Over a decade later, in my process of grieving and healing from the loss of my beloved dad, I’ve learned that his funeral felt wrong because, for me, it was. Years after his death, I read mortician, advocate, and author Caitlin Doughty’s memoir, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes. Her depictions of the autopsy process, body preparation, and cremation (what my father ultimately had) horrified me.

At the time, I wasn’t aware of an alternative like green burial, which is simply defined as the burial of a body without embalming, in a biodegradable container, shroud, or no container at all, directly into the ground without the use of a concrete vault or liner. The emphasis of a green burial is to care for the dead with minimal impact to the environment, via conservation of natural resources, reduction of carbon emissions, protection of worker health, and restoration and/or preservation of habitat. Green burial cemeteries, which may be standalone operations, or incorporated into a conventional cemetery, typically discontinue the use of herbicides, pesticides, and fertilizers, and encourage sustainable land management practices. Some green burial cemeteries even operate as conservation cemeteries, establishing a partnership with a conservation organization and using a conservation management plan that upholds best practices and provides perpetual protection of the land according to a conservation easement or deed restriction.

Choosing to have a green burial is one of the last important environmentally conscious choices you can make. According to the Green Burial Council, while traditional burial produces 250 lbs. of carbon, green burial sequesters 25 lbs. of carbon. This is equivalent to the carbon produced by the driving of an average American over a three-month period. With climate change full speed ahead, any decision we can make, big or small, including opting for a green burial, is worth considering.

On the other hand, traditional funerals and cremations seemed prescriptive, wasteful, and energy consumptive. In fact, they are all those things. Conventional burials in the United States use approximately 4.3 million gallons of embalming fluid (827,060 gallons of which is formaldehyde, methanol, and benzene), 20 million board feet of hardwoods (including rainforest woods), 1.6 million tons of concrete, 17,000 tons of copper and bronze, and 64,500 tons of steel, annually. Many of those materials leech into the surrounding soil over time. Not to mention the sourcing, processing, manufacturing, and transport of those materials uses a lot of energy as well. 

Contrary to some belief, cremation isn’t a much better alternative, using fossil fuels to maintain high temperatures for multiple hours and producing 1.74 billion pounds of CO2 emissions annually in the United States. Cremation is the most popular disposition option in the United States (56.1 percent) and Canada (73.1 percent), with over 1.8 million and 224,000 cremations in 2020, respectively, according to the Cremation Association of North America. Cremation also releases mercury into the air and water, and creates byproducts of nitrogen oxide, dioxins, and particulates. 

Crematory workers have a front row seat to these emissions too, which, along with exposure to embalming fluid, raises occupational concerns. Workers have a higher than average incidence of COPD, respiratory diseases, and neurological disorders. Embalmers in particular have a 13 percent higher death rate (Centers for Disease Control, Final Rights by Lisa Carlson and Joshua Slocum), are at 8 times higher risk for leukemia, and 3 times higher risk for ALS compared to the general population.. 

After learning all this, I thought to myself, “There has to be a better way.”

A green burial offers a more sustainable future

Once I had begun educating myself on green burials, I realized my own city of residence didn’t even allow them to occur. Although green burials are perfectly legal in the US and Canada, and elsewhere, many state and local laws make it difficult to have one. So I joined my city’s Municipal Board of Cemetery Trustees to attempt to change the ordinance that required all burials to include the use of a concrete vault. (The city just passed the change and will now allow burials beginning in June of this year). 

My interest turned into a new passion and soon I found myself working with the Green Burial Council International, a nonprofit whose mission is to inspire and advocate for environmentally sustainable, natural deathcare through education and certification. Two years into my membership, I am the President of the Board of Trustees. Through my dive into the deathcare field, I’ve come to learn that that “better way” of deathcare lies in the process of providing our loved ones with a natural, or greener, burial when they die. 

The green burial process tends to fall on a spectrum when it comes to specific logistics. Some green burials use equipment to dig graves, while some don’t. Some cemeteries maintain green lawns, while others opt for a more natural appearance. The “ultimate” green burial, to me, would be a hand-dug grave, transportation of the body via horse drawn carriage (this is really a thing, by the way), and burial with no shroud or outer container. Fewer materials and energy-consuming practices lean towards the greenest of green burials. Historically, this is how burials were performed prior to the 1800s, when the advent of embalming fluid came into play to “preserve” Civil War soldiers killed on the battlefield so they could be shipped home to their families. The grave liner, or vault, was invented soon after, and that, combined with the modern casket, were meant to “protect” the body from animals and insects, grave robbers, and the elements. Prior to the modern funeral industry, green burials would have simply just been called “burials.”

Sure, the ultimate green burial may not be realistic for everyone. It may not feel right to a society that for the last two hundred or so years has adopted the conventional burial as the status quo. But with climate change a reality, thinking about even the smallest of changes to how we handle the dead is an important choice.

A traditional funeral typically necessitates a funeral home, a menu of casket options, pre-selected flower arrangements, funerary songs, and other stilted customs. Sure, there’s some customization involved, but traditional funeral customs are designed for the masses—which is probably part of why my dad’s funeral felt so awkward and impersonal. My dad’s funeral just wasn’t reflective of the funny, wonderful man he was. By bucking tradition, green funerals provide an atmosphere of healing, celebration and commemoration, and ritual in a league of its own. While the traditional funeral may be important to some, a green burial could provide a meaningful alternative, while avoiding a destructive carbon footprint. 

How to plan for a green burial

Green burial is becoming a more readily available possibility across the United States, with nearly 350 cemeteries offering the option and counting. I encourage anyone interested in having a green burial to do some research and learn more in advance. Most importantly, if a green burial feels like the right choice for you, communicate that to your loved ones early and often, be it verbally or in a will. If you wish to have your last environmentally courteous action be to return to the earth via natural burial, let it be known. Here’s how to get started:

1. Write down your wishes for a green funeral including where you want to be buried, that you do not want to be embalmed, and what, if anything, you would like to be buried in.
2. Make arrangements with a funeral home in advance. This will help ensure you have secured a funeral home that will facilitate your wishes for a green burial.
3. Choose a cemetery that offers natural burials and whose practices align with your level of sustainability.
4. Share your plans with your loved ones, executor, and/or attorney.  
5. For additional resources, read Going Out Green: Four Ways to Ensure an Eco-Friendly Burial and Your Green Burial Planning Guide. 

The views expressed in opinion pieces are those of the author(s) and do not represent the policy or position of LIVEKINDLY.

Members of Parliament are yet to make a formal decision, but it seems likely that the expected bans on foie gras and fur imports will be parked in order to allow the long-awaited “Animals Abroad Bill” to proceed unopposed by other cabinet members. (Much like how in the US, Biden’s Build Back Better bill was repeatedly weakened and now, rebranded, to appeal to its opposers.)

The measures were first announced in May 2021 with much fanfare from the Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs (DEFRA). They were rightly hailed as huge progress for the UK, and particularly one led by a Conservative government. But now a vocal, but influential minority of the PM’s closest advisors, including Brexit opportunities minister Jacob Rees Mogg, now oppose the fur and foie gras bans.

The move is widely thought to be a tactical response to Johnson’s decreasing popularity. The government’s handling of both Brexit and the pandemic has been disastrous, and following several reports of the PM and the rest of his team breaking lockdown restrictions (currently under police investigation), Johnson’s rating is at an all-time low.

By scrapping some of the animal welfare policies that the party has used to court the center-left, such as the foie gras and fur bans, MPs loyal to Johnson hope to win back support for their floundering leader from the few hardline conservatives and ultra-wealthy backers still defending fur and foie gras despite their falling popularity.

Tories now set to scrap UK fur and foie gras bans

According to Humane Society International, 94 percent of the British population now avoids fur, the production of which involves toxic chemicals, increased risk of zoonotic diseases (including coronavirus), and shocking animal cruelty. Even the fashion industry is catching up, with countless mainstream brands vowing that they will ditch animal fur for good, motivated by sustainability and consumer demand. 

