Shitting – A practice to be ashamed of?
The documentary kicks off with a university professor offering chocolate in the shape of dog poop. According to his study, 70% of respondents refused to eat it. He demonstrates that feces carry “such a powerful negative that even images of it disturb people.”
Growing up I learned to view shit as something disgusting and embarrassing. Nothing to talk about, even though shitting is a natural process, which has a key purpose in our ecosystem:
Soil is rich in nutrients that are absorbed by plants, which nourish us when we eat them. Defecation returns these nutrients back to the soil. By flushing our excrement away through sewer systems, we disrupt this cycle. Instead of allowing nature to process our feces organically, we create wastewater that mixes feces with groundwater, industrial chemicals, and heavy metals. Treatment produces two nutrient-rich byproducts - treated water and fecal sludge - both useful as fertilizers. However, they often contain drug residues and toxins, posing environmental and health risks when discharged.
Sociologist Bruno Latour explains this tendency with the divide between nature and culture: while nature is admired from a safe distance, culture is perceived as superior. As a result, bodily functions that remind us of our nature, like defecation are stigmatized and hidden. One protagonist captures this idea: “Putting the shit into the sewer was a way to remove the shit from the person - (...) it was at the end of a pipe and somebody else dealt with it.” Flushing away our feces, reinforces the idea that we are separate from the ecosystem.
Rethinking Sanitation: Can Traditional Waste Management Solve Modern Challenges?
After critiquing modern mainstream fecal management, director Rubén Abruña embarks on a journey around the world in search of innovative and sustainable alternatives. One key approach highlighted is the use of dry toilets, where human feces are composted and repurposed as fertilizer. This method proves particularly beneficial in areas lacking access to safe sanitation or connections to treatment plants. However, composting is not just a solution for underserved regions; it has also gained traction in the Global North, particularly at festivals and within small communes that aim to conserve groundwater and maintain nutrient cycles.
The narrative of the movie - returning to the roots and rediscovering our place in the ecosystem - appeals to me. It touches on a paradox of modernity: in our pursuit of sustainable solutions, we often seek new innovations, when many answers already exist. Our ancestors developed and refined sustainable practices over centuries; they simply need to be revived and implemented. But is it as simple as the documentary suggests? While it showcases successful small-scale community initiatives, the challenge remains: how can such systems be scaled for megacities with limited space for local treatment, let alone for fecal collection? Is it realistic or even desirable to abandon the widespread sewerage infrastructure that has in many places replaced the practice of disposing wastewater directly into rivers and seas? And can we fairly expect communities in the Global South to embrace composting while those in wealthier nations continue to enjoy the "luxury" of flushing toilets?
Making a sustainable change
In the end of the movie Abruña showcases a modern toilet equipped with various features designed for maximum comfort. He admits that while he prefers this toilet over the composting one, he encountered in Uganda, he also feels a sense of guilt using it. I’m left wondering whether this is the right message to take away from the documentary: should we feel ashamed for using flushing toilets? I don’t think so. While individual actions and innovative ideas, as demonstrated by the film’s protagonists, can drive change, long-term sustainability requires systemic transformation, which must be supported by governments.
The documentary suggests that the real barrier isn’t the lack of viable solutions, but rather the absence of political and economic will. The protagonists experience obstacles posed by local governments when trying to implement local wastewater management systems, promote human fertilizer, or expose groundwater contamination.
This reflects a broader pattern seen across sustainability challenges. Despite an abundance of creative solutions and proven technologies, entrenched industries with financial and political influence often resist change, prioritizing profit over progress. As a result, science, awareness, and innovation struggle to break through, allowing unsustainable practices to persist.
What can we take from the documentary?
Watching Holy Shit has truly broadened my perspective. It was fascinating to explore these creative solutions and critically examine the sustainability of everyday practices. The alternative solutions presented in the film are valuable and should be promoted and implemented wherever feasible. However, I remain skeptical that they will lead to a systemic shift in mainstream sanitation.
What Holy Shit does offer is a new way of thinking about the feces we produce - encouraging us to reflect on where it goes and the impact it has. More importantly, it underscores the need to raise awareness and break the taboo around this topic. Ideally, this increased visibility could reach policymakers who have the power to implement sustainable sanitation systems where they are lacking and improve existing ones. I highly recommend watching and sharing Holy Shit to raise awareness, break taboos, and spark important conversations about sustainable sanitation.
