When I was a kid growing up, my dad was a conservation cop.
He’d incessantly lecture us to turn off the faucet when we were brushing our teeth. We were only to use running water to rinse dirty dishes after soaping them, rather than leave the tap on. He’d constantly berate us to turn off the lights whenever we left a room, and my mother’s cold bones got no comfort from his habit of turning down the thermostat even in the winter (in Germany!).
But as far as I can tell, my dad wasn’t concerned about the environmental costs of running water or burning lightbulbs — he was concerned about the pennies that added up to become extra dollars owed for each month’s utility bills.
It’s funny, though, because now when I go to visit my parents, my dad isn’t much different. He still unscrews lightbulbs in the bathroom vanity (there are four, and usually two are unscrewed — even though they are the power-saving variety). He still opens the doors in the early morning to let cool air into the house to delay turning on the air conditioning, and still asks me to turn off the water a lot. Thankfully now that I’m grown up, he no longer sticks his head into the bathroom while I’m in the shower to growl at me to “keep it short.”
He’s still frugal, but now he has an additional defense. As he turns off the kitchen faucet in the middle of dishes, he’ll chirp, “It’s eco-friendly to save water!” My dad, an unwitting environmental pioneer before his time.
There are innumerable articles and analyses of the “green fad” — how buying Product X “using more post-consumer materials” reduces your personal carbon footprint, or my recent personal favorite, Ziploc brand’s new line of resealable baggies with “25 percent less plastic made with 100% wind power!” Now you can have guilt-free resealable glee.
I think it’s great that grocery stores are pushing the whole reusable tote thing. But I’m with my dad on this one: if they were really so concerned about the environment, they’d be giving them away rather than trying to stick you for a buck to buy one. I have no sympathy for high-end retailers who are being “forced” to drop prices to lure newly destitute shoppers to buy their wares:
Starbucks dropped the price of a medium iced coffee last week to just under $2. American Eagle cut out the ribbon from the inside waistband of its khakis and lowered the cost. Pottery Barn launched a new “Comfort Collection” sofa that starts at $999.99, which is $300 less than the “Basic Collection” sofa. Even Rock & Republic, whose trendy denim has graced the backsides of celebrities such as Victoria Beckham, recently unveiled a line of recessionista jeans selling for $128, a 29 percent reduction. (Washington Post, May 12, 2009)
I’m sure there exists a detailed, convoluted doctoral thesis on how America evolved from the penny-pinching Recession-era survival habits of our grandsires into a culture of shopping-therapy addicts. But it’s ironic that the ongoing fiscal crisis is forcing many to dramatically change their habits, engendering new behaviors that mesh rather conveniently with the talking points of the environmental movement.
One “green tips” website suggests cutting out meat on weekdays, limiting carnivorous activity to weekend cookouts. The argument is that it will not only save you money, but mollify your carbon-guilty soul.
Consider also the broader effect.
- If more of us ate less meat, the big cattle and hog feedlots would inevitably feel the pinch.
- Some would close, or reorganize into smaller units for quality rather than quantity.
- Since we’d be eating more plant matter, more money will go towards farms and agriculture…
- …requiring a concerted, concentrated effort support local, sustainable farms, thereby limiting exposure to huge commercial agriculture–which has its own set of problems that are separate, but equal, to those of the commercial meat industry.
We absolutely do vote with our dollars.
It’s a stubborn problem because it requires pervasive, permanent changes in behavior. As a culture, we’d much rather buy our way out — patronizing products with claims of environmentally friendly manufacturing, or cars with batteries, or cleaning chemicals that are “all natural.”
A paper published in 2004 by Dr. Phillip Payne for the Australian Association for Research in Education studied 42 families in the Melbourne, Australia area to determine how they constructed their environmental commitments and behaviors. One key finding: many families’ attitudes towards frugal, anti-consumerist lifestyle choices — which tend to align with “environmental” tenets — are shaped by early and frequent international travel, exposure to different cultures, experiencing tolerance for differences, home farming, and generous opportunities for outdoor discovery as children. Families who also tended to make lifestyle choices that limit overall income reported that these choices increased happiness and contentment.
So is frugality the essence of a lasting environmental movement? By keeping your dollar in your pocket and making do with what you’ve got until it’s gone — is it these things, not buying the latest “green” item, are what will make the long-term difference? Thriftiness doesn’t have to mean you’re poor anymore — it increasingly means you’re green, if the title is what matters to you.
As the Depression-era adage goes: Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.
