The Banned Wagon: Are Bans the Best Way to Solve the Plastic Problem?

An overwhelming wave of consumer activism has rolled out in support of the campaign to eliminate single-use plastic straws, kick-started in 2017 by Lonely Whale. This kind of consumer interest in the environment is by no means a new phenomenon. Back in 1970 on the first-ever Earth Day, 20 million people in the US joined the protest to raise awareness about the human impact on the environment. This was one of North America’s (and the world’s) first widespread and unified demonstration of concern about pollution.

These early concerns have only strengthened with time, as consumers increasingly demand transparency and accountability from corporations about their environmental impact. According to a global study carried out last year, 81% of consumers now say that they consider it ‘extremely important’ that companies should make changes to help the environment [1].

The Psychology of Consumer Activism 

Despite not being new, the rapid nature of the spread of the plastic straw movement is remarkable. Ignited by the ‘Strawless in Seattle’ campaign in 2017, support has spread like wildfire. It has been picked up internationally and endorsed by a number of celebrities, from Amanda Seyfried to Russell Crowe. The #StopSucking hashtag achieved a social media reach of more than 304 million in just the first four months [2], and Lonely Whale believes that more than 29 million straws have been kept out of the waste system as a result [3].

However, according to National Geographic, plastic straws form just a tiny proportion (0.025%) of the plastic waste in our oceans. Considering this, why has this particular campaign been so successful in garnering our support? In this regard, it is no coincidence that Dune Ives, Lonely Whale’s Executive Director, holds a Ph.D. in Psychology.

While admitting that the straw movement itself is simply a “gateway” for wider changes, she discussed the strategic factors involved in encouraging behavioral change on such a wide scale. Crucially, she notes the importance of presenting consumers with the option to adopt this change of their own accord, as opposed to setting a mandate, because “[in] general, people reject being told what to do” [4]. Essentially, the campaign has been a very effective ‘nudge.’

Why is Choice Important in Nudging us Toward Environmental Awareness?

Crucially, individuals have been able to choose whether to opt-out of plastic straw usage. This means that if we engage with the movement, we are doing so actively, deliberately – and repeatedly. If consumers are offered this choice every time they enter a coffee shop, it means their brain must engage in an active decision-making process each time. If customers make a change to the usual behavior because the new choice aligns better with their value system, this process creates what is known as ‘internalized’ attitude change: a genuine alteration of private beliefs and behaviors, which they will continue in private [5].

In contrast, if a rule is imposed on customers, they might comply with the rule without necessarily agreeing with it. This is known as simple ‘compliance’ and is generally only enacted passively or in public. Internalization, on the other hand, generates longer-lasting attitude change, and generally produces knock-on behavioral changes as a result.

In the case of plastic straws, internalization would see consumers absorbing the ethos behind plastic waste reduction, and taking action to reduce their plastic usage with other products too. This might mean that on the way to work tomorrow that person will grab a flask to take with them instead of accepting their usual disposable coffee cup. Additionally, it might inspire them to buy some reusable containers instead of single-use freezer bags to store leftovers after dinner.

Consumer Power

Strong individual engagement with the plastic straw cause has also led to consumers demanding changes from corporations. For example, a much-lauded result of the campaign has been the introduction of a ban on single-use plastic straws (and, in some cases, other single-use plastics) by a range of organizations, from Starbucks to Disney to the European Parliament.

Consumers can drive this type of change by wielding their purchasing power, using boycotting and ‘buycotting’: they can stop buying from brands whose values they don’t agree with, or deliberately buy from ethical companies in a show of support [6]. The results are impressive; for example, McDonald’s has already replaced plastic straws with paper ones in its branches across the UK, which in itself has eliminated 1.8 million plastic straws per day. This reveals the impressive power of consumer activism, and the scale of the changes it is able to command.

The Benefits of the Plastic Straw Ban

Certainly, when all the promised bans come into effect, it will significantly reduce the waste created by single-use plastic straws. Although, crucially the reduction will be achieved by taking the decision away from consumers. It is worth considering what impact this will have on consumer behavior around other (and proportionally much larger) sources of plastic waste.

Ives herself has noted that the plastic straw campaign is “not really about straws” [7] – it is a starting point to ignite a wider conversation about a larger problem. The current approach is doing an impressive job of keeping the wider plastic waste issue high on the public radar, and consistently reminding consumers of the impact of individual plastic consumption.