Fur farming has been banned in England and Wales since 2000. But its distribution has thrived, so far, thanks to lax importation restrictions, serving as a passive endorsement of the practice. (Providing it doesn’t take place here, of course…)

While the data on foie gras consumption and popularity is a little hazy, its controversial production has been banned in more than a dozen countries, including Finland, Italy, Poland, and Turkey for animal welfare reasons. The so-called delicacy involves a process known as “gavage,” force-feeding live ducks and geese a high-fat diet in order to cause excessive swelling to their livers. It causes the animals extraordinary pain, all for the sake of a gourmet dish consumed by a very small number of people.

It was thanks to this relatively niche appeal of fur and foie gras that these issues were chosen for the Animals Abroad Bill, which was designed for maximum support and minimum controversy. Since then, they have rightly been some of the most talked-about jewels in the crown of the Conservative animal welfare plan, alongside a pledge to end live exports that has been well over 30 years in the making.

But the recent reaction of Johnson’s cabinet—and the government’s subsequent decision to scrap the measures in response—shows the superficial depth of the PM’s dedication to animal welfare and the environment. It also reveals the deep-seated need for the Conservative leader to please hardliners and ultra-rich backers if he wants to actually remain in power.

“How does the Prime Minister think it looks when we’re in a cost of living crisis […] when the members of his cabinet are throwing their toys out of the pram because they want to eat foie gras and wear fur,” asked Labour MP Kerry McCarthy when speaking to the House of Commons last week. 

The UK needs to stop backpedaling on environmental issues

At the time of the Animals Abroad Bill’s initial announcement, the No 10 team promised the “highest standards of animal welfare” moving forward, and said that its pledge of progressive animal welfare policies would not simply be another “token gesture.” (This from the party that promised 200,000 starter homes and built zero.) But even its other, successful bills have glaring loopholes, seemingly designed to look effective but disrupt almost nothing.

Last November saw the recognition of octopuses, lobsters, and similar animals as sentient beings. But the government stopped well short of modernizing the seafood industry, and live boiling remains legal in kitchens nationwide, despite these creatures’ now officially recognized capacity to think and feel.

Following the momentously underwhelming COP26 summit, where countless experts spoke of the need for global unity in the face of the climate crisis, Johnson’s limp environmental policies are being cast out almost as soon as their initial announcements have served their greenwashing purpose. (Johnson himself was a vehement climate denier until relatively recently, and continues to hire warming skeptics.)

The scientific community is now urging the government not to u-turn on its climate goals in the midst of unfounded accusations that the UK’s cost-of-living crisis is linked to net-zero pledges. There’s even talk of a return for the deeply unpopular and destructive practice of fracking, as the pot-stirring anti-green Conservative Net Zero Scrutiny Group (NZSG) continues to campaign against sustainability targets—despite widespread criticism from activists and experts. (In fact, NZSG’s head of policy is yet another of the government’s most recent climate-skeptic hires.)

Even if fracking doesn’t return, MPs approved a brand new North Sea oilfield just a few weeks after climate experts told COP26 that no new fossil fuel developments or extractive projects could be compatible with current climate goals.

Meanwhile, the UK government tries to criminalize climate protests

The backpedaling on the Animals Broad Bill is, unfortunately, not the least of the UK’s issues when it comes to how it handles animals and the climate. Johnson’s administration is dead set on criminalizing environmental protests throughout the country. This has taken a variety of forms during the Conservative party’s 10-plus years in power, but perhaps none more ominous than the recently introduced and dystopian Police, Crime, Sentencing, and Courts Bill (PCSC), conceived during Johnson’s tenure.

While initially defeated after weeks of national protests (which appropriately saw already heavy-handed police attacking demonstrators and journalists alike), the bill will likely still come to fruition. It includes nearly 20 pages of last-minute amendments specifically designed to stifle legal protest, but left intentionally vague enough to be deployed in almost any situation police officers see fit. (For example, it even criminalizes “serious annoyance.”)

The PCSC bill was partially inspired by the actions of the direct action group Insulate Britain, which campaigns for improved insulation in UK homes and engages in the kind of civil disobedience that the new legislation targets. For example, locking yourself onto something, a tried-and-tested tactic used the world over, could result in 51 weeks imprisonment.

According to recent data collated by the Liberal Democrats and reported on by the Independent, if the government had not scrapped its Zero Carbon Homes program in 2015, households could potentially have saved up to £400 per year thanks to the very cladding that Insulate Britain is now campaigning for. Savings that seem of particular significance right now in the face of simultaneous cost of living and energy crises.

In short, it appears that the government is more worried about cracking down on protesters rather than creating meaningful change itself. This isn’t just limited to the PCSC Bill. Back in November, hundreds of demonstrators were manhandled during COP26 by the UK’s police force, including many of the Indigenous activists not provided with appropriate recognition at the official event.

The examples of the government’s demonization of activists are many. More recently, the Marine Management Organization (MMO) attempted to prosecute Greenpeace activists for taking much-needed action against bottom trawling in a marine protected area, something that the government itself (and the MMO specifically) should be working to solve. (A recent report by the Marine Conservation Society recently revealed that bottom trawling has now actually tripled in key protected areas, and takes place in 98 percent of these aquatic reserves overall.)

Despite its huge potential for good, the Animals Abroad Bill itself has always been extremely revealing in its targeting of some harmful pastimes, but not others. While it boasts an immediate crackdown on illegal hare coursing (a traditionally working class bloodsport), illegal hunting from horseback (a similar pursuit but reserved for the wealthy) is left to continue, no doubt due to its popularity amongst Tory voters and peers alike.

If the modern Conservative party wishes to be taken seriously as a force for the environment and for animals, it needs to be ready to stand up to the old guard who are keeping it rooted in its exclusionary, self-interested past. Pledges must be realistic, free from vagaries, and then adhered to. It seems that someone like Johnson is simply not the man for that job.

The views expressed in opinion pieces are those of the author(s) and do not represent the policy or position of LIVEKINDLY.

If there is one thing London has become really, really good at in the last few years, it’s vegan food. Next to the Chinese restaurant, called Vegan Planet, you can find Temple of Seitan, a vegan fried chicken shop, and Purezza, a plant-based pizza parlour. In fact, in total, London has around 1,000 vegan and vegan-friendly restaurants. It’s exciting for a plant-based foodie, but not exactly unique; capital cities often showcase a country’s most diverse and exciting culinary options. But what’s more noteworthy is that London is now just one part of a wider, plant-based picture. From supermarket shelves to country pubs, not only is vegan food starting to become a given everywhere in the UK, but an abundance of it is too. 

A world leader in vegan food

In 2018, meat-free products made up 16 percent of food launches. This was double the amount from 2017, and resulted in market research firm Mintel awarding the UK the title of world leader in vegan food. For a nation famous for its love of roast beef and fish and chips, that accolade seems initially surprising. But earlier this year, a YouGov study commissioned by Veganuary—an initiative that encourages people to give up animal products for January—found that one-third of Brits are interested in becoming vegan.

But increasingly, it seems that whether or not people decide to make the dietary switch is irrelevant. Because a key driver of the plant-based food market isn’t vegans, it’s flexitarians. These are people who choose to reduce meat rather than cut it out completely. Another study commissioned by vegetarian meat brand Quorn last year found that 41 percent of British families follow a flexitarian lifestyle.

Though the start of the pandemic saw the flexitarian movement slow, this was only temporary. According to Mintel, nearly half of Brits are limiting their meat consumption again. The market research firm also predicted that meat sales will fall this year.

Richard Caines, Mintel’s senior food and drink analyst, says the start of the pandemic likely saw meat sales rise because people were seeking comfort in familiar food habits. Now that they are more used to COVID-19 restrictions and changes, they are starting to limit their meat intake again. “Meat reduction has returned to around the level seen in 2019,” he explained. “This follows a dip in 2020, when other priorities likely became more pressing in food and drink choices.”

Flexitarians drive a vegan food boom 

It turns out, caring for the planet—and the climate anxiety from worrying about our environmental future—may be spurring the flexitarian boom.

In the last few years, mainstream media platforms have reported on major studies—like the largest ever food production analysis in 2019—that link meat and dairy with some of the planet’s biggest environmental problems, like carbon emissions and deforestation. Trusted environmentalists, like Greta Thunberg and David Attenborough, have advocated for meat-free living for the purpose of protecting the planet. And celebrities play a role too. Paul McCartney, arguably one of the most famous of all Brits, co-founded Meat Free Monday with his daughters Stella and Mary. The organization encourages consumers to ditch animal products for one day a week.

Mintel’s research noted that around 47 percent of consumers believe that eating less meat has environmental benefits. People are also concerned about the health consequences of eating meat, with several widely-reported studies linking processed animal products with an increased risk of disease. Animal rights is another key argument; thanks to the growth of social media, organizations like the UK’s Humane Society and activists like Earthling Ed, have bigger platforms than ever.

Caine agrees that the media plays a significant role in changing people’s habits. “The fact that nearly half of adults now either don’t eat meat or are limiting intake poses a challenge for the meat industry and points to vast further potential for meat substitutes’ growth, if they can win favour as the alternative,” he observes. “It offers compelling evidence of how media coverage around meat has reached consumers.”

But it’s not enough just to give information. The UK is proving that change comes when it is easy to act on that information. People have routines, families, busy lives, so even with the best will in the world, making changes to food habits can be hard. Hunting down a health food shop or finding a specific restaurant that caters to every person’s needs and desires can be a feat of labor. And that’s why a key factor in Britain’s plant-based boom is easy accessibility.

The rise of supermarket vegan ranges

In 2022, every single major supermarket in the UK has a vegan range. But it all started with the nation’s biggest, Tesco.

Back in 2017, a spicy bean burger was still the standard veggie option on supermarket shelves. But Tesco spotted a gap in the market. It quietly hired Derek Sarno—one half of vegan chef duo Wicked Healthy (the other half is Chad, his brother) and former Senior Global Executive Chef for Whole Foods—as its director of plant-based innovation. Tesco’s goal was, in Sarno’s words, “to pop the cap off the vegan movement in retail.”

Together, they created Wicked Kitchen, a 20 product-strong range of vegan ready meals, pizzas, sandwiches, and desserts that hit shelves in 2018. Though by today’s standards, it would be viewed as a notable but standard UK launch, at the time, it was groundbreaking. The range was a hit with shoppers, so before the end of the year, Sarno and Tesco doubled it in size. Other supermarkets were noticing its popularity and beginning to launch new vegan options, but not at the same rate. “Retailers were scrambling to catch up and make their own offers,” recalls Sarno.

Tesco was ahead of the game in working out that consumers wanted more plant-based options. But it was also unique in how it chose to address the situation, explains Sarno. The supermarket giant hired a mission-driven chef with extensive vegan food experience to guide innovation. And as a vegan who loves meat—his Wicked Healthy cookbook includes recipes for meals like BBQ jackfruit sliders and vegan lobster rolls—Sarno knew exactly what he was doing. “Most other retailers and brands have a bunch of meat eaters sitting around a boardroom table trying to decide what vegans and meat eaters might want,” he says. “They were trying to capitalize on an industry without leading by example.”

Tesco had a head start, but it didn’t take long for competitors to adapt. From expensive Waitrose to affordable Lidl, vegan products are now commonplace on supermarket shelves—and every launch gets more creative. Retailers have moved on from the basics of nuggets and sausages, and are now coming out with products like steak, chorizo, salmon, and fish cakes, all made from plants.

The UK’s vegan boom may be driven by major corporations, but it seems that even small vegan brands are benefiting from their support. Many were offering plant-based products before the movement hit the mainstream, but now they can reach a wider audience. White Rabbit Pizza, for example, started off as a small vegan-friendly brand in 2015. It now offers vegan pizza in Sainsbury’s and Waitrose, two of the UK’s biggest supermarkets. Dairy-free chocolate company Vego used to stock products in specific vegan or health stores, but now it’s partnered with Asda and Co-Op. 

With McDonald’s and the local pub on board, are Brits looking at a vegan future?

Restaurants have caught on to plant-based food’s popularity too. Happy Cow reports there are more than 14,000 vegan and vegan-friendly restaurants in England alone. KFC, Greggs, Pizza Hut, McDonald’s, and PizzaExpress are just a few of the nation’s biggest chains with plant-based options on the menu. Just like a stroll down Camden high street, if you visit a chain restaurant today, there’s a slim-to-none chance you’ll be met with zero plant-based options.

The situation is only going to improve. McDonald’s UK opened its first net zero restaurant last year. At the time, Beth Hart, the chain’s spokesperson, hinted that its future menu could feature even more vegan options. “I think it will look very different,” they said. “It’s not so much about influencing choice, but offering alternatives.”

Many of the nation’s most popular and influential chefs have embraced vegan cuisine too. Gordon Ramsay, formerly renowned for his anti-vegan stance, publicly changed his mind in 2019 when he made vegan roasts available at his London restaurant Bread Street Kitchen. In response to criticism (namely from notoriously controversial presenter Piers Morgan), Ramsay said: “Veganism is on the rise. We’ve got to adapt and eat a slice of humble pie.” Since then, vegan recipes have shown up frequently in his online content, and he has even devoted several YouTube videos to Veganuary.

Jamie Oliver has also forged into meat-free food, with his 2019 cookbook “Veg” and Channel 4 cooking show Jamie’s Meat-Free Meals. And last year, Michelin star chef Alexis Gauthier removed all of the meat from his London restaurant Gauthier Soho and opened a new plant-based cafe, called 123V. 

The average Brit isn’t visiting Michelin restaurants on the regular. But most of them are going to the pub, arguably a cornerstone of British culture. Greene King, Wetherspoons, and Fullers are three of the nation’s biggest pub chains, and all of them now offer vegan options. As for independent-owned spots, there has been more than one recent news story about landlords choosing to switch up their pub grub with a new meatless menu.

A more flexitarian lifestyle even has government backing. Last year, a report outlining a new food strategy for the UK labelled meat consumption as unsustainable. A reduction in animal products was necessary for freeing up land, it noted. It recommended the government set a target of slashing consumption by 30 percent by 2030. If this was implemented, it would show the rest of the world that meat is a serious climate issue that constitutes serious action. It would give flexitarians even more validation, and the positive reinforcement to keep going.

All things considered, Sarno reckons a plant-based future is the only feasible conclusion for the UK’s food industry. “It might not be in my lifetime,” he says. “But it will happen.” And who knows? Maybe he’s right. Unprecedented changes happen all of the time. Just half a decade ago, a McDonald’s net zero restaurant would have been the punchline of a joke.

The views expressed in opinion pieces are those of the author(s) and do not represent the policy or position of LIVEKINDLY.

Alas, there is no practice, religious or otherwise, guaranteed to make you any of these things. Meditation is great, but it’s not magic. As someone who has practiced Zen Buddhism for the past 12 years, I know this all too well.

That said, while many Buddhist practitioners around the world practice at least in some hope of becoming more peaceful, more kind, and more centered, that last, more concrete rule—no meat-eating—is far from universally observed by even serious students and teachers. (Same goes for drinking, but that’s for another time.) 

Siddhartha Gautama (aka the Buddha), founded Buddhism more than 2,500 years ago in India. About 535 million people identify as practitioners worldwide today. Attitudes about vegetarianism vary widely among them, even though a major tenet of Buddhism is not to harm sentient beings—in fact, Buddhists vow to save sentient beings. So why aren’t all Buddhists, including me, vegetarians? 

The answer, if you’re into answers, is murky. Some teachers and scholars say the Buddha himself espoused a vegetarian diet. Others say practitioners must avoid meat only when it’s killed expressly for them. In short, there are many ways to interpret Buddhism’s first precept to “refrain from taking life,” if you’re into strict interpretations.

