Reflections on Circular Economy
I've always been friends with o. And with its larger sibling, O. They always seemed rather complete to me. Whatever they started, they finished. No loose ends. No dangling commitments. No unfinished business. So when I first heard humans talking about a circular economy, I naturally assumed it was something to do with making greater use of o and O. Or perhaps less use. One can never tell with humans.For a while I suspected it might be a strategic initiative to reduce verbal profligacy by moving from five vowels to four:
a e i u
The rumours were alphabetical, chronological, and serialised. I heard that when “i” learned of the proposal, the tittle became quite stressed. And the tail of the i, in fear of abandonment, was reportedly considering a move into identity theft. Mine. As usual, there was much discussion and very little clarity. Eventually, however, after an overnight bivvi in the margins of an essay, I discovered what humans actually mean by a circular economy. Simpy put, using things more than once. Repairing them. Reusing them. Recycling them. Designing them so they do not immediately become rubbish.
But perhaps this will be harder for humans than I imagine. Reusing things is rarely as simple as using them again. The thing itself must cooperate. Its screws must consent to being unscrewed. Its parts must agree to being replaced. Its manufacturer must resist the temptation to regard repair as a form of disloyalty. In short, a circular economy may require humans to redesign not only their objects but some of their expectations.
In other words, applying to materials a principle that o mastered long ago: what goes around should come around. Humans do have an admirable ability to create policy frameworks for ideas that are otherwise known as common sense. Still, it seems a promising development. After all: Resources are finite. Landfill is finite. Planets appear to come in limited quantities.
Humans imagine that scarcity and shortages produce thrift. Sometimes they produce ingenuity. Sometimes they produce generosity. Occasionally they produce arguments. And sometimes one country can end up marching into another.
And I have seen what happens when resources become scarce. Once I witnessed two consonants dispute the use of a perfectly serviceable vowel. The arrangement began as cooperation and ended with accusations, committees, and an unfortunate spelling reform. Humans are still fortunate. For the moment there appears to be just enough time, enough material, and perhaps enough goodwill to reorganise themselves before necessity takes over. And life takes a shape they did not choose.
The redundant telephone box that quietly becomes a book exchange and the policy framework drafted in an office may have more in common than either suspects. Both are attempts to keep useful things moving rather than ending. It seems a sensible precaution. And even I can see the wisdom in finishing what you've started.
More reflections at rvw.ie ✒️ Sigi