don't need two phones," I say.

"You can have a backup for if your main phone breaks," she says.

"But my phone is broken, so it won't be a back up. Can you repair it?"

"We don't repair phones," she says.

I hang up. I find a little shop in New York's West Village and they say they will try to fix my phone. The man solders this bit and reattaches that bit. It's still not fixed. It doesn't work. He spent on hour working on it but he charges me nothing. I'd have to buy a new motherboard, the man says, which is too expensive.

ATT on the other hand is still willing to send me another refurbished phone in return for my signature on a new contract. I finally capitulate and tell them to send it. I would have preferred repair, but it least it's not new.

We have witnessed two ways of doing business at play:

1. The man in the shop offers reuse in a way that is better for the environment and of service to the customer.
2. ATT uses my bad luck in dropping the phone to leverage another two year contract out of me--a sort of consumer coercion --and won't even try to repair my phone--a zero for effort when it comes to reuse.

With the economy the way it is, along with the fact that we are in the middle of an environmental crisis, even the New York Times thinks Americans are going to stop the conspicuous consumption. In that climate, in the long term, which business model do you think will win?

Let's put it this way: I'm not happy at all about having my arm twisted by ATT, and if they had made me a loyal customer they wouldn't have had to blackmail me into a contract. On the other hand, I'll be telling everyone I know about the repair man in the little shop and look forward to being his customer again.

Indeed, let's not forget that this is the age of blogging, where a big-mouth writer like me tells a few thousand of his closest friends about every little experience. Because, speaking of telling everyone about the repair man in the little shop, the name of the business is Portatronics, and they repair all sorts of portable electronic devices. I hope you'll use them instead of throwing your stuff away.

As this story turns out, Mr CEO of ATT, whose way of doing business proved best?

LVGRN: The knife at my throat

Last week on this blog, a man--namely me--dared to suggest to suggest that a reusable "feminine hygiene" product--namely, the menstrual cup--might keep billions of tampons out of the landfills. It only seems fair, therefore, to suggest a product for men that would keep millions of plastic razors out of the landfill.

According to Grist, 2 billion disposable razors end up in U.S. dumps every year. Furthermore, the disposable razor blade, invented by King Camp Gillette, helped usher in our disposable culture back in the early 1900s. That’s why I adopted the straightedge razor during the No Impact year.

I use hand soap to make a lather—no disposable shaving foam cans—and use my hands to apply it since most shaving brushes are made from beaver fur. If you want to know how to shave with the long blade, go here. It took a while, but the emergency room nurses no longer know me on a first name basis and I get as close a shave as I used to.

Not only that, but there is an added value to the straightedge. Think about it: mine was given to me by my father as a Christmas present. I shaved with it throughout the No Impact year and beyond. I shaved with it before our wedding anniversary. I shaved with it before my little girl's birthday.

Over time, the razor has become like an old friend. It accumulates memories and has a familiar fit in my hand. It has become an intimate possession like my grandfather's cuff links. This is part of what is good about getting away from the throwaway culture. We come to value what we own.

Not only that, but how much better is it for both the pocket and the planet to buy a razor that lasts your whole life than hundreds of plastic razors or razor heads that don't?

LVGRN: Getting rid of tampons

According to Grist:

Most tampons are made from rayon-cotton blends -- an important distinction, because rayon is often chlorine-bleached, a process that releases the cancer-causing chemical dioxin. This toxin builds up in fatty tissue and has been linked to endometriosis, immune-system suppression, and other health problems. Since it's in a product intended for our, ahem, most intimate of locations, there's definitely another reason to be angry. Some companies offer tampons made of organic cotton, which is progress, and we've reviewed a few brands below. But tampons still pose a burden on the waste stream and the risk of toxic shock syndrome...

The good thing about tampons though--well, at least for the companies that make them--is that they're disposable. You have to buy them again and again, and the company gets to profit from your purchase--again and again.

Indeed, according to Susan Strasser's Waste and Want, sanitary pads were first invented as a way to make use of leftover "cellu-cotton," a highly absorbent invention stockpiled for use in bandages during World War I. Geez, I guess that's one way to get rid of your war surplus!

The good news, at least according to female readers of this blog, is that there are great reusable alternatives. They're cheaper in the long run, safer and way better for the environment. As Emily from Food Origins once commented on this blog:

Re: pads, tampons, rags...my favorite answer is "None of the above." Try the Diva cup (http://www.divacup.com/ or the Keeper (http://www.keeper.com/. This is a silicone or latex cup - like a big thimble - that you wear internally and empty and rinse periodically. WAY cleaner than any of the usual Western methods and no waste! I know half a dozen women who have tried it, and not a one of them will go back to any other sanitary product.

LVGRN: Save millions of trees with recycled toilet and facial tissue

Greenpeace wrote to me today. They said:

Greenpeace Senior Forest Campaigner Rolf Skar was on Fox’s America’s Newsroom yesterday morning to talk about Greenpeace’s new “Recycled Tissue and Toilet Paper Guide." Megyn Kelly issued a challenge to her co-host Bill Hemmer: Could Bill, with his eyes closed, tell the difference between recycled toilet paper and Charmin brand toilet paper, made from 100 percent virgin fiber (no recycled content)?

In the video below, see how Bill thought the recycled paper was actually the fluffy stuff made from ancient forests. At the 1:19 second mark, after Megyn tells Bill that he thought the recycled toilet paper was actually toilet paper made from 100 percent virgin fiber, he sheepishly responds, “Did I blow it?”

No, Bill, you didn’t blow it. But brands like Charmin and Cottonelle are blowing it when they destroy ancient forests to make disposable tissue products that are used once and then thrown away. Greenpeace’s “Recycled Tissue and Toilet Paper Guide” is a credit card-sized shopping guide that helps consumers find the greenest household paper products. In it, Greenpeace gives a thumbs up to brands Green Forest, Natural Value and Seventh Generation, while recommending that shoppers avoid products like Kleenex, Cottonelle, Viva, and Charmin.

The New York Times did a story on this issue last week in an article “Mr. Whipple Left It Out: Soft Is Rough on Forests.” The reporter, Leslie Kaufman, writes:

But fluffiness comes at a price: millions of trees harvested in North America and in Latin American countries, including some percentage of trees from rare old-growth forests in Canada. Although toilet tissue can be made at similar cost from recycled material, it is the fiber taken from standing trees that help give it that plush feel, and most large manufacturers rely on them.

Customers “demand soft and comfortable,” said James Malone, a spokesman for Georgia Pacific, the maker of Quilted Northern. “Recycled fiber cannot do it.”

Fox’s Bill Hemmer seems to disagree.