At some point last year I went into the Trinity College Dublin Students’ Union (TCDSU) offices upset.
I can’t remember what my issue was, or whether it was resolved, but I distinctly recall walking away from House 6, a staple SU tote bag and infographic-ridden keep cup in hand.
It strikes me now how integral tote bags and keep cups have become as tokens of green activism, the freshers’ fair an easy example, where free tote bags are about as common as hate comments on the TCDSU’s TikTok.
Keep cups are a more sustainable alternative to disposable cups when used consistently. After only eight uses, your keep cup has a lower carbon impact than using disposable cups across the same timeframe.
That being said, with ethical consumerism becoming increasingly commonplace, it is worth considering the topic in more depth.
Green consumerism is defined as “the purchasing and non-purchasing decisions made by consumers, based at least partly on environmental or social criteria” by Ken Peattie in Green marketing (1992). Basically, the idea is that consumers can hold sellers accountable to more “environmentally friendly” practices through their choice to buy – or not buy – their products.
Without the resolve to make genuine changes to my lifestyle, or the ability to grow, sew or weld, green consumerism feels like the only measure available to me should I wish to become more climate conscious. In essence, I am stuck in the system of consumerism, but I possess the power to reward those sellers seen to be upholding certain ethical and environmental standards.
The issue is with determining these supposed standards. The information to be found on products I pick up from the shelf at a shop is vague at best. I would burn more calories trying to discern the carbon emissions of a banana than I’d gain from eating it.
Generally, the only easily ascertained environmental information for a product comes in the form of marketing. I have to trust the integrity of the seller – easier said than done.
You will no doubt be well aware of the oftentimes futile nature of “green consumerism”, so there’s no need for me to continue rambling on about its limitations or lash out disturbing facts on tote bag supply chains. Instead, let’s consider why we are so sold on green marketing.
Psychological studies have broken down the responses to feelings of climate anxiety into three general categories. First, an unconscious reaction of denial. Second are individuals that feel highly connected to the environment and subsequently undergo major lifestyle changes. This is sometimes considered the final stage of “ecological grief”. Lastly, individuals with an external locus of control: a belief that one’s circumstances are outside of their own control. These only partially concern themselves with the state of the environment and include the “green consumer”.
The “green consumer” characterisation certainly rings true within my own peer group, and I anticipate that it is where many of you will fall. Whenever I hear the topic of environmentalism broached, the general consensus seems to be that, though efforts are pointless on a wider scale, small acts of environmentally friendly behaviour might help (but mostly make us feel better about ourselves).
Given that marketing strategies tend to play off of our emotions, it is worth considering green consumerism as a stress response rather than a form of environmental activism. Green consumerism is not about a well-thought-out, calculated approach to climate action. We use it selectively.
Its value lies in soothing our guilty conscience or in dampening our fears about the future. We all know there’s bound to be some kind of slightly shady story behind any product we pick up off the shelf, environmentally-conscious products included. So, we block that from our mind, pick up some bits that look clean and green and walk out of the shop with our heads held high.
If you’re someone who truly believes in the power of ethical consumerism and find yourself aggrieved reading this article, you probably have a point. Some argue that the apathy people feel towards the climate crisis is actually a defence mechanism to deflect from the distress of climate change. Though aware of the problem, people do not make environmentally-conscious decisions in these cases. I might consider myself guilty of this as I poke holes at green consumerism when I still have so much to learn about the industry behind it.
What is clear to me is the importance of our emotional response to climate change. Those who are truly involved in climate action are without question guided by the hurt and pain they feel due to their planet being desecrated before their eyes.
Those practising green consumerism arguably do so only because of a certain amount of fear they’ve managed to internalise. And those that reject the topic entirely may well do so out of that same fear.
Climate change will only become an increasingly serious factor in our lives as time goes on, and it should be a topic to take into account when making decisions. It’s probably best for us to stop deflecting it.
