Dump the Dump

You can feel superior to those who throw plastic bottles into the ocean, flip lithium batteries into the trash, and buy new shoes instead of having a cobbler replace worn heels. But a close look at recycling finds even this "solution" has problems awaiting solutions.

     Making it easier for soda consumers to recycle plastic bottles or providing batteries with electronic tags to help pull them out of the ordinary disposal process still sends these bottles and batteries to a waste plant. The problem of disposing of the heavy lithium-ion batteries that wear out in the growing fleet of electric cars is a major matter of concern to these auto makers as well.  Waste plants, such as the Integrated Waste Management Facility at Bukit Nanas in Malaysia, boast about converting waste to electricity, but they downplay the cancer and other toxic disease emissions these plants produce. And what about the average annual rate of 300 fires at waste and recycling plants in the United Kingdom?

     In a recycling industry where price to cost margins are small, there is little incentive to monitor air quality frequently, purchase sprinklers and other expensive fire prevention equipment, keep from stacking recycled materials too high and too close together, provide employees with protective gear, or penalize and shut down illegal waste sites.

     "Repair rather than replace" has a nice ring to it, but when it is less expensive to buy new shoes or a small appliance than to have old ones repaired or even find someone who can do the job, those options aren't considered.

     Knee jerk solutions aren't always solutions. Substituting degradable paper bags and packaging for plastic that requires fossil fuel to produce and years to disappear can deplete forests. Reducing the amount of gasoline cars use by adding 10% ethanol from corn requires more electricity and might mean some people go hungry.

     When I was having a chair reupholstered, I also asked the man I called to do the repairs how much it would cost to recover a sofa chewed by the cat. He told me, "$600." I said something like, "I've seen new sofas advertised for less." He asked how old my sofa was, and I guessed about 60 years. He told me I wouldn't find anything like its interior materials and construction on the market today and that he's recovered furniture for people who go to yard sales looking for old furniture they can buy cheap, because they know the insides of these old pieces are worth the cost of upholstering them.

     Every time we are walking to the trash to throw something out, maybe we should slow down and ask ourselves: what could I do with this, who could use this, why did I buy this in the first place?