My addiction is killing the Earth.
But I probably won’t stop anytime soon.
There are many things which I could do to reduce my impact on this planet. While I don’t entirely believe that individual action can solve the collective existential crisis that is climate change, I know that government and industry reliability is low. Some matters we need to take into our own lives.
I could stop eating cheese, stopping the multi-billion dollar dairy industry in its tracks.
I could purchase a bike, and say goodbye to the third-largest greenhouse gas emitting industry.
I really should stop buying produce and bread that comes in plastic — even my favourite fruit, blueberries — and opt for the local, waste-free options.
All of these are immediately attainable, and in ceasing to support these industries, I’m taking a consumer-stance — a protest, if you will — against them. My life doesn’t depend on them, and my quality of life definitely won’t decrease. So what’s stopping me?
There is, unfortunately, one habit of mine that is infinitely worse. I would even dare to call it an addiction. It revolves around something actually essential to my wellbeing.
I’m addicted to cold water.
Ha! Laugh at me, go ahead, but I genuinely hate drinking water any other way. I’m very sure that my mother has conditioned me to be this way, as she is the very same. When I was younger, I was terrible at drinking enough water and would constantly come home from school with headaches and a very bad temper. The cure? Ice-cold water.
I’m well aware of the environmental impact of refrigerators and freezers, from CFCs to HFCs. But I’m sitting here, as a bad environmentalist, sipping on a glass of water cooled by two very large, delicious ice cubes.
So, how do the ice cubes in my glass affect ice caps at the poles? Refrigerators contain halocarbons, which contribute to the greenhouse effect and contribute to climate change.
On the whole, new and efficient fridges emit far less CO2 than their older relatives. But I can’t settle for an answer that vaguely and temporarily assuages my guilt. Can my ice cubes and ice caps truly coexist?
Firstly, I am in Australia. According to the Max Planck Institute, the average carbon emissions in this country contributes to the loss of fifty square meters of arctic ice, per person. By losing a portion of sea ice, we effectively accelerate the rate of loss for other ice caps, due to an increase in average temperatures (and the energy distribution that follows).
By this logic, it is more effective to have a full fridge/freezer than a half-empty one. More frozen goods packed tightly together reduces the overall energy required to keep everything frozen.
So… I should be having more ice with my drinks?
Not quite. Optimally, I could replace my fridge/freezer with a standalone fridge, and drink water cooled down this way rather than adding ice to drinks. I could also stop purchasing iced beverages from stores such as Starbucks or bags of ice from service stations, overall driving down demand for the energy-hungry open-freezers needed to store ice commercially.
Final thoughts
There is no one, best way to reduce your impact on the environment. It’s important to remember the purchasing power you hold, as a consumer, to influence and market. It’s also worth noting that individualisation of responsibility can be a toxic ideology to subscribe to, and ultimately, many of us are forced into unethical or unsustainable practices to survive in the system of global capitalism. For now, I’ll keep drinking my cold water, but you will find me practicing small habits for more sustainable living.
You can follow me (@bycourtney) to know when I publish more content about sustainability, climate science and the politics of AGW.
