Today I received a package. It lay unassuming on the doorstep, a joyful little surprise when I arrived home, exhausted from battling hours of traffic. I knew what it was immediately, and I couldn't wait to open it up. Inside, a Betsy Higgins yellow-colored binder measuring 12 inches by 12 inches (and about 5 inches thick) sat ready to be filled up with scrapbooking-style photo collages. This purchase is part of a collection of items I ordered from Amazon.com, which include this binder, twenty four clear plastic slip covers where I could insert my photos and other memorabilia, and some cut-to-size cards on which to write notes. These will go next to my photos, so I can remember what was going on in my life when the photos were taken.
I brought the package inside and lay the two-foot square brown box on the table. With a small knife, I cut through the clear tape. I pulled away the bubble wrap. Inside, there was...oh! Another box. Ok. A white box with a simple logo printed on it, saying "Becky Higgins". The appealing, alabaster box opened upward, and I expected to see the yellow binder cover. But, nope. Another box. Another white, simple box, with no logo this time. Generic, like the outer brown box that enveloped the whole thing. I sighed. Fine. I pulled this smaller white box out of the other white box. My table was now full of empty boxes, bubble wrap, and I paused to put some of this on the floor to accommodate this third box, and (hopefully - although I am losing hope now) the binder, hidden inside. I felt exhausted, I needed a break. I wanted a snack - some crackers, maybe. I wryly smiled to myself as I imagined opening the box containing the crackers. More boxes! The whole world is boxes and boxes containing things that require infinite opening. 'Life is a series of opening packages', my inner narrator began, forever poised to write an essay. I let my mind wander as I fill my tea kettle with water instead of reaching for the crackers. I'd stick with a non-packaged refreshment for now.
Oh wait. I was talking about the binder, right? Back at the table now. I made the last leap, and opened the generic, thin white box's skinny end. I peered inside. I see it!! Something yellow! It slides out! I have reached the goal. It is beautiful! Perfect! No dents, no smudges. I have made the touchdown! I picked up the prize, and a layer of styrofoam fell out of the middle of the binder, where it had been filling the space that would eventually hold all my clear plastic pages filled with pictures. The crowd roared. The cats watching me release their breath, and look away, now bored.
*
Am I assuming the role of drama queen here? Maybe. Am I making a statement about my conundrum with packaging practices? Definitely. Some may think packaging problems fall low on the list of priorities. To those people I say: 72 Million Tons. That is how much packaging waste Americans end up with in one year, according to the Environmental Protection Agency. Packaging and container waste makes up about one-third of our total national waste (total waste is about 243 Million Tons, or 4.34 pounds per person, per day). How much is 72 Million Tons? That is the total Brazilian soy bean production in 2010/2011. It is the weight of 480,000 of the largest known blue whales, which are themselves the largest known mammals to ever have existed on the earth.
Clearly, packaging is no small thing in this country. Currently, about about half of the packaging we create each year is recycled...this means that about 36 million tons of packaging and containers are thrown into landfills or incinerated. So now we're down to the weight of 240,000 blue whales, which actually represent trees being cut and oil being burned to process and transport the material, along with climate change being exacerbated.
It's times like these when I realize that the system we live, a matrix of industrial processes meant to increase certain efficiencies (in this case, the production and distribution of a product as simple as a yellow-colored scrapbook binder) is in fact a strange paradox of irrational outcomes driven by rational choices along the way. Each actor along the way is acting in good faith, but they are looking at a mere sliver of the process. The manufacturer passes off their product to the buyer while protecting the product's quality with a thin box. The buyer brands their product, adding a layer of packaging that looks appealing for the consumer in order to maintain their reputation and their business. The third party seller adds bubble wrap and an additional box that ensures the presentation is delivered flawlessly, so that the relationship with the client is reinforced and the recipient gives good reviews.
The problem is the lack of connection among actors, not the lack of good faith.
I propose that in order to put those blue whales of waste to bed, we need to reintegrate the packaging process, and get everyone working together. Each party along the production life cycle should not only maintain good faith for the next actor in line, but should think of the larger goal of creating as little waste as possible. This probably requires talking to each other, creating more sustainable industry standards and having industry-wide 'best practices'. This is important - the long-term survival of our civilization depends on it.
