We’ve been going through a dry spell here in southeastern Pennsylvania and, if you hadn’t noticed, it’s been very dry and hot in many places across the United States and around the world this year. The photos of the dry bed of the Loire River in France have been disturbing… and there are recurring stories of human remains popping up in the cracked basin that used to be Lake Mead. Here in my backyard, the tomatoes, strawberries, even the native flowers, have been reluctant to do anything but hang limply, distressed, holding on with the occasional dousing from my sulfurous and dwindling rain barrel supply. Everything is dry and crackly and strained, including humans.

To be fair, my lawn frequently fails to measure to the properties of my neighbors — I have that type of grass that goes dormant in the winter and plays dead. We don’t water or fertilize it; I have no desire to achieve the prestige of an English manor house. But now there is increasing solidarity in these suburbs as everyone else’s lawn struggles, covered with swirls of brown and dusty sparse patches of green. With an exception.

The golf courses.

My township used to lie far distant from the borders of Philadelphia and grew an over-abundance of country clubs and golf courses for such a small municipality. The contrast of lawn health here is quite striking as I drive past: crispy lawn, crispy lawn, crispy lawn, then there appears a veritable lush oasis dotted with men in khaki pants driving little carts. This oasis, however, is largely lacking in trees and natural areas, is managed down to the height of a blade of grass, and is invariably gated and fenced off to prevent entry except to the casual paying elite.

Environmental impacts and extreme weather patterns are felt at golf courses just as they are experienced anywhere else, including poor air quality, high heat, drought conditions, wildfires, damaging storms and flooding. Yet, there seems to be little adaptation to these changing times by the recreational oligarchs (and this generally can be extended to their private residential properties and personal actions). In some areas where water availability is a hot topic, such as Utah and Nevada, the contrast between the native environment and the golf course artifice is stark. The optics are ugly and the impact on delicately balanced ecosystems and rarified landscapes cannot escape notice. Money and position offer a certain cushion from the trials and tribulations of the hoi polloi, but these privileges are justifiably open to criticism when the larger populace is called upon to make sacrifices.

Golf courses use a great deal of water for irrigation and other purposes. A typical 150-acre golf course uses approximately 200 million gallons of water a year, enough to supply 1,800 residences with 300 GPD [gallons per day] of water. (Fluence, “Sustainable Water Use for Golf Courses,” March 2021)

That the rich and well-to-do are responsible for more than their per capita share of resources and associated environmental degradation, well that’s par for the course. It is apparent to most with eyes, ears, and a social media account that the climate crisis is, to a large degree, the result of the historical and self-perpetuating disparity of power held by economic class. Certainly having billions of people on the planet creates a strain on resources, but not all resources are used equally. I can work at home my entire life, leaving my car in the driveway gathering dust, and it won’t balance out the 5-minute private jet flights of a Kardashian, Taylor Swift, or Elon Musk. Relatedly, no matter how you shake it, golf has been and is still largely the sport for the upper class and for men: the same plutocratic interest group that historically has made the rules that brunt energy and environment.

Just as the evidence of misdeeds are being laid bare at Lake Mead, so have the frivolous flights of fancy by the rich and famous been exposed. The damage directed at our common environment and shared resources by golf courses and their membership is no less jarring than any story of celebrity excess. A particularly egregious example has been made of the Scottsdale National Golf Club in Arizona. Members of this club are an exclusive group of a mere 145 members paying $300,000 to join and $60,000 annually to remain. For six years, this golf club has used more than its allotment of water from the overused and overstressed Colorado River. Has anyone been held accountable there? No, and representatives of the club are not willing to talk to the media when questioned. I’m fairly certain that these same golf club members have had it in their self-interest to underfund the environmental agencies that would hold them to task. This is not an isolated case.

Not only have Arizona golf courses collectively failed to reduce water consumption over the past 20 years, but a large number have repeatedly exceeded state assigned allotments and there have been no serious consequences for them in doing so. (Balint Fabok, The Arizona Republic, “Arizona golf courses use more water than they’re supposed to. Nothing is stopping them.”)

