On doing your best to live green

[epistemic status: actually pretty confident this time]

It was on a sewing blog that I first encountered the concept. Dozens of crisp white dishtowels all lined up along a kitchen back-splash on hooks; enough to be used indiscriminately, replacing the need for paper towels. I can’t find the original post, but it looked and read something like this:

It was an intriguing concept! I did feel guilty every time I used a paper towel for something that I technically could use a dish towel for, but we simply don’t have enough of them lying around. If we stock up, we can fit a small laundry basket under the sink, and every week or two we can run the dirty towels in a bleach cycle, keeping them clean and looking like new. We’ll never have to buy paper towels ever again, and the upfront cost would be tiny – hooks are 5/$1 at Miniso, and as I’m writing this, Amazon has 12-packs of dish towels for $19 – enough to make 72 towels, according to 104 homestead dot com.

Surely it’s a greener, more environmentally friendly alternative to paper towels! But alas, if I learned anything over my 3 years in the faculty of environment, it’s that reducing environmental impact is one terribly wicked problem. Now this is a long post even for me, so I’m sticking all the content under a readmore.

(Pressed for time? Hover here for the reveal)

1. A Very Necessary Preamble

One of the first essays that I wrote in my uni career was for an introductory environmental studies course, which was supposed to be about the effectiveness of a policy of our choosing to reduce environmental harm.

Something simple, to ease us into university level essay writing. I chose to write about the plastic bag tax, which I thought would be the most straightforward thing ever. (As a giant nerd, I feel obligated to mention here that I’m usually pretty ambitious about my essay topic choices, but on this occasion I was recovering from an eye injury that made it painful to look at screens for too long.)

I found that plastic bags are made from petroleum products which take millennia to break down, that plastic film is one of the least valuable recyclables, that they harm animals and oceans, and making one bag requires 4.8 megajoules (“enough for a car to travel 100 meters!”) and so on and so forth, and I thought, oh yeah this is easy, a plastic bag tax is the most obvious thing ever. One might even think that I got this essay in the bag.

But then I started researching the drawbacks, and that’s when things got a lot more complicated. Paper bags are, surprisingly, more awful for the environment – requiring almost 4 times as much total energy and 20 times as much water per bag during production and being somehow harder than plastic bags to recycle. Those “recycled” tote bags need to be reused 130 times before it “breaks even” on environmental impact compared to plastic bags – more if you wash them, which you should, if you don’t want e-coli.

And consider: what happens when you run out of plastic bags, and then you need to line a bin, or bring something leaky somewhere, or pick up dog poop? If your answer is to buy more plastic bags, doesn’t that defeat the point entirely?

When a problem is more visible, people consider it to be a bigger deal. Could it be possible that I only felt guilty about paper towels because it’s a more ostentatious demonstration of “wastefulness” than a lot of other things that I do – consuming electricity playing video games, or calling Ubers when I accidentally buy too many groceries to carry comfortably, or taking showers that are longer than strictly necessary? Would it actually be better for the environment to switch to using dish towels, or would it be like switching from plastic bags to paper bags, which Taiwan did but then had to reverse because it was responsible for a “mountain of paper waste”?

2. What I assume, what I know, and what I want to know

One Kirkland roll of paper towel has 160 sheets, and our three-person household goes through around two or three rolls per month, so let’s average that to 400 sheets.

A slightly less amount of dish towels are needed compared to paper towels, as one or two max is needed per incident, no matter how big a spill might be. So let’s say that we’ll use 350 dish towels over the course of a month.

According to that blog post, 6 sheets of “unpaper towels” can be made per dish towel. If we buy one 12-pack of dish towel, and make 72 sheets, we will need to do around 5 wash cycles a month, which seems unrealistic because all three of us are lazy. So let’s double the amount that we buy, and wash them 2.5 times a month, or roughly once every 2 weeks.

Realistically speaking, we’ll likely have to replace the dish towels once in a while, as they get stained and dingy and progressively less absorbent (especially if I forget to not use fabric softener). Over the course of the year they’ll get washed like 26 times, which sounds like a lot of times, so let’s just say that we replace them once a year for now.

So then, what I need to compare is:

  1. The impact of producing and disposing of (2.5*12) 30 rolls of paper towels
  2. The impact of producing and disposing of 24 of those cotton dish towels + the impact of washing/drying them 26 times.

For the sake of simplicity, I’ll be comparing their global warming potentials (GWP), in g CO2 eq. (basically, damage equivalent to grams of CO2 released into the environment), as it is a fairly comprehensive metric. The higher this number is, the worse it is for the environment.

