Seagull

The invention of waste and the myth of 'away'

In times like these, when ugliness, violence, and hatred are all around us, I find peace in small things, like cleaning. In the Netherlands, I worked as a cleaner for a couple of years during my studies. I worked in social care, assisting elderly and disabled persons in my hometown with their day-to-day cleaning. I encountered a lot of loneliness and poor living conditions that sometimes left me feeling rather hopeless. But being able to do something practical to improve people’s condition, however small it might have been, helped me channel those feelings into something beautiful. At least, when I left, the bathroom smelled like roses, dusty surfaces once again reflected the sun, and the living room had known some laughter, tears, or simple friendly conversation, the memory of which lingered like the scent of the coffee we drank.

It is interesting how good cleaning up can make you feel. Even though not many of us look forward to it, or even enjoy doing it, a good cleaning session can be a cathartic experience. For many people ‘cleaning up’ includes getting rid of old stuff and making space for something new. Whatever we no longer want in our lives; whatever is old, used up, spoiled, or no longer needed, we simply throw away. But where is away?

Where do our old notes, rotten fruits, and coke cans go after we put them in the bin? Truth is, most of us don’t know. Out of sight is out of mind. Maybe we imagine these products ending up on a dump somewhere, only to miraculously disappear after a while. Maybe we think they get burned or, if we separate our waste, recycled and magically turned into new bottles, cans and books. But hardly any of us truly know the how, where, and when of what happens to our waste.

Although its inhabitants only make up four percent of the world’s population, the US is responsible for twelve percent of the world’s trash, holding the world record of greatest trash producers per capita (1800 lb / 816 kg per person per year). A small part of that waste is recycled or composted, some of it gets burned, but the great majority of it ends up in landfills. Landfills in the US have become megastructures in which leftovers, plastics, paper, and textiles, amongst many other things, are gathered and buried out of sight. For the most part, landfills are our away. But landfills are not away. Like any piece of land on this earth, landfills are a part of our ecosystems, and our waste does not simply disappear, even if we cover it with dirt.

This may have been different in ancient times. Waste management first became an issue for humanity when the first cities were formed. Because people started living closer together and became more disconnected from the land, they did not know what to do with their waste. Apart from the occasional bit of broken glass and pottery, ‘waste’ then mostly meant organic matter, such as food scraps. Other animals who consume these products, such as rodents, insects, and birds, became attracted to this waste and entered the city’s streets. Other beings, such as bacteria and viruses, thrived, which also meant odors and diseases were spread. To prevent this, people started gathering their waste outside of the city limits, so those other beings could thrive over there, whilst human beings could thrive inside of their settlements.

One of the birds that is known to eat what we usually see as trash is the Seagull. In the wisdom of this creation, one being’s death is another being’s life, and one being’s waste is another being’s sustenance. Anyone who lives near the coast knows that Seagulls are not picky when it comes to food. I have often felt quite intimidated by big Seagulls as I was eating my fries after a day at the beach. I remember them flying around with all sorts of food scraps. In many coastal towns, landfills used to be covered with scavenging Seagulls. But nowadays, our waste no longer consists of a majority of organic matter. Instead, organic matter, including food waste and garden clippings, only make up thirty percent of the average American’s waste. Plastics, paper, and metals nowadays make up almost fifty percent. There are similar trends in other countries in the Global North. And as our waste transformed, so did the diet of the Seagull. All sorts of modern waste products have been found inside the stomachs of dead Seagulls: plastic cutlery, aluminum foil, and empty wrappers still testifying of what they once briefly embraced.

In our imagination, there is a distinction between nature and culture. It is the same distinction we make when talking about ‘inside’ and ‘outside’. Wildcats are a part of ‘nature’, but domestic cats belong to the realm ‘culture’, because they live ‘inside’ with us, and so we wash and groom them, talk to them, and expect more ‘cultured’ behavior from them. Our domestic cats are not supposed to take part in the processes of nature, such as killing other animals for food. Instead, they take part in the processes of culture as we feed them processed, packaged food. Bugs, which are a part of nature, are not supposed to be ‘inside’. Seagulls, then, as a part of nature, are not supposed to take an interest in the items of culture, such as plastic cutlery. But Seagulls show us that this distinction between nature and culture is an illusion - it’s a story of dominance and separation we tell ourselves, in which we inhabit a realm that is distinct and superior to that of other beings, who inhabit the realm of nature. It’s an illusion because we are all a part of the same realm: the realm of creation. In that realm of creation, we share our homes with bugs and our bodies with bacteria - we literally couldn’t live without them. In that realm of creation, domestic cats kill more than a billion birds in the US every year. And in that realm of creation, Seagulls now eat plastic cutlery and aluminum foil, which naturally isn’t a healthy diet.

‘Waste’ is an interesting human invention. When we call something ‘waste’, it simply means that it is not in the right place. Dirt in our gardens is not waste, but dirt inside our homes is. A can in our fridges is not waste, but a can on the street is. Paper on our desks is not waste, but paper in the bin is. In truth, there is no such thing as waste. Waste is merely a contextual category.

