Jackie Loos misses the rag and bone men

ATTEMPTS to promote safe and hygienic refuse disposal have met with variable success over the centuries and have now become critical because space for landfills near cities is dwindling. Our ancestors were casual about throwing away rubbish, but they kept their possessions for longer and didn’t discard anything that had residual value.

Useful items were set aside for metal and bottle collectors and rag and bone men who combed the streets with carts, sorting through trash and haggling over the going price for recyclables. Rags went to make paper and bones were used for buttons, glue and fertiliser. Poultry and pigs consumed food scraps and swill, and dogs scavenged for left-overs and carrion.

All this changed during the 20th century, driven by rising affluence, growth of a packaging industry and introduction of professional waste disposal methods.

By mid-century, the expanding middle classes could afford to pay for modernity and convenience. This meant driving to the mall or supermarket instead of walking to the neighbourhood shop or grocer carrying a wicker basket.

Malls exposed families to the latest cleverly-advertised fads, domestic goods and gadgets, many of which would go out of fashion or become technologically obsolete within months.

The “home-producer” culture that had once seen families preserve, repair, make and mend, gave way to the “conspicuous consumer” culture that is still with us. Spendthrift and throw-away habits ceased to be shameful and were seen as patriotic acts that would stimulate economic growth. Crafts and handwork became pleasurable leisure-time activities rather than essential skills.

Supermarkets bamboozled with arrays of pre-packaged branded goods enticingly displayed. Brown paper bags were replaced by non-degradable plastic packaging and non-recyclable containers that began to choke dustbins and dump sites. Disposable products ranging from paper cups and razors to burger boxes and nappies made matters worse.

Domestic recycling became uneconomic, squeezing small-scale collectors and pedlars off the streets. Meanwhile, large waste disposal companies secured contracts with factories and food processors to dispose of their waste on an industrial scale.

There isalmost no market for sound second-hand furniture and appliances in affluent countries and charities often charge a fee for collection. Each year, aid agencies arrange the export of more than 350 million kilograms of unwanted British clothing to counties such as Poland, Ghana, Pakistan, Ukraine and Benin, sold cheaply to traders to defray expenses.

There are arguments for and against. Donors would like to believe their unwanted items are given away. The current system may give Third World traders a livelihood, but it depresses local industry and is seen by some as a cynical means of getting rid of surplus first world waste.