I had this moment last year that I still cringe about. Picture it: I’m giving this impassioned talk at Bristol’s Climate Action Conference about individual carbon footprints—you know, the usual spiel about transportation choices, diet changes, energy efficiency—when this woman in the front row raises her hand and asks, “What about the emissions from this livestream right now?”
I blanked. Completely blanked.
Here I was, Ms. Sustainability Expert, and I hadn’t given a second thought to the carbon footprint of the very technology broadcasting my words to hundreds of online participants. Talk about a blind spot the size of Wales. I mumbled something about it being “better than everyone driving here” and quickly moved on, but the question haunted me for days afterward.
So I did what I always do when faced with an environmental knowledge gap—I spiraled into obsessive research mode. My poor housemate Theo found me at 2 AM surrounded by sticky notes covered in estimates of server energy consumption and bandwidth carbon coefficients. “Is this normal?” he asked, gesturing at my chaos while making tea. “For me? Absolutely,” I replied without looking up. By morning I had the beginnings of understanding just how complicated—and significant—the emissions impact of our increasingly video-dependent world actually is.
The pandemic pushed many of us into living half our lives on camera, didn’t it? Video calls with gran, Zoom birthday parties, work meetings where half the participants are secretly wearing pajama bottoms (I see you, and I am you). I’d always felt smug about how virtual meetings were saving all these carbon emissions from flights and commutes. And they are! But it’s not quite the emissions-free solution I’d imagined.
Here’s the thing about video conferencing that blew my mind: streaming video is basically the digital equivalent of leaving all the taps running in your house. It’s incredibly data-hungry, and all that data needs energy—to process it, transmit it, store it, and display it on your device. When you’re on a video call, you’re not just using electricity for your computer and internet connection. You’re also responsible for a share of energy use at data centers, network infrastructure points, and the devices of everyone else in the meeting.
After my conference embarrassment, I decided to audit my own video call setup, which—given that I appear on roughly 15-20 calls weekly for work—felt like an urgent personal climate action project. I installed energy monitoring plugs (possibly going slightly overboard with six of them) and tracked my computer, monitor, router, lights, and even my kettle (because tea is essential to virtual meeting survival) for two weeks. The results were… humbling.
On days packed with video calls, my electricity use jumped by nearly 40% compared to writing or research days. FORTY PERCENT! I nearly choked on my oat milk latte when I crunched the numbers. Surely this couldn’t be right? But the more research I did, the more it made sense—especially when I realized I had fallen into every energy-intensive video call trap possible.
First, I’d been defaulting to video for absolutely everything, including quick check-ins that could have been phone calls or even emails. Second, I was connecting through my ancient router that apparently runs hot enough to warm small planets. And third—this is the embarrassing one—I’d been using my hi-res DSLR camera as a webcam to look “professional” on important calls, which was essentially like driving a monster truck to the corner shop.
So I began experimenting with lower-carbon video calling, turning myself into a guinea pig for greener virtual communication. My colleagues at Zero Emission Living were mostly supportive, though Omar did message me privately after one particularly pixelated presentation to ask if I was “calling in from 1997.”
Here’s what I’ve learned from my digital diet: First, being thoughtful about when video is actually necessary makes a huge difference. Those “quick question” calls where you’re just checking a detail? Audio-only saves approximately 61% of the data transmission, which means proportionately less energy use and emissions. For my weekly check-in with my editor, we’ve switched to phone calls, and honestly, I think we’re both relieved not to fix our hair.
Then there’s resolution settings—probably the easiest and most impactful change for most people. Most video platforms default to the highest possible quality your connection allows, which is completely unnecessary for the average meeting where you’re just seeing faces. Manually setting video quality to standard definition (480p) instead of HD (1080p) reduces data transmission by up to 86%. When I implemented this for all my regular calls, my electricity use dropped noticeably, and nobody complained about not being able to count my pores.
The background settings made a surprising difference too. Those lovely virtual backgrounds that hide my laundry pile? They require constant processing power as your computer continuously works to separate you from your background. Turning this feature off reduced my laptop’s energy consumption during calls by about 10-15%. Not insignificant! Now I just hang a plain sheet behind my desk on days when the flat looks particularly chaotic.