3. The impact of paper towels

I found a report commissioned by Dyson Inc. and prepared by MIT, about the environmental effects of different ways of hand-drying at public restrooms over the life cycle of the product. The one product closest to our Costco Kirkland paper towels are likely the virgin paper towels. One towel has been specified to be 0.99g.

(fig.18)

(from the executive summary)

To clarify, there’s a difference between the GWP in fig.18 and the bar chart because the bar chart is calculating the lifespan GWP of two paper towels (they amount assumed necessary to dry a pair of hands), from production to packaging to transport to disposal.

These sheets are thinner than paper towels, but the materials and process is likely very similar, so I wouldn’t expect a large difference in the global warming equivalent per gram.

Using what we know from the charts here, we can see that 1 gram of paper towel has a GWP of (15.5g CO2 eq./1.98) approximately 7.8282 g CO2 eq.
One sheet of Kirkland paper towel is 2.12g, which means over the course of the month we go through 848g (400 sheets). That 848g has a GWP of approximately 6638.38 g CO2 eq. That works out to a GWP of 79 660.56 g CO2 eq., or 79.66 kg CO2 eq. per year.

4. The Impact of Cotton Towels

I am pleased to inform you that the aforementioned report also deals with cotton towels, so I basically had to do no work.

(fig 16, 17)

The report mentions that cotton towels can be laundered and reused an average of 103 times. This is 4 times longer than my expectation, but these towels are also used much more gently, and so can presumably be washed much more gently. That large amount of laundering is also why the bar graph in the previous section shows that cotton towels are less impactful than paper towels per use – the production GWP is distributed across 103 uses, making it almost negligible.

One standard cotton roll is 40m x 39cm-ish. I assume that because of the giant economies of scale in cotton production, the amount of energy needed to produce a size of cotton cloth doesn’t scale linearly. However, let’s just make sure that we’re at least on the same order of magnitude:

40m * 0.39m = 15.6m²

28in * 28in * 24 = 130.7ft² = 12.14m²

That’s pretty close, so let’s just use the original production GWP of 253g CO2 eq.

Cotton is easily recyclable so there’s a negligible end-of-life cost. I don’t think we need to worry about it too much.

I’m not sure how relevant that washing GWP is since I sure don’t have an industrial bulk washer, so I’m going to use The Guardian’s stats for domestic laundry machines:

Oh, that… basically overwhelms any other impact that cotton towels can have over its lifespan. It does look like tumble drying adds like 1.7kg of CO2 eq. to the GWP per wash, so if we line-dry, even if we use hot water we’ll get an annual** GWP of 41.85 kg CO2 eq.**, pushihg us below the GWP of paper towels.

Realistically though, we’d be using that last option, at 3.3kg CO2 eq. per wash – hot water and bleach is probably necessary to keep those towels looking good, and we don’t have enough space to air dry 144 towels at once. So that works out to a GWP of 3.3kg CO2 eq * 26 = 85.8 kg CO2 eq. Adding on the production costs, we get an annual GWP of 86.05 kg CO2 eq. – higher than the GWP for paper towel use, but not by much.

5. I Do The Thing

So what’s the real moral here? Is it simply that cotton is better than paper, but only if you line dry? Is it that, actually, the real planet killers are tumble dryers? Or is it that anything environmental done on an individual basis is inconsequential? Recycling was already useless but became even more useless this year. Avoiding plastic bags does nothing. Using tissues and paper towels to your heart’s content will have absolutely no impact. And that makes sense – as this one Guardian article puts it, the people responsible for 2/3rds of all climate change? “They could all fit on a Greyhound bus or two.” And since they’re all profiting wildly from it, it makes sense that a narrative will be spun about how we individuals are all culpable.

We’re not. Look, I live in a very developed country, I buy a lot of things, and in terms of personal carbon footprint mine is probably in the largest 1% globally. According to this quiz, I emit around 12.4 tonnes of carbon annually.

Do you know how little that is? Cool Earth, the environmental charity that I have a recurring donation to, can save one tonne of CO2 equivalent for every USD $1.34. No, I did not misplace a decimal. Canadians, if you donate $20 to them, you’re home free for the year. I donate $10 per month, which means my carbon footprint is net negative. I can literally eat steak for every meal, run my laundry machine every day, and fly to LA every weekend, and it would still be net negative.

This paper/cotton towel thing is honestly not worth worrying about. What’s a few kilograms’ difference of CO2 equivalent in the context of 12.4 tonnes?

What I don’t mean by this is that I should check out of caring about the environment entirely. What I mean is that it’s important to realize the most effective way to actually bring about change, and then to laser focus on that. Political advocacy, as well as donations to effective environmental charities, can go exponentially (or maybe even hyperbolically!) further than trying to make your household “eco-friendly”.

