Misdirected environmental guilt

Laura Mason-Marshall ‘06

At least before the beginning of this semester, I knew when to feel guilty. I could be sure that when I accidentally printed off more copies than I needed or did not rinse out and recycle a milk carton or drove to some location that I could have easily walked to, I was harming Mother Earth. With this feeling of being at fault would also come opportunities to redeem myself through some grand tree-planting act or another and thus lessen the guilt.

I signed up to take Economics 240 because, while not a particularly outspoken and radical activist, I aim to be aware of environmental concerns. And do my part to make the world a safer, healthier, happier place. And understand the basics of the environmentalist movement. Or at least I did until recently. As an assignment for that class, I’m writing this guest column to share with fellow Grinnellians the challenges I have faced since my enrollment in the course “Resource and Environmental Economics.”

In elementary school we were taught that recycling-ness is practically next to godliness. And my family always recycled at home—it was simply part of the weekly schedule. Now, my parents are wrong? Just when I was starting to trust and believe them again? Articles like “Recycling is Garbage” posit that recycling isn’t efficient enough to justify the energy that the process requires and that landfills aren’t actually filling up too quickly. So, I’m hurting nature if I don’t waste paper?

What ends up being the sketchiest about my condition of confusion is that currently, whatever I do, I can somehow turn it into a valid choice. If I choose to recycle a cardboard cereal box, then I am of course doing the right thing for my environment. But, if I throw my old box in the trash, I am consciously not contributing to the worthless and cost ineffective cycle of breaking down the box into pulp and then forming it into a new box and I am inducing businesses to plant more trees. I always get to win!

Except that I am having a hard time reconciling what intrinsically feels right with the information that we’re currently learning in class. For example, sometimes I worry about being just another over-consuming and over-indulged American teenager. Case in point: In the past year, I have had four distinct bedrooms: one at my mom’s house, one at dad’s, a cabin at my summer camp and a college dorm room. And in each room I have had: a bed to myself, plenty of clothes, some sort of storage unit for said clothes, lots of shoes, several books, a lamp, extra junk food, a stereo, more random toiletry items than I know what to do with and approximately 479 other odd things that I could easily throw away without affecting my quality of life in the slightest. Yet I still shop at the mall on the weekends. This must be wrong, right? A reason to feel guilty, yes? I have more than my fair share, you see?

But no. In class we read articles (like “Why Greens Should Love Trade” from the 10/7/99 Economist) that argue, essentially, we should increase our trading with and buying from third world countries. The only way to help poverty-stricken people in the developing world is to buy more of their products, not less. And, “[T]rade generally benefits the environment ... it boosts growth. As people get richer, they want a cleaner environment—and they acquire the means to pay for it”. This is counter-intuitive to my reasoning that I should limit my spending habits in order to boycott sweatshops and reduce my impact on the planet.

Apparently, this is what college will do to you. Warp your brain, confuse your certainties and question your beliefs. This must be a good thing, otherwise the professors wouldn’t do it, true? But I’d like to caution others that if you decide to take Economics 240, be prepared to doubt yourself. It’s an environmental jungle out there and you don’t even know the half of it, yet.