Hardware choices matter enormously too. After my audit, I replaced my energy-vampire router with a more efficient model, which reduced my overall home electricity use by about 8%. I also discovered that using my laptop alone rather than connecting to my external monitor saved another chunk of power. For longer meetings, I now start on the laptop and only connect to the bigger screen if we’re reviewing detailed documents.
But perhaps the most interesting discovery was about group meeting behavior. The way we structure and conduct meetings has a huge emissions impact. Every additional participant in a video call multiplies the data transmission and processing requirements. So those enormous “everyone in the company” video meetings? Carbon disasters. We’ve started implementing “viewing parties” at the office where small groups gather around one screen for large meetings, which cuts the connection count dramatically.
I’ve also become that annoying person who asks, “Could this meeting be an email?” But here’s the data to back up my irritating question: a one-hour video call can generate between 150-1000 grams of CO2 depending on quality and participant numbers. A detailed email? About 4 grams. The difference is staggering.
Of course, I know virtual communication has enormous advantages—both environmentally and socially. The ability to connect without transportation emissions is still a net positive for the climate in most cases. My calculations suggest that even the most data-heavy video call produces less carbon than a 5-mile drive to an in-person meeting. And for maintaining relationships with distant friends and family? The social benefits are incalculable.
The key is being intentional rather than defaulting to maximum-quality video for everything. I now have a little decision tree taped next to my laptop with questions like: “Does this really need to be a meeting?” and if yes, “Does this meeting need video?” and if yes, “Does this video need to be high-definition?” It’s helped me reduce my work-related digital emissions by roughly 35% over three months.
I shared my findings with my colleague Adrienne, who leads digital strategy at Zero Emission Living, and she had this brilliant insight: “It’s like diet,” she said. “The occasional steak dinner isn’t the problem; it’s the three bacon sandwiches every day that add up.” Similarly, the occasional all-staff HD video call isn’t an issue—it’s the habitual, unconsidered use of high-bandwidth video for everything that creates significant emissions.
Last month, I did a follow-up carbon audit on my new setup. My low-carbon video conferencing practices aren’t perfect (I still forget and leave my camera on for calls that could have been audio-only), but the difference is substantial. Between lower resolution settings, more audio-only calls, updated hardware, and better meeting planning, I’ve reduced my video conferencing emissions by nearly 70%. Not bad for changes that have basically zero impact on my actual work productivity.
Since then, I’ve been gently evangelizing these practices to anyone who’ll listen (and some who’d rather not). My most successful convert has been my mother, who was previously video calling my brother in Australia at maximum resolution for hours every weekend. After I showed her how to adjust her settings, she not only reduced her digital footprint but also found that the calls dropped less frequently. “The picture’s slightly fuzzier,” she admitted, “but I can hear him better, which is more important anyway.”
There have been some funny moments in this journey too. During one work call, I enthusiastically explained why I had deliberately degraded my video quality, only to have our IT director point out that I’d accidentally muted myself for the entire explanation. Classic Eliza move, talking passionately to myself about carbon emissions while everyone waits patiently for the technical difficulties to resolve.
And I’ll admit there are times when low-carbon calling practices aren’t appropriate. For my friend Ruth’s virtual wedding last year (she married her Canadian partner before moving to join him), I gladly accepted the carbon hit of full HD video. Some moments deserve the highest quality experience technology can provide.
The biggest challenge has been in professional settings where “video presence” is still equated with commitment and engagement. I’ve had to explain to new clients why I sometimes suggest audio calls, and there’s occasionally that awkward moment when everyone else has their camera on and I’m the lone black square. But generally, once I briefly explain the environmental reasoning, people are supportive—and sometimes even relieved to turn their own cameras off too.
If all this sounds overwhelming, start with just one change: question whether each meeting truly requires video. That single decision point can reduce your digital carbon footprint significantly with zero technical adjustments needed. From there, you can explore resolution settings, background effects, and hardware choices when you’re ready.
Oh, and that woman from the conference who asked the question that started my obsessive research? I ran into her at a climate tech event last month and thanked her for highlighting my blind spot. She seemed surprised I remembered, but I told her that the best sustainability insights often come from the questions that make us most uncomfortable. She’s now testing some of my video call recommendations with her own remote team. Sometimes the most productive carbon reductions start with a moment of ecological reckoning—even when it happens in front of a livestreamed audience of hundreds.
