Notes on waste, water, whatever

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From Sinkhole to Stimulus: Fixing Our Water Systems Will Get Jobs Flowing

Much ink has been spilled on the deplorable state of the nation’s drinking water and wastewater infrastructure -- and the terrifying sums ($390 billion according to the sometimes-hyperbolic American Society of Civil Engineers) it will take to remedy the situation. The EPA estimates $188 billion is necessary to manage stormwater and preserve water quality nationwide.

Yes, it's a lot of money, but there are some positives attached to that pricetag: it's not only going to bring us cleaner, safer drinking water, says a new Green for All report called Water Works. Spread over five years, that investment would also generate $266 billion in economic activity and create close to 1.9 million jobs.

Green for All: Water Works

Water Works functions as a primer on our infrastructure woes (from cracked pipes to sinkholes to combined sewer overflows), focusing on green infrastructure as a major part of the solution. The good news -- if you're a glass-half-full type -- is that there has never been a better time to tackle these problems: borrowing money is cheap, construction costs are down (because of increased competition for jobs), and unemployment is high.

But where will we get the money? From municipal bonds, state revolving loan funds, higher rates for consumers, and other (nonspecified) “fee-based approaches,” says Water Works. (The report shies away from the polluter fees proposed in Oregon Rep. Earl Blumenauer’s Clean Water Trust Fund.) Government spending will add to the national debt, but it will doubtless pay off in the long term with healthier people, a cleaner environment, and the avoided costs of filtering ever-dirtier water.

At any rate: do we have a choice?

Age and neglect have caught up to our water systems, some of which date back to the end of the 19th century. Climate change wreaks havoc even with relatively youthful infrastructure: extreme heat, drought, and deluge all cause pipes to shift and crack. The American Society of Civil Engineers gave both the nation’s drinking-water infrastructure and its wastewater in­frastructure a D-minus in its 2009 Report Card for America’s Infrastructure.

Across the country, more than 700 pipes fail every day. Breaks cause major inconvenience: water mains are shut off, basements flood, roads are closed, and neighborhoods sprint for the supermarket to buy bottled water. Leaking pipes also waste a lot of expensively cleaned water: 6 billion gallons of a year, according to the U.S. Geological Society -- enough to provide the daily water needs of our ten largest cities.

Sometimes, failing pipes exact a harsher price: this past January, a Russian mother and her toddler fell 12 feet into the earth when a sidewalk over a ruptured drainpipe suddenly collapsed. Although the woman was rescued from the sinkhole, it took divers and emergency workers more than a day to find the body of her son, who had been swept by rushing waters through subterranean pipes to a sewage collector.

In his State of the Union speech, President Obama called on Congress to pass legislation to repair the nation’s infrastructure. He proposed footing the bill with half the money we’ll save from ending the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. According to the Congressional Budget Office, that’s about $440 billion dollars between 2012 and 2021. It’s not enough, but it’s a good start.

Image: Chris Upson/Wikimedia Commons

This post first appeared at OnEarth.org/TheRoyteStuff

February 3, 2012   No Comments

The Third R: An Answer to All Our Problems?

Just before the holidays, EPA Administrator Lisa P. Jackson went on the Dr. Oz show to talk about drinking-water safety. She concluded with her one wish for a cleaner, greener earth. To my surprise, she wished for more recycling.

Not that again, I groaned. Does anyone really listen to pro-recycling arguments these days? The subject is so 20th century, so fraught with disappointment and misunderstanding.

But what Jackson said was actually quite bold, and it certainly needed saying:

If we could increase our recycling rate from about 39 percent to 80 or 90 percent, Jackson said, “we would do a bunch of things. Certainly, we would have a cleaner environment. We would save a tremendous amount of water and energy. We would create millions of jobs, because recycling, in and of itself, would become a supply chain in our country—a very domestic one. . . . Think of [recycling] as a homegrown jobs program and an environmental program and an energy program and a water program all in one.”

It sounds like magical thinking, but groups like the Institute for Local Self Reliance have been talking about the jobs angle for decades, and groups such as NRDC have harped on the energy and water benefits for even longer. (See “More Jobs, Less Pollution” — a report released last November by NRDC along with the BlueGreen Alliance, the Teamsters, the Service Employees International Union, Recycling Works! and the Global Alliance for Incinerator Alternatives — for data that support Jackson’s claims.)

