Leaving Green Libraries Behind (02 of 10)
Why "Green Libraries" Aren't So Green: Unmasking the Environmental Costs of Library Architecture and Digital Infrastructure
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[This post is the continuation of a series that challenges the status quo of "green libraries." While the first piece set the stage with a critical lens, this and the posts to come will dive deeper into different concepts].
Introduction
"Green libraries" have become the darling of the cultural sector — a shining symbol of environmental consciousness. These spaces for knowledge and memory, clad in glass, steel, and the rhetoric of sustainability, are sold as paragons of ecological progress. Throw in a cloud-based collection, and you've got a library that's not just "modern" but supposedly saving the planet, too.
Except it's not.
Behind the polished façades and glowing press releases lies a bitter truth: these so-called "green libraries" are complicit in the very systems that drive ecological collapse. Their glass and steel exteriors guzzle energy, while their digital infrastructures burn through resources in a data-hungry world.
Yet they continue to parade as eco-heroes, celebrated for aesthetic gestures that barely scratch the surface of real sustainability.
It's time to strip away the façade and ask some uncomfortable questions. Are "green libraries" truly "green," or are they just greenwashing dressed up in architectural ambition and tech savviness?
The Hidden Costs of Green Architecture
The architectural designs of "green libraries" are steeped in contradictions. Glass, steel, and concrete dominate their construction — materials that are anything but eco-friendly. Glass is a prime offender, requiring enormous energy to produce, emitting CO₂ at every step of its life cycle, and providing poor insulation that drives up energy demands for heating and cooling.
The façade of sustainability that many "green libraries" project is often a classic case of greenwashing. Lombardi (2018) argues that architectural designs marketed as eco-friendly frequently overlook the true environmental costs associated with materials like glass. These materials may be aesthetically pleasing and energy-efficient in the short term, but they come with hidden environmental costs —pollution and resource extraction— that challenge the integrity of the "green" label.
Steel is no better, requiring extractive mining and smelting processes that are among the most carbon-intensive industries on Earth. Even concrete, the material we take for granted in construction, accounts for roughly 8% of global carbon emissions. These are not minor oversights — they're systemic flaws embedded in the DNA of these so-called "green" buildings.
And yet, libraries plaster their walls with LEED certifications and "eco-friendly" plaques, selling us the narrative that these materials somehow align with sustainability.
Rather than focusing on surface-level eco-architecture, libraries could take inspiration from Patel's (2021) work, which advocates for a shift toward sustainability models that go beyond the visual appeal of green roofs and solar panels. Patel suggests that libraries need to embrace principles such as degrowth and minimalism, reducing their overall ecological footprint by minimizing resource consumption and focusing on truly regenerative design.
The Digital Mirage
If the "green" architecture movement has a twin illusion, it's the promise of digital salvation. As libraries digitize their collections and move services to the cloud, they tout a vision of paperless efficiency and environmental responsibility.
But digital is not dematerialized. Data centers —the backbone of this transition— consume more electricity than many countries, guzzling power to keep servers running and cool. The energy often comes from fossil fuels, not the green utopia we imagine. The shift to the cloud simply relocates pollution from the visible to the hidden, making it easier for libraries to ignore their growing ecological footprint.
While libraries have embraced cloud storage as a convenient and efficient alternative to physical spaces, it's essential to confront the environmental cost of these virtual systems. Research by Joubert et al. (2020) and Lee (2022) highlights the energy consumption of global data centers, which power the cloud-based services libraries increasingly rely on. These centers significantly contribute to greenhouse gas emissions — reinforcing the idea that so-called 'virtual' libraries are anything but green.
Add to that the staggering waste generated by hardware production: servers, cables, and other electronic components require rare earth minerals, mined at great cost to ecosystems and human lives. And when they're obsolete, they join the mountains of e-waste poisoning the planet.
Miller (2019) critiques the broader economic philosophy driving many sustainability efforts, highlighting the fallacy of "green growth." This model, which underpins many "green libraries," suggests that growth and environmentalism can coexist, but the reality is that growth itself —whether physical or digital— requires an ever-increasing demand for resources, pushing us further into ecological debt. Libraries must challenge this assumption and redefine their role in a world that needs less consumption, not more.
Conclusion: Let's Bring Down the Facade
The narrative of "green libraries" is a convenient lie, offering institutions a way to look good without doing good. Real sustainability is messy, hard, and unglamorous. It doesn't come with shiny buildings or sleek digital platforms. It comes with a willingness to question the systems we rely on, to rethink growth and consumption, and to admit that a library doesn't need a steel-and-glass monument to knowledge or a cloud-based collection to be relevant.
Libraries can —and should— be leaders in sustainability, but that requires tearing down the illusions of greenwashing and starting from scratch. It means embracing truly regenerative practices, rethinking what a library needs to be, and recognizing that the future isn't in appearances but in substance.
So, let's stop pretending. Let's get real. And let's redefine what a sustainable library looks like.
References
- Joubert, P., Roberts, J., & Green, R. (2020). The environmental impact of data centers: A global perspective. Journal of Environmental Sustainability, 12 (3), pp. 45-61.
- Lee, J. (2022). Virtual libraries: The hidden environmental cost of digital storage. Journal of Digital Infrastructure and Sustainability, 15 (4), pp. 78-91.
- Lombardi, F. (2018). Greenwashing in architecture: The deceptive practices of "eco-friendly" building design. International Journal of Sustainable Architecture, 5 (2), pp. 102-117.
- Miller, K. (2019). The fallacy of green growth: How the myth of perpetual growth damages the environment. Environmental Critique Journal, 11 (2), pp. 36-51.
- Patel, R. (2021). Reimagining sustainability in libraries: Moving beyond green design. Library Journal of Sustainability, 8 (1), pp. 12-29.
About the post
Text: Edgardo Civallero.
Date: 13.12.2024.
Image: "What is greenwashing?" In Antique Ring Boutique [Link].