The COVID-19 pandemic has renewed my conviction that we cannot continue to consume with reckless abandon on a finite planet. A larger crisis looms ahead. The current pandemic feels like a mere rehearsal for the massive disruption to come. Catastrophic climate change is a reality. The current pandemic has brought the fragility of our interconnected systems into stark relief. There’s no sugarcoating this.
Our lack of preparedness has cast a dark shadow. We are living in an apocalyptic moment. Apocalypse comes from the Greek word apokalyptein which means to uncover, disclose or reveal. The pandemic has revealed the fragility of our interconnected systems and the cascading challenges that lie ahead.
We were caught off guard. Many people panicked and began stockpiling toilet paper. Experts tell us that hoarding toilet paper may help restore a sense of control during a time of great uncertainty. Professor Steven Taylor, author of a book called The Psychology of Pandemics, makes the following observation:
“So there is a very tight connection between fear of getting infected and disgust. And what better tool for eliminating disgusting material than toilet paper. I think this is how it became a conditioned symbol of safety.’’
Purchasing toilet paper restores a sense of agency. People can take concrete steps to protect themselves from contamination. A shortage of toilet paper at the supermarket, then, can be jarring or induce panic, particularly in a world where overabundance is often taken for granted. The shortage of such a symbol disrupts the solidity of our world, the reliability that keeps it from unraveling.
America is the largest consumer of toilet paper in the world. According to an article that appeared in Big Think, Americans use about 34 million rolls of toilet paper per day. That translates into a scandalous number of felled trees. I did a quick Google search and learned that it takes approximately 37 gallons of water to produce a single roll of toilet paper. That’s a considerable amount of water. It’s also shockingly wasteful. In short, toilet paper — that comforting symbol of safety — is ruinous for the planet.
What is required of us now? This is certainly a moment for letting go, for reassessing our collective ass wiping rituals and learning from other cultures. A bit of cultural humility is in order. American exceptionalism hasn’t been working out too well for us. The French have their bidets and South Asians use the lota, a small pot or chalice filled with water. The name may vary from place to place but the concept remains largely the same: Purification with water.
It’s certainly less wasteful. That matters immensely as we confront our unsustainable consumption patterns on a finite planet. The COVID-19 virus has revealed the centrality of water. Perhaps we haven’t fretted enough about water shortages. Perhaps we haven’t thought deeply enough about how a lack of clean water can lead to the loss of life during a global pandemic. This in spite of the fact that experts have repeatedly advised us to wash our hands with soap and water in order to prevent the spread of the virus. Water has been and continues to be a big part of the story. That needs to be seared into our consciousness as we move forward and consider how to manage our collective resources. Water is more than a symbol of comfort or safety. It’s the basis of life itself.
Yet, in the midst of this global pandemic the Trump administration has suspended the enforcement of environmental laws. Companies will no longer face any sanctions for polluting the water or the air that are vital for our existence. Recent research has shown that people living in more polluted areas have a higher chance of dying from infection.
During these apocalyptic times harsh truths reveal themselves. We are at the mercy of madmen who are recklessly squandering our natural resources. Only collective political action can protect the commons on which we depend for life itself. Wellness is not merely a personal affair. Being healthy connects us to the commons. It’s also largely about the air we breathe and the water we drink. This is no time to retreat into the private sphere. The English word idiot comes from ancient Greek. It refers to a person who focuses exclusively on personal affairs and remains largely oblivious to the political affairs of the country. We cannot afford to act like ‘’idiots’’ during a pandemic and catastrophic climate change.
Ginan Rauf is a co-founder of An-Nas, an educator, photographer and dedicated mom.