The Pitfalls of the Plastic Straw Ban

However, if plastic straws become prohibited rather than opt-out, a decision will no longer be demanded, either from companies or their customers. Consumers may well stop thinking about the material the straws are made from in their local cafe, and the opt-in pledges on social media will become redundant. Customers are therefore less likely to internalize the ethos behind the movement, or to be inspired to reduce their consumption of other plastic products. Imposing bans could therefore restrict the positive knock-on effects of ‘internalization’.

Subsequently, bans will more likely result in a passive type of behavioral change: simple ‘compliance’. Compliance is a more shallow type of conformity, and involves following a rule without experiencing any private attitude change. For example, if all local cafes begin to hand out drinks without a straw in, consumers aren’t likely to complain; however, the decision between ‘straw’ and ‘no straw’ has already been made, without being called to their attention. This could mean restricting some of the larger-scale knock-on changes which have so far been encouraged (both in individuals and corporations) by having an opt-in straw movement.

Going Forward

So, there are important advantages in retaining a choice of materials, meaning both corporations and consumers have to opt into better choices and to actively think about the materials they are consuming. Of course, positive environmental choices can be reinforced, and not just with straws. Some coffee shops already offer discounts as a reward for bringing your own flask, Additionally, higher costs could be imposed for the use of plastic utensils. Experiencing these outcomes every time you pick up a morning coffee can provide a nudge towards habit change, and gradually towards the creation of new norms.


The AI Governance Challenge

If attitude change is achieved properly and thoroughly, then the consumer activism we are currently seeing is more likely to maintain its momentum. Going forward, it could be channeled towards bigger and more impactful changes. There is potential to turn the lens on the biggest culprits to make the changes we need – like demanding that all supermarkets follow Budgens’ example and commit to introducing plastic-free packaging.

Ultimately, it is vital to carefully consider the most effective way to effect change in environmental outcomes – and it may pay dividends to remember Ives’ own tactic: asking consumers to “embrace their own agency” [4]. After all, as attitudes change, behaviors will follow suit.


[1] Sustainable shoppers buy the change they wish to see in the world. (2018, August 11th). Retrieved from

[2] Lonely Whale, accessed December 27, 2018, Entry from the 10th Annual Shorty Awards, accessed December 17, 2018,

[3] Dune Ives, “The Gateway Plastic”, Global Wildlife Conservation, October 19, 2017,

[4] Herbert C. Kelman, “Compliance, identification, and internalization: Three processes of attitude change”, Journal of Conflict Resolution, no. 1 (1958), 51-60:

[5] Weber and Shandwick. (2018). Battle of the Wallers: The Changing Landscape of Consumer Activism. Retrieved from report-UK.pdf, Radhika Viswanathan,“Why Starbucks, Disney, and the EU are all shunning plastic straws”, Vox, December 21, 2018,

“500+ Connections”: Inundation, Addiction, and Delusion in Social and Professional Networking

If you’ve been working in a professional capacity for 3-5 years, chances are you’ve come across at least 500 people. Shouldn’t you be connected to them?

Professionals are constantly reminded of the ubiquity and necessity of networking. Business bloggers chronicle the journey (1) to 5,000 LinkedIn connections, and sound the alarm at the danger (2) of maintaining fewer than 500. An ever-expanding arms race of online networking encourages professionals to adorn their profiles with corporate banalities (see: “investment ninja,” or “breaking synergy down to a science”) and pressures them to send connection requests to near-strangers in their industries.

Of course, network-expansion isn’t confined to professional arenas like LinkedIn. Social platforms are designed to foster similar patterns of extreme networking. Facebook and Instagram suggest accounts for their users to add as friends, while Twitter users’ feeds are often overrun by tweets from users they don’t follow. Our favorite networks are constantly nudging us to expand our circles of interaction. Scientifically speaking, just how big can our networks get?

According to anthropologist Rubin Dunbar, the answer is 150. Dunbar conducted a study in 1992 showing a correlation between neocortex volume and social group size in primates (3). His findings departed from the going theory — that big brains were most closely linked to complex ecological factors like extensive food-searching. (To be transparent, both theories still exist today, often in concert.) The next year, Dunbar published, “Co-evolution of Neocortex Size, Group Size and Language in Humans.” (4) With this paper, Dunbar explicitly linked his previous findings to humans, providing extensive historical evidence for limitations on human group size. More famously, this paper gave us the “Dunbar Number” of 150.