But Buddhism is famously uninterested in pat answers or strict interpretations. Thus the question of why all Buddhists aren’t vegetarians cuts to the very heart of what it means to be a Buddhist. It introduces a clear rule with a binary value—vegetarian or not—into a practice that eschews unquestioned adherence to commandments and teaches followers to go beyond absolutes. While nonkilling is a key tenet of the practice, so is the middle path—steering clear of extremes. Buddhism tends to teach modern practitioners to consider the complications of modern life, the interdependence of beings, and the subtleties of individual situations when making moral choices, rather than unthinkingly applying maxims. That’s what many mainstream religions do, and why they so often lead to conflict and division. It’s the kind of thinking that has led to religious extremism—people who identify as Christians murdering abortion providers, or suicide bombers acting in the name of Islam. 

That’s not to say that Buddhism is a free-for-all. “The ethical principles are contemplations, they’re meant to be daily challenges,” says Ethan Nichtern, a Buddhist teacher and author of several books, including The Road Home: A Contemporary Exploration of the Buddhist Path. “The world is complex, and as soon as you introduce complexity, the choices that we make are not black and white. At the same time, it’s about living in that challenge. It’s not like these teachings don’t say anything.”  

Indeed, Buddhist teachings contain some of the clearest language, among all major world religions, on the subject of animal life. That first precept, also often translated as “nonkilling” or “nonharming,” applies to “all sentient beings”—not just humans, but any life form that can feel pain. The Lankavatara Sutra outright condemns meat-eating, saying that “if we slaughter [sentient beings] and eat them it is the same [as] slaughtering and eating our own parents” because “all males are our fathers, and all females are our mothers.”

San Diego-based Buddhist practitioner and longtime vegan Bob Isaacson, a former human rights lawyer, started the advocacy group Dharma Voices for Animals ten years ago when he noticed that many Buddhist centers where he attended events or retreats didn’t serve vegetarian meals, much less vegan ones. He has heard every Buddhist rationalization for meat-eating and has written in detail about Buddhist doctrine that addresses the topic.

“Slaughterhouses are out of sight, out of mind,” he says. “So what you hear from people is, ‘I’m not killing the animal.’ But you’re biting into its flesh and you’re chewing it and you’re swallowing it. You’re intimately involved in the death and suffering of the animal.” He also points to the Buddhist concept of “right livelihood,” which advises Buddhists to make their living in a way that does the most good and least harm. One of the few livelihoods the Buddha called out specifically as not right was slaughtering animals. “If you’re eating an animal, somebody’s got to kill it,” Isaacson says. “Why force someone to kill an animal for you?” 

Not all vegetarian Buddhists are vegan, though some argue if you’re cutting meat to save sentient beings, it only makes sense to also cut milk and eggs. Alan Dale, founder of the online community Vegan Buddhism, likens eating dairy to stealing—another act Buddhist precepts specifically warn against. “Are we stealing the lives of these animals?” he says. “We’re stealing their eggs. We’re stealing their milk, which should go to the calves.”

Though it’s hard for any Buddhist to argue against vegetarianism, meat-eating remains prevalent among practitioners for a few reasons. In Tibet, where a major strand of Buddhism originated in the 7th Century, meat-eating is so intrinsic to the culture that even most llamas, or leaders, are carnivores, and do not teach vegetarianism as a requirement. Another reason Buddhist teachers might not emphasize vegetarianism is that, while nonkilling and care of sentient beings are bedrock beliefs of the religion, so is the Buddha’s rejection of asceticism. He conceived his way as a moderate alternative to other spiritual practices during his time that required great physical extremes of their followers. Jains, for instance, are vegetarian and do not eat even root vegetables because they believe that pulling them out of the ground harms the plant and surrounding microorganisms. The Dalai Lama himself began eating meat on the advice of his doctors after a hepatitis B infection—but he still encourages Buddhists around the world to eat vegetarian if possible: “We must respect all forms of life.” 

Many meat-eating Buddhists point to an edict from the Theravadan school of Buddhism that says practitioners can eat animals that weren’t killed expressly for them. But this rule, Isaacson points out, was made for a time and place when monks went begging door-to-door for their sustenance. “If a family was eating,” he explains, “you could take some morsels off the plate.” That is, if you were a monk.

The fact is, most of this is quibbling, as if we’re all lawyers in karma court. Sometimes it’s as simple as this: Buddhists break precepts—taking what isn’t theirs, imbibing intoxicants, indulging in wrong speech—but continue the practice of trying to be better. The same can be true of choosing to eat meat. I’ve been a vegetarian, a pescatarian, and a no-red-meat eater at various times throughout my Buddhist practice. I could come up with rationalizations for them all, tell you about doctors and health reasons and loopholes in Buddhist doctrine. But there’s no getting around the fact that eating fewer animals and animal products means less suffering.

We make different choices, have different priorities throughout our lives, and try to remain conscious of the interdependence throughout—how our choices affect our own bodies and our own families as well as the world around us. Even semi-vegetarianism—from Meatless Mondays to simply choosing the Impossible Burger more often—reduces suffering. You don’t have to choose sides to do a little better, and consciousness tends to nudge us toward the better.

I’m not a vegan, and I’m not 100-percent vegetarian at the moment, but when I do reach for the Impossible Burgers, it’s at least in part because of my practice. Introducing a binary—vegetarian or not—could even discourage those who don’t identify as purely vegetarian from considering plant-based options in their daily diets.

I also sometimes drink wine, tell fibs, and am less kind than I should be. I can’t defend these choices from a Buddhist or human perspective, but my practice encourages me to keep trying for better, for balance.  

Anne Carolyn Klein, a professor of religious studies at Rice University and the founding director and resident lama at Dawn Mountain Tibetan Temple in Houston, told me once about a retreat in India. She and the others who attended were careful to walk in a single-file line outdoors so they killed as few bugs as possible. “We didn’t cancel the retreat because bugs would be killed,” she said of the compromises inherent in almost any act on Earth. “One does one’s best, and it’s really important to do your best and not say, ‘Oh, well, you had to kill some bugs, so it must be okay.’ That’s not okay. We do things that are not okay, and we recognize that they are not okay.”

From a Buddhist perspective, there’s no great argument in favor of meat-eating. Why aren’t all Buddhists vegetarian or vegan? Because Buddhists are not perfect. Practice simply encourages us to keep trying to do better.

The views expressed in opinion pieces are those of the author(s) and do not represent the policy or position of LIVEKINDLY.

Now I’m an adult in a dual-income household working for a sustainability-focused company, and I still struggle with the barriers to going zero-waste and lowering my carbon footprint. The barriers for me have been both structural and psychological, from the lack of affordable sustainability initiatives, to elitist marketing of sustainability style.

When I landed as a naive 17-year-old at my elite liberal arts university, strapped with a motherlode of scholarships, grants and loans, I didn’t even know the word “sustainability,” much less what it meant. This lushly green, artificially-manicured campus was where I first witnessed the cultural tendency of elites to value performative sustainability over invisible-yet-powerful incremental change. 

Blending in took adjustment, since being crunchy meant wearing a $200 Patagonia jacket your parents bought you, joining the Outdoor Club, and majoring in Environmental Studies—actions my survival-oriented, first-generation immigrant parents strictly forbade me from “wasting my time” on. My view of sustainability as elitist was reinforced by the lack of diversity in environmental conservation leadership in the 90s and aughts, from Greenpeace to the Audubon Society—an issue that persists today. (Now I know better—and that Indigenous environmental activists, like Winona LaDuke and LaDonna Brave Bull Allard, have defended the land we live on for many generations, before modern non-profits claimed the mantle of sustainability.)

That image of sustainability still plays in my head today, where I sometimes envision a marketing-influenced reel in my head of wealthy folks frolicking like Snow White across natural woodlands in organic linen dresses hand-sewn by their eco-fashion designer friends. They store all their locally-farmed, heirloom tomato salads in $25 glass containers and sip kombucha from $50 stainless steel bottles. They incur no greenhouse gases, because they don’t have jobs to drive to. They purchase carbon credits for each flight and donate millions to the Environmental Defense Fund every year, easily lightening the load of their consciences. At night, they lay their organically-moisturized heads to rest upon sustainable bamboo pillowcases. For fun, they rock climb, hike national parks, and ski and snowboard. 

There’s nothing inherently bad about these visions—or even the real-life people who live versions of this life in my town of Los Angeles—but it’s simply not realistic for most of us. Media and advertising create this image that if you just buy the right things—a luxury in itself—you’re on your way to sustainability. The truth is, living a truly sustainable lifestyle takes hard work, time, and money. Acknowledging this road block is an important first step to inviting more people in, and creating lasting change.

My feeling of outsiderness came from being raised in an immigrant, working-class family on a scarcity mindset, but actually, many of the things we did were sustainable. From organic home gardening, to foraging, to making our own reusable dishcloths, our thrifty homesteading lives were naturally easier on the earth—yet the glamorous framing of sustainability didn’t congratulate everyday folks who performed small actions like this, away from the limelight. And since we were always worried about how close we were to breaking the bank, we bought the cheapest clothes and laundry detergent, not the eco versions. 

I carried those unsustainable preferences into my early adulthood. Hustling to keep up with my exorbitant San Francisco rent at age 27, I was working three part-time jobs. I could barely keep up with furnishing my place with the cheapest IKEA furniture, affording beers with my friends, and getting new sneakers to bike to work in, so I figured it was fine that sustainability wasn’t my vibe—even though I was working at a sustainably-focused science museum. Though I cared very much about the welfare of the whales and penguins depicted in our museum, it was a stretch for me to purchase $20 reef-safe sunscreen. And so I continued purchasing the generic toiletries from Walgreens and the low-priced, sweatshop-made clothes from fast-fashion shops like Forever 21, while packing my lunch in disposable plastic Ziploc bags. “I’ll be sustainable when I make a lot of money someday,” I mused, while wondering why more ethical products were priced out of budget for my minimum-wage life. (I didn’t realize the larger system working against working-class folks until later in life.)

It took the birth of a hyperlocal regifting group called Buy Nothing for me to do a 180. Pregnant and unemployed due to a mass COVID layoff, I didn’t know how we would afford everything for my baby. Luckily, not only did my family and my husband’s family step in to support us in every way they could (and we are so lucky to have that support), but my Buy Nothing community provided everything from a bassinet to a stroller and toys for our little one. 

Soon after, I joined a local foraging group, where I learned that sustainability was more than eco-shopping: it was community, education, and Indigenous land protection. We learned how to forage respectfully so that plants could sustainably grow back, and refrained from foraging sacred Indigenous ceremonial plants like sage, unless it was growing abundantly in our own backyards. Together, we shared food and celebrated how bountiful nature could be if you knew how to look.

When I found these regifting and foraging resources that opened up channels for sharing in abundance, my entire psychology changed. My feelings of desperation and scarcity started to evaporate. I started to feel more self-confident, believing that my community would provide for me if I had the courage to raise my voice and ask (something privileged folks often feel more comfortable doing). I started to feel confident enough to purchase more expensive, long-term-focused items, from glass containers to low-VOC paint for my walls. 

Also vital to my sustainability conversion was the availability of more time to research. I was working full-time and had day care—and with it the luxury of researching my purchases. I bought a hybrid vehicle to lower my carbon footprint only after I had time to comparison shop (it actually lowered my bills overall). I researched the best deals on organic strawberries and biodegradable laundry detergent, and learned how to compost at home. To be clear, it takes privilege to do these things, but it shouldn’t take privilege to be more sustainable, and governments need to radically reframe sustainability, making small victories more accessible to people of all socioeconomic backgrounds.

Volunteering in my community also helped alter my scarcity mindset and break down my mental barriers to access a sustainable lifestyle. Because suddenly, I felt that I had more to offer than just capitalist goods. I was of value to my community. I could teach basic gardening skills or loan out my grain mill for folks to mill locally-grown grain for bread. I could take turns picking up food for neighbors at the farmers’ markets. I could volunteer my time, including cooking delicious $5 vegetarian meals for an elderly neighbor who underwent surgery and a family who had just welcomed twins. Making sustainability a part of community-building gave me complete ownership over my contribution to the earth. Sustainability wasn’t just a serious task to be performed alone—it could be joyful and communal.

Sustainability isn’t just about purchases. It’s not just buying eco detergent or organic vegan meat. It’s about being part of a community garden or choosing to fly less. It’s about cooking stem-to-root, making and freezing stock, repurposing stale bread, using carrot tops, jamming your fruits, and fermenting seasonal veggies, just like your grandmother did. Even more importantly, it’s about being an active citizen and pressuring our leaders at COP26 (and every local election) to set bigger, bolder goals for climate change—like phasing out, not phasing down, coal power. It’s about small actions that make a big impact—something every one of us can do.

The views expressed in opinion pieces are those of the author(s) and do not represent the policy or position of LIVEKINDLY.

The fact that I can even ask myself this question is a matter of privilege afforded to few. I have a supportive family, partner, and a steady, rewarding job. I am also white, British, and live where access to reproductive care is legal and safe. Hand on heart, I count my blessings on a regular basis. But, as I speed through my late twenties, the big question mark of whether it’s ethical to bring more people into the world hangs over my head.

Those scary climate crisis predictions

I spend my working days reading some of the most frightening predictions for our future. August’s IPCC report was particularly rattling. To give a brief recap: we have caused irreversible, catastrophic damage to the planet. Drought, warming oceans, and melting ice are worsening and without intervention, we are set to go above the limit of 1.5 degrees of temperature rise by 2040. Passing this point means everything I just listed gets even worse. If I had a baby in 5 years, they’d be in their teens by then.

I know I am not alone in feeling this way—far from it. Earlier this year, Morgan Stanley’s financial analysts warned investors that climate change is impacting fertility rates “quicker than any preceding trend in the field of fertility decline.” Some are afraid that bringing more people into the world will make the climate crisis worse through overpopulation (a concept that is disputed). Others, like me, don’t want to subject a child to a potentially painful future, where the forests are burning and the fish are gone. 

Putting it this way makes it seem like the answer to having children is clear-cut, but I don’t believe it is. As a history graduate, I have a habit of looking to the past for answers. And when I feel fear around this topic, I think of several scenarios, and the first features some century-old manure.

Horse manure, the ozone layer, and hope

In the late 1800s, thousands of horses, used as transportation, lined the streets of major cities like New York City and London. They pooped and peed everywhere, and when they died, the bodies piled up, attracting flies that spread diseases. Horses had become a significant public health threat. In 1894, The Times newspaper predicted that in 50 years, London’s streets would be buried in nine feet of manure. But while people couldn’t see it at the time, the answer to the problem was in innovation. Cars, of course, removed the issue entirely.

I’m not the first to draw this comparison with the climate crisis. And to be clear, I understand that problems now are far greater and more complex than horse poo. Sea levels have been rising for a century and they’re not slowing down. We can’t save the 15 million people living in Bangladesh’s low-lying coastal region with a rake, a shovel, and a new method of transportation. But they could potentially be helped with infrastructure change, coastal development, and even ecological engineering. The global issues we face today require multiple solutions, for governments, corporations, scientists, engineers, and experts from all over the world to work together. They can do it, because they have done it before.

In the late 20th century and early 21st—when I was toddling about thinking only of climbing trees and watching The Tweenies—lots of adults were panicking about holes in the ozone layer. Holes that could cause deadly levels of UV-B radiation if nothing was done. So we did something. After scientists discovered what was causing the damage (chlorofluorocarbon gases, more widely known as CFCs), the public, the world’s biggest environmental organizations, and politicians rallied for change. In 2010, the landmark Montreal Protocol, which regulated the production of CFCs, was signed by all United Nations member states. Not every country kept its promise, but enough did that the ozone layer is now widely considered by scientists to be healing.

The past teaches us that not only do we have the capacity to change and innovate if we need to, but that maybe, we do not always know exactly what the future holds.

The problems that we worry about today may not impact our children’s lives in the way we believe they will. Or maybe they will. Or maybe the problems will be different. Fifty years after The Times’ 1894 headline, London’s streets weren’t covered in manure, but damage from World War II bombings. That sounds like another doom-and-gloom reason not to have children. But after the tragedy of war came joy. The fashion revolution of the 60s, the music of the 80s, the technology breakthrough of the 90s. But more important than that, the freedom to enjoy life’s little pleasures: best friend hugs, family dinners, movie nights, a great book, the perfect cup of tea.

The privileged choice of a childless future

As I mentioned before, to even be considering the choice of a childless future is a huge privilege. Last year, Texas made that much harder for its people when it passed a law banning abortion beyond six weeks of pregnancy, before many will even know they’re pregnant.

Unless successfully overturned by those who oppose it, the law states that any doctor who performs an abortion could be sued. But this means that those with money can afford to take the risk. As Senator Elizabeth Warren said: “This law is bearing down on the woman or trans person or non-binary [person] who is working three jobs, the one who is already stretched to the limit.”

And Texas is just the tip of the iceberg. According to the Center for Reproductive Rights, 41 percent of people with uteruses live under restrictive abortion laws. Egypt, Iraq, Honduras, and the Dominican Republic are among the countries that do not allow abortion to take place under any circumstance. But abortions happen, they’re just extremely unsafe. Figures from the World Health Organization show that around 23,000 people die due to botched terminations every year.

I am lucky enough to live in a region where, right now at least, women have access to abortion, as well as free birth control. We have the autonomy over our own bodies to decide whether the climate crisis will propel us into a life of choosing to be the fun aunt. And I don’t take it for granted. 

But for what it’s worth, when it comes to creating a better world for all, it is the young people, not the adults, who are leading the way. While lessons can be learned from the past and warnings heard in the present, hope is best served when looking to the future.

Generation-Z: the most driven of us all to change the world 

In 2019, millions of teenagers from around the world campaigned for more to be done to combat climate change. Before she was 18, Greta Thunberg had spoken for the U.S. Congress, the United Nations, the World Economic Forum, and the European Parliament about the urgency of the climate crisis.

And teens are also fighting for a pro-choice earth. A Pew Research Center study shows that nearly 70 percent of people under 30 believe abortion should be legal. Many of those are Gen Z, some of whom have taken to TikTok to elevate the message. And it’s working: videos of pro-choice influencers have propelled non-profit abortion support organizations into the mainstream. North Carolina clinic defense group Charlotte For Choice, central to many pro-choice TikTok videos, now has a waitlist filled with young people who want to join.

So, perhaps the generation my child would be a part of would benefit from Generation Z’s drive and passion to tackle environmental and social issues. Maybe they would be a key part of solutions, or maybe they would detest the burden of saving the earth and everyone on it, or maybe it’s both. But maybe, rather than adults subjecting children to a fearful future, it’s them that will build us a more hopeful version after all.

The views expressed in opinion pieces are those of the author(s) and do not represent the policy or position of LIVEKINDLY.

In 2020, Gucci launched its first-ever sustainable collection, Off The Grid. In line with the brand’s goal of circular production, the collection features recycled and organic materials, including a 100 percent regenerated nylon made from pre-and post-consumer waste. That same year, Gucci joined The Lion’s Share Fund, an initiative that supports wildlife conservation. But, with its latest collection—Gucci Tiger—the fashion giant is bringing its support of wild animals and the natural world to a screeching halt.

Gucci: Animal friend or foe?

When Italian fashion designer Alessandro Michele took over the helm of Gucci in 2015 as creative director, he completely reimagined the face of the luxury fashion powerhouse. Gone were the minimalistic designs of Michele’s predecessors, Tom Ford and Frida Giannini. In their place, Michele ushered in a new era of collections brimming with an alluring, maximalist aesthetic, gender fluidity, vibrant color schemes, and Renaissance-esque elements—cue Jared Leto’s 2019 Met Gala look. 

In a nod to his father, who deeply loved nature, Michele’s animal and nature imagery are widely apparent across the century-old brand’s collections. Animal motifs arise in the form of dogs, owls, snakes, bees, leopards, birds, and the like. So, given that 2022 is the Year of the Tiger, according to the Chinese Zodiac, it should come as no surprise that the majestic big cat is front-and-center in Gucci’s latest collection, as it is with other designers like Balenciaga and Marc Jacobs

The Gucci Tiger collection’s print is a reinterpretation of artist Vittorio Accornero’s 1960s archival print. (Accornero created the fashion giant’s signature Flora design.) The ready-to-wear, 80-piece collection prioritizes sustainability. It features Gucci’s self-produced, vegan leather material, Demetra, which is composed of viscose and bio-based polyurethane. And the collection even sports the brand’s first eco-conscious watch, which has a Demetra strap and comes in a recycled stainless steel case. 

The illustrations of the powerful feline intertwined with floral print are striking, even if the high-fashion price tag makes it accessible to few. But it’s hard to ignore Gucci Tiger’s glaring fallacy. Gucci Tiger’s campaign video plays like a fever dream: real-life tigers roam an opulent hotel as models, dressed to the nines in the new collection, are shown dining on pastries and sipping tea. For all of its sustainability efforts and purported investments in biodiversity, this blatant exploitation of one of nature’s most magnificent, and endangered, creatures for marketing glitz makes Gucci appear to be truly ignorant about the causes it supposedly supports. 

No, wild animals are not pets… or props

It should go without saying, but tigers are supposed to be in the wild, their natural habitat, and not on a film set. Gucci’s use of them totally eradicates its sentiment of care for the natural world. 

“In these ads, tigers are just another luxury item, no different from a fancy chair. Just like expensive clothes and vacations, tigers are another ‘thing’ to acquire,” explained Liz Cabrera Holtz, Wildlife Campaign Manager for animal welfare group World Animal Protection.

“There’s no recognition that tigers are wild animals and living beings,” she added. “The ads encourage people to view possessing captive tigers as the ultimate status symbol, fueling the cruel wildlife trade.”

Gucci did not respond to our request for comment, but on Instagram, the company notes that animal welfare group American Humane ​​“verified that no animals were harmed” in the making of the Gucci Tiger campaign. It adds: “Tigers were filmed in a separate safe environment complying to Gucci’s policies and then featured within the campaign.” LIVEKINDLY reached out to American Humane for further comment but we are yet to receive a response. 

But here’s the thing, a “safe” environment for exotic animals on a film set just doesn’t exist. Keeping and manipulating captive wild animals in these settings only puts people—as well as the animal itself—at risk of injury and even death. One of the more notorious examples occurred during the making of Roar, which saw the cast and crew suffer maulings, bites, and other injuries by captive wild animals on the set. The 1981 film, which stars Tippi Hedren and Melanie Griffith, is about a naturalist who lives on an African nature preserve with a myriad of big cats. 

Or consider the mauling of the late Roy Horn, one-half of the magician duo Siegfried & Roy, by a tiger during a performance at The Mirage Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas in 2003. Horn—who passed away last year at the age of 75 due to complications from the coronavirus—was well-versed in handling big cats but was simply no match for the 400-pound tiger. 

In the words of comedian Chris Rock: “The tiger bit the man in the head, and everybody’s mad at the tiger. Talking ‘bout the tiger went crazy. That tiger ain’t go crazy; that tiger went tiger.” (For the record, Horn later stated that the tiger, who had latched onto his neck and dragged him off stage, was merely trying to help him after he suffered a stroke.) 

​​“Really there’s no humane way to do a photo shoot with a captive tiger, or a captive wild animal for that matter,” says Lindsay Oliver, executive director for World Animal Protection U.S. “There’s a lot of control and manipulation that goes on for those animals. It’s very stressful, it’s cruel, and it’s usually a dangerous situation as well.”

Here’s the problem with wild animals in captivity

The life of a tiger film star may sound glorious, but Netflix’s controversial 2020 docuseries Tiger King proved it’s anything but. Although Tiger King did lose sight of the animal welfare issues prevalent throughout the show—a true-crime series focused on wild animal keeper Joe Exotic and his plot to kill animal rights activist Carol Baskin—it did shine a spotlight on the issue of wild animals in captivity, especially that of big cat-breeding.