Dear me from the past,

(A response to a letter from myself in 2008)

I haven’t gotten my drivers license yet, not the full one anyways. Its okay, you’ll realize soon enough how dumb cars are. Dad’s now really trying to get me to drive though, so there’s that. How the tables have turned.

Thankfully, I have almost no recollection now of sleeping on that board covered with thick carpet. I haven’t slept on anything similar since I visited our maternal grandma in 2014, and realized that there was not a single gotdam mattress in our entire hometown. Even calling it “almost a mattress” is too generous for how awful it was. It also isn’t actually good for your back, no matter what dad claims, because you’re a side sleeper.

In the last 10 years, I have realized that being a vet is too hard, and I unfortunately still don’t have a dog. I’m working on it. Goldens are nice, but I’m thinking of picking up a rescue and not shelling out the absurd amount of money for a purebred. I am in university though, so that’s cool.

Henry’s good. He’s not so dumb now, but he’s picked up the recorder again and I know that you’re doing it at school right now so that seems kind of good, but it’s not. It’s awful. Recorders are awful. He’s also older now than you are at the time that you wrote this.

Harvard’s overrated. I’m not bitter

Maybe you should consider doing more writing and less reading, because I’ve been squinting at this letter for 5 minutes now and I still don’t know exactly what you did with author Loris Loreski. Actually, I take that back. Reading is your first love but it will eventually fade – so slowly at first that you won’t realize it. Revel in your love, and cherish it, as long as you can.

Fei and Stephanie are with me still in University, and we are still very good friends. But I think you already know that you’re going to leave the church soon. I think you already know what that means.

No offense, kiddo, but if time travel has been invented, that would not be at the top of my to-do list. Haha who am I kidding of course it would be. Assuming that the time police didn’t make it illegal!

Nice, mom and dad made it to page 2. They’re good. You’ll slowly realize that they’re also still in the process of growing, like you. It will make your relationship with them sweeter. Try to keep up on your mandarin, okay?

You got into gifted. You made your best friendships there.

The world is still screwed, and I am still on it, but I promise you that one day, you will go to the moon. Unfortunately, we still have not harnessed the 4th and 5th spatial dimensions yet, though.

I haven’t written in my journal in a long time. Thanks for reminding me that it exists.

Carribean blue is nice, but I’ve discovered that forest green is nicer. Ernest should still be standing. No one you know is famous, unfortunately. But give it time.

New York City was a blast all the times I went! I’ll get my butt to Europe eventually.

Review: Time Will Run Back

_

Or, How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Capitalism

[epistemic status: I haven’t actually stopped worrying, but I am ever so slightly more receptive to the idea of capitalism]

I’ve been reading some stuff from the 50s lately, and I think it’s the first time that I’ve seriously engaged with works from the era. And the first thing that I want to say about them is that I’m frankly flummoxed by the lack of hypervisible left- or right-coded ideology in these texts. Take Barthes as an example: Barthes uses Marxist language very liberally in his text (terms like bourgeois, proletarian, etc), but does not write like how you would expect a Marxist to write. He doesn’t bash capitalism every second sentence, and how much he buys into Marxist ideology is actually left very ambiguous in the text. He simply saw some terms from Marxist theory that were useful, and used them.

To be honest, I’m kind of jealous that he can get away with that. There’s a subtle but profound difference between “rich” and “bourgeoisie” (for example, famous actors and athletes are rich, but they are not members of the bourgeoisie), and similarly between “working class” and “proletariat”, and sometimes I feel like I have to basically write around these Marxist terms lest people disregard my writing as Marxist propaganda.

But I guess this lack of political ideology makes sense, because postmodern theory (bringing with it things like intersectional feminism, post-structuralism, post-colonial theory, respect for indigenous knowledge, and all the rest of the foundations of Good Discourse) was still in gestation and everyone still thought that you can find “the universal truth” using these things called “facts” and “logic”. Speaking from the post-truth (ugh) world of 2018, this is adorably/horrifically naive, but I have to admit that the resulting straightforwardness of the arguments render them much more digestible. It’s so digestible, I finally understand capitalism. And I know that that’s a pretty bold claim, so let me explain where I’m coming from. 

Some Ramblings to Establish Context

All the modern-ish books that I’ve read about economic systems can be sorted roughly into one of two categories.

Category 1: “It’s bad that society focuses so much on productivity, when we produce more than enough already and unfair distribution (e.g. along ethnic, class, gendered, or border lines) is the actual problem. Everyone who says anything different is an evil selfish capitalist who is exploiting other people, or an unenlightened drone who needs to awaken from false consciousness.”