China may have outstripped the USA in terms of total annual carbon emissions, an inglorious achievement, yet even the environmental footprint of that burgeoning population likely fails to meet the combined footprint of our planet’s small but growing class of billionaires. This doesn’t mean that you and I should stop using our reusable grocery bags, but let’s not spend restless nights over small actions that contribute little to the whole. China has also been experiencing record heat, where overnight “low” temperatures have sometimes not dipped below 94°F. Yet, as temperatures spike, golf is a growing industry in China, albeit as an activity prohibitively expensive for the general population. It would be interesting to discover how China deals with management of golf courses in times of water scarcity, if it is in keeping with the courses of the USA and Europe.

With ironic serendipity, a petition request popped up in my emails as I was writing this, to collectively denounce the watering of golf courses in France. As evident by the dried riverbeds, France is also going through a drought, one of the worst droughts in history. Citizens have been instructed to avoid non-essential water usage, some locations even placed under drinking water restrictions; yet, golf courses have largely been exempted. The modern French aristocracy has replaced “Let them eat cake” with “Let them water grass.” Cheeky and resourceful climate activists responded to this exemption by filling golf holes with concrete. France’s water bans are a national law, but enforced by regional officials, and so far only one region in France banned the watering of golf courses. I had held out hope for sanity beyond US borders.

Let me further pour some salt in the wound by bringing up the travesty of so-called open space designations. Municipal jurisdictions are frequently, and increasingly, required to set aside areas of land as “open space,” which, per the USEPA, is any open piece of land that is undeveloped (has no buildings or other built structures) and is accessible to the public. This space can (and should) include green space that is partly or completely covered with grass, trees, shrubs, or other vegetation. HOWEVER, local laws can differ. In my township, there is scattering of small public parks but, by and large, our designated open space consists of golf courses, including those privately owned. I don’t know about you, but I would not define open space as privately held property that requires a membership fee and is extensively landscaped. Apparently, the definition of “open” is open to interpretation.

There are golf clubs that have made attempts to create a sustainable operation, such as the establishment of ‘dry’ courses, planting of lower-maintenance grass species, use of renewable energy for power, water reuse for irrigation, and reduction of electricity and water usage. As in the case of the Scottsdale golf club mentioned above and many other clubs like it, however, the laws of society are applied differently to my drinking water and my yard than to those that shell out 300K to putt a small ball behind a gated fence. Arguably, it is in the self-interest of a profligate private club to ignore the common interest.

And since access to water in the growing desert communities of Arizona and Nevada is subsidised by tax-payers throughout the country, all Americans pay the price for the wastefulness of their recreation. (Ben Adler, The Guardian, “The case against golf.”)

Sustainable turf management aside, personally I see manicured private lawns and large scale turf management properties as a blight of status and an inefficient land use. Admittedly, I am biased, but an orchard or public-use woodland or community garden check off all the boxes on my list: providing greater habitat and wildlife corridors for migrating animals and species that struggle to adapt in urban and suburban areas, decreased usage of pesticides and fertilizers and fossil fuels, sequestering carbon at higher rates, and opening up open space to a more inclusive community of humans. Yes, there are social as well as environmental factors involved here, as well as the notion of humans as observant stewards of the world around them. Some might argue that we should open up golf courses to build affordable housing; however, there may be plenty of housing available in the USA that has been increasingly priced and placed out of reach of the average American.

Now I am certainly not saying that ALL golf courses should be turned over to what I consider a better use; I have a young son that has zero interest in any outdoor activity except golf, and I am hoping that he can one day use his winnings as a golf pro to keep me secure and snug in retirement. And, yes, of course I understand that not all golf players and members of country clubs are, as we say, filthy rich. Short of egalitarian status, the bottom line in a society is the understanding that one man’s actions affect the lives of others, regardless of membership status.

The World Economic Forum has classified water crises as one of the five main global risks for nine consecutive years. Those risks are already expressed as realities in many places, including the western USA. When our backs are increasingly against the wall, shouldn’t all citizens be held accountable for their societal and environmental footprint, and why wouldn’t the priority for water be safeguarded for basic human needs and not for sports and entertainment?

Could I interest you in a game of mini-golf instead?

Desiree Rammon has over 25 years experience in the fields of environmental engineering and science, and is an advocate for sustainable living and collective activism.

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