All we need to do is expand access to recycling programs for residents and businesses, to increase the number of recycling bins in public places, to broaden the range of materials accepted by processors (think textiles, electronics, construction and demolition debris, and agricultural and industrial waste), to limit the use of packaging and other materials that can’t be recycled or composted, to shorten the supply lines between generators of scrap materials and their end users, to develop composting programs that handle food as well as yard and garden waste, and to educate everyone about all these changes. (Oh yeah, and end subsidies that encourage burying and burning waste.)

Jackson’s comment reminded me of a Simpsons episode called “Lisa the Vegetarian.”

Homer: Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. Lisa, honey, are you saying you’re never going to eat any animal again? What about bacon?
Lisa:        No.
Homer:  Ham?
Lisa:        No.
Homer:  Pork chops?
Lisa:        Dad! Those all come from the same animal!
Homer:  [Chuckles] Yeah, right Lisa. A wonderful, magical animal.

Could recycling be that wonderful, magical animal (and pay for itself, too)? One can always dream.

Image: Simpsons Wiki

January 27, 2012   2 Comments

Wither the coffee lid?

After finishing my coffee at a New York City Pret a Manger restaurant recently, I lingered near the trash bin, which was divided into separate sections with uniquely shaped openings — not unlike a toddler’s shape-sorting block toy. In my hands: a napkin, a paperboard coffee cup, a cardboard sleeve, a plastic lid. It took me, something of a garbage geek, nearly a minute to figure out what I was supposed to do with each discard.

Did the napkin go with the paper, or did the napkin go with the food waste, which was bound for a composting operation beyond the city limits? (After all, paper is compostable, though experts say ‘tis a far better thing to make new paper from old, in places where recovery systems can handle potentially soiled paper, rather than to make compost from paper.)

Did the plastic lid go with the plastic recycling or into the compartment labeled “trash?” At home, the lid would have gone into the trash, as New York City’s Department of Sanitation, like many others, accepts only narrow-necked plastic bottles for curbside recycling. But businesses in New York hire private carters and so march to a different drummer. Pret a Manger uses Action Carting, a progressive company that collects food waste for composting and, I happened to know, a wider range of plastics for recycling.

I did, eventually, study the educational illustrations above the waste bins, which should have set me straight. But still I had trouble identifying the cup lid among so many different shapes. Maybe I need to go back to kindergarten and the block sorter. Or maybe the illustrations could be a little clearer. (Or perhaps the bins could have a built-in object recognition device: I hold before an electric eye my lid, empty fruit cup, or sandwich box, and a quiet, friendly voice tells me where to put it. I’d prefer a more parsimonious — that is, less technological and less expensive — fix, but what can I say? People do love their apps.)

I can’t offer enough props to Pret for lightening its environnmental impact and nudging customers in the same direction. But my interlude at the waste bins tells me that we’ve got a ways to go down the path toward sustainable packaging (an ideal that ought to include no packaging). According to the EPA, packaging makes up nearly one third of municipal solid waste; between 1990 and 2007, containers and packaging have increased by nearly 14 million tons.

Pret a Manger, which works with environmental groups (like Global Green), packaging designers, waste haulers, paper mills, and composters to blunt the impact of its single-use packaging, and is still experimenting with the perfect receptacle, is leading the way. But peering inside the bins, where cups were mixed willy-nilly with “trash” and bottles were mixed with napkins, I wondered if the public really had the stomach to follow.

Photograph by Scott Dodd

December 22, 2011   No Comments

Some things don’t go better with Coke

Last month we learned that, in an attempt to cut down on litter, the supervisor of Grand Canyon National Park was set to ban sales of bottled water within the park, starting in January of 2011. (Dasani is the brand sold by concessionaires.) But two weeks before the ban was due to go into effect, the head of the national park system balked. Dasani water would stay, out of “concern for public safety in a desert park.” (Never mind that Utah’s Zion National Park had enacted a similar ban, to great acclaim, in 2008.) Soon the relationship between Coca-Cola, which produces Dasani from tap water, and our national parks was revealed: over a period of years, the corporation has given $13 million to the National Park Foundation, a nonprofit that generates private donations for the park system.

