Introduction
As a graduate student in the Master of Educational Technology (MET) program at UBC, and someone who has worked extensively in instructional support and corporate training environments, I’ve come to appreciate how indispensable tools like Zoom have become. Especially during my time as a Training Administrator and Graduate Admissions Coordinator, Zoom played a central role in day-to-day communication, team development, and learner engagement. Its convenience and scalability are hard to overlook.
But my studies—and particularly this unit’s readings—have challenged me to reflect more critically. Inspired by Kate Crawford’s Atlas of AI (2021), I’m now considering Zoom not just as a tool, but as part of a much broader, materially entangled system with real environmental and social costs. In this reflection, I examine the sustainability implications of using Zoom specifically in corporate training settings—where the scale is often large, the infrastructure needs are high, and the frequency of use is continuous.
Environmental Cost
Cloud Infrastructure and Energy Use
Behind every seamless Zoom call lies an invisible, energy-intensive infrastructure. Corporate training programs—especially those designed for onboarding, compliance, or professional development—often require extended video sessions, breakout room collaboration, and frequent recordings. Each of these features depends on powerful cloud servers, often operated by tech giants like AWS or Azure.
Although my experience as a training administrator focused on the learner-facing side, I now recognize how significant the backend operations are. Lohr (2020) acknowledges that cloud providers are becoming more energy-efficient, but Mills (2020) warns that our ever-expanding reliance on cloud computing still hinders progress toward a truly green future. It’s estimated that one hour of HD video conferencing can emit up to 1 kg of CO₂ per user, depending on infrastructure. When scaled across hundreds of learners and recurring sessions, this creates a sizable carbon footprint.
Hardware Lifecycles and E-Waste
As a practitioner, I’ve often had to recommend specific hardware or troubleshoot technical issues. Zoom, while accessible, still assumes participants have updated computers, webcams, and headsets. From an instructional design perspective, that’s manageable—but from a sustainability lens, each of these devices contributes to global e-waste. They also embody intensive resource extraction processes—something Crawford (2021) emphasizes through her metaphor of “technology as geological process.”
Each learner’s device is composed of metals and minerals mined from the Earth, and frequent upgrades create a cycle of consumption. This wasn’t something I considered deeply during my early work with educational technology—but it now feels urgent to account for.
Social Costs
Injustices in the Supply Chain
During my biology and physiology training, I was taught to trace systems and cycles—but not necessarily through a political or ethical lens. Crawford’s chapter and Buss (2018) on conflict minerals offer a stark reminder: the tools we rely on are embedded in extractive, unjust supply chains. From smartphones to MacBooks, the devices enabling Zoom sessions contain tungsten, tantalum, and cobalt, often mined under exploitative conditions in countries like the Democratic Republic of Congo.
As someone who values equitable access and ethical education, it’s sobering to realize how many of our tools depend on invisible labour and global inequalities. It’s a challenge to my own practice as an instructional designer and learning technologist—one that I’m beginning to actively engage with.
Platform Dependence and Marginalization
From my experience with LMS evaluations and open-source exploration, I’ve become aware of the limitations imposed by corporate platforms. Zoom’s proprietary nature restricts flexibility, and while it serves large institutions well, it’s less accessible for smaller organizations or learners in under-resourced regions. This is particularly relevant when developing training for diverse learners, including those outside North America.
I’ve been exploring open-source platforms like Moodle and BigBlueButton as part of ongoing LMS comparison work, and this assignment reinforces the value of decentralizing our dependence on dominant tools like Zoom.
Economic and Operational Costs
Subscription Fees and Infrastructure Demands
In my role managing training programs, Zoom’s enterprise features—like cloud storage, reporting, and breakout room capacity—came at a cