There are few modern rituals more spiritually affirming than standing at the checkout counter, gazing into the cashier’s eyes, and declaring, “No bag, thanks. I brought my own.” It’s a moment of environmental piety—a reusable tote pressed reverently to the chest, cotton fibers woven with the smugness of 149 plastic bags not used (but, as it turns out, probably still made). The problem is that like all good sermons, the gospel of the grocery bag is riddled with contradictions, caveats, and a whole lot of carbon.
The New York Times, ever ready to preach the faith of “climate responsibility,” recently published a piece titled “What Shopping Bags Should I Use?” It’s a fascinating read, not because it provides clarity, but because it demonstrates just how convoluted eco-virtue has become. Spoiler alert: you can’t win. But you can feel like you’re winning, and maybe that’s the point.
Let’s start with the usual demon in the pews: plastic. Plastic bags, we are told, are the spawn of fossil fuels, and as such, must be banished. Their recycling rate is a dismal 10%, and their afterlife often involves floating past a turtle’s nose or breaking into confetti-sized microplastics that haunt us for centuries. But here’s the twist—according to not one but two studies cited by the article (from Britain’s Environment Agency and Denmark’s Environmental Protection Agency), those unholy plastic bags actually have the smallest environmental footprint of the lot when judged by greenhouse gas emissions.
So how did they become public enemy number one? Simple. They look bad. They’re flimsy, crinkly, and associated with other people who don’t bring their own bags to Trader Joe’s.
Then there’s paper—renewable, biodegradable, and about as sturdy as wet tissue paper and prone to tearing dramatically halfway across the parking lot, right as your oat milk makes a break for it. Surely this is the sanctified option? Not quite. Paper bags, according to the same British study, need to be reused three times to match the global warming impact of a single plastic bag. Which, for anyone who’s ever had a soggy-bottomed paper bag explode in the rain, is optimistic bordering on delusional.
Still, paper has better PR. Its recycling rate is 43%—respectable, though still meaning most paper bags end up decomposing into methane and carbon dioxide in landfills. Methane, for those keeping theological score, is one of the top demons in the pantheon of greenhouse gases. That’s right: while plastic might just sit there, paper actively farts its way through the afterlife.
And then we arrive at the high priests of environmental virtue: the reusable totes. These cotton-clad chalices of consumer conscience are everywhere—handed out at conferences, weddings, political rallies, yoga studios. Each one whispers, “You’re a good person.” But the truth, as always, is inconvenient. The British study concluded a cotton tote needs to be reused 131 times to match a plastic bag. The Danish study said 149. And that’s assuming you ever use them more than once, instead of stuffing them into the growing pile of canvas guilt under your sink.
This begs the question: are we really trying to save the planet, or just auditioning for sainthood?
Dr. Samantha MacBride of Baruch College offers a clue. She notes that plastic bags “perpetuate the fossil fuel industry,” and that “system needs to retract if we’re going to have a future.” Ah, there it is. The issue isn’t just emissions or landfill space. It’s symbolism. Plastic is original sin. Paper is purgatory. And totes—well, they’re your chance at salvation, provided you repent and reuse until your shoulder gives out.
Even the article’s “bottom line” is a masterclass in hedging. “Experts agree that reusing [your bag] as many times as possible is key.” So, after thousands of words, we arrive at a tautology: reuse the thing you have, unless you have too many of them, in which case, feel bad. But also, don’t use plastic. And try not to kill trees. And maybe learn to sew your own bags from discarded hemp curtains sourced locally from your grandmother’s attic.
Virtue signaling, it turns out, is a full-time job.
But perhaps this is the real story here—not the science, which is flimsy and contradictory—but the performance. Climate consumerism doesn’t demand outcomes; it demands gestures. It doesn’t care if your tote has the carbon footprint of a coal train, so long as you mean well. It’s not about solving problems; it’s about demonstrating allegiance.
Because if the numbers mattered, we’d be mass-producing low-density polyethylene bags and setting up efficient return-reuse programs. But that would be practical, and practicality doesn’t trend on Instagram.
In the end, we are left with a strange theological message: the road to environmental heaven is paved with good intentions, reinforced stitching, and a sturdy sense of self-righteousness. And if you can’t save the Earth, at least make sure your bag says you tried.
