D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
May
2009
Pulp Fiction
Why corporate pleas to "go green" aren't worth the paper they're printed on.
Like a lot of my fellow citizens, I get bills every month. I have repeatedly pointed out to my friendly postal employee that I really don't require them so much, but he is a persistent kind of government employee. As much as I wish the bills would go away, they never really do. But I've noticed a disturbing trend on my bills lately: More and more people who want my money are inclined to generously offer me the chance to participate in the preservation of the planet by electing to receive electronic bills and go "paperless," thereby doing my part for Mother Earth.
I am agog with cynicism.
"Why, Henry," you inquire with wide-eyed wonder, "how can you be cynical about saving Spaceship Earth and all critters contained therein?"
It's not so much the environment I'm cynical about as the people who claim to be advocates for the environment. To reference the writer Wallace Stevens, what you call "cynicism" is merely a well-developed sense of reality. When I am courted to forego printed invoices or copies at the behest of the planet, I have to wonder what sort of fatuous dweeb thinks that paper consumption has anything to do with any of our environmental challenges.
Paper comes from trees. Trees are green. Green is good. I know, I get it, but it's not like every time you print out an e-mail with a recipe for Raccoon Stew from your Aunt Edna, God kills a tree. Lumberjacks don't destroy old-growth forests so that Visa can send me a credit-card statement. Commercial lumber, including that needed for paper mills, is generated through sustainable managed forestry practices these days. That means fast-growing trees are planted on farms specifically for paper manufacturing. When forests are logged, it's not through clear-cut deforestation, but rather thinning of standing timber. This has led to larger, healthier forests. According to the USDA, forest land-area increased from 747 million acres to 749 million between 1997 and 2002.
Despite all the paper we use in America — and we use a lot for indispensable items like TV Guides, Whopper wrappers and lottery tickets — more than 57 percent of paper consumed in the US in 2008 was recovered for recycling. That's about 340 pounds for every man, woman and child. (Which makes me wonder what happens when somebody dies — who's picking up the slack?)
Here's another juicy stat: The US produces about 33 percent more timber every year than it needs to. Even when you calculate the amount lost to insects, fire and disease, commercial forests still grow 1/3 more timber than they lose. Which begs the question, why does furniture cost so much? Shouldn't wood be cheaper than shares in General Motors stocks by now?
So by all means, please check the "go green" box and opt to live the rest of your life paperless. Pay your invoices electronically. Discontinue your newspaper subscription (except for Desert Exposure, which is as noble a death as a tree can ask for). Use twigs and leaves in the bathroom, but don't expect to receive a big ol' "thank you" note from Mother Earth. It really doesn't matter whether you cut down on paper or not, as there are plenty of trees to go around.
Of course, opting to go paperless will impact the planet in one way: There will be more people without jobs walking the face of the earth. The downside of kicking the hardcopy habit is the lack of work for people who used to make a living in pulp or paper mills. According to the US Department of Labor, the number of employees in that sector decreased by about 32,700 between 2001 and 2005. Paul Bunyan is also updating his resume: Between 1996 and 2005, 17,000 axe-wielding lumberjacks found themselves canned like a tuna. As of 2007, the nation's pulp, paper and paperboard mills employ only about 131,000 people, which means there's plenty of spaces left in the employee parking lot these days.
So why are all these good-hearted companies offering me the opportunity to "go green"? Well, think about it — if you're a credit-card company, and just 10 percent of your 5 million customers want to take one for the team, you have just eliminated the cost of postage, processing, paper and manpower to send out 500,000 statements a month. That equates to roughly $4 million a year in savings back into the company's bank account. Talk about "going green."
I pay attention to the news, and I am a fairly well-informed pilgrim. While I'm not ready to trade in my Ford pickup for an itty-bitty hybrid, or buy those ugly corkscrew light bulbs, I do believe that some decisions are no-brainers when it comes to the environment. I don't pour motor oil on anthills, and I don't throw beer cans out the window. Hard-core environmentalists need to hunt down the corporate Poindexters who employ meaninglessly symbolic, feel-good measures in order to save money, and suspend them by their giblets from the canopy of the nearest rain forest until they relent and tattoo the Kyoto protocols on their buttocks.
Until there is a shortage of trees or I begin running out of oxygen, I think I will elect to continue receiving paper statements just to compel honesty from my creditors. Instead of asking me to "go green," they can "go pound sand."
Henry Lightcap files his paperwork in Las Cruces.