I do not hide my mathematical nature, dear reader, nor do I apologize for it, but on occasion it can be a great source of annoyance for myself and others.
Most notably, I develop a frantic twitch whenever someone uses the word proof without defining exactly what they mean by proof, and this has lead me into several heated arguments with preachers and scientists alike.
But more recently, I have found my lip quivering every time I see a poster or table-top pamphlet for RecycleMania. For those unaware – or simply for those who live without being bombarded by University Housing messages in your homes and eating venues – RecycleMania is a yearly intercollegiate competition meant to help reduce waste and increase recycling awareness on campus. Each participating school tries to achieve the highest weight of recycled goods averaged out per person.
Every day I check my mail at the Living-Learning Center and pass by a big scoreboard for the University’s division of the RecycleMania competition. And every day the mathematician inside me moans: The competition equates increased recycling per capita with lower waste production, and that plainly and simply is not the case. In fact it could well be the opposite. What stops people from just consuming more and incidentally having some more cardboard boxes per person to toss into the bin? Personally I think less recycling would be better because it emphasizes that wonderful principle of “reduce,” in addition to “recycle.”
Focusing on just a single statistic and associating it with such a complex phenomenon as sustainability is impossible. It’s that mentality which makes people feel they are being green by buying a car with a good mileage-per-gallon rate without making the changes to driving habits that will greatly affect the actual mileage per gallon.
And I can’t imagine that such a challenge really does much here at the University. Most everyone here already recycles; it’s just something we do. Each dorm room and most classrooms have their own recycling bins, each outdoor garbage can sits next to paper and bottle collection containers, and some buildings like Lillis Hall come complete with indoor recycling centers, so one always has the ability to recycle no matter where one goes.
So, the only people such a contest would really affect are the people who choose not to recycle; yet if they do not bother to use the numerous and easily accessible tools already on campus, a contest about something they do not care about will not make them act any differently.
The RecycleMania contest ruins all the hard work that Oregon has done to be a nationwide leader in sustainability by turning it into a mush of self-congratulatory do-goodery. The contest might even cause students to recycle less because it specializes recycling instead of normalizing recycling: Students who recycle by habit will continue that habit with or without a contest; students who only recycle because of a contest have no reason to continue once the contest ends.
To be fair to RecycleMania, not every competition it offers, nor even the majority of their competitions, is as focused as the one this University does. Their biggest competition mixes two important statistics: highest recycled weight per capita and best recycling-to-waste ratio. Still, they seem to focus too much on the recycling numbers to please my inner mathematician.
The mathematician in me knows that the numbers will never quite add up to a proof of more sustainable living. The numbers RecycleMania records hide local practices – the use of biodegradable cups, for example – that never go into recycling calculations. There are times as well when we create more waste because we need something else: Maybe getting healthier food takes more plastic wrap and less cardboard. What, I ask, is the point of sustainability if it comes at the price of another good cause?
I’d much rather count on good intentions and a holistic worldview than count pounds of cardboard boxes.
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