By Stephen Calme ‘05M.Ed.

The air-conditioning line was what did it for me.

In Laudato Si, Pope Francis writes, “People may well have a growing ecological sensitivity, but it has not succeeded in changing their harmful habits of consumption which, rather than decreasing, appear to be growing all the more. A simple example is the increasing use and power of air-conditioning” (55).

I expected him to cite “the increasing use of expensive electronics” or “fast food” or “pet costumes.” Instead, Francis points to air-conditioning, a reality of middle-class American life that many of us take for granted. While I might say I am energy-conscious when setting the thermostat, the truth is that I assume that I will enjoy A/C in all environments (home, car, work, stores) at a temperature that is probably within three or four degrees of what I would find ideal. To go any further would seem excessively self-denying in a culture where we feel entitled to be comfortable at all times.

As I pondered Francis’s words of warning about something so ubiquitous in my life as air-conditioning, I began to wonder about other consumerist tendencies to which I was blind. So I decided to try an exercise to understand better my practices as a consumer. For two weeks I kept track of every expense I had, whether it was food, rent, donations, or parking meters. For each transaction, I answered the following questions in a spreadsheet:

1. What did I purchase? I noted not just what it was (“orange juice”) but what kind it was (“Tropicana orange juice”).

2. From where did I purchase it? I could buy the same bottle of orange juice from multiple places, but is buying it from Wal-Mart the same as buying it from the local grocer?

3. Do I consider this item a “want” or a “need”? The difference was not always clear, but the question did reveal that some of my entrenched habits had pushed many nice-to-haves toward the must-have column: “I could not possibly have breakfast without orange juice!” The issue was not simply whether the item in question was morally good or bad; rather, it was how dependent I had become on the item. Could I see that my life did not rely on this thing?

4. In deciding on this particular version of the item, what was the primary criterion or value I used (e.g., color, durability, price, environmental impact)? In every purchase I make, I have a reason for choosing one item over another, but I am usually not conscious of that reason. It was helpful to make this explicit: “I’m buying this orange juice primarily because of how it tastes, not because of how it is made, the type of container it is in, etc.” By asking what value I was prioritizing for each purchase, I noticed that the criteria I naturally use are focused on myself: how much will this item cost me, and will it give me exactly what I want? Only if those two criteria were met perfectly would I go on to consider the impact on other people and on the environment.

5. What would have been the most ethical version of this item I could have purchased? I answered this question in two different ways, depending on the situation. First, sometimes this question was very straightforward: “Five types of orange juice are in the refrigerator case; the organic juice in the returnable bottle seems to be the most ethical purchase.” These straightforward responses put right in front of my eyes the fact that I had an ethical decision to make regarding my consumption, and that I chose for or against what I thought was the most ethical product.

Secondly, at other times, this question became an imaginative exercise: “What if I tried buying oranges directly from a farmer in Florida, then paid an out-of-work neighbor to juice it into reusable bottles?” These ideas were often quite fanciful, and yet even the far-fetched ones were technically possible. They simply required investments and trade-offs I was not willing to make (e.g., neglecting my friends and work for two weeks as I try to set up a direct buying agreement with a citrus farmer). Both the straightforward and imaginative responses to this question made me confront the fact that I did have choices, and that an ethical option was conceivable.

6. If I did not purchase the most ethical version, why not? The responses to this question fell into three categories. First, I gave myself a pat on the back when I did make an ethical purchase.

Secondly, I hung my head a bit when I chose a less-than-best option for a less-than-honorable reason. Often this was because the ethical item cost more and I was being greedy: “If I buy the cheaper OJ, I can afford a larger container of ice cream.” I ignored the fact that the great deal I was getting could not possibly have funded a living wage for whoever made the product. Other times it was that I wanted the item to fit my tastes perfectly: “Tropicana has just the right amount of pulp, and that organic juice looks like it might have a bit too much.”

Thirdly, I found that I sometimes had a good reason for not buying the most ethical product. At times the cost was truly prohibitive: “That organic OJ might be the most ethically-made, but I can only afford it if I put back the ethical versions of all the other items in my cart.” Other times different factors entered the equation: “My roommate only drinks Tropicana, so if I buy the organic juice much of it will likely go to waste.” Strangely, in some circumstances the most ethical thing to do was not to purchase the most ethical product.

At the end of the two weeks, the clearest pattern that had emerged was that my choices were heavily affected by the people directly around me. When others were paying more for ethically-made products, I found joy and ease in doing the same. When others were buying and enjoying cheaper, less-ethically-made items, I felt like I was getting ripped-off when I thought about buying ethically. With ecologically-minded friends I could suggest we take public transportation instead of driving our own cars, but with others I hesitated for fear they would feel uncomfortable. Pope Francis, of course, saw this from a mile away and described it in Laudato Si:

Isolated individuals can lose their ability and freedom to escape the utilitarian mindset, and end up prey to an unethical consumerism bereft of social or ecological awareness. Social problems must be addressed by community networks and not simply by the sum of individual good deeds…. The ecological conversion needed to bring about lasting change is also a community conversion. (219)

In short, I came away from this exercise believing that becoming an ethical consumer will mean being around people who support me in going outside of my comfort zone, and being the kind of person who prods others to do the same. Perhaps that will mean listening to the critical but encouraging words of Pope Francis, and talking to my roommates about turning our air-conditioning down.

For a more detailed examination of this experiment in reflection and consumerism, see these notes from Stephen.