03/21/2024

How to Make Tough Choices in a Morally Exhausting World

Not all ways of organizing one’s life are morally equal

Modern life is morally exhausting. And confusing. Everything we do seems to matter. But simultaneously: Nothing we do seems to matter. My friend, an outspoken environmentalist, recently posted to social media a picture of herself on a beautiful beach, celebrating a moment of quiet with nature. And predictably—the internet being what it is—within a few moments of posting it, one of the first comments came in: “How much carbon did you emit to go on your vacation?” The implication, of course, being that she’s a hypocrite, preaching environmentalism for thee, but not for me. And despite the comment seeming like a childish jab, she—like most of us—cares about justifying her actions, and so she responded, citing all of the ways that she minimizes her carbon footprint and arguing that never getting to enjoy her life seems like an unreasonable standard.

This sort of debate plays out in my head, with me playing both sides, regularly—many times a day, if I let it. This morning at breakfast, I poured almond milk on my cereal, which is the result of a judgment I made years ago when I decided that cow milk is too environmentally expensive to justify. In general, animal-based foods have a higher carbon footprint than their plant-based counterparts, and so I have, to varying degrees over the years, reduced or eliminated them from my diet. But while working on a recent food ethics project, I learned that almond milk might not be a great substitute. Although it does have a lower carbon footprint, almond trees require huge amounts of water—like, over three gallons of water to produce a single nut—and more than 80 percent of the world’s almonds are grown in California, which suffers from severe drought. Switching from cow milk to almond milk thus traded a high carbon footprint for high water use.

I also drove to the gym today, which reflects many ethically relevant decisions I’ve made about my life. I live in the suburbs, which means I have to own a car and drive most places I want to go. Making this choice supports a lifestyle popular in America that is very bad for the environment—one of spread-out individualism, in which so many of us live in big houses, with big, mono-crop lawns, driving our private cars to do every minor task. My drive to the gym or my 45-minute commute to campus is a reminder that I’m part of a radically unsustainable cultural choice.

Please select this link to read the complete article from TIME.