So how can we prevent fatbergs?

Eww: a piece of fatberg in the streets beneath London. Image: Getty.

Fatbergs – enormous solid masses of oil, grease, wet wipes and other hygiene products that congeal together to cause major blockages – are wreaking havoc on the sewers of cities around the world. A 130 tonne specimen described as a “monster” recently caused backups in sewers in London’s Whitechapel, and the cities of Baltimore, Singapore and Dannevirke, New Zealand have also all experienced similar issues in recent weeks.

Fatbergs are not a recent phenomenon, but have attracted increased attention in recent years as old sewerage systems struggle to cope with an increased consumption and disposal of everyday products like fats, oils and greases from cooking. This is a particular issue for cities like London with Victorian systems. The visceral disgust that runs alongside the image of fatbergs lingering under the city, and the potential impact they will have on local flooding, means that they will remain a topic that demands attention.

Strategies are already being put in place in order to prevent sewer fatbergs. Current water industry tactics tend to focus on removing sewer blockages and reducing the fats, oils and greases that enter sewers from commercial sources (such as restaurants). But around three quarters of the fats, oils and greases in sewers comes from domestic sources, making household disposal a key priority for change.

Awareness campaigns directed at the public currently focus on what people put down the kitchen sink. Current advice is that cooking fats, oils and greases should be disposed through food or solid waste recycling. But there is little information on how we can dispose of other products – like that fatty off milk at the back of the fridge – without pouring it down the sink. The mucky complexities of how people actually deal with fats, oils and greases in the home suggests that the solution might need to be more complex than awareness campaigns.

In a recent report we suggest that changing people’s broader behaviour related to food waste and disposal of fatty products is not going to be easy to change – and that we also need to look beyond the plughole.

Down the plughole

Fats, oils and greases are changeable, often smelly, visceral materials. The way we dispose of them is tied to attempts to reduce their impact on our kitchens and in our lives, and this becomes entrenched in our everyday habits and routines.

They can be troublesome materials to handle. The fact that they are liquid at cooking temperatures, and often at room temperature, makes them simpler to dispose of via liquid waste than via solid waste channels, yet their tendency to solidify and accumulate in the specific physical and chemical conditions of drains and sewers makes this disposal highly problematic. Fats, oils and greases are not only difficult to deal with, but many also find it unpleasant.

Evidence from research into food waste and disposal suggests that when food begins to deteriorate, its material properties – and the bodily reactions caused by its appearance, smell and feel in the people handling it – play an important role in how it is discarded. The more effectively and reliably it can be sealed off and ejected from the home with minimal human contact, the better.

Our research suggests that if the same is true of householders’ reactions to leftover fats then successful interventions to divert fats, oils and greases from sewers will mean providing an alternative, yet similarly effective, option for quick and seemingly hassle-free disposal than the kitchen sink.

These ideas of disgust, dirt, smell, and convenience are also likely underpinning similar dynamics for the disposal of wetwipes, nappies, and other hygiene products down the toilet rather than the bathroom bin.

Beyond the kitchen sink

But crucially, fats, oils and greases do not end up in our sewers purely due to decisions related to disposal at the kitchen sink. Rather, actions throughout the stages of food provisioning – including shopping, food preparation, cooking, dealing with leftovers, and clearing up – leads to fats, oils and greases entering sewers.

Another way of thinking about the issues is in regards to tracing the numerous decisions that occur in the process of carrying out routine household tasks: moments in which resources are used up and waste is produced. This is broader than just individual behaviours and involves a consideration of all of those moments where waste fat is indirectly or directly produced – such as when we are choosing what to cook; how much oil to use; whether to reuse that rendered meat fat from the Sunday roast in the next meal we cook or discard it.


Insights into what shapes behaviour at these points lead to a range of implications and recommendations for policies and intervention programs. For example, there needs to be a recognition that disposal of products like fats, oils and greases is part of a wider set of kitchen practices that are in turn shaped by wider systems of food provision (supply chains, retail, and so on) as well as waste disposal facilities.

Interventions that influence household behaviour therefore don’t just need to target the household but could involve product innovations that reduce likelihood of excess fat oil and grease production – for example, fryers that use less fat. Retail environments and packaging could be used as means of changing social norms. Sewerage systems could be rethought. Effective alternative waste fat and oil disposal infrastructures could be envisioned.

The ConversationRather than fatbergs just being seen as a water industry issue there needs to be greater collaboration across sectors (water, energy, food) to deal with the problem. Potential solutions need to range from the level of the household right through to new infrastructures that are experimenting with turning this mucky fatberg problem into energy and biofuel.

Alison Browne, Lecturer in Human Geography and the Sustainable Consumption Institute, University of Manchester and Mike Foden, Postdoctoral Research Associate, Keele University.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

 
 
 
 

“A story of incompetence, arrogance, privilege and power”: A brief history of the Garden Bridge

Ewwww. Image: Heatherwick.