In Surah Sad, the thirty-eighth chapter of the Qur’an, God tells us: “We have not created the heavens and earth and everything in between without purpose. That is the assumption of the disbelievers” (Qur’an 38:27). In this way, landfills are the testimony of disbelief, for they condemn to purposelessness. But even when we condemn things to purposelessness, they still have a purpose. They still have potential for goodness, but we simply don’t allow these things to live up to it. We don’t allow the metals to be reused, the scraps to be composted or eaten by other beings, and the old dress to turn to rags. Instead, we put things in the wrong place, creating ‘waste’. We bury the potential for goodness and, in doing so, create seeds of pollution. And then we act surprised when the seeds sprout and we are faced with environmental degradation and crisis. Perhaps that is why God warns us, “Do not spend wastefully. Surely the wasteful are brothers of the devils. And the Devil is ever ungrateful to his Lord” (Qur’an 17:26-27)

Landfills are not necessary - they are a product of excessive consumerism born from ingratitude. Most of the waste produced by the Global North is unnecessary. We can stop producing and buying the great majority of this unnecessary stuff: all the single-use packaging, paper plates, polyester fast fashion, and plastic cutlery that neither contributes to our health and happiness, nor to that of the Seagull. Food scraps can be composted to enrich the soil and allow for the growing of new food. Paper can be recycled and used much more cautiously, as can many other materials. Products could once again be manufactured to last and to be repaired, instead of replaced. In that way, we don’t need to keep telling the myth of away, for things could simply remain. And if we have created things that are too toxic to remain, such as harmful plastics like PVC or radioactive substances, we should eliminate their use altogether, like we successfully did with CFCs to protect the Ozone layer.

We cannot address our moral crises if we don’t even want to face them. If we would rather pretend that we can simply throw them away. Like our trash, there are many other things we try to toss away. We throw racism, religious persecution, and genocide away in the bin that says ‘history’. “Racism?” we say, “Racial segregation was abolished a long time ago. And genocide? The Shoah was horrific, but those days are gone.” We don’t talk about history, because we live in the present. But what if our history and present are as intertwined as nature and culture are? What if the hateful ideologies of the past have not at all disappeared, just like our buried plastic bottles?

During the Second World War the Seagull decorated the emblem of the Nationale Jeugdstorm (NJS, ‘National Youth Storm’), the Dutch equivalent of the Hitlerjugend, the youth organization of the Nazi party. Children participating in this fascist preparatory program were referred to as Gulls (meeuwen/meeuwkes). When they turned eighteen years old, most Gulls would spread their wings to join the Waffen SS, the most brutal combat unit of the Nazis. The National-Socialist Movement (NSB), the Dutch Nazi collaborators, often used the Seagull in their advertising as a symbol for the freedom they promised to those belonging to the ‘Aryan race’ by eliminating those of ‘other, inferior races’, especially Jewish, Roma, Slavic, and Black people as well as those with perceived physical and mental disabilities. Once these ‘external threats’ were eliminated, they said, the Aryan people could once again spread their wings to true freedom. Of course, we all know the horrifying consequences of this genocidal ideology: at least six million Jews and 250 thousand Romani were dehumanized and mechanically exterminated.

We promised never to forget. We promised ‘never again’. But the Seagull has once again found its way into Dutch politics. Once again, people belonging to the ‘Aryan race’, nowadays referred to as ‘gewone Nederlanders’ (‘normal Dutch people’), are promised freedom by eliminating those of ‘other races’, especially people of Moroccan and Turkish descent and other Muslim-majority communities in the Netherlands. The Seagull proudly decorates the logo of the nationalist Freedom Party (PVV), whose leader Geert Wilders has publicly stated he aims to ban the Qur’an, close all mosques and Islamic schools, and ensure that cities will be cleansed of their immigrant populations. Last week, the Freedom Party won the general elections in the Netherlands, which means that Geert Wilders will likely be the new prime minister.

The Freedom Party (PVV) logo, on the left, next to a historic National-Socialist Movement (NSB) poster on the right

True freedom comes through knowledge. In the end, it is only knowledge of our history, knowledge of these persistent threats to humanity, that can give us freedom from them. Seeing the Dutch Freedom Party (PVV) for what it is, gives us true freedom. Freedom from hate, freedom from injustice, and freedom from genocide. Seeing waste for what it truly is, valuable things that are in the wrong place, gives us true freedom. Freedom from pollution.

If we truly want to clean up, we cannot throw things away. We cannot keep pretending that national socialism or our rotten apples can simply be thrown away. We need to instead put things in their proper place. In a place where they can live up to their potential for goodness instead of slowly corrupting our soil. We need to compost our rotten apples. We need to find the longing for community hidden in national socialism and give it a proper place by strengthening small-scale local communities and countering hyper-individualism. We need to find the hunger for belonging hidden in national socialism and give it a proper place by making our lives meaningful again by focusing on the greater narratives of religion and spirituality. We need to find the rebellion against poverty in national socialism and give it a proper place by ensuring that all our basic needs are met. Only then does cleaning up truly make the world more beautiful. When ‘waste’ once again finds its proper place.