By Thea Lona Hassan
There were seventeen sets of nail clippers. Books were on the shelves, books in boxes under the bed, and even more books in the attic. I found at least two dozen pairs of eyeglasses each with a sunglass inset. A microscope. Three weed whackers, four typewriters, and the boxes from every appliance he owned. At least 15 winter coats—why so many coats?
Like many of us, my late grandfather had accumulated a lot of stuff in his industrious 93 years on Earth. In my months-long, ongoing effort to clean out his house, I have carefully sorted everything out—composting the food rotting in the fridge, donating the unexpired soup cans from the cabinets, and recycling the paper, plastic, and electronics. The medical supplies were picked up by a local nonprofit. I gifted stuff to anyone willing to take it and anything left was dropped off at the local second-hand store.
Sadly, I’ve also filled up a dumpster’s worth of trash destined for the landfill. Tchotchkes and bric-a-brac, plastic dishes and serving spoons, polyester clothing, and smoke-stained curtains were all thrown out. And while doing so, I reflected at length on why many of us have so much stuff in the first place.
All this stuff comes at great cost to our environment and our communities, and its impact often goes unseen. In the United States, more than 40% of our climate impact comes from “consumption emissions”— generated through the lifecycle of our stuff and our food. Nearly all of this stuff is made by a globalized production system that is undermining our life support system, polluting air and water, and converting whole communities into sacrifice zones.
We may just see the new cellphone or car we want, but we often fail to consider that the item, like every product, was made from a natural resource—which had to be extracted, refined, and transported. Every step in the process places additional burdens on indigenous people and communities of color. For example, a recent study found that air pollution from the consumption of goods and services has been found to be largely created by white people but disproportionately inhaled by Black and Hispanic minorities. Further, for decades, studies have found landfills and toxic waste treatment facilities are far more likely to be located in Black and Hispanic communities than in white neighborhoods. Every product we discard adds further burdens to communities near landfills and incinerators.
The Ecology Center’s suggestion: Use less stuff. Less stuff equals more life, more time for what we love, and an opportunity to decrease our carbon footprint. This message is central to a campaign we are launching next year in partnership with the City of Ann Arbor.
The idea that less stuff equals a happier, healthier life is by no means new. Jesus told his followers, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give to the poor.” Trauma therapists suggest clutter represents unresolved emotional distress. Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Cleaning Up instructs only owning what brings joy. Swedish Death Cleaning recommends getting rid of all excess to reduce personal stress and the future stress of relatives who must clean up after you when you die. The Buddhists and the Taoists teach happiness is achieved through non-attachment to material goods.
We all know we’re happier with less stuff. It’s far too easy, however, to be overwhelmed by the pressure of consumption. Everywhere we turn, someone is trying to sell us something, with the promise of wholeness achieved through a purchase. Buying new stuff gives our brains a delicious but short-lived dopamine rush. But together, we can hop off the hedonic treadmill.
Here are the Ecology Center’s suggestions to get started consuming less stuff:
Whenever possible, buy used.
Avoid single-use plastic by carrying your own bags, cutlery, cups, and water bottles.
Borrow books from the library.
Borrow or rent tools–some communities have a tool library.
Repair items when possible. Visit a repair cafe or watch a YouTube video.
When you throw things out, be sure to sort out anything that can be composted, recycled, or donated to reduce the amount of stuff headed for the landfill.
Check to see if your local recycling facility accepts hard-to-recycle items like mattresses or tires.
When you do shop, shop locally and buy ethically. If you are able, buy organic.
If you are buying a gift, focus on relationships and experiences. Or plants.
Find ways to share within your family and neighborhood.
Donate what you can. Many communities have a “Buy Nothing” group on Facebook allowing people to donate items in their neighborhood.
But it’s not just up to individuals to practice zero waste—we need businesses, organizations, and governments to get on board. Strong local, state, federal, and global policies are needed to reduce stuff and its impacts. Policies like bag bans, prohibitions on single-use water bottles, and requiring governments to use reusable food service wares for workplaces, events, and conferences help reduce the amount of stuff to be dealt with. Education is vital to ensuring everyone has the resources to participate in waste reduction. Community-based recyclers, composters, and other service providers are essential in a circular economy.
I kept little of what I found at my grandfather’s house—just a few pictures and a couple of books. My favorite gift from him was a fudge popsicle, which he had offered to me on every visit since I was a little girl. We’d eat them together on the back deck, his Shangri-La, which overlooked a small river, always teeming with birds. His stuff is nearly forgotten—that experience I’ll remember forever.
Since clearing out his house, I’ve started to clean out my own house of unused items and unneeded duplicates. And I’ve started to be ruthlessly judicious about what I bring home, lest any poor relative of mine gets tasked with the burden of a cleanout. Why did she own three vacuums, they’ll wonder, as they pull at their hair in frustration.
Robin Guenther, an environmental health advocate who designed sustainable, nontoxic healthcare facilities, said, “There are only two choices: we either believe we create the future through every decision we make, or we believe the future is determined and our job is simply to keep on the path. We should be dedicated to the first choice.”
I’m deciding to use less and embrace living, decluttering for easier living, and looking for opportunities to share a fudge pop while watching the birds.
Thea Lona Hassan is the Former Communications Manager at the Ecology Center.
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There were seventeen sets of nail clippers. Books were on the shelves, books in boxes under the bed, and even more books in the attic. I found at least two dozen pairs of eyeglasses each with a sunglass inset. A microscope. Three weed whackers, four typewriters, and the boxes from every appliance he owned. At least 15 winter coats—why so many coats?