You need to dismantle in order to build the future economy…

What has 23 screws, 15 separate rubber parts, 13 wires, 4 plastic boards, 3 metal plates, 3 unidentifiable objects, 2 microphones and 1 circuit board?

These are the ingredients of an old landline phone, obviously!

Exhibit A

In a Green Alliance conference last week, I took part in a tear down session run by the RSA as part of their Great Recovery initiative which meant that we physically got to dismantle a small household electrical appliance that had been discarded. The physical labour enabled me to appreciate how intricate the design of objects is and how, quite often, products are simply not meant to be taken apart (see proof of labour in photo!). Though we were not able to identify each individual chemical element from the periodic table present in the landline phone, we did understand that there were countless elements which had been glued, welded, screwed and fused together. Recouping the individual raw materials is no easy feat.

The Green Alliance conference was, in fact, a practitioners’ seminar on building a business plan for a circular economy.

At its simplest definition and from a supply side, the circular economy is one which looks at raw materials in a less linear way. So an economy which moves away from taking, making, using and discarding; and moves towards a more holistic approach to living systems and replenishing natural capital. The circular economy seems to draw from and build on previous models like: green economy, sustainable economy, future economy, closed loop economy and cradle-to-cradle economy. Brook Lyndhurst has explored some of the practical implications for consumers of such an economy via our research, for example, on longer product lifetimes.

There was an impressive line up of speakers at the seminar from local authorities to investors to designers to Government officials. A heterogeneous bunch of people with a similar goal: sketching out how we could pave the way to a more circular economy. The intellectual stimulus and hands-on demonstration left me thinking that the path to the circular economy has to be a collective effort. Each and every one of us needs to change our mindset so that we are making, using and giving a new life to products (via re-use, remanufacturing and recycling) and considering product durability, service and intrinsic value throughout this cyclical process.


Coming home to a house with no power

I’ve just moved into a new apartment in London, which has one of these (see picture):

Electricity meter

That 53p will last longer if the TV isn't left on standby

In case you’re not sure, it’s an electricity meter, complete with ‘key’.

Using PayPoints in local shops, you pay in advance for electricity you are going to use in cash (cards not accepted). This balance gets digitally recorded on your key, and once you’ve plugged it back in, you can sit back and witness the money on the meter tick down towards zero until you decide to next top it up. Alternatively, you can assume it won’t run out, go away for a couple of days and return to discover that you can’t turn any lights on, the boiler isn’t working, and the freezer has started defrosting…

When researching domestic gas use in a recent project for DECC, we found that a vast disconnect between paying bills and actual gas consumption exists. Almost no one in the study knew how much gas they were using in terms of units. While some had a grasp of how much they were paying each month or year, many others were unable to give this information with any confidence (largely due to the fact that they paid bills by direct debit, or because it was lumped together with their electricity bill). Not only that, but so that bills in winter aren’t astronomical, gas bills are based on estimates and smoothed over the course of a year. That means that over 12 months some people may have paid for more/less gas than they’ve actually used.

Pre-payment, while considerably more inconvenient, overcomes this disconnection. Unfortunately, due to the fact that only a couple of the research participants in the DECC study had pre-pay gas meters, we weren’t able to confirm the hypothesis that people ‘on meters’ were more likely to be aware of how much they were using (at least in financial terms). For my part, since the formative experience a week or two into my tenancy (yes, sadly, the freezer defrosting wasn’t hypothetical), I’ve kept a very keen eye on the meter in our hall. I’m also taking (even) more care with my electricity usage – no longer is my laptop plugged in when it’s already charged, and the wireless router is turned off when no one’s at home.

With the roll out of smart meters, the government will hope that similar behavioural changes occur as people’s awareness of what they are using grows. I am optimistic that these smart meters will have some level of impact for many householders in the UK. I cannot imagine, however, they will be nearly as effective as forcing you to leave your home, take cash out of your pocket, and then see your money ticking down towards a dark, cold, food-less house.


What a Catch!

