By Catherine Wagley
By Catherine Wagley
By Catherine Wagley
By Wendy Gilmartin
By Jennifer Swann
By Claire de Dobay Rifelj
By L.A. Weekly critics
By Catherine Wagley
|art by Mitch Handsone|
At these rates, more than 31 million personal computers will become clutter next year in the United States alone; 61 million will get dumped or packed off to attics in 2007. By then, if they're not otherwise disposed of, half a billion cashiered PCs will have piled up, not counting any holdovers from before 1992. This presents not only an intriguing spectacle -- imagine what mega-art Christo might make from all those beige boxes and cathode-ray pedestals -- but a toxic headache, a huge recycling challenge and a looming trade dispute.
Electronic trash may have Europe and the United States duking it out once again in front of the World Trade Organization (WTO), and guess which one will be taking industry's side. High tech generally basks in a clean, green image: no big smokestacks or slag heaps here, thank you. But the computer and, especially, the monitor on your desk -- not to mention your TV, cordless phone and other electronic conveniences -- are little bundles of poison. Leaded glass contains the radiation in cathode-ray tubes (CRTs); a typical monitor may have two and a half pounds of lead, and a television even more. A lead frit seals the two pieces of a cathode tube. Lead solder holds printed circuits. PVC plastic sheaths wires. Other heavy metals and toxic synthetics appear here and there.
Some of these materials can be recycled, as can the gold used in some circuits. And some computer makers have
finally begun labeling the plastic types they use so these can be sorted and recycled. But computer recycling is available almost exclusively to business users (who pay for it to avoid toxic-waste liabilities), rather than individuals. And so, last year, just 2.3 million desktop PCs were recycled (down from 2.4 million the year before), along with 1.5 million monitors.
For televisions, the waste stream's even more clogged: Last year, only 19,000 of the 24 million sold were properly decommissioned, according to the National Safety Council. More undoubtedly went to landfills or incinerators. And the rate of waste is about to increase dramatically: Analog sets are expected to flood the waste stream like old 8-tracks over the next decade, as the industry switches to high-definition digital broadcast.
States have begun moving, some earnestly and some fitfully, to address this gathering tide of electronic waste.
Massachusetts bans CRTs from landfills. Minneapolis tried curbside collection of electronic junk, but reportedly found it costly and inefficient; Minnesota environmental officials are now evaluating extensive trials, conducted this fall, of various means of collecting old computers, including take-backs at retail outlets.
It's relatively easy getting businesses to recycle their electronic waste, says the project's manager, Tony Hainault: "We tell them they should assume it's hazardous [under EPA rules]." The trick is getting to the rubbish-to-be, approximately half of it, squirreled away in homes. "We're looking at different strategies," adds Hainault, "because we don't think any one way will work." Cooperation with industry is a big part of Minnesota's approach; Sony and Panasonic, two of the more recycle-friendly electronic manufacturers, are partners in its trials, along with the refuse giant Waste Management and the American Plastics Council.
Meanwhile, semiunited Europe is seeking a sweeping solution to its electronic-junk crisis, which is deemed more severe than this country's (acid rain, no more space for landfills). The solution could come down hard on those who make and market that junk-to-be. The environmental directorate of the European Commission has proposed a "Directive on Waste From Electric and
Electronic Equipment," known by the priceless acronym WEEE. It vigorously embodies the principle of "extended producer responsibility" that has become a rallying cry for fair-trade and environmental activists in this country as well.
WEEE would put the burden of cleaning up the electronic-waste stream, and cleaning up electronic products themselves, squarely on manufacturers. They would be obliged to take back all their electronic and electric products (from mainframes and note pads, to toasters, toys and stoves) when those products are kaput, and to provide and pay for home collection. Distributors would have to offer to take back, free of charge, a worn-out item for every new item they sell. The leading high-tech toxic actors -- lead, mercury, cadmium, hexavalent chromium and halogenated flame retardants -- would be phased out by 2004, with exceptions: Mercury would still be allowed in fluorescent lights and thermometers, lead in cathode tubes. By 2004, European Community members would have to recycle 70 percent to 90 percent of various categories of electric trash. (TVs, monitors and large appliances would fall in the 90 percent class.)
The predictable battle lines have been drawn: Manufacturers are up in arms against WEEE; activists defend it loudly and promote it as a model for this country. The American Electronics Association has fired off a vehement critique charging that WEEE would violate the worldwide General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, the treaty that created the WTO (which meets this week in Seattle). In particular, the Electronics Association contends, the ban on lead and other toxics is not scientifically justified, since "other less trade-restrictive alternatives [such as] selective landfill bans [and] eco-taxes" would achieve the same ends. The association calls a requirement that at least 5 percent of the plastic in all imported electronic goods be recycled an illegal restriction on trade, since such a rule would favor manufacturers in countries that recycle. Such a regulation would "protect life and health" in recycling countries rather than in importing countries -- an improper "extraterritorial effect." (National sovereignty still counts for something: Countries are prohibited from furnishing environmental benefits to other countries.)
Environmental activists find a target-rich environment in this unholy confluence of high tech, toxic waste and the WTO. It's a sign of the times that the Silicon Valley Toxics Coalition, which formed 14 years ago to combat pollution from chip manufacture, is now focusing on pollution from computer discards. They've even sought a meeting with Bill Gates, a co-chairman of the group hosting this month's WTO Ministerial Round in Seattle, and suggested that as a powerful member of the Electronics Association, Microsoft is part of the attack on WEEE. (Microsoft's response: That's a hardware problem; we only make the software.) And the coalition claims the U.S. trade representative and the U.S. mission in Brussels (where the European Commission is based) have "lobbied heavily" against the proposed European rules.
Not exactly, says a U.S. trade official, speaking anonymously: "It isn't true we oppose or have lobbied against the rules. We don't oppose the intention of WEEE. We do have concerns about the way they're developing the proposal. The draft they've circulated has some key measures that could significantly affect trade. This is an appropriate time for a country's trading partners to raise concerns. This is not an attack or a challenge before the WTO." Not yet, anyway.