How “green” is Tufts really?

Compassion and altruism are two traits we are taught to strive toward from a young age. But what happens when corporations and institutions capitalize on that same sense of active citizenship? No matter where we turn, we’ll see signs or products telling us to be “green and sustainable.” However, the need to live sustainably has unfortunately turned into the perfect marketing strategy targeted toward those who are, like myself, vulnerable and desperate to do anything to make a difference.

In the weeks leading up to my arrival at Tufts, I was scrolling through the Tufts Dining website trying to gauge what I’d be eating for the next few years. After reading, “By purchasing local, organic and Fair Trade products, Tufts dining contributes to a more sustainable campus while increasing food systems awareness among staff and students,” I instantly jumped to the conclusion that all food served at Tufts would be organic. What I didn’t realize was that I was being greenwashed by the clever wording that has probably tricked many others too. With this false pretense in mind, I was surprised to find that most of the food was not organic or local. The only foods consistently labeled as organic were the black beans, brown rice and nonfat vanilla yogurt. Is it fair for dining services to make such bold claims when the vast majority of food is still commercially produced? While the amount of organic and local food provided at Tufts is miniscule in truly raising awareness about issues surrounding the commercial food system, it does hit the nail on the head from a marketing perspective. I, like many others, bought into the notion and was greenwashed that Tufts was sustainable and good because of the way it advertised itself.

The concept of “sustainability” has almost become a requirement that institutions, like Tufts, must brand itself with to seem relevant. The Office of Sustainability at Tufts claims that “campus sustainability is now part of the fabric of [life at Tufts]”. Sure, “water use is down by 10 percent since 1990”, but what about indirect water usage in the production of food supplied on campus? “Students can rent hybrid vehicles as part of a shared vehicle program,” but how many of us are actually making use of the hybrids? While dining services does offer organic and local foods, the amount of it is close to insignificant. Last time I checked, the number of organic items at Dewick at any given meal rounded out at three. I’ve seen “local” apples only on the rare occasion. “Renewable energy helps power Sophia Gordon Hall, the LEED Gold residence hall.” The photovoltaic and solar hot water systems sure do sound fancy and “earth-friendly,” but what about the other hundred or so buildings on the Medford/Somerville campus? And yes, recycling is part of everyday life in the form of recycling bins, but is recycling alone enough to curb climate change? While I’m not trying to dismiss the efforts Tufts has put into creating a more sustainable campus, I do wonder to what extent the proclaimed acts of sustainability are actually what they’re made to sound like.

Corporations and institutions use greenwashing to promote the perception that their products, aims or policies are environmentally friendly. Their leverage is our growing vulnerability to anything remotely related to environmental friendliness. Consumers and companies alike are attracted to terms such as “green” or “sustainable,” as it makes it seem that by buying a “green” product, we are doing our part in the environmental movement. However, the buzzwords associated with environmental friendliness are extremely vague. An astounding 95 percent of “green” products commit at least some degree of greenwashing by hiding information, providing no proof, being vague, irrelevant or even by providing false labels. As consumers and members of an academic institution, we are constantly being greenwashed without even knowing it. The bold statements made on the Office of Sustainability’s website can exaggerate how environmentally friendly campus life actually is.

While Tufts has succeeded in the easier tasks of sustainability, acts of environmental destruction still pervade on a deeper level. For instance, we are told to take shorter showers but just one hamburger can take 660 gallons of water to make, which is equivalent to showering for two months. So while we’re being told to take matters into our own hands, there are actually plenty of unsustainable practices out of our control. Is it still possible for Tufts to call itself sustainable if dining services still serves hamburgers, or other forms of meat? Can Tufts be truly environmentally sustainable if it continues to invest $70 million of its endowment into fossil fuel companies? We are told to reduce, recycle and reuse, but we are not told about the devastating environmental impacts of animal agriculture or about how our tuition is helping to fund the fossil fuel industry.

If we want to curb climate change, we cannot remain fixated on and distract ourselves with minute accomplishments. We need to focus our attention onto larger, policy level change. Here at Tufts, we can begin doing that by being cognizant of exaggerated marketing and by demanding more transparency.