Wait: Do you really need to throw that away?

Creating waste is not a new human activity. What anthropologists know of our prehistoric relatives comes in no small part from examining what was thrown into middens, or domestic trash heaps. The myth that early humans were perfectly in tune with nature is easily disputed by the fact that thousands of years later, piles of refuse still litter the planet, waiting for discovery by anyone with a nose for bits of whittled bone or broken crockery

Still, there seems to be a qualitative difference between, say, charcoal and clam shells from our past, versus the trillions of tons of plastic waste that we have strewn around the planet in just the last six decades.

Whether it’s Mumbai, Mexico City or Manila Bay, there are almost certainly more hunter/gatherers living in the world’s municipal dumps than there are in the pristine wilderness.

No microbes know what to do with polypropelene and its ilk. A significant percentage of the oceans are now filled with plankton-sized plastic bits, which fill up the stomachs of sea creatures, and starve them. The straw that breaks the camel’s back, it seems, will be from a big gulp. Or maybe death by nurdles.

So, as I make my way through my American day, what can be my response to this? I’ve already done the easy stuff: No plastic utensils, No plastic water bottles. I recycle, reuse, reduce, but each day inevitably involves the disposal of plastic bits too small or insignificant to have received the recycle symbol.

• Return Envelope Windows
• Bottle Tops
• Cap Wraps
• Packing Foam
• Organic Produce Stickers
• Plastic Sheeting on yogurt and tofu containers

My grandparents used to burn or bury what they couldn’t repurpose. I remember charred remains of glass, burlap, tin and waxed paper, suitable to add to compost and throw on the flowerbeds. Burning is no solution for plastics.

Of course, scientists are working on possible mitigation techniques, including microbes that eat plastic. And lots of companies are touting packaging materials that may or may not be biodegradable.

I’m not really willing to wait and hope that corporate innovation can solve the problem it caused. But I’m not sure of the alternatives. It seems we’ve inheirited a long history of making trash. In fact, we’re no longer confining our filth to the surface of the planet. We are seriously mucking up space in earth’s orbit. The recent collision of US and Russian satellites supposedly had a chance of creating a chain reaction of collisions, resulting in a cloud of space debris that would have closed off space travel for decades. Perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad thing, at least until we learn to clean up after ourselves.

The mixed-bag that is modern pharmaceuticals has found its way into the water supplies of Patancheru, India, in fabulous quantities.  Says chemist Klaus Kuemmerer in an MSNBC report, “If you just swallow a few gasps of water, you’re treated for everything.”  The water is a cocktail of 21 different active ingredients used in generic drugs to treat, “hypertension, heart disease, liver ailments, depression, ulcers, gonorrhea . . .”

The problem, of course, is not only that daily consumption of this special punch is measurably bad for the Patancheru ecosystem (humans included), but it also increases the rate at which bacteria will evolve into untreatable forms.  So here’s another one for the Great American Freakout, transom–the pharmaceutical system is doing its darndest to give us super-bugs.  Enough of the antibiotic cyprofloxin is daily drained into this Indian water system to treat a city of 90,000.

It is true that India’s chemical dumping regulations are more lax than they are in countries in the U.S., but the plants that produce generics flourish because of the inflated prices of drugs in the U.S.A.  The discovery of drugs in the Indian water (at 150 times the levels of U.S. water sources) raises old questions of how to account for the unintended consequences of scientific advances.  Is the answer increased regulation?  Acceptance that there will always be harmful fallout?  Or should we stop “trying to fight nature” altogether?  Should we burn Alexander Flemming in effigy?

(thanks to the excellent architect-cultural-environmental BLDGBLOG for turning me on to this story).

1. Don’t flush the toilet.

Think about it. All you did was pee in the toilet. You added what? A few ounces of liquid to half a gallon of water. Sure, it might offend the next person who has been waiting in line, they might think that you’re inconsiderate, or a slob. But you just potentially saved 1.6 gallons of water. You have the moral high ground. If they only have to pee, they can add their few ounces and presto, you just paid it forward and all you had to do was not flush. Now, if they have to drop a deuce, pinch a loaf, or for some reason sit to pee, it is within their power to flush before they sit. All you have done by not flushing is give them the option to save mother nature. Nicely done!

2. Don’t wash your hands.

This dovetails nicely with not flushing. If you didn’t touch the handle on the toilet, the only things you’re likely to have touched in the bathroom (if you’re a man) are your penis and the door handle. Between you and me, the penis is likely the cleaner of the two. So, don’t waste more water just to be socially acceptable. Also, by not washing you have avoided adding to the avalanche of soap chemicals that go down the drain every day. Again, nicely done!

3. Wipe your nose with the back of your hand.

First, tissues rub your nose raw. Second, mother nature provided you with soft skin and flexible fingers to take care of your grooming needs. Not only that, if you wipe away so much that you can’t ignore it, you can flick it, stick it, or do the double wipe. The double wipe, of course, is the wipe onto the pant leg, then the wipe off the pant leg. A tissue saved is a tree saved. You, my friend are almost an environmental hero.

Feel free to add your own unsanitary and environmental practices.

Mother nature will thank you.