In the past decade or so there has been an explosion of products labeled “green” or “sustainable” which promise to reduce your environmental impact without sacrificing your way of life. Neither of these labels is a protected term so there is little meaning to either of them, particularly in a consumer setting. The evidence that these green products are less harmful for the environment is not extremely strong, and arguably they may actually be worse for the envirnoment in the long run by encouraging more consumption.
You see, overconsumption is the root of our environmental crises. Simply put, we cannot consume our way out of this crisis, because consumption is the problem. But these marketing campaigns give some of us the illusion that we’re living “sustainably” because we’re using “sustainable” products. This is called greenwashing.
Now, sometimes these green labels are accompanied by third-party standards like the Rainforest Alliance. Theoretically, this is a good thing because it means at least someone is creating a standard and doing an audit of the product to make sure it meets that standard. I’m not an expert on the labels and I’m in no position to evaluate their efficacy. That being said, no amount of green standards is going to alter the fact that we’re consuming too many resources to have a sustainable civilization.
When I was growing up, we were taught to limit our ecological impact by following the three “Rs”: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. Now, I didn’t know this at the time, but those three are listed by their relative importance. Reduce comes first because it’s the most important and the most impactful, followed by reuse and then recycle. In our society we tend to put most of the emphasis on recycling, because, just like with “sustainable products” it doesn’t require us to make any material changes to our daily lives. Recycling sounds like a good idea, but in many instances it’s little more than greenwashing.
So where does that leave us? What is the opposite of hyper consumption? Minimalism.
Now, we live in a society without a state religion, but consumption is damn near the de facto official American faith. Just think about Black Friday. Thanksgiving is meant to be a day of giving thanks, of reflecting on what we have, on reconnecting with family or friends, and showing gratitude. Yet, before Thanksgiving is even over, we immediately transition into Black Friday, which starts on Thursday, and symbolizes the insane, hyper consumption at the heart of the American ethos.
So, when I say we should cut our consumption, I’m fully aware of just how un-American it sounds. I’m also aware that it may go over like a lead balloon. I don’t care.
I think deep down, most of us realize that this hyper consumption isn’t making us any happier and it isn’t making our lives better. Americans never score well on happiness indices, and having lots of unnecessary stuff doesn’t really increase our quality of life.
That’s not to say that wealth and things do not increase happiness at all. Far be it from me, a comfortable, privileged white cisgender American man to preach that wealth and comfort don’t bring happiness. It’s just that, once our material necessities are met (this includes things like internet access, entertainment, and education, as well as food, water, shelter, etc) more consumption doesn’t really make us happier.
My question then is, what is the point of all this consumption if it doesn’t make us happier and it’s killing our environment?
If we want to change our lives for the better and reduce our ecological footprint, then we need to change our consumption habits. As famed organizer Marie Kondo frequently asks, “does this spark joy?” When thinking about our possessions and about things we might buy, we should stop and think how much joy this thing will bring. If we’re not sure, we should see if we can test it out. Of course that won’t always be possible, but, just as with plant-based eating, the more we reduce our consumption, the better it is for the environment. Over time we may find that we really don’t need all of these “things” in our lives, and if it makes us happier, we’re turn it into a habit.
However, as I’ve said before, if we really want to change American consumption habits, we must look at policy changes. In the near term, it is good for each of us to evaluate our own choices and habits, but durable, long-term solutions are only achieved through collective action, cultural change, and policy.
The Mangrove 