Last week a few of us helped out at the launch events for Catchbox in Chichester and Brighton. It was great to see so many local residents, fishers, local community and food group members, and journalists/writers come out to support the project. At both events the interest and excitement in making such a scheme work was palpable.

The events brought together local like-minded people who wanted to find out more about Catchbox.

“So what is Catchbox?” you ask? It is a cooperative which wants to connect fish eaters with fishers who use responsible fishing methods directly – delivering members not only with a supply of fish but an enhanced fish experience.

“Huh? A fish experience? What’s that?” you, understandably, might wonder. Catchbox will supply its members with fresh fish caught locally – a pot luck offered by the sea, if you will.

Catchbox

Jack Clarke explaining Catchbox in Chichester

So members won’t be able to choose their fish and, at times, may not have even heard of the type of fish, but that is where the ‘experience’ comes in. Co-op members will be given tools and information like: demonstrations on how to fillet fish; recipes to please their tastebuds; tips on how to cook the fish; and facts and stories about the fishers and fish.

Seaweb is delivering the operational and logistical aspects of this project; while we, at Brook Lyndhurst, are the research partners of the project. This means that we are supporting Catchbox every step of the way from set up to delivery with evidence-backed recommendations on how to improve the running of the scheme. We will be using a whole suite of research techniques (e.g. surveys, focus groups, ethnographic observation, etc.) to assess the impact of the scheme and learn about how it might be delivered in other contexts. You can find out more about our role and approach here.

Catchbox is due to launch in the next couple of weeks. For more information, or to be kept informed, check out the scheme’s website here.


Crowd sorcery

Crowdsourcing and crowdfunding are all the rage. The “wisdom of crowds”, it seems, is the way to navigate the fiendish complexity that seems to surround us.

But what if the crowd is full of morons? Or vindictive xenophobes? Or plain ignoramuses? We have to be careful. The results may not be what they seem – and magicians, with either good or bad intent, may weave spells with the results.

Bertrand Russell was certainly worried about all this back in 1929:-

The fact that an opinion has been widely held is no evidence whatever that it is not utterly absurd; indeed in view of the silliness of the majority of mankind, a widespread belief is more likely to be foolish than sensible.”

A somewhat misanthropic view, perhaps: or even a view pervaded by a hint of the eugenic tendencies of a certain class of white male middle class intellectual in the run up to the Holocaust; but a view, nevertheless, which reminds us to be careful.

In my work on attitudes towards novel food technologies, for example, and in particular during the course of sundry presentations I made in the period following the publication of the work, it became clear to me not only that the general public had views that in some cases bore little or no relation to the actual facts; it also became clear that great numbers of scientists had views about the general public that bore little or no relation to the human condition. The public are simply wrong, was their assertion, and the solution is to bludgeon them to enlightenment with massive quantities of evidence.

Which is, of course, exactly the kind of blinkered behaviour that reinforces many people’s beliefs about scientists. And science.

That said, if you’re worried that a more general or unwashed crowd might come up with answers not to your liking, perhaps you should handpick your crowd. This is what Green Mondays did in their recent work with/for Sainsbury’s, the latter having admirably agreed to have their ‘20×20 Sustainability Plan’ evaluated by a ‘crowd of 220 business and sustainability experts’.

Much of the report is useful and thought-provoking – but here’s what the expert crowd say about waste when asked to suggest some next steps for Sainsbury’s:

Educate the consumer to stimulate behaviour change, normalising through celebrity involvement and challenging perceptions through radical redesign in packaging.

Hmm. Well, I suppose the last of these three might be helpful; but much of Brook Lyndhurst’s research and the behaviour change literature more broadly suggests that the first two of these are largely tosh.

Which serves to remind us that ‘experts’, too, are only human, and are as subject as the rest of us to the vagaries of the human condition. We have to be careful. Crowdsourcing undoubtedly adds something, potentially many things, to our armoury of analytical tools; but it is still not a substitute for the disciplines of good research and careful thought.


