As a die-hard soccer fan, and given that climate change is impacting the World Cup, I thought about spending this week’s newsletter looking at FIFA’s fraught connection with the fossil fuel industry and the push by both players and fans to rid the sport of fossil fuel sponsorships.
But that didn’t feel like the kind of solutions-forward story that I aim to bring you here, so I knew I needed something else.
Then, an encounter with cups at a World Cup viewing event gave me the idea to revisit a topic and solution that my city has been pursuing for some years.
As you read what I discovered below, go ahead and leave a comment about the best reuse projects you've experienced or where the movement should be heading. I’d love to hear from you!
On to the Story,
Syris
On Sunday, I woke up early and eager to get to the World Cup Fan Fest that has taken over a once-thriving shopping mall in Downtown Seattle to watch Spain take on Saudi Arabia in the day’s first match at 9am. But as I rushed to get out the door so I could beat the line and grab a seat behind the mezzanine railing to watch the game on the four story screen erected on the opposite side of the atrium, I hadn’t the time to fill my thermos with coffee, so I just left my apartment with the prayer that the concessions in the fanzone would have what I needed to slake my caffeine craving.
As a climate journalist and a former climate advocate, I ache a little when I buy a drink at a cafe or concession stand, knowing it’ll come in a disposable cup. Despite coffee being as central to Seattle’s urban identity as our evergreen trees, our cafe culture remains much the same as the rest of the United States. Most Seattleites tend to filter through their favorite local roastery, exchange perfunctory pleasantries with the barista, then stride out clutching a branded paper cup, only occasionally taking the drink to stay while chatting with friends or working away on a laptop. Even then, the coffee tends to come in a single-use paper cup instead of a ceramic mug.
All those cups add up.
It’s hard to find solid data on just how many disposable cups Americans throw away each year. But estimates suggest it’s in the billions — anywhere from 25 billion to 50 billion, in fact. It’s a disaster all its own.
Millions of trees are felled each year to manufacture them, and the chemicals used to waterproof them make paper cups as toxic for the environment as plastic ones.
With that in mind, I always try my best to carry a thermos when I make a coffee run. My own individual choice doesn’t make a meaningful difference in isolation, of course, but at least it eases the burden of guilt I feel.
All to say, on Sunday, I wasn’t thrilled about drinking coffee from a paper cup while I watched the Spanish and the Saudis face off, but when I need a caffeine fix, I’ll take it however I can get it. Thankfully, the fanzone itself, aided by an initiative that the City of Seattle launched four years ago, helped keep my karmic landfill free of one less paper cup.