Category 2: “Under communism we all share one toothbrush, and no one is incentivized to become a doctor because you can get the same amount of rich by being a janitor. These are bad things. Capitalism is the opposite of communism. QED capitalism is a good thing. Something about reducing market inefficiencies by getting rid of minimum wage and going back on the gold standard. Something about why it’s good when there’s no environmental regulation and we plunder the global south.”

Okay, so admittedly I’ve not engaged with too many things in that second category. But what I want to point out is this: these categories confront each other on an abstract, ideological playing field, with absolutely nothing said on the topic of implementation. And I didn’t realize that anything was wrong with that, until I read Henry Hazlitt’s Time Will Run Back. In it, Hazlitt posits a theory that is very applied: If capitalism did not exist, it would be necessary to invent it. 

So let’s talk about Time Will Run Back: a fictional account of how capitalism was invented piecemeal in a nation called Wonworld (think Oceania in 1984). Hazlitt does a really good job of making the mechanism of capitalism sound intrinsically good, and convincing you that the usage of it is inevitable if the state wants to know anything about its economy. 

(If you’re intrigued but don’t have the time/energy/interest needed to read the whole thing, I highly suggest that you read Chapter 25, which is when things really start ramping up. It starts on page 203 in this PDF version online. It’s relatively self-contained, and very, very delightful.)

A selective summary

So consider even a rudimentary thing, like “how many chairs is this chair factory producing per month?” States in general don’t have enough manpower to actually check every factory every month forever, and especially when you’re a corrupt totalitarian state, factories have incentives to overstate their productivity.

 As a state, if you want to actually have your finger on the pulse of your economy, you must use a system that incentivizes truth-telling and punishes lying – and preferably in a way that doesn’t require too much of your own manpower.

Now consider, “how many chairs does a family need per year, taking into account things like wear and tear?” This turns out to be very hard to figure out when there’s no market in place to indicate demand for any given product, making the state blind to if they’re producing too little or too much of any commodity.

Or, “how can we get this factory to make their chairs better quality, so they’re not breaking every 6 months?” All factories will of course pay lip service to quality, but how can a state actually make their factories turn out good quality chairs, given the lack of unlimited manpower and the corruption of basically all your civil servants?

The answer to all these questions, according to Hazlitt, is a system with markets. And once you have a market, other things will inevitably follow: the need for competition, brokers who take care of arbitrage and bring prices down to parity, currency inflation, speculation, and so on and so forth. But it’s distinct from modern-day capitalism in a very important way: the system described optimizes for human quality of life, not profit. Under Wonworld’s new economic policy, people work the same amount, it’s just that things are allocated much better. I was tempted at first to say that this is a lobotomized form of capitalism, but upon further consideration, I don’t think that’s true.

Also included in the book, but honestly just distracting from the fun: some murder plots, a sexy spy, treason, and some angst about Disappointing Your Father. Honestly when those things start to happen I recommend skipping forward to when people start talking about markets again. [author’s note: please read that last sentence in a wry enough tone that I come off sounding cool and self aware instead of like the utter dweeb I am, thanks]

Past, Present, Future

Time Will Run Back is a product of its time – a time when capitalism was kinder, and profit optimization had not yet overtaken things like family wages (to clarify, this is not the same thing as a living wage – living wages support solely the earner, family wages enables earners to support a family), rewarding employee loyalty, and strong unions enforcing 8-hour days for their members. (Obligatory all of these were really only in place for privileged white/male folk etc etc.)

But the capitalism of the 50s wasn’t lobotomized, it was just in its infancy. As it matured over the decades, it stripped away worker’s rights, environmental protections, and trade barriers, until we got to where we are now. And there’s nothing guaranteeing that the capitalism of Wonworld wouldn’t eventually do the same.

Another thing of note is that the book only really deals with the “demand” side of the marketplace, and not the “supply”, and all the ugly things that happens on the supply side. Work hours were not extended and wages were not cut in Wonworld, and Wonworld’s poorer neighbours remain unplundered. Instead, Hazlitt assumes that the increased effectiveness in gauging demand and the increased efficiency of distribution just makes everything substantially better, full stop no further questions.

Still, I think this book is a great read, and asks a question that is sorely neglected on the modern political left: how exactly would central planning work efficiently without markets?

My joking answer has always been “benevolent AI overlord,” but Hazlitt has got me thinking that that might not actually be enough, or that there might be an even better, more efficient way that would not require every citizen to hand over oodles of personal information to the state (or the megacorp running it). And that’s a pretty important thing to think about, especially considering that I’m, uh, studying to be a central planner.

Final score: 9/10, the content is mostly just okay, but it’s content that you can engage with without getting your hackles up no matter what your ideological background is, and that’s worth quite a lot in my books. Also, it’s less hamfisted than 1984, which isn’t saying much in my opinion, but everyone seems to think that Orwell was a brilliant novelist, so.

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