Global Courant
Not many of us like to talk about death. It is something dark, sad and usually leads us into an existential spiral. But the uncomfortable truth is that, as a person who cares about the environment, I need to stop ignoring this reality.
Most in the UK (my country) are cremated when they die, and burning bodies is not good for the planet. A typical cremation here runs on gas, and produces about the equivalent of 126 kg of CO2 emissions (similar to driving a car for 750 km). In the United States, the average is even higher: 208 kg
It may not be the thing we do that produces the most carbon emissions in our lifetime, but when the majority of people in many countries choose this option when they die, those emissions add up quickly.
Burials aren’t much better. The tombs are lined with cement, a material whose production generates many emissions, and the body is inside a wooden or steel coffin.
Typically, a highly toxic embalming fluid is used, such as formaldehyde, which leaches into the soil along with heavy metals that harm the ecosystem and pollute the water table.
The drawer alone can generate the equivalent of 46 kg of CO2, depending on its materials.
I spend my days trying to take care of the planet: I recycle cereal boxes, I take the bus, and I choose to eat tofu instead of a steak. The idea that my death will require a final, poisonous act is difficult to accept. I am determined to look for a more sustainable option.
Natural burials
My starting point is the Natural Death Centre, an NGO based in the United Kingdom. I pick up the phone and am happy to find Rosie Inman-Cook on the other end of the line, a chatty, no-nonsense person who warns me about many dubious alternative practices (it reminds me of what I read about eco-urns, some biodegradable, which combine ashes with other things).
Getty ImagesThe tombs are lined with cement, a material whose production generates many emissions.
The problem is that, even though they are sustainable, the ashes are the product of cremation that generates high carbon emissions. How can I prevent my body from turning into a cloud of black smoke in the first place?
Inman-Cook’s answer is natural burials. This means burying a body without any barrier to decomposition (no embalming fluids, or plastic bags, or metal coffins). This is equivalent to zero CO2 emissions, according to recent analyzes by Planet Market, a British company that certifies sustainability.
The body is buried in a relatively shallow grave, which could be someone’s garden, or a natural burial site.
Some of these sites allow you to mark graves with stones or other simple things. Others are very strict and don’t allow any of that.
But what about the not-so-natural materials that have entered our bodies, such as pharmaceuticals, microplastics or heavy metals? One solution may be to use a coffin made of mushrooms.
The “Loop Living Cocoon” claims to be the world’s first living coffin. It is made from a native, non-invasive species of fungal mycelium, which is also used to make insulating panels, packaging and furniture.
AlamyIn natural burials there is no barrier between the body and the earth.
“One of the problems we are seeing is soil degradation. The quality of the soil is becoming poorer and poorer, especially in funeral places, because there is a lot of pollution there,” Bob Hendrikx, inventor of the living coffin, tells me.
Mycelium can improve soil health and absorb heavy metals, which would otherwise leach into groundwater.
However, based on current research, the actual impact of today’s mushroom coffins is difficult to estimate.
human fertilizer
No matter how ecological a natural burial may sound – with or without mushrooms – the space is expensive. In cities, in particular, green spaces for natural burials in forests are scarce.
This motivated young architecture student Katrina Spade to come up with a solution: compost the body inside a hexagonal steel container, reducing it to nutrient-rich compost that the family can place in their garden.
Spade created Recompose, the first human composting center in Seattle, USA, in 2020. Washington was the first state in the country to legalize human composting that same year, and the practice is already legal in seven other states.
Getty Images“We are not adjacent to nature, we are part of nature,” says Spade.
The process takes between five and seven weeks. The body, placed in a special container, is surrounded by wood chips, alfalfa and straw. The air is carefully monitored and controlled, to create a comfortable habitat for microbes that help accelerate the decomposition of the body.
Eventually the remains are removed, which have been transformed into the equivalent of two wheelbarrows of fertilizer. Bones and teeth – which do not decompose – are removed and destroyed mechanically, and added to the compost. Implants, pacemakers and artificial joints are recycled if possible.
According to an assessment by Leiden University and Delft University of Technology in the Netherlands, the climate impact of human composting is a fraction of the impact of cremation: in the US, it represents the equivalent of 28 kg of CO2 , compared to 208 kg.
Transforming a human body into soil also reminds us that “we are not adjacent to nature, we are part of nature,” Spade says. This change in our relationship with the natural world is an environmental benefit that is difficult to quantify, but it is “critical to the plight of the planet,” he adds.
Cremation with water
There is another low-carbon option that focuses on a different element: water. “Water cremation” (also known as alkaline hydrolysis) is an alternative to traditional cremation.
It is somewhat gentler and cleaner than cremation, which produces only the equivalent of 20 kg of CO2.
Getty ImagesMachine for water cremation in South Africa.
“That’s a big difference,” Rima Trofimovaite, author of the Planet Market report, tells me. “With water cremation you cut massive amounts of emissions compared to fire cremation.”
The method consists of mixing approximately 1,500 liters of water with potassium hydroxide and heating it to 150° C. In just four hours, the human body is reduced to a sterile liquid.
I spoke with Sandy Sullivan, founder of Resomation, the company that sells water cremation equipment to funeral homes in North America, Ireland and the United Kingdom. She was patient when I told her that I’m not quite sure how I feel when I try to imagine the process as a kind of melting.
“This is what you end up with,” he tells me, showing me a large bag filled with a bright white powder (which is actually flour).
The point is that the final product is somewhat dry, similar to ashes.
The flour is to show what is returned to the family, and that it includes only the bones, which have been mechanically ground (as in a fire cremation).
The soft tissues decompose in the water and disappear through pipes that go to a water treatment plant.
Sustainability with comfort
The bag of flour represents the physical remains that are so important to many families.
It demonstrates what Julie Rugg, director, of the Cemetery Research Group at the University of York in the UK, believes is central to much of what we think about funeral practices.
Getty ImagesFor many it is important to have a place or something physical to remember the absent person.
“In the face of death, we seek solace. And it’s been really interesting to see how there has been a conflict, in some cases, between what is sustainable and what people find comforting,” she says.
Bone ash bags and compost go some way to overcoming this, offering us something tangible, an anchor for our pain.
As I consider the different options I’ve learned about, I find my thoughts returning to my first conversation with Inman-Cook.
I am captivated by the simplicity of natural burial, the absence of bells, containers or chambers. I am glad that, based on everything you learned during your scientific analyses, Trofimovaite, you came to the same conclusion
“I would try to make it as natural as possible,” he tells me. “Natural burials are the most attractive.” But natural burials without anything to mark the grave are a perfect example of the conflict identified by Rugg.
“Someone says they love the idea of being buried in this beautiful meadow, but they can’t put anything on the grave,” he explains. “We have to come up with a system that allows us to feel that our loss is special. “We have to think about sustainability on a scale that still offers comfort.”
The answer, it seems to me, might lie in reimagining what “special” means. As Rugg says, in a typical memorial garden, “you can’t move because there are plaques everywhere. We resist the disappearance of the dead, and in fact, we find that less comforting than we think.”
I come away from the conversation with the clear sense that, assuming I’ve avoided becoming a cloud of smoke, one of the best things I can do is refuse to claim a piece of land.
I hope my family can find comfort in knowing that I would be happier being part of the landscape. Why be a tree when I can be a forest?
*This article was published on BBC Future. Click here to read the original version.
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