According to World Animal Protection, with only an estimated 3,900 tigers remaining in the wild, there are now more tigers living in captivity in the U.S. These captive big cats are kept in roadside zoos, which aren’t accredited by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, such as the one featured on Tiger King, circuses, and other attractions that masquerade as tiger rescues and sanctuaries. A simple Google search for “rent tiger” returns a lengthy list of companies that rent out captive wild animals like elephants, lions, and giraffes. One reads: “Hire skilled animal trainers and rent exotic animals for a film or video production, a party, or any kind of event.” 

These “attractions”—mere profit generators at the expense of animals—may be cited for violations of the American Welfare Act due to concerns like inadequate veterinary care, improper cages, and a lack of access to food and clean water. But ultimately, due to lax state and federal laws, as well as the careless enforcement by oversight agencies, many are able to continue operating. 

Unlike these for-profit establishments, whose treatment of animals is antithetical to conservation, reputable sanctuaries prioritize the safety and wellbeing of their animals and will not typically buy, sell, or trade them. The primary goal is to rehabilitate the animals or ​​offer a place of refuge if they are unable to return to the wild.

Oversight by a third-party organization or not, keeping wild animals captive for the sake of entertainment is inherently cruel. After all, they have natural instincts and behaviors that life in captivity simply cannot accommodate. Despite this, they are often forced to do tricks on cue until they become too old or sick to perform.

In captivity, big cats like tigers usually suffer from a lack of adequate physical activity, poor care, and unnatural diets. Frustration and unnatural stress can also result in zoochosis, symptoms of which include head-bobbing, excessive licking, or pacing.

An even bigger issue: The illegal wildlife trade

Gucci’s use of captive tigers glorifies keeping exotic animals as pets, which subsequently fuels the demand for the illegal wildlife trade.

According to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the illegal wildlife trade is a multibillion-dollar industry that sees wild animals traded for food or medicine, for their skins, or as pets.

“Countless species are exploited by the trade in wild animals for use as pets and are now under pressure in the wild. African grey parrots, otters, ball pythons are just a few. Some of these animals, like ball pythons, are even sold in major pet store chains like PetSmart,” explains Cabrera. “Bred in captivity in cruel mills or captured from their natural habitats, wild animals from snakes to turtles to monkeys to tigers are suffering.”

A 2019 study found that nearly 1,000 species are now classified as at risk of extinction by the International Union for Conservation of Nature due to the illegal wildlife trade, including pangolins and rhinos.

Social media influencers and big-name celebrities are also contributing to the appeal of keeping wild animals as pets. They’re also contributing to the animals’ exploitation. Influencer David Dobrik (who was “canceled” last year amid misconduct allegations) had a segment on his YouTube channel in which he surprised his friend with animals, including a baby bear and a monkey—all for content ratings. 

In 2013, singer Justin Bieber made headlines after his pet capuchin monkey was confiscated by German customs officials. Former professional boxer Mike Tyson owned several tigers, one of whom he sold after 16 years. “She got too old and I had to get rid of her when her eyes and her head got bad. Oh, and she ripped somebody’s arm off,” he said in an interview for GQ.

Hey, Gucci: Ever heard of CGI?

Gucci may be a leader in fashion—disrupting gender categories and fostering sustainability—but with its latest collection, it’s certainly proving it’s falling short of keeping up with the changing times. Using tigers for a clothing advert is not only unethical, it’s also wholly unnecessary. 

Innovation is now advancing archaic norms—you know, like making handbags out of alligators and using real, live tigers in ad campaigns. 

Case in point: 2016’s The Jungle Book, a remake of Disney’s 1967 animated film of the same name. From the black panther Bagheera to the giant snake Kaa down to the harrowing buffalo stampede, the film created all of its animals using computer-generated imagery (CGI). And if the film’s expansive award wins (Academy Award for Best Visual Effects, BAFTA Awards for Best Special Visual Effects, etc.) are anything to go by … the visuals were nothing short of stellar. 

Movies like 2011’s Rise of the Planet of the Apes and 2019’s The Lion King all feature creatures generated via animation software realistic enough to make audiences swoon. Even director James Cameron, with his obsession with authenticity, employed CGI to create entirely different worlds in the 2009 sci-fi/action film Avatar. If millions of movie tickets around the world are any indication, I’d say it’s convincing enough technology to employ in a one-off marketing campaign to sell designer luxury wear.

Animal welfare issues aside, these advancements in technology are proving there’s absolutely no need to use captive exotic animals for the sake of entertainment—or for any reason. Period. Exotic animals like tigers have no place in the media (or petting zoos, or circuses). They belong in the wild. To Gucci and Alessandro Michele: If you really care about the natural world and its inhabitants, help keep human evolution moving forward, not backward. Foster a House in which your revolutionary creative prowess and iconic fashions don’t contribute to the misery of innocent animals. You certainly have the funds to employ the use of CGI. So put your money where your mouth is. And leave animals alone.

The views expressed in opinion pieces are those of the author(s) and do not represent the policy or position of LIVEKINDLY.

As we dug bare-handed in the cool sand to make sandcastles, we discovered a good percentage of the microscopic granules of sand were actually thousands of microplastics—which, according to the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, are fragments of every kind of plastic that measure less than 5 millimeters in length. This was our watershed moment. 

A sea of plastic

Our beaches are becoming more plastic by the day, due to the unfettered and unnecessary overproduction of plastic goods worldwide. If we don’t all participate in reducing our waste and cleaning up our environment, we’re complicit in the flow of plastics into every body of water—and every body of every animal and human—on this planet. 

Plastics now outnumber the essential food supply for oceanic life, called zooplankton, by at least six to one. Broken-down microplastics look just like zooplankton and they’re ingested by nearly every organism that exists in the ocean, which means they eventually make their way into our bodies. 

This fact may shock you: Humans eat about a credit card-sized amount of plastic every week. These plastics don’t just come from dense plastic items, like your shampoo bottle; the most insidious plastic particles enter our waterways through clothing. When we wash items like fleece jackets and yoga pants, microfibers enter our waterways through grey water that goes down the drain.

The very forces that create our climate are contributing to the distribution of plastics, which means plastics are now found in the rainwater that falls in the Himalayas and the Rocky Mountains, deposited onto our glaciers which melt down to our seas. A recent study found bits of plastic outnumber baby fish by seven to one in nursery waters off Hawaii. You’ll also find those little buggers in your sea salt products and a good percentage of the pelagic fish that are caught for food, including open sea species like swordfish and mahi-mahi. We are all becoming some part plastic and studies reveal that these endocrine disruptors may pose dangers for our health, as well as our planet.

The birth of the global Buy Nothing movement

So what could Rebecca and I, as only two people, do to help foster change in the world of waste? We wondered if we could encourage our neighbors to buy less, sending a clear message to manufacturers that we don’t need more of this stuff. Could we literally “buy nothing?” 

Our question spawned a social movement, called the Buy Nothing Project, inspiring neighbors to share their stuff, rather than throwing it away. Here’s how it works: people post for things they want (an Ask) while simultaneously offering something they no longer need (a Give).  Neighbors see posts and respond to what they want. It’s both a zero-waste movement and a means to build community. We’ve developed a new app that removes the need to have Facebook, as well as the need for any local gatekeepers—now you can ask and gift anywhere, anytime.

Much of our material goods, of course, happen to be plastic. Over the last 8.5 years, we’ve launched over 6,800 Buy Nothing local gift economies, with 4.27 million participants in 44 nations, and we have saved millions of tons of plastics, metals, glass, wood, textiles and organics from the landfill. Perhaps equally as important, we’ve fostered community and the ability for neighbors to meet and rely upon each other as a beneficial side effect. 

Our movement is growing rapidly. Two million members joined Buy Nothing between March 2020 and October 2021. People are re-gifting, loaning, or giving everything, including couches, old LPs, fresh food from their veggie gardens, outgrown clothing, and used smartphones. They’re also giving gifts of human kindness, whether it’s words of encouragement and advice during a tough time, or a ride to the train station or grocery store. When my own daughter needed strappy shoes to wear to homecoming, the community provided exactly what she needed (and she has expensive taste). When our rice cooker died, a neighbor just a short walk down the street provided one for us. And when my neighbor was expecting her grandchild for a week-long visit, we were able to deliver to her our community loan-out high chair. 

But it’s not just our movement that we’re interested in perpetuating; it’s any global radical regifting movement. We’re hoping to help dispel the scarcity mindset and replace it with the mindful practice of actively sharing our abundance. We all have plenty to share, whether it’s a rarely-used toaster or our presence at a game of Scrabble with an elderly neighbor. 

What we’ve seen globally and locally as a result of such radical regifting is that fewer people are going to big box stores and dollar stores to buy plastic goods that are easily disposable into our oceans and landfills. It takes a village and, as it turns out, our villages are full of the very stuff and the generous people that can bind us together, buoying us forth into a future where giving, asking, gratitude, sharing and resilience can all happen without buying one more unnecessary plastic thing.

The views expressed in opinion pieces are those of the author(s) and do not represent the policy or position of LIVEKINDLY.

Am I Still an Ethical Vegan If I Thrift Wool and Leather?

Much of the responsibility for changing things for the better lies with lawmakers and major corporations, but our daily spending habits make a difference too. With that in mind, more of us are choosing to thrift and give old clothes a second chance. But what if you’re a vegan, and the old clothes you want to buy are made with leather or wool? They’ve stood the test of time and are probably more resilient than cheap faux polyester options, but is it ethical to buy them, even second hand? Our writer explores the question.

Should Everyone Go Vegan? New Doc ‘Meat Me Halfway’ Doesn’t Think So

Do we all need to go vegan to save our planet? Meat Me Halfway, a documentary co-produced by Riverdale star Madelaine Petsch, argues that no, it’s not necessary. Instead, it examines the notion that there is an approachable path for everyone to reduce their meat consumption in a variety of ways in order to protect the planet. We spoke with the documentary’s producer Brian Kateman about why he chose to make the film, why he’s excited about alternative meat, and what he hopes viewers will take away after watching. 

Are Electric Cars As Good As We Thought?

Electric cars have been dubbed the sustainable transport of the future. But are they the capitalist cure-all that some manufacturers are making them out to be? (The very same manufacturers who created all of the gas-guzzling, polluting vehicles of the past.) Well there are many things to consider (including prohibitive costs and difficult disposal). We spoke with a clean transportation expert to unpack the nuances of an all-electric vehicle network and to find out if it really is the best, most sustainable solution to transportation emissions.

Want a Sustainable, Livable World? Listen to Women.

Women around the world have been sounding the alarm for years: climate action is urgent. And they’ve also been proposing some of the boldest ideas and solutions to the problem, too. But their voices are being overlooked. Amid COP26 in November, we explored why it’s time for everyone, but predominantly the men in power, to listen and act. Before it is too late.

Ellen DeGeneres Has a New ‘Kind’ Skincare Line. Is This Her Apology?

This year brought with it a million celebrity beauty brands. Well, it feels like that anyway. And one of them was Kind Science, a vegan-friendly “age positive” skincare line by Ellen DeGeneres. But the talk show host has been widely criticised for being the opposite of kind. (Earlier this year, one former employee from The Ellen DeGeneres Show claimed that behind the scenes, “racism, fear, and intimidation” were rife.) Our writer looks at whether DeGeneres’ beauty brand is a genuine attempt to course-correct, or just good old celebrity opportunism.

How I Kicked My Fast Fashion Addiction

Fast fashion has a detrimental effect on the planet and factory workers, there’s no doubt. But knowing that and then acting on it comes with a set of challenges. Here, we discuss the serotonin hit that comes with making a fast fashion purchase, why we spend more money on meaningless purchases when we’re lonely or sad, and how we can all try to make better consumer choices.

I Was Shamed for My Culture’s Food. Here’s What I Wish I’d Said.

Food is intertwined with culture and tradition, and certain recipes and dishes have unique, sentimental histories. Here, our writer recalls an experience of introducing Filipino food to two white friends, and discusses why, to them, their reaction was painful and offensive. They also evaluate why rejecting someone’s cultural heritage and food choices without opening a dialogue or giving thanks for being introduced to it can not only cause harm, but the loss of a deeper connection.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. This year had its silver linings. It’s been full of incredible innovations and emerging technologies, such as fur and diamonds grown in a lab. And there were some positive strides made for animals and the planet. Expedia pledged to no longer sell tickets to attractions like SeaWorld, which offer captive cetacean experiences. Numerous brands went fur-free. Car makers like Volvo and Ford Europe committed to going electric. Countries like France took aim at plastic waste, banning unnecessary plastic packaging for fruits and vegetables.

So before you settle in for that long winter’s nap (which, after this year, we all deserve), cozy up with some cocoa or tea, and catch up on our most eye-opening reporting of the year. These riveting stories shed a light on what’s to come next year—for the planet and all of its inhabitants.

The history of Big Meat

Want to learn about the true story behind why four conglomerates control the majority of the U.S. meat industry? This piece is it. From the rise of industrial animal agriculture to price-fixing and the failure of antitrust laws, this article delves into the four largest beef packers—Tyson, JBS, National Beef, and Cargill—and their rise to dominance.

Follow the timeline through the Roaring ’20s, when the 1921 Packers & Stockyards Act created the USDA Packers and Stockyards Administration to police large meat packers. Fast forward to the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s, which gave way to corruption, consolidation, and price-fixing. And skip to today, where about nine billion factory-farmed animals are slaughtered each year. This is the ​​outrageously corrupt history of the meat industry.

Meat production, pollution, and the human death toll

You know the animal statistics. But what about the meat industry’s impact on humans? Did you know: Animal agriculture is responsible for thousands of deaths every single year? This piece takes a deep dive into the health implications of those living in areas—usually marginalized communities—that are located near factory farms. The primary culprit? Pollution.

​​“Poor air quality is the largest environmental health risk in the United States and worldwide, and agriculture is a major source of air pollution,” the authors of a 2015 study report. “Nevertheless, air quality has been largely absent from discussions about the health and environmental impacts of food.”

Here’s why we need sharks

Which one of these is capable of removing carbon from the atmosphere: sharks or trees? Trick question. The answer is both. The OGs of the sea, sharks have been around for 450 million years. And for good reason. The planet and all of its inhabitants depend on the creatures to survive. A keystone species, sharks are carbon sinks and are capable of absorbing and storing the atmospheric pollutant.

Microplastics are everywhere, even our food

Did you know you could be eating a credit card’s worth of microplastic every. Single. Week? Less than 5mm in size, microplastics are basically small pieces of plastic. They can vary in size from microscopic to about the size of a grain of rice. But despite their small size, microplastics can take hundreds of years to biodegrade. They’re all over the place: oceans, waterways, plants, animals, and the air that we breathe. And they’re having disastrous impacts on our health and the environment.

How menstrual products became so unsustainable

Let’s talk about that time of the month. Has your period gone green yet? We’re talking planet-friendly. Each year, 200,000 menstrual product plastic goes to waste. Here’s a complex history of period plastic and what the future of sustainable menstrual products looks like. Did you know that an actress filed a patent for a menstrual cup in 1937? Neither did we.

Fashion is killing the Amazon rainforest

Are your garments responsible for the demise of the Amazon rainforest? Maybe. A new study has revealed that more than 50 companies—including the likes of Nike, Fendi, UGG, Zara, Prada, Louis Vuitton, and H&M—likely have links to deforestation. How? Many of them have ties to the world’s largest meat company and biggest exporter of leather in Brazil, JBS—a company that’s known for deforestation in the Amazon. Although the leather supply chain is difficult to trace, this report should be a call-to-action for brands to adopt more transparent and sustainable supply chains.