I’ll still enjoy using my toxic, killer shampoo

There’s an episode of Doctor Who, first aired in the Seventies, in which the baddie takes remote control of a phone box. When the Doctor goes to make a call, the telephone comes alive and starts strangling him with its cord. The scene looks ridiculous to modern eyes, but at the time the thought of everyday objects turning into deadly threats was deemed terrifying, and certainly too scary for children.

Alas, we are now living in a disenchanted version of the Doctor’s world. This week, two pieces of research revealed that many everyday domestic staples could be secretly killing us. US scientists published a study suggesting that the chemicals in shampoo, detergents, deodorant, paint and air “fresheners” are as big a source of highly toxic air pollution as cars. Separately, French scientists brought out a study showing an association between cancer rates and the eating of “ultra-processed” food, from hot dogs to cornflakes.

What’s interesting about these household perils is how much humans enjoy them. Chocolate bars, scented shampoo, even those horrible fabric freshener things: we’re actively seeking out stuff that’s toxic. We’re just like coral reefs that, of all the foods available to them, seem to suck in plastic particles, consuming far more than would be expected if they were just eating food randomly out of the water around them. The latest theory as to why they do this is that all those poisonous micro-particles must be really tasty.

Even as humans have become experts at tricking the evolutionary defence mechanisms of taste and smell, moderation has gone out of fashion. Everyone is addicted, to bad food, social media, TV and so on. Even the healthy practise their diet fads with extraordinary fanaticism. Veganism has practically attained the status of a proselytising religion ( joke: “How do you know if someone’s a vegan?” Answer: “They’ll tell you.”).

In the end, we all have to die of something. I’d rather mine wasn’t a death by shampoo or chocolate, but I’m not going to stop washing my hair or snacking. What I will do is think about how toxic they are, even as I’m enjoying them. Knowledge and behaviour are different categories in the brain. The only way to bridge the gap is with new habits. So if there’s a way out of this toxic soup, it probably means applying the same creativity that brought us novelty breakfast cereals to the propagation of better habits.

The category of “ultra-processed food” sounds rather sinister, like something from Frankenstein’s lab. What does this “ultra-processing” involve? As it happens, I recently visited a crisp factory, so I can tell you.

The potatoes started their journey in a muddy vat, from which they were sucked through a big water pipe and spun around for cleaning. Then they travelled by conveyor belt through a series of peelers and slicers before falling into a vat of hot water. They emerged looking pale and slimy, but not unlike a parboiled pot of potatoes.

The next stage involved a covered tunnel of deep-fryers, then a belt that shook from side to side, spreading out the slices for examination by a discerning computer, which punched out any over-burnt specimens. The rest trundled into a downward-sloping, rotating tube fed with flavoured powder (cheese and onion), from which they emerged looking and tasting like, well, crisps.

This particular snack, made by Britain’s biggest crisp-maker, Tayto, doesn’t contain any unusual ingredients and, unlike some of Tayto’s other products, isn’t derived from pre-processed potato grains that are dissolved into gunk and extruded by big machines. But what all of this “ultra-processing” really amounted to was the setting up of an oversized kitchen. My conclusion: crisps might be processed but they’re ultimately just a deep-fried vegetable. The elastic squidginess of a hot dog, on the other hand, is a deeply suspicious creation.

Edmond Martin, the conservationist recently murdered in Kenya, had spent much of his life trying to save elephants and rhinos from extinction. His death – motive as yet unknown – seemed to be a bleak sign on that front, but research he co-authored shortly before his untimely end provides some hope.

The work is a survey of the ivory market in six cities in China, whose demand for tusks is pushing elephant populations into calamitous decline. Ivory-carving is an ancient craft in China and the report is studded with pictures of astoundingly intricate pieces, depicting scenes of tiny lattice screens, weeping willows, wildfowl and lily pads. The most expensive item they came across during their survey was a “magic ball”, a steal at £285,000, for sale in Nanjing.

Overall, however, Mr Martin and his colleague found that Chinese ivory traders are “pessimistic” about the future and many are in limbo waiting for the renewal of their licences. In 2015, Beijing cracked down on the illegal trade and announced that its remaining legal trade would be phased out. From 2014 to 2015, the price per kilo of ivory plunged 50 per cent. This was in part due to an economic slowdown, but sellers also blamed a corruption crackdown and a public campaign against ivory.

Tusks are still in alarmingly high demand, but we could be witnessing the peak. Given the daily dose of poison we now know we’re getting from our laundry baskets, it is at least nice to think that, sometimes, ecologies can start to mend.