Along with sensory perception and motor skills, the neocortex (the brain region implicated in Dunbar’s analysis) is responsible for complex associative functions like inhibition, reasoning, and language. It’s not surprising, therefore, that a large neocortex leads to prolific social skills. What might be surprising is the converse: that evolutionarily speaking, the adaptive advantage of social skills led to larger neocortices. In his 1998 paper “The Social Brain Hypothesis,” Robin Dunbar broke with conventional wisdom once again, arguing that social behavior (not factual information processing) is the driving force behind humans’ evolutionary departure from our tree-swinging ancestors (5).

Compared to other species (even our close primate ancestors), humans are particularly well-endowed when it comes to the neocortex. But our Dunbar Number of 150 is still below the number of connections most of us have on social media, and well below LinkedIn’s holy grail of 500.

This poses the question: does technology allow us to cheat evolution? In some ways, yes. Modern medicine prolongs lives by decades. Tinder and Bumble expedite the search for sexual partners. But can social and professional networks help us cheat the evolutionary limits on group size?

According to a 2011 analysis of Twitter network activity (6), the answer is a resounding “no.” The study collected data from 1.7 million users over six months, in search of the maximum number of “stable relationships” (not the number of followers, but rather the number of users with whom regular interaction is sustained) for a typical Tweeter. The answer? 100 to 200 relationships — right in Dunbar’s wheelhouse.

If we forge connections online but cannot maintain those relationships according to the rules of evolution, we are then confronted with the frightening possibility that our social networks are actually antisocial behavior masquerading as hypersociality.

“So what?” you ask. Sure, you have more than 150 friends on Facebook. And yeah, you have more connections on LinkedIn than some anthropologist from the 90s says you should. It might get you a few more likes on your profile pic, or even land you an interview. What’s the harm in networking too much, which — according to Dunbar himself — is the reason we have bigger brains?

The dangers of over-networking stem from the dual explanation behind Dunbar’s group size research: social interactions are limited by both time and cognition.

How does time limit group size? We can’t have 5,000 intimate friends, simply because we wouldn’t have time to attend to them all. By adding more people to our “networks,” we’re spreading ourselves thin and giving ourselves less time to focus on what (or who) really matters. The same logic applies to professional networking, except instead of sacrificing the intimacy of your friendships, you sacrifice the average usefulness of your connections. (Let’s face it — that so-called “marketing hacker” who added you on LinkedIn from five states over is unlikely to offer you your dream job.)

The cognitive limits on network size draw on the evolutionary salience of social interactions. Our brains are wired to socialize. In many ways, they’re wired because of it. The engineers at Facebook and Twitter knew this before you or I did — they’ve been exploiting it for decades to optimize their networks (7) for our viewing pleasure (or, at least, obsession). They manipulate our fear of missing out and our insatiable desire to connect, giving us little bursts of dopamine with each new friend request or like-notification. You know the feeling, but you may not have realized how scientifically it was concocted.

If you’re thinking this constant cycle of craving and satisfaction sounds a lot like gambling or drug use, you’re on the right track. The relative novelty of networking via smartphones makes it difficult to draw long-term conclusions about the effects of networking addiction. However, the scientific community is in relative agreement that cell-phone usage, largely fueled by social networking, closely resembles other addictive behaviors. A 2016 review in Frontiers in Psychiatry (8) compiled information from 162 previous studies, many of which linked problematic usage of social media to depression and neuroticism. The review concluded that “there is a consensus about the existence of cell-phone addiction.” The next year, a study from Korea University in Seoul delved into the neural correlates of the epidemic. Researchers found that teenagers with diagnosed internet or smartphone addiction have abnormally high levels of GABA (the brain’s primary inhibitory neurotransmitter) in the anterior cingulate cortex (ACC), an area with connections to major executive and emotional neural networks (9, 10).


The AI Governance Challenge

I recently began a social media detox with my sister. Before starting the experiment, I had been using my phone for around five hours per day, according to Apple’s “Screen Time” feature. My sister used hers for a whopping 10. (The average for a teenager, according to a 2016 study (11), is around 5.05). Before the detox, I found myself checking social media whenever I had a free moment, and the results ranged from antisocial (checking while eating with friends) to dangerous (checking at a traffic light) to flat-out weird (checking on the toilet). Almost every time I sat down, I pulled out my phone and was scrolling before I even knew what my brain wanted to look at.

