Are you telling me that hybrid work and the explosion of digital activities in the pandemic context have aggravated the picture?
I say the numbers are staggering: last year, every minute, the 8 billion humans that crowd the planet shared 1.7 million pieces of content on Facebook, watched 43 years of streaming video, shared 700 thousand Reels on Instagram, sent 360 thousand tweets on X. To repeat: every sixty seconds we sent 241 million emails, 41 million whatsapp messages, ordered almost half a million dollars on Amazon, dialogued with ChatGpt's artificial intelligence 7,000 times, and performed 6.3 million Google searches, each of which produced 7 to 15 grams of Co2. These are numbers that have hitherto escaped our attention because they are elusive: difficult even to imagine, yet known for many years. A hit song like Olivia Rodrigo's 'Drivers License' produced as much Co2 as 4000 London to New York flights in one year. South Korean singer Psy's Gangnam Style video, viewed over 2 billion times in one year, alone consumed 297 GWh of electricity, as much as the annual needs of my city, Cagliari. This pachydermic proliferation of data sets in motion a polluting and energy-consuming mechanism that forces us to ask at least two unprecedented questions: can we afford it? Is it worth it?
To compensate for the staggering numbers of such global pollution, 2.4 trillion trees would have to be planted every year, an area equal to 2.5 times the size of Russia. Driven by high-frequency financial transactions, the advent of 5G and Artificial Intelligence, cryptocurrency mining, and the cyber war for technological dominance (but also by the unseemly mountains of selfies with feet in the sea, and funny videos of kittens produced by ordinary users) by 2040, the digital industry's Co2 emissions will increase by 775%, from 1.6% of total emissions in 2017 to 14%. The magic number is perfect because the trick is not visible: every minute the 102 Mb of data each of us produces travels around the earth in 30 milliseconds, ten times faster than the blink of an eye. Giving an illusory sense of lightness, immediacy and effortlessness to our daily clicks.
What can the individual mouse-user do to mitigate the damage of this huge mountain that is about to collapse?
Little is enough. And as a poet I have great respect for little because it is the measure that separates us from too much and the superfluous. For example, we can all: