Voluntary restraint can only go so far in reducing our plastic bag habit

When I was at university I had a friend who was a scientist. He told me excitedly one day that he was setting off on a small research vessel to the middle of the Atlantic Ocean where they would put down a probe into the Mid Atlantic Trench in search of manganese nodules. I wasn’t quite sure what a manganese nodule was, but my friend was very excited about discovering some of them and he promised to bring one back for me. Several months passed before I saw him again. Over a pint of bitter I asked him about his voyage. Yes, he said, they’d collected some manganese nodules, along with an assortment of uncharted deep water species. But overwhelmingly what they had dredged up from the deep was a spew of supermarket carrier bags. Strange then to think that, out there, in one of the deepest least-explored recesses of the planet, alien-looking life forms know the difference between an M&S bag and a Wal-Mart one.

About the same time I knew another student – this one an engineer. He told me with obvious glee about a visit to a factory in Birmingham where he had seen a “Most impressive piece of kit.” The machine he referred to could churn out a million carrier bags without breaking into a sweat. All the operator had to do was program in the design, press a button and sit back.

Cause and effect. On the one hand was my friend who was enthralled to the power of technological progress and could see only benefits, and the other, my friend who got to see some of the consequences out there in his lonely research vessel.

The disposable plastic carrier bag is an icon for our consumer throwaway culture. Use it once and throw it away. China gets through three billion of them a day.  But any ecologist will tell you that there is no ‘away’. We simply export our plastic junk from one ecosystem to another. I have been on beaches in remote corners of Asia where you can’t see the sand for washed up plastic flotsam. Water bottles, sandals, fishing line, sun cream containers, toys, disposable nappies and fast food packaging: we treat the seas like a giant garbage dump. Occasionally one would find a turtle either dead or dying. When you’ve watched someone take the head off a plastic-choked turtle with a machete as it gasps for breath you’ll forever think twice about loading up with free carrier bags at the checkout.

True, on the global scale of ecological problems, plastic bags are down the list when compared with climate change and deforestation. But that doesn’t mean the problem doesn’t require our urgent attention. What’s more, it’s a problem all of our own making that can be quite easily fixed. Several countries and regions around the world have already banned the free plastic bag. In poor tropical countries the bags pose both environmental and health risks. They clog sewage systems, prevent soil from draining properly, choke cows and collect water, which encourages malaria carrying mosquitoes to breed. In Ireland they call them ‘witches’ knickers’, because of the way they get caught in trees and blow in the wind. Witches’ knickers have now been banned.

Britain will almost certainly ban free plastic bags within the next year. Spain has not yet banned the free bag, but that’s probably only because people don’t know the damage they are doing to the marine environment – which Spain relies heavily on. Yet it is so easy to ban because it is a win-win situation. Retailers in other countries have reacted well to a ban because it means they are now able to charge for something which previously had been free – and they save money in the process.

But what is needed first is a cultural shift. When out shopping I seem to repeat “No es necesario,” like a mantra as shopkeeper after shopkeeper tries to load carrier bags onto me. Once I bought a bin and watched in horror as even that was placed in a giant carrier bag. Of course, sometimes you need the odd carrier bag – especially if you plan to reuse it as a bin bag when you get home.

I test this voluntary renunciation in my local town of Órgiva. First, in the bakers, I order two barras. The baker reflexively reaches for a heavy white polythene bag and I utter my mantra. This stays his hand and he looks at me for a moment to check for signs of madness before shrugging and handing over the bread sin bolsa.  Next is Camac, the health food shop. Here it is no problem as many shoppers are already ‘the converted’ and bring their own bags. You can even buy a sturdy cotton bag in the store and plans are afoot to bring in supplies of biodegradable bags. Piece of cake.

I proceed to the discount supermarket (Dia). Here I expect the worst - but I am pleasantly surprised. Behind the checkout are all the spare cardboard boxes and it is a simple case of putting the shopping in these. What’s more, you even have to ask for your free carrier bag, putting many people off doing so.  Maybe they’re just skinflints.

Finally I go to the big-box supermarket on the coast (Al Campo). Inside the store it seems like I have wandered into a Friends of the Earth conference by mistake. A large banner hangs from the ceiling proclaiming that the supermarket has ‘gone green’. Closer investigation reveals that at certain checkouts you can buy a thick polythene carrier bag – thus saving the world. But at all of the other checkouts they dish out the free ones with wild abandon and nobody seems too bothered about choking the dolphins.

So it seems that voluntary restraint can only go so far. If we’re truly serious about getting to grips with this problem we need firm legislative action.

And while they’re at it they can ban plastic greenhouses too.