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The Sacrament of Recycling
Office Christmas parties have few redeeming qualities. I maintain that the world would be a better place if the practice were done away with completely. I do, however, have a rule about never turning down free food. While standing amongst co-workers this past Christmas, plotting how I could subtly steal the entire tray of cannolis, some of our colleagues from Britain inquired as to where the recycling was.
One co-worker pointed to the holiest of holies, while beaming with unjustifiable pride. Mildly surprised to find that we Yankees observed the same religious rites, our British colleagues began inquiring as to the depth of our devotion. Anyone can recycle bottles, cans and stacks of printer paper, but did we recycle cardboard? The American congregation was unsure.
Bemused, but only there for the food, I endeavored to stay out of the conversation. I remembered Clark Wiseman’s calculations showing that if the United States were to continue generating garbage at current rates for 1,000 years, and put it all into a single landfill 100 yards deep, it would occupy a space of 30 miles on each side. This hardly seems a great imposition for a nation of 3.8 million square miles.
I bit my tongue as the self-flagellation of my co-workers continued. We learned that the British are far from perfect in their devoutness, and recycle only a fraction of their waste when compared to the Scandinavian countries. And yet the guilt of my co-workers would not be easily assuaged. The United States needed to take recycling more seriously, they all agreed. After all, we’re running out of space.
I laughed audibly, drawing the skeptical gazes of the faithful. I looked up from my plate, which was at this stage suffering from a distinct lack of cannolis, and decided it was best to elaborate.
“Have any of you ever driven laterally across Kansas?” I asked. Several smiles appeared in the room, identifying my fellow recycling heathens. “We’re clearly not running out of space.” The point was granted by all in the room, and the subject quickly changed. An awkward tension hung in the air for several minutes as some tried to continue small talk.
If this were truly a disagreement about efficiency or resource management, there would be no need for hurt feelings in response to a dissenting opinion. My crime was far more sinister. I questioned the instrument of their redemption and the source of their smug moral superiority.
Like most religions, the Green movement attempts to define codes of right behavior. It contains an original sin: Existing. The battle against entropy requires the consumption of resources and the production of waste. These actions wrack the environmentally conscious with tremendous guilt, which can only be assuaged with an act of contrition.
The ritual is simple enough, though lacking the entertainment value of firewalking. Sort your waste into separate bins, rinse the recyclable items clean, and put a can down at the curb weekly. Now that you have “made a difference” you can go about your day knowing that you are better than most people. After all, think of all of the trees you’ve saved. One doesn’t need to guess at the number, as it can be readily determined.
It is commonly believed that increased wastepaper recycling will save trees, and presumably result in a larger growing stock of forests in the long run. The adjustments that can be expected to occur in forest management cast serious doubt on this conclusion. About one-third of the pulpwood for paper comes from residues of other wood products, the production of which will be negligibly affected by recycling. The remainder mostly consists of pulpwood trees, largely plantation-grown softwoods planted in orderly rows and mechanically harvested as a 20-year rotation crop. Their small size—indicated by a fiber yield of less than 200 pounds per tree—contributes to the immense numbers of trees cited by recycling advocates as being “saved” from the woodsman’s axe. The notion that stately old trees are used for paper production is erroneous; their value as lumber or plywood far exceeds their pulpwood value. Increased recycling will result in the conversion to agricultural uses of some plantation forest lands in the same way that a reduction in the demand for bread will reduce wheatlands, the possible result being a net reduction in the nation’s forest inventory.
None. You saved no trees.
Recycling is not inherently foolish. Many companies profitably recycled things like paper before governments began mandating the activity. And there are certainly environments (like a spacecraft) where the benefits of recycling vastly outweigh the costs. But what should be a cost-benefit analysis performed by individuals in a market place has become an article of faith enforced with social norms,rather than reason and evidence.
This has become a bit of a running gag when I’m at friend’s houses. I ask where the trash is so that I can throw away the can of soda I am holding, only to have my friend look down with disapproval, raise one figure into the air, and, with a pained expression on their face say, “Actually, we recycle.” Their concern for my soul is written clearly across their faces. Will this be the moment where I accept the redemptive powers of recycling into my heart?
“That’s neat.” I say while throwing the can in the trash. “Now let me tell you about Scientology.”
I’m a big hit at parties.
Published in General
Does the clacking sound different in French?
After reading the original post I was going to point out that various metals are worth recycling and you can get paid for them. But several people beat me to the punch on that. Several years ago we decided at work to be good citizens and save all the cardboard. We took it to the recycling place and they rejected much of it. If a box had tape or a label on it, or staples in it, or if the cardboard was thick and hard they couldn’t take it. So we stopped saving it. Some time later we heard that there were the equivalent of several railroad cars worth of cardboard piling up with nowhere to go because there’s practically no commercial value in it.
Actually, if the greens are right and we someday run out of resources all those dump sites become valuable MINES . We would be leaving future generations concentrated deposits of metals, plastics and organics to mine and use.
Except that they are, of course, dead wrong.
I agree, and I’m glad I heard about it on the Flyover podcast.
My wife likes recycling, because she leans left, and I think it’s dumb. However, I’m fine with it in the sense that at least it gives our son an extra chore. In our case he does get a small amount of money when they bring the cans and bottles to the recycling place.
This does seem to be the crux of the issue, guilt over existing in the modern era where things are so comfortable. I can relate to feeling guilty about living in an era where things are so easy, it just feels like it must be wrong.
When I’ve told people I just don’t think recycling helps, they often say, ‘But if everyone recycled it would help, so you have to start with yourself.’ Sometimes I follow with, ‘So then you recycling might help the Chinese and Indians to get the message?’ They think it will, that if we in the West start doing this enlightened ritual it will catch on eventually in other areas and change the world.
As with climate change, my mantra is, ‘Man, in his inflated sense of self-importance, overestimates the effect he has on earth’s environment, and in his arrogance thinks he knows what to do to help save the planet.’