Sustainability for a middle class American is an oxymoron. Our entire way of life is premised on unsustainability. We live in houses bigger than we need (even those of us in “small” houses). Americans own more cars than households; in fact, more cars than drivers. We are blessed with constantly fully-stocked shelves at the grocery store or even the farmers’ market, which simply leads to mountains of trash to make way for the new stock coming in. We have instantaneous access to any product we need; if we can’t get it at our local Target, it’s on the website.
We live in caverns of trash that we call our homes–basement, storage shed, attic, closets, full of things we might even use, but don’t really need.
And the strangest manifestation of this is what I’m calling “conspicuous sustainability.”
If you only buy t-shirts made from organic cotton, or hemp, but you have 9 of them, you’re indulging in conspicuous sustainability. Your full CSA share, where you end up discarding half the box because you don’t know what to do with all that kale. Sending your child to Eco Camp, three states away. Buying a Volt, when you have a perfectly functional ’07 Saturn in the garage.
The oddest manifestation of conspicuous sustainability is the seed swap.
The sustainability cred is immaculate–it’s barter, it’s local, it’s communal, it’s green things. It’s gardening.
The first seed swap I went to I got completely wrong. I’d been gardening for decades in isolation and didn’t know about “seed fanatics”–people who love seeds for their own sake. I thought seed swaps were for seeds you couldn’t buy, so I brought carefully packaged seeds that I had saved.
People showed up with huge boxes, systems even, of commercial seeds. They were for the most part bona fide sustainable–organic, small producers, heirloom varieties. No Burpee’s here. But commercially packaged, and people had dozens and dozens of them, far more than they could plant unless they happened to be the head gardener at Blenheim Palace. They would then lament at how they always bought too many, and would proceed to swap with other addicts, as often as not leaving with even more seeds than they’d come with.
I never used to do the seed catalogs much. I’d see what I could find at the garden center, then supplement with a couple of packages from Pinetree or Territorial. I had no idea that there were people who spent fifty or sixty dollars (or more) on seeds Every Single Year no matter what they still had in their stash.
It disturbs me.
It isn’t sustainable just because you’re buying from a sustainable merchant for a sustainable purpose. Part of the point of sustainability is to not consume, or produce, more than you need. Seed swaps bother me. I find them at best inconsistent, and at worst a little stomach turning.
There’s a thing in fiction writing called “internal consistency.” The best fiction creates a universe where people behave believably; a universe without deus ex machina fixes, or the convenient sudden appearances of long-lost cousins (can you tell I’ve been watching Downton?).
Sustainability is not a “lifestyle choice.” It’s not a fashion. It’s a philosophy that requires consideration about decisions and actions and purchases, from the tiniest seed to the hybrid Hummer. Perhaps it’s a little self-righteous of me, but I believe that every life should be internally consistent. If you want to live lightly on the earth, all of your actions should be consistent with that goal, to as great an extent as is possible.
You’ve touched on something here that has always bothered me. When people rip out perfectly good, fully functional kitchens to put in something eco friendly, I want to scream.
I’m also comforted to read that I’m not the only one who doesn’t get the whole ‘gardening costs so much’ thing. I save some seeds. I buy seeds at Ace Hardware in the fall when they are on clearance, and I buy what I grow, along with some seeds for my parents and in-laws, who also garden but don’t see the clearances where they live. I save potatoes and plant the sets year to year, and yes, I confess, I buy spankin’ new onion sets every year at retail – my season is just too short to grow them from seed, and I can’t figure out how a fancy greenhouse would ever pay for itself when I can get 400 onion sets for six bucks.
I don’t buy organic cotton, because we buy second hand at Goodwill, but I see the abuse there too – things that are ‘such a good deal’ that people buy more than they need. My own mama will go when she’s visiting and buy several outfits, then laugh that she has nowhere to put them because her closets are stuffed.
And I’m not perfect either. There’s the year I over bought at Ace on the seeds, but we are still using up those seeds year to year. There are toys in our playroom that DD had to have, but rarely plays with – we are learning over time what constitutes a valid purchase that will hold her interest, and we say ‘no’ a whole lot more than we used to. But we’re trying, and I’m happy to have read your post because it really resonated with something I’ve sensed for a long time. Thank you!
Hello, sent your way from FarmGal’s blog, JustAnotherDayOnTheFarm. About producing more than we need in the garden… With barter being the basis of a cashless society and an overabundance of food the foundation for farm-gate sales, Farmer’s Markets or donations to the Food Bank; to me at least, there is no shame in this so long as no food (or seed) goes to waste; in fact quite the contrary, as these are the true signs of economic prosperity and a healthy society.
Reusing, re-selling, or re-distributing the overage is one thing, and the way a truly sustainable lifestyle works. Buying more than you *know* you’re going to need, or discarding perfectly good items in order to get something brand new and sustainable just sets my teeth on edge.
In my world, sustainable means my Granny’s old motto: “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.”
My ’93 Saturn is already built, so the cost of production is done. Keeping it running at a decent gas mileage is much better for the environment than pretty much anything I can buy new.
I do have 9 t-shirts, but I bought most of them from Goodwill.
I do throw away more of my CSA veggies than I’d care to admit.
There’s lots of room for improvement, around here. I watch too much TV on an energy-wasting plasma TV.
I’m betting you actually compost those CSA veggies….
Very thoughtful essay. Like the depth you use to explore a subject. Keep it coming.
Thank you, that means a lot. I was a little worried about this one. I know that seed swaps are near and dear to people’s hearts!
There is so much truth to the statements you made here. It really gives me something to ponder. I totally understand the ripping out of great kitchens to make it eco-friendly can drive one crazy…what a waste.
Thanks for a provacative and thoughtful post. I had already written and luckily got bumped off the net just as I was posting. Sometimes I let my “old lady rant” get out of hand. I like the “conspicuous sustainability” term very much, it puts some of the thoughts I have been having into perspective and gives me a term that is useful. Thanks again!
Hahahahahah I’m hosting a seed swap this weekend.
I do find that it’s about half and half here in rural Iowa, some will bring commercial seeds, and some will bring seeds they’ve grown and harvested themselves. I’m about the same. I buy some seeds every year, and use some that I’ve saved myself.
I also have a box full of “old” seeds that a local seed company donated to me to give out at community gardens and seed swaps and such. So, I’m saving those seeds from a compost pile at least.
Mind you, I love swapping seeds. But once I have what I need, I stop. It’s this obsessive acquisition “because I just can’t leave it behind” that just makes me shudder.