Environmentalists are up in arms — about the continued (and continuously promoted) use of disposable plastic water bottles, of course, but more importantly about the heavy influence of corporations in public spaces and debate. There are some angry comments on blogs about the issue, and many people erroneously seem to believe that park visitors would be stripped of any water bottles they carried into the park. Not true. Nor was it likely that the death toll from dehydration would rise. The parks and concessionaries had spent $300,000 developing “filling stations” in preparation for the ban; it’s hard to escape pro-hydration messages in the park (they’re everywhere), and it’s easy to buy reusable bottles on park grounds if you don’t already have them.

For readers who can’t remember what personal hydrological conditions were like 30 years ago, suffice it to say that single-serve plastic bottles of water were not ubiquitous. And yet millions still hiked and camped, carried water, filtered water where they found it, and sometimes waited until they reached their destination (!) to slake their thirst from a fountain or sink.

I hiked and camped in the Grand Canyon in the Pre-Perrier Period. I learned, on a day that I hauled my heavy backpack more than twenty miles across the Tonto Platform and up the South Canyon rim, that thirst can be a great motivator. Our multiple water bottles had long run dry, and we were reduced to eating dry oatmeal in our desperation for calories, with five miles yet to go. All I could focus on was the ice-cold elixir that flowed at trail’s end from a fountain in the dimly lit lobby of the Bright Angel Hotel. (Reader: I survived. I hope this water fountain has, too.)

The Coca-Cola-National Parks fracas seems to be taking on a life of its own, to both groups’ detriment. Dozens of media outlets have picked up on the story, and already more than 94,000 people have signed a pro-ban petition at Change.org. Here’s hoping that the will of the environmentally minded, rather than a corporation representing the interests of its shareholders, will prevail.

Image: Sebastian Toncu/Wikimedia Commons

December 7, 2011   No Comments

SH*T: Possibly the world’s most underrated resource

Rose George, author of 2008’s shockingly forthright and shockingly entertaining The Big Necessity: The Unmentionable World of Human Waste and Why It Matters, has a bone to pick with hydro-philanthropists, whether species Hollywood (Matt Damon excepted) or species Rotary Club. They’ll raise money to dig wells for thirsty Africans, but they’re loath to address the dire need for adequate toilets (or their culturally appropriate equivalent).

And yet: two thirds of the world’s population has no toilet or latrine, and diarrhea kills more children annually than AIDS, malaria, and tuberculosis combined. (If that’s too abstract a number, picture a jumbo jet full of children crashing every two hours, every day.) Feces are indeed, as George notes, “a weapon of mass destruction.”

In “Shit: A Survival Guide,” the monothematic fall issue of Colors magazine, George introduces readers to sanitation evangelists and to the brave folks who clean our sewer pipes and alleyways. She also considers the roles of fear and shame in toilet use and looks at the wide world of alternatives to a porcelain throne (meet the flying toilet).

More than a cultural tour of toileting and its discontents, the magazine explores a smorgasbord of dichotomies: shit kills and it saves lives; it pollutes water and promotes plant growth; it stinks and it can be used to cook food. A graphically hip précis of Big Necessity, the Survival Guide goes well beyond the usual lamentations for decent toileting facilities to question some basic assumptions about where, when, and how we go. It’s become common in urban green circles to question the wisdom of using expensively treated drinking water — especially in water-short places — to flush away human excrement, but George forces us to question the morality of flushing away such a valuable fertilizer. There’s phosphorous and nitrogen in them thar feces.

To buy a copy or preview parts of the quarterly, go to the Colors Magazine website.

(November 19 was World Toilet Day, which is meant to draw attention to the importance of sanitation around the world. Check out Matt Damon “talking sh*t” [or typing, via twitter and facebook] for an entire week at http://toiletday.org/md-diarrhea/?s=water_email20111109. Meanwhile, WaterAid and Amnesty International have launched Give A Crap About Human Rights, highlighting the rights to water and sanitation in the context of housing and women’s rights.  Learn more about the day that dare not speak its name at http://www.worldtoilet.org/WTD.