Stay tuned for the next sermon: compostable dog poop bags—divine miracle or methane-spewing indulgence?
H/T Marc Morano
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We reuse our plastic grocery bags.
Once.
To pick up dog poop.
Then they go in the trash.
I do not advise using paper grocery bags for that purpose !!!
Ok. How much CO2 is emitted in the production of a single plastic bag?
My load is 3 bags per week. What is my level of climate crime?
How does that compare to how much CO2 humans exhale per day?
Given all the real problems facing humanity, how is it that something so miniscule is such a high level issue?
Identity politics will be the demise of human civilization.
We have used our own reusable bags since the 80’s, and some of these have likely been used a thousand times or more. We aren’t germophobes, so don’t bother washing them. Common sense practices mean you aren’t going to be spilling things in them. We laughed at the Covid hysteria about reuseable bags. Ever notice the number of bags they use? Sixteen bags, where likely eight would do. Ridiculous.
I bought a couple resuable totes over the years, they all share the same fate: being somewhere but never at hand…ridiculous virtue signalling, well no other option except the paper bag which afterlife consists in storing paper to light the fireplace (bag imnluded).
My mother used to make totes herself out of old sheets, so yes that makes sense.
What doesn’t make sense is depriving me of the plastic shopping bag I occasionally need (and prefer) and afterwards use to collect and dispose off my garbage. Can’t see the logic in forcing me to buy plastic garbage bag rolls for the exact final purpose.
Well long story short, my grocery shopping ends up in the trunk of my car without any bag or tote whatsoever…so I use less fuel due to the “reduced” weight lol. Ah ya you ecotards, bitch about that I’m driving an ICU if you habe nothing better to do.
Aldies has solved the problem. You get no bags at all. None. Zero.
Sam’s Club as well.
Walmart makes their blue tote bags from recycled plastic bottles which are PETE.
It seems that if you donate a few dollars to some cause that you believe is worthy, it will send you periodically a thank-you and a request for more dollars in a large envelope that also holds one of those reusable totes.
I find that the totes are great for carrying cans of tomatoes and beans and boxes of pasta to local “food drives”. My contribution to the “Circular Economy.”
There is no question, it is plastic every time. When you have a 100 pound fur baby you need something sturdy to hold the lawn clean up in. The garbage man will thank you for double bagging. It’s a win win two bags get reused for one task and they are disposed of properly.
A plastic bag , with “Pelosi” written on it, has done a lot of damage to California.
We take our own shopping bags … made from fossil fuels of course rather than those paper bags at a price from the checkout.
Years ago, I had small waste baskets with slots in the rim to hold the handles od store plastic bags. So of course I was reusing my plastic bags from shopping! Now I have to buy special bin liners instead which I’m sure cost more.
I actually like the newer reusable bags, which I think are made out of plastic. They’re sturdy and hold much more than traditional grocery bags. I have one that safely holds 2 gallons of milk plus a few frozen foods. Many also have long straps, so I can carry some on my shoulders and some in my hands, making fewer trips for unloading.
I have to question the recycling calculations and the assumption that those not recycled are in a landfill. Despite having used only a handful of paper bags in the last 10 years, I have stacks of them awaiting re-use. Historically, some have been cut up and used for craft projects or wrapping packages. Some have been used to transport groceries elsewhere or donate clothes
“No bag, thanks. I brought my own.” It’s a moment of environmental piety…”
We don’t have that self-flagellating opportunity in the UK or the Fourth Reich next door, because it has been mandated: Thou shalt not have plastic bags. Sinner! Stores are prohibited from providing them free, but you can buy heavy plastic reusable ones.
Some supermarkets – UK – no longer provide plastic bags for loose fruit and veg. Either you have your own bag or you can buy small reusable bags for your fruit & veg.
Many product packages proudly declare, 30% less plastic, raising the question, why did it have 30% more in the first place.
It has also been discovered that as provision of supermarket plastic bags has declined, so have sales of plastic waste-bin liners increased. Net result = zero reduction of plastic use.
The last time I was dragged into a Trader Joe’s they had a rack of cloth grocery bags emblazoned in a large graphic that said: “Does This Bag Make My Heart Look Big?”