Cradle to Cradle Read online

  In such an artificially maintained system, where the natural enemies of pests and some of the nutrient-cycling plants and organisms have been eliminated, more chemical brute force (pesticides, fertilizers) must be applied to keep the system commercially stable. Soil is depleted of nutrients and saturated with chemicals. People may not want to live too close to the operation because they fear chemical runoff. Rather than being an aesthetic and cultural delight, modern agriculture becomes a terror and a fright to local residents who want to live and raise families in a healthy setting. While the economic payoff immediately rises, the overall quality of every aspect of this system is actually in decline.

  The problem here is not agriculture per se but the narrowly focused goals of the operation. The single-minded cultivation of one species drastically reduces the rich network of “services” and side effects in which the entire ecosystem originally engaged. To this day, conventional agriculture is still, as scientists Paul and Anne Ehrlich and John Holdren said several decades ago, “a simplifier of ecosystems, replacing relatively complex natural biological communities with relatively simple man-made ones based on a few strains of crops.” These simple systems cannot survive on their own. Ironically, simplification necessitates even more brute force for the system to achieve its design goals. Take away the chemicals and the modern modes of agricultural control, and the crops would languish (until, that is, diverse species gradually crept back, returning complexity to the ecosystem).

  Activity Equals Prosperity

  An interesting fact: the 1991 Exxon Valdez oil spill actually increased Alaska’s gross domestic product. The Prince William Sound area was registered as economically more prosperous because so many people were trying to clean up the spill. Restaurants, hotels, shops, gas stations, and stores all experienced an upward blip in economic exchange.

  The GDP takes only one measure of progress into account: activity. Economic activity. But what sensible person would call the effects of an oil spill progress? By some accounts, the Valdez accident led to the death of more wildlife than any other human-engineered environmental disaster in U.S. history. According to a 1999 government report, only two of the twenty-three animal species affected by the spill recovered. Its impact on fish and wildlife continues today with tumors, genetic damage, and other effects. The spill led to losses of cultural wealth, including five state parks, four state critical-habitat areas, and a state game sanctuary. Important habitats for fish spawning and rearing were damaged, which may have led to the 1993 decimation of the Prince William Sound’s Pacific herring population (perhaps because of a viral infection due to oil exposure). The spill took a significant toll on fishermen’s income, not to mention the less measurable effects on morale and emotional health.

  The GDP as a measure of progress emerged during an era when natural resources still seemed unlimited and “quality of life” meant high economic standards of living. But if prosperity is judged only by increased economic activity, then car accidents, hospital visits, illnesses (such as cancer), and toxic spills are all signs of prosperity. Loss of resources, cultural depletion, negative social and environmental effects, reduction of quality of life—these ills can all be taking place, an entire region can be in decline, yet they are negated by a simplistic economic figure that says economic life is good. Countries all over the world are trying to boost their level of economic activity so they, too, can grab a share of the “progress” that measurements like the GDP propound. But in the race for economic progress, social activity, ecological impact, cultural activity, and long-term effects can be overlooked.

  Crude Products

  The design intention behind the current industrial infrastructure is to make an attractive product that is affordable, meets regulations, performs well enough, and lasts long enough to meet market expectations. Such a product fulfills the manufacturer’s desires and some of the customers’ expectations as well. But from our perspective, products that are not designed particularly for human and ecological health are unintelligent and inelegant—what we call crude products.

  For example, the average mass-produced piece of polyester clothing and a typical water bottle both contain antimony, a toxic heavy metal known to cause cancer under certain circumstances. Let’s put aside for the moment the issues of whether this substance represents a specific danger to the user. The question we would pose as designers is: Why is it there? Is it necessary? Actually, it is not necessary: antimony is a current catalyst in the polymerization process and is not necessary for polyester production. What happens when this discarded product is “recycled” (that is, downcycled) and mixed with other materials? What about when it is burned along with other trash as cooking fuel, a common practice in developing countries? Incineration makes the antimony bioavailable—that is, available for breathing. If polyester might be used for fuel, we need polyesters that can be safely burned.

  That polyester shirt and that water bottle are both examples of what we call products plus: as a buyer you got the item or service you wanted, plus additives that you didn’t ask for and didn’t know were included and that may be harmful to you and your loved ones. (Maybe shirt labels should read: Product contains toxic dyes and catalysts. Don’t work up a sweat or they will leach onto your skin.) Moreover, these extra ingredients may not be necessary to the product itself.

  Since 1987 we have been studying various products from major manufacturers, ordinary things such as a computer mouse, an electric shaver, a popular handheld video game, a hair dryer, and a portable CD player. We found that during use they all off-gassed teratogenic and/or carcinogenic compounds—substances known to have a role in causing birth defects and cancer. An electric hand mixer emitted chemical gases that got trapped in the oily butter molecules of the cake batter and ended up in the cake. So be careful—you might unintentionally be eating your appliances.