November 20, 2011   2 Comments

Fewer tears


After two and a half years of steady pressure from the Campaign for Safe Cosmetics, the American Nurses Association, and Physicians for Social Responsibility, Johnson & Johnson has agreed to phase out its use of a formaldehyde-releasing preservative, listed as quaternium-15, in its baby products. (You can read the company’s statement here.) Formaldehyde is classified by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services as a known human carcinogen at high levels of exposure. J&J had been selling formaldehyde-free baby shampoo in other nations but had, to date, resisted CSC pressure (in the form of a massive letter-writing campaign and a series of sit-down powwows with J&J honchos) to change its formulations in the U.S., where the FDA permits its use.

Formaldehyde levels in Johnson & Johnson’s shampoo were relatively low, but remember that babies and children are, pound for pound, exposed to many more chemicals than we larger folk, and they’re exposed to them at a vulnerable time in their development. Children also tend to put stuff in their mouths and crawl around on floors and rugs, where they’re exposed to both the residue of cleaning products and dust, where contaminants like flame retardants abide. And so their body burden grows.

Retooling formulas and getting them into production will be costly for J&J, but a consumer boycott may have been worse — both for the company’s finances and its reputation, especially once the mommy bloggers (who effectively removed BPA from baby bottles in the absence of federal leadership) fully sunk their teeth into this. Of course, if the feds banned the use of formaldehyde in such products altogether — taking a systemic rather than a piecemeal approach to this problem (the aim of the Safe Cosmetics Act of 2011) — the playing field for all U.S. shampoo makers would be leveled; this two-and-a-half-year exercise could have been avoided; and people who buy baby shampoo wouldn’t be left squinting at tiny labels in the health and beauty aisle of their supermarkets. Congratulations, and thank you, Campaign for Safe Cosmetics, et alia! (Now, let’s hope that Johnson & Johnson is clear about the properties of the preservative that will take quaternium-15′s place.)

Photo by Kyle Flood via Wikimedia Commons

November 15, 2011   1 Comment

All for nothing: Seattle’s zero-waste commitment

Recycling glass in Seattle

I recently watched an online documentary that filled me with solid-waste envy. Unwasted: The Future of Business on Earth details how companies, institutions, political leaders, and activists are reducing waste in and around Seattle. It’s a pretty good, if somewhat staid, primer on how landfills work (or don’t), how many recycling programs fail to capture all they can, and how a zero-waste framework can guide cities to a more sustainable future. (Zero Waste is a rhetorical term: advocates believe we can reasonably divert 90 percent of our waste from landfills and incinerators — including high-tech gasifiers — within the next ten years. To learn more about how, read this uplifting article from the Sustainable Cities Network.)

Why did the doc make me green? Because of the tremendous enthusiasm for, and political will directed toward, reducing consumption, reusing, and recovering resources in the Pacific Northwest. Where I live, in New York City, it’s difficult to even find out where our waste is going, let alone why businesses are rarely penalized for failing to recycle. (New York City households recycle a miserable 15 percent of their waste, compared with Seattle’s 51 and San Francisco’s 77 — see this Green City Index from Siemens for other metropolitan averages.) One talking head in the film urges viewers to “visit your landfill and see what it looks like.” Ha, I said to myself. My waste is exported far, far away, and landfill managers in the East would rather dump a dead body than let me in the front gate. (Read Garbage Land: On the Secret Trail of Trash for my personal work-around.)

According to Unwasted (which was produced by Seattle’s Sage Environmental Services in partnership with PorterWorks), landfilling materials is more expensive than recycling (alas, this isn’t true in the vast middle of the country, where land values are lower), and maintaining and monitoring a landfill can cost a municipality $20 million over its mandatory 30-year post-closure period. The film stresses the significance of transparency in both manufacturing and disposal. “If more people knew what went into a product, they’d make an educated decision” about buying it in the first place, says another talking head. An excellent point, and a good reason for all elementary school teachers to ask their students, “Do you know how this pencil sharpener (backpack, T-shirt, etc.) was made?”

Of course, Seattle has a lot going for it: a density high enough to achieve economies of scale, an educated population, access to markets for recyclable materials (including food and yard waste), and volume-based disposal fees that reward household recycling over landfilling. Maybe it’s time for New York to reconsider a switch to pay-as-you-throw as well. (Here’s NRDC, in 1997, on the subject.)

