Common Sense an Antidote to Eco-Labeling

Just when we were beginning to understand the meaning of biodegradable and recyclable and the difference among diapers and juice boxes and fast-food packages, the conflict shifts.

A group that awards Green Crosses to environmentally sound products has just announced its new criteria for certification--something called “life cycle assessment.” Another group will soon be awarding Green Seals. Green Flags, Green Globes and Green Arrows can’t be far behind.

All this certification is supposed to help us through the thicket of environmental claims on foods, packaged goods, paper products, sundries. Actually, it’s just another thicket--of certifications rather than claims. It’s called eco-labeling, and it makes common sense look like an art.

Everyone wants to define goodness in an era of claims and catchwords that go far beyond “cleaner than clean,” “whiter than white,” or even “natural” and “lite.” Today’s terms refer to whole movements and causes. Canned tuna is “dolphin safe,” a term one might think applicable to all canned goods. Produce is “pesticide free,” which could mean grown without pesticides or just washed off. Toothpaste is (no joke) “cruelty free,” or not tested on animals.

Some seem impressively specific--”biodegradable,” for one, or “recyclable.” But they may still be meaningless: Virtually nothing biodegrades in a landfill and everything degrades somewhat over time, and something recyclable can’t be recycled if there’s no recycling facility in an area.

Such claims haven’t gone unchallenged: State attorneys general and the Federal Trade Commission have made examples of individual products (Hefty trash bags, Bunnies diapers) for claiming biodegradability without justification. But many people want government standards set--the number of years, say, within which materials must actually biodegrade, or the amount of used material required to call something “recycled”--an undertaking that would hardly move swiftly.

Meantime, private groups such as Green Cross are coming up with their own criteria to certify products. This gives consumers a new problem--choosing among certifications.

Ideally, they should understand and endorse the particular approach--life cycle assessment, perhaps, which measures a product’s environmental impact from manufacture to disposal. As Green Cross explains it, it’s not as easy as weighing a paper product against a product of another material, or recycled paper against paper made from fresh pulp. One has to understand that a “virgin” paper product may be made out of fibers from environmentally “managed forest operations,” while a recycled product may originally have involved the destruction of virgin forests.

Given such complexities of certification, consumers will instead have to choose among certifiers. There they’ll stand, confronted at the point of purchase by a Green Cross, a Green Seal and a Green Flag, whoever they might be.

Pick the Green Cross, and choose a program initiated by four Western grocery chains and conducted by something called Scientific Certification Systems. Pick the Green Seal, and get a program established by several environmental groups, including the Sierra Club and Natural Resources Defense Council. Pick the Green Flag, and get something awarded by an outfit called Conservation Inc., which might turn out to be someone’s kid working out of his garage.

Sometimes the arrangements are telling, if they’re known, and if there’s money involved, which puts a pall on the certification. Green Cross testing could cost applicants up to $10,000. Green Seal’s testing is free, but there are “licensing” fees for displaying the seal. (The kid may not charge, but he’s not exactly Consumers Union.) Who knows what will be behind the Green Globe, the Green Arrow and any other little symbols?

Fortunately, even without knowledge or understanding, there’s always common sense. One may miss a few, but it’s better than nothing, and maybe just better.

Why get into a debate over which juice box is most recyclable or whether little boxes are better than little cans? Reason suggests that one uses up the least material of any kind when one buys a big container, and pours it into glasses or thermoses.

Reason also suggests that anyone concerned about using up landfill should consider washable cloth diapers, and anyone concerned about drought should look into compostable paper diapers (if composting’s available) or one of the diaper services claiming to wash diapers in a spoonful of water. And why can’t we have our fast food in paper wrappers and paper bags instead of Styrofoam clamshells?

Never mind the seals and certifications: Consumers who can understand life cycle assessment can also handle direct information. Let companies advertise the fact that their packaging uses paper pulp from managed forests, trucked down by mule. Let juice companies offer kids thermoses as premiums with their biggest cans, and explain why.

What does certification add besides another layer of confusion, something more to investigate?