  Why does this happen? The reason is that high-tech products are usually composed of low-quality materials—that is, cheap plastics and dyes—globally sourced from the lowest-cost provider, which may be halfway around the world. This means that even substances banned for use in the United States and Europe can reach this country via products and parts made elsewhere. So, for example, the carcinogen benzene, banned for use as a solvent in American factories, can be shipped here in rubber parts that were manufactured in developing countries that have not banned it. They can be assembled into, say, your treadmill, which will then emit the “banned” substance as you exercise.

  The problem intensifies when parts from numerous countries are assembled into one product, as is often the case with high-tech items such as electronic equipment and appliances. Manufacturers do not necessarily keep track of—nor are they required to know—what exactly is in all of these parts. An exercise machine assembled in the United States may contain rubber belts from Malaysia, chemicals from Korea, motors from China, adhesives from Taiwan, and wood from Brazil.

  How do these crude products affect you? They produce poor indoor air quality, for one thing. Combined in the workplace or home, crude products—whether appliances, carpets, wallpaper adhesives, paints, building materials, insulation, or anything else—make the average indoor air more contaminated than outdoor air. One study of household contaminants found that more than half of the households showed concentrations of seven toxic chemicals that are known to cause cancer in animals and are suspected to cause cancer in humans at levels higher than those that would “trigger a formal risk assessment for residential soil at a Superfund site.” Allergies, asthma, and “sick building syndrome” are on the rise. Yet legislation establishing mandatory standards for indoor air quality is practically nonexistent.

  Even products ostensibly designed for children can be crude products. An analysis of a child’s swim wings, made from polyvinyl chloride (PVC), showed that they off-gassed potentially harmful substances—including, under heat, hydrochloric acid. Other harmful substances, like the plasticizing phthalates, may be ingested through contact. This scenario is
particularly alarming in a swimming pool, since a child’s skin, ten times thinner than the skin of an adult, gets wrinkled when wet—the ideal condition for absorbing toxins. Once again, in purchasing swim wings, you’ve inadvertently purchased a “product plus”: you got the flotation device you wanted for your child plus unasked-for toxins—not a great bargain, and surely not what the manufacturers had in mind when they created this child-safety device.

  You may be saying to yourself, “I certainly don’t know any children who have gotten sick from a plastic float or pool!” But rather than a readily identifiable illness, some people develop an allergy, or multiple chemical sensitivity syndrome, or asthma, or they just do not feel well, without knowing exactly why. Even if we experience no immediate ill effects, coming into constant contact with carcinogens like benzene and vinyl chloride may be unwise.

  Think of it this way. Everyone’s body is subjected to stress, from both internal and external sources. These stresses may take the form of cancer cells that are naturally produced by the body—by some accounts, as many as twelve cells a day—exposure to heavy metals and other pathogens, and so on. The immune system is capable of handling a certain amount of stress. Simplistically speaking, you could picture those stressors as balls your immune system is juggling. Ordinarily, the juggler is skillful enough to keep those balls in the air. That is, the immune system catches and destroys those ten or twelve cells. But the more balls in the air—the more the body is besieged by all kinds of environmental toxins, for example—the greater the probability that it will drop the ball, that a replicating cell will make a mistake. It would be very hard to say which molecule or factor was the one that pushed a person’s system over the edge. But why not remove negative stressors, especially since people don’t want or need them?

  Some industrial chemicals produce a second effect, more insidious than causing stress: they weaken the immune system. This is like tying one of the juggler’s hands behind his back, which makes it much harder for him to catch the cancer cells before they cause problems. The deadliest chemicals both destroy the immune system and damage cells. Now you have a one-handed juggler struggling to keep an increasing number of balls in the air. Will he continue to perform with accuracy and grace? Why take the risk that he won’t? Why not look for opportunities to strengthen the immune system, not challenge it?

  We’ve focused on cancer here, but these compounds may have other effects that science has yet to discover. Consider endocrine disrupters, which were unheard of a decade ago but are now known to be among the most damaging chemical compounds for living organisms. Of the approximately eighty thousand defined chemical substances and technical mixes that are produced and used by industries today (each of which has five or more by-products), only about three thousand so far have been studied for their effects on living systems.

  It may be tempting to try to turn back the clock. Yet the next industrial revolution will not be about returning to some idealized, preindustrial state in which, for example, all textiles are made from natural fibers. Certainly at one time fabrics were biodegradable and unwanted pieces could be tossed on the ground to decompose or even be safely burned as fuel. But the natural materials to meet the needs of our current population do not and cannot exist. If several billion people want natural-fiber blue jeans dyed with natural dyes, humanity will have to dedicate millions of acres to the cultivation of indigo and cotton plants just to satisfy the demand—acres that are needed to produce food. In addition, even “natural” products are not necessarily healthy for humans and the environment. Indigo contains mutagens and, as typically grown in monocultural practices, depletes genetic diversity. You want to change your jeans, not your genes. Substances created by nature can be extremely toxic; they were not specifically designed by evolution for our use. Even something as benign and necessary as clean drinking water can be lethal if you are submerged in it for more than a couple of minutes.