Photo from Seattle Municipal Archives via Wikimedia Commons

November 2, 2011   No Comments

Why so green(ish)?

A new survey commissioned by SC Johnson on American attitudes and behaviors with respect to the environment reveals that individuals feel as if they know more about the environment today than they did 20 years ago (yay). But they also feel less powerful to do anything to improve the environment (boo). Still, influencing behavior is possible (yay). How? It turns out that financial incentives and penalties are the dominant motivators (deposits on beverage bottles are an example of this phenomenon). Coming in second is the influence of friends and family members. Sadly -- considering all the effort and expense --only 12 percent of respondents said they took action prompted by a nonprofit organization. The only weaker force, influencing 7 percent of respondents, was “A celebrity I respect encourages me to take action.” (Sorry, Ms. Diaz, Mr. Damon, Ms. Hannah.)

I don’t put a lot of stock in this survey -- it was small, and most people overestimate the depth of their greenness –- but it did help explain why Recyclebank continues to grow. Recyclebank is a program that rewards people who recycle with discounts on consumer goods. Your participating waste hauler weighs your household's recyclables at the curb, and Recyclebank mails you the coupons, up to $40 worth a month. When I checked its website, the “featured rewards” included energy bars and single-serve smoothies in nonrecyclable packaging and carbon-offset coupons that support landfill-gas-to-energy projects. (Note the synergy: the smoothie packaging ends up in a landfill, where it generates methane that the landfill vacuums up and sells. I almost forgot to mention: Waste Management, Inc. -- which makes money off hauling waste, tipping in landfills, selling landfill gas, and recycling -- recently made a strategic investment in Recyclebank.)

Recyclebank operates in more than 300 U.S. cities and in London, where, in collaboration with Transport for London, it plans to roll out a program, at year’s end, that encourages people to walk or bike instead of drive. Monitored by a smartphone app, the self-propelled will get offers and discounts from companies like Marks & Spencer. (How will the company know if a trip on foot or bike is replacing a car trip? Unclear.) My biggest gripe with this attempt to modify behavior, besides the fact that it will invite even more advertising into one's life, is that it rewards “green” actions with opportunities to buy more stuff, which no one visiting this website needs to be told generally has a negative impact on the environment.

Still, if the Johnson study is correct, and people act greener when it helps their bottom line (certainly most of my green actions save me money), how about rewarding the virtuous walkers and recyclers exclusively with experiences and services rather than consumptive pleasures? Tickets to concerts or museums, for example. Downloads of music or books, gym passes, coupons for testing tap water, home energy audits, vasectomies! Or how about an app, leading to nonconsumptive awards, that notes every time you seriously consider buying something but then decide ... not to.

(Note: Buy Nothing Day for 2011 is November 25)

Buy Nothing Day poster by Vector Graphic on http://dryicons.com


October 24, 2011   No Comments

Murky and murkier

After reading the following news items, I’m thinking that investing in companies that make top-notch and easy-to-maintain water filtration equipment might be a good idea.

Last week,  Environmental Health News reported on widespread contamination of private wells with naturally occurring elements like arsenic and manganese. In its first-ever effort to track two dozen elements, the U.S. Geological Society discovered that “13 percent of untreated drinking water contains at least one element at a concentration that exceeds federal health regulations or guidelines. That rate far outpaces other contaminants in well water, including industrial chemicals and pesticides.” For public water systems, the presence of these elements is less concerning, since utilities test for and remove those for which the feds have set standards. But the 60 million Americans who rely on private wells are on their own: a good reason to expand the list of contaminants you ask your local lab to test for — annually. Read the USGS report and peruse its element maps here. Contact your state drinking-water program to find a state or EPA-certified lab to test your well water (and then buy the appropriate filter if the results don’t please you).

On the other side of the world, the island groups of Tuvalu and Tokelau have declared water emergencies. La Nina weather patterns have reduced rainfall, and what groundwater remains has turned brackish from rising sea levels. (Tuvalu, you may recall, was the first nation to formulate a climate-change evacuation plan.) Citizens are rationing water, says the Washington Post, crops are wilting, and fruit trees, a major food source, are suffering. Portable desalination plants have been ordered. Meanwhile, residents are drinking bottled water.