Three weeks ago, I deleted Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat from my phone. The following transformation is completely anecdotal, but completely true: my phone usage is down to around 2 hours per day from 5, and it’s limited to text messaging, occasionally checking email, and FaceTime (though not perfectly genuine forms of social interaction, undoubtedly better than Facebook). After the initial uneasiness of not having my Twitter feed in my pocket, I started to literally see what I had been missing. I started to notice the food I was eating. I had deeper conversations with friends and family. I felt less anxious, and happier.

On the first day of our detox, I found my sister staring out the back window of our house. I asked her when the last time she really looked outside was. She told me, “I mean… I’ve seen it.” We started talking about our social media usage. I asked her if she’d ever gone on Instagram and then left the app happier than she was when she got on. She told me no. Before going upstairs to put her phone in her room, she turned to me and said, “I’m having actual thoughts!” I asked her how it felt. “Unsettling,” she said, “but good.”

We know that social and professional networking are linked to anxiety, depression, and neuroticism. We know that we’ve spread ourselves too thin, between our hundreds of online connections and our (approximately) 150 real ones. We fixate on vapid online interactions that deprive us of the time to nurture the relationships we actually need.

We’ve all read optimistic articles proposing antidotes to the networking epidemic. “Take a ‘Smartphone Sabbath,” they say. Or, “Try this tracking app to decrease your number of pickups per day.” But there is no cute solution. There is no easy fix.

Going cold turkey was easier for me than it will be for most — I’m in college, so many of my closest friends live within walking (or shouting) distance. You don’t need to delete everything at once, but do try following this simple rule: if a non-essential app or website makes you less happy — and no, LinkedIn is not essential — delete it.

Gently Does It

This article originally appeared in [] and belongs to the creators.

Some people always take things to extremes. For those trying to save fuel there is hypermiling, in which the really dedicated try to use less than 4.5 litres/100km (ie, travel more than 80 miles on a gallon) in a car that under normal use might do only half as well. Apart from driving very slowly and trying not to use the brakes (which dissipates energy), exponents employ other tricks, such as wiring the fuel injectors up to LED lights mounted on the dashboard so you can see whether or not they are squirting fuel into the cylinders. Although this is too much trouble for most motorists, the hypermilers do have a point: driving technique plays a big part in how much fuel a car consumes. Now various devices are being used to help teach more moderate ways of driving economically.

Not surprisingly, companies that operate fleets of cars and trucks are among the first users of fuel-saving “eco-assist” systems. The most popular of these are sophisticated global-positioning satellite (GPS) units that use live traffic information and other data, such as weather and past trends, to plot not the fastest but the most economical route to a destination at a particular time. According to iSuppli, a Californian research firm, less than 1% of new cars have such “eco-routing” systems fitted, but it expects that by 2020 a third will.

Interest is also growing in other devices that go beyond a simple fuel-economy meter and provide much greater detail of drivers’ behaviour. One such is used by Masternaut Three X, a British company that specialises in vehicle tracking. It taps into the engine-management system which, because of the increasing amount of electronics used in cars, contains data that can be analysed to monitor such things as excessive revving and harsh braking. This information can be shown as a series of warnings on the dashboard and is monitored by fleet managers. Firms using such systems say they can yield fuel savings of around 10% a year.

The objective, though, is not just to discover those with the heaviest feet on the accelerator pedal and then to retrain them, but also to reduce accidents. “There is a correlation between driving efficiently and safely,” says Dan Steere, chief executive of GreenRoad, a company based in Silicon Valley. For instance, driving more smoothly by anticipating manoeuvres and then braking and accelerating lightly not only uses less fuel but also tends to make drivers more alert to avoiding potential accidents.


The AI Governance Challenge

GreenRoad’s driver-monitoring device does not need to tap into the car’s computer. It uses GPS to measure a vehicle’s speed and a set of accelerometers to determine the forces acting on the car as it accelerates, brakes and turns. The data are analysed to determine how the vehicle is being driven and the results shown to the driver as green, amber and red LEDs. For fleet cars, the data can also be relayed to a control centre, so that Big Brother can tick off transgressing drivers.

Mr Steere claims that despite the Orwellian aspects most drivers soon become comfortable with the device and value the fuel saving it offers. Perhaps. Clearly, he has never met Jeremy Clarkson.