Labour assembly member Tom Copley on a an ignominious history.

The publication last week of the final bill for Boris Johnson’s failed Garden Bridge has once again pushed this fiasco into the headlines.

As well as an eye-watering £43m bill for taxpayers for this Johnsonian indulgence, what has been revealed this week is astonishing profligacy by the arms-length vehicle established to deliver it: the Garden Bridge Trust. The line by line account of their spending reveals £161,000 spent on their website and £400,000 on a gala fundraising event, amongst many other eyebrow raising numbers. 

Bear in mind that back in 2012, Johnson promised that the bridge would be entirely privately funded. The bridge’s most ardent advocate, Joanna Lumley, called it a “tiara for the Thames” and “a gift for London”. Today, the project would seem the very opposite of a “gift”.

The London Assembly has been scrutinising this project since its inception, and I now chair a working group tasked with continuing our investigation. We are indebted to the work of local campaigners around Waterloo as well as Will Hurst of the Architects Journal, who has brought many of the scandals surrounding the project into the open, and who was the subject of an extraordinary public attack by Johnson for doing so.

Yet every revelation about this cursed project has thrown up more questions than it has answers, and it’s worth reminding ourselves just how shady and rotten the story of this project has been.

There was Johnson’s £10,000 taxpayer funded trip to San Francisco to drum up sponsorship for the Thomas Heatherwick garden bridge design, despite the fact that TfL had not at that point even tendered for a designer for the project.

The design contest itself was a sham, with one of the two other architects TfL begged to enter in an attempt to create the illusion of due process later saying they felt “used”. Heatherwick Studios was awarded the contract and made a total of £2.7m from taxpayers from the failed project.


Soon after the bridge’s engineering contract had been awarded to Arup, it was announced that TfL’s then managing director of planning, Richard de Cani, was departing TfL for a new job – at Arup. He continued to make key decisions relating to the project while working his notice period, a flagrant conflict of interest that wouldn’t have been allowed in the civil service. Arup received more than £13m of taxpayer cash from the failed project.

The tendering process attracted such concern that the then Transport Commissioner, Peter Hendy, ordered an internal audit of it. The resulting report was a whitewash, and a far more critical earlier draft was leaked to the London Assembly.

As concerns about the project grew, so did the interventions by the bridge’s powerful advocates to keep it on track. Boris Johnson signed a mayoral direction which watered down the conditions the Garden Bridge Trust had to meet in order to gain access to further public money, exposing taxpayers to further risk. When he was hauled in front of the London Assembly to explain this decision, after blustering for while he finally told me that he couldn’t remember.

David Cameron overruled the advice of senior civil servants in order to extend the project’s government credit line. And George Osborne was at one point even more keen on the Garden Bridge than Johnson himself. The then chancellor was criticised by the National Audit Office for bypassing usual channels in order to commit funding to it. Strangely, none of the project’s travails have made it onto the pages of the London Evening Standard, a paper he now edits. Nor did they under his predecessor Sarah Sands, now editor of the Today Programme, another firm advocate for the Garden Bridge.

By 2016 the project appeared to be in real trouble. Yet the Garden Bridge Trust ploughed ahead in the face of mounting risks. In February 2016, despite having not secured the land on the south bank to actually build the bridge on, nor satisfied all their planning consents, the Trust signed an engineering contract. That decision alone has cost the taxpayer £21m.

Minutes of the Trust’s board meetings that I secured from TfL (after much wailing and gnashing of teeth from the Trust itself) reveal that weeks beforehand Thomas Heatherwick had urged the trustees to sign the contract in order to demonstrate “momentum”.

Meanwhile TfL, which was represented at board meetings by Richard de Cani and so should’ve been well aware of the mounting risks to the project, astonishingly failed to act in interests of taxpayers by shutting the project down.

Indeed, TfL allowed further public money to be released for the project despite the Trust not having satisfied at least two of the six conditions that had been set by TfL in order to protect the public purse. The decision to approve funding was personally approved by Transport Commissioner Mike Brown, who has never provided an adequate explanation for his decision.

The story of the Garden Bridge project is one of incompetence, arrogance and recklessness, but also of privilege and power. This was “the great and the good” trying to rig the system to force upon London a plaything for themselves wrapped up as a gift.

The London Assembly is determined to hold those responsible to account, and we will particularly focus on TfL’s role in this mess. However, this is not just a London issue, but a national scandal. There is a growing case for a Parliamentary inquiry into the project, and I would urge the Public Accounts Committee to launch an investigation. 

The Garden Bridge may seem like small beer compared to Brexit. But there is a common thread: Boris Johnson. It should appal and outrage us that this man is still being talked about as a potential future Prime Minister. His most expensive vanity project, now dead in the water, perhaps serves as an unwelcome prophecy for what may be to come should he ever enter Number 10.

Tom Copley is a Labour member of the London Assembly.