In California, water managers desperate for new sources of supply are contemplating… Superfund sites! According to the Whittier Daily News, the Walnut Valley Water District is considering buying water pumped and treated from polluted areas of the San Gabriel Basin. “Parts of the basin have been polluted with perchlorate and other contaminants leaked by the aerospace and defense industries that used to dominate the region, resulting in one of the nation’s biggest Superfund sites.” Other U.S. cities are already purifying sewage effluent and the brackish water that occurs thousands of feet below freshwater aquifers. How do they clean the water? With ultrafiltration and reverse osmosis, which removes the vast majority of things that should worry us. (Filtration plus reverse osmosis is the method used by Aquafina, Dasani, Nestle Pure Life, and other major bottled-water brands to further “purify” tap water that already meets federal drinking-water standards.)

Unfortunately, reverse osmosis is expensive, it uses a great deal of energy, and it produces a lot of unusable waste in the form of brine (and probably worse, in the case of that California Superfund site). It’s all well and good to agitate for better watershed protection and tighter controls of discharges to surface and groundwater, but faced with naturally occurring, harmful elements, and saltwater intrusion, and limited quantities of fresh water for growing populations, I’m afraid that filtering will be a big part of our future.

Photo via Irving Rusinow/National Archives

October 10, 2011   7 Comments

Let us now praise prescient people

Kaweah range panorama

Visiting the eastern side of California’s San Joaquin Valley recently, I burned a lot of fossil fuel getting the lay of the land. The Valley: flat, semi-arid, and planted wall-to-wall with fruit trees, nut trees, cotton, corn, and alfalfa. Ditches — some of them offshoots of the 152-mile Friant-Kern Canal — paralleled roadways and fields, delivering relatively pristine surface water to farms, ranches, and giant dairies. Pumps pulled groundwater for domestic (and sometimes agricultural) use. To the east: the glorious golden foothills of the Sierra Nevada. High above them: the great water factory of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks, from whence the Kings, Kern, Tule, and Kaweah Rivers flow west, through the foothills and into the ditches and drains of the valley, where they’re fought over tooth and nail.

discussing water rights in the west

I drove east and uphill early one morning to marvel at the sequoias, pay my respects to the General Sherman Tree, and ponder the mindset that, 70 years ago, decreed the nearly half million acres of Kings Canyon off limits to development and exploitation. (Thank you, Harold Ickes, who as Secretary of the Interior hired Ansel Adams to photograph the forests and canyons and sway public opinion.) Sequoia National Park, slightly smaller and to the south, had been established in 1890. Having done little upland research before this trip, I was astounded to see how few roads traversed these tracts. In fact, Kings Canyon is the second largest roadless area in the lower 48, and an astonishing 84 percent of the park is accessible only on foot. The longer I drove — and the more jaw-dropping the views of the John Muir Wilderness and the alpine peaks of the Great Western Divide — the more I marveled at the foresight of political leaders who could leave so much alone. Only around 4,000 people a year, out of 2 million park visitors, venture into the vast mountain fortress of the backcountry, with its granite canyons, subalpine meadows, and glacially scoured lakes — the classic High Sierra landscape immortalized by Adams and countless nature-themed calendars. Despite the low visitation, the protections hold. At a time when states are finding it difficult to finance the repair of such basic infrastructure as bridges and water mains, how would we ever find the political will today, to say nothing of the money, to set aside wilderness for its own sake?

This landscape could have been carved into vacation homes, grazing allotments, timber yards, mines, or ski resorts (Disney tried the latter in the late 1970s, at the southern end of the park). But cooler heads and grander visions prevailed. Today’s visitors surely appreciate the spiritual and aesthetic values of these wildlands, but its managers don’t stress, in their communications with the general public, the topography’s intimate connection with the regional economy. Careening downhill from an elevation of 8,000 feet back to 300, one can’t help noting that the Sierra’s prodigious cascades, streams, and rivers — with the help of dams, ditches and canals — have combined and conspired to make the Valley one of the most productive agricultural areas in the world. (And yes, this water is ultimately tainted by agricultural inputs, but that’s a story for another day.)

Top photo: Kaweah Peaks of the Sierra Nevada from Wikimedia Commons. Water rights postcard: Paul Stanton, Duckboy Cards

September 30, 2011   No Comments