You can get it if you really want

This was originally written by David Fell for Guardian Sustainable BusinessYou can view the original article (published on 7th March, 2013) here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/sustainable-business/selling-sustainability-consumer-battle

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Advertisers have long since abandoned any effort to sell their wares on the basis of functional performance. Instead, they sell on the basis of dreams, of myths – speaking about our feelings rather than the facts.

In the myths of advertising, cars are not devices for moving slowly among thousands of other cars from one shop, school or office to another: instead they are expressions of personal identity that streak along deserted mountain passes, glide through chrome-plated Bladerunner cityscapes and jauntily position us at the centre of an unbearably exciting social life. And food is not a source of nutrition consumed in hurried mouthfuls between one demand and another: it is an opportunity for happy family time, or for luxurious indulgence, or for helping us to be thin.

One of the main means by which advertising and marketing agencies assess our mythological needs is market research, particularly the archetypical focus group. Gather together a number of individuals from your target market – “young urban professional males”, “time pressed suburban mums” – and expose them to your new campaign, the messages you’re considering, the images you have in mind. Invite reactions, questions, gauge their response, look for the other aspects of the myth that will increase the chances of your success; just how wide does the sky need to be as the car hurtles to the horizon?

I have never sat in a focus group to discuss cars but I’ve conducted innumerable other groups and am completely certain that, as “young urban professional male” watched the sleek fold of Italian design move like mercury towards a glistening future, he did not call out: “Yes, but how many grams of CO2 does it emit every kilometre?”

And yet, every car advertisement carefully addresses this very issue. Footnoted and very small font, to be sure, but it’s there because European regulation means that is has to be. And from an environmental point of view, this is surely a good thing. Cars emit loads of CO2; regulators are on the case; car manufacturers are under pressure to produce more efficient vehicles, and are obliged to tell us. Great stuff.

Except that, in the matter of sustainable consumption, this is virtually the whole story. Sustainable consumption consists at present almost entirely of “supply push” rather than “demand pull”. On the supply side, a combination of regulatory and legislative obligation, business-to-business peer pressure and, slowly, a developing cultural norm mean that a growing number of enterprises are taking sustainability seriously.

Turn to the consumer side of the equation, however, and the story is very different. The number of people taking sustainability seriously has remained stubbornly low for the past 20 years.

Perhaps two or three consumers in every 100 are actively trying to minimise their environmental footprint on a consistent, across-the-board basis. The majority find it too hard, too overwhelming, too complicated – too much hassle given all the other things they need to think about.

And the advertising folk know this, too. So – as Brook Lyndhurst’s recent research for WWF showed – food retailers such as Waitrose and Marks & Spencer are genuinely doing good things, but they do not present the whole picture. Instead, they tell of environmental mini-myths about “sustainably sourced fish” and food grown locally. The producers, too, work with myths that consumers will find digestible, most notably – as we discovered in our work for the Department of Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) exploring consumer perspectives on animal welfare – in the matter of chickens that do athletics and cows that earn salaries.

Consumers don’t really understand these things; hardly anyone calculates their carbon footprint, never mind decides which car to buy as a result and consumers prefer not to think about the actual living conditions of the animals that arrive in nicely packaged chunks in the supermarket. Food retailers and producers know that if they confront consumers with the real implications of sustainable choices, they would run a mile.

And this points towards something very troubling. Businesses generally prosper when they produce something that someone, somewhere, actually wants. You want the feeling of freedom and individuality? We have just the car/hair-product/shoes for you. Here, look – it says so in the advert!

Selling stuff that people don’t really want is like pushing a rock uphill: you can do it if you’re strong enough, or if you yourself are being beaten hard enough, but it’s very hard work – and you can’t keep it up forever.

In the end, for a sustainable economy, we need consumers who actually want it. And, to sell it to them, we’re going to need myths. Want a sustainable future? Look! Relaxed time with friends and family! Healthy and long life, a meaningful job, an opportunity to make a contribution! Choose this, and get this!

But what kind of products and services are these? And what kind of myths will sell them and can “business” figure out how to provide them and still keep the shareholders happy?

A 1956 Chevrolet car in Cuba