(Piled) High and stinky

It’s been three weeks since the garbage strike in Toronto started – a fact pointed out to me by my family on a quick visit this weekend to celebrate grandma’s 87th birthday.

From a safe distance in my suburban cocoon, it wasn’t much of a bother. But as I started looking at the pictures from newspaper clippings, and noting just how quickly the rubbish had piled up, I thought it appropriate to propose changing Toronto’s nickname from the 'Big Smoke' to the 'Big Stink'.

On a regular day, New York produces considerable garbage. The sheer concentration of different types of garbage – construction materials, food, packaging, plate scrapings, dog feces – combined with the high summer temperatures makes for an odourific medley to challenge the most seasoned of nostrils. Also, because of the premium of space and volume of trash, the City is somewhat more obvious with its garbage – there are no back alleys or hidden dumpsters. It’s out there on the streets and you can smell it.

As I remember the garbage scene in Toronto (though admittedly, I’m no expert), it’s quite orderly and tidy in a typically Canadian way, hidden in back alleys and firmly shut dumpsters until pick up time. That means it’s conveniently out of our consciousness – once our Tim Horton’s cup or plastic salad container ends up in a garbage can, it’s no longer our problem. Unfortunately, it is our problem, and there’s no denying it now that we’ve hung our garbage out for all the world to see.

That’s a good thing. The sooner we come to terms with the fact that our garbage has to go somewhere, the sooner we can deal with the important question of how we force manufacturers to reduce packaging, reduce waste, improve product design and demand reusability. The sooner we can also focus on the individual responsibility of choosing products that respect the environment. Consumerism is part of the world we live in, but if we cannot immediately change the consumer concept, we must at least use its levers to influence positive change.

A quick trip to the local Fortinos was telling. One man had brilliantly brought his ‘green’ reusable bags with him, but decided that the single lemon he was going to purchase required a clear produce bag. It’s two steps forward, one step back… but it’s not his fault. For such a long time, we have simply accepted waste as part of our lifestyle – it was a convenient behaviour. In fact, it has been default behaviour for us in North America; to ‘de-program’ ourselves and the culture we have built around it, takes constant, concerted effort.

Only recently did I notice that for every bag of garbage created in my tiny New York apartment, there are three bags of recycling. Is this necessary? The next course of action is determining how to change my behaviour: Cheerios only comes in a box and I can’t go down to the local vigneron to fill my reusable 5 litre jug with wine. What to do?

If we give some serious thought to the ways in which man survived for thousands of years without raspberries in a clear plastic pint container, or Ziploc sandwich bags, or even Saran wrap, this is not an insurmountable challenge. For inspiration, or perhaps a kickstart, surf over to Say No to Trash, a blog written by Torontonian Sarah McGaughey. She was recently interviewed on CBC Radio 1 about her attempts to live trash-free for 31 days. She succeeded, but only with some slight flexibility in her self-imposed rules.

Living 100 per cent trash free may be impossible given the structure of our society, but the smallest possible footprint is what we should all aspire to. Take it up as a personal challenge – start a compost as a first step to cutting back on the amount of garbage you create. Or post a comment with your own clever ideas!