  A Strategy of Tragedy, or a Strategy of Change?

  Today’s industrial infrastructure is designed to chase economic growth. It does so at the expense of other vital concerns, particularly human and ecological health, cultural and natural richness, and even enjoyment and delight. Except for a few generally known positive side effects, most industrial methods and materials are unintentionally depletive.

  Yet just as industrialists, engineers, designers, and developers of the past did not intend to bring about such devastating effects, those who perpetuate these paradigms today surely do not intend to damage the world. The waste, pollution, crude products, and other negative effects that we have described are not the result of corporations doing something morally wrong. They are the consequence of outdated and unintelligent design.

  Nevertheless, the damage is certain and severe. Modern industries are chipping away at some of the basic achievements that industrialization brought about. Food stocks, for example, have increased so that more children are fed, but more children go to bed hungry as well. But even if well-fed children are regularly exposed to substances that can lead to genetic mutations, cancer, asthma, allergies, and other complications from industrial contamination and waste, then what has been achieved? Poor design on such a scale reaches far beyond our own life span. It perpetrates what we call intergenerational remote tyranny—our tyranny over future generations through the effects of our actions today.

  At some point a manufacturer or designer decides, “We can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep supporting and maintaining this system.” At some point they will decide that they would prefer to leave behind a positive design legacy. But when is that point?

  We say that point is today, and negligence starts tomorrow. Once you understand the destruction taking place, unless you do something to change it, even if you never intended to cause such destruction, you become involved in a strategy of tragedy. You can continue to be engaged in that strategy of tragedy, or you can design and implement a strategy of change.

  Perhaps you imagine that a viable strategy for change already exists. Aren’t a number of “green,” “environmental,” and “eco-efficient” movements already afoot? The next chapter takes a closer look at these movements and the solutions they offer.

  Chapter Two

  Why Being “Less Bad” Is No Good

  THE DRIVE TO make industry less destructive goes back to the earliest stages of the Industrial Revolution, when factories were so destructive and polluting that they had to be controlled in order to prevent immediate sickness and death. Since then the typical response to industrial destruction has been to find a less bad approach. This approach has its own vocabulary, with which most of us are familiar: reduce, avoid, minimize, sustain, limit, halt. These terms have long been central to environmental agendas, and they have become central to most of the environmental agendas taken up by industry today.

  One early dark messenger was Thomas Malthus, who warned at the end of the eighteenth century that humans would reproduce exponentially, with devastating consequences for humankind. Malthus’s position was unpopular during the explosive excitement of early industry, when much was made of humanity’s potential for good, when its increasing ability to mold the earth to its own purposes was seen as largely constructive; and when even population growth was viewed as a boon. Malthus envisioned not great, gleaming advancement but darkness, scarcity, poverty, and famine. His Population: The First Essay, published in 1798, was framed as a response to essayist and utopian William Godwin, who often espoused man’s “perfectibility.” “I have read some of the speculations on the perfectibility of man and of society with great pleasure,” Malthus wrote. “I have been warmed and delighted with the enchanting picture which they hold forth.” But, he concluded, “The power of population is so superior to the power in the earth to produce subsistence for man, that premature death must in some shape or other visit the human race.” Because of his pessimism (and his suggestion that people should have less sex), Malthus became a cultural caricature. Even now his name is equated with a S
crooge-like attitude toward the world.

  While Malthus was making his somber predictions about human population and resources, others were noticing changes in nature (and spirit) as industry spread. English Romantic writers such as William Wordsworth and William Blake described the spiritual and imaginative depth that nature could inspire, and they spoke out against an increasingly mechanistic urban society that was turning even more of its attention toward getting and spending. The Americans George Perkins Marsh, Henry David Thoreau, John Muir, Aldo Leopold, and others continued this literary tradition into the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and in the New World. From the Maine woods, Canada, Alaska, the Midwest, and the Southwest, these voices from the wilderness preserved in language the landscape they loved, lamented its destruction, and reaffirmed the belief that, as Thoreau famously put it, “in Wildness is the preservation of the world.” Marsh was one of the first to understand man’s capacity to wreak lasting destruction on the environment, and Leopold anticipated some of the feelings of guilt that characterize much environmentalism today:

  When I submit these thoughts to a printing press, I am helping cut down the woods. When I pour cream in my coffee, I am helping to drain a marsh for cows to graze, and to exterminate the birds of Brazil. When I go birding or hunting in my Ford, I am devastating an oil field, and re-electing an imperialist to get me rubber. Nay more: when I father more than two children I am creating an insatiable need for more printing presses, more cows, more coffee, more oil, to supply which more birds, more trees, and more flowers will either be killed, or . . . evicted from their several environments.

  Some of these men helped to form conservation societies, such as the Sierra Club and the Wilderness Society, to preserve wilderness and keep it untouched by industrial growth. Their writings inspired new generations of environmentalists and nature lovers, and they still do.