In my student years, I lived with a broad range of people. Likewise, their views on recycling was equally varied, from the “who cares?” to the militant eco-warrior. My longest-lived flatmate was the former, and I the latter, so as one can imagine, the debate sprung up more than once: why bother recycling?
I suppose I recycle because my parents recycled, and it just feels the right thing to do. Certainly, there were reasons for me and my begrudging roomie to just throw it away. More effort was needed to recycle our waste. Traipsing down a busy Edinburgh highstreet carrying heavy bag of clinking empty beer bottles was both exhausting and a little embarrassing. It would’ve been a damn sight easier just to chuck ’em in the much more local rubbish bins. There was no tangible gain for us walking the extra mile. However, despite this, I soldiered on, convinced of my righteousness. But why? Under my flatmate’s dissecting eyes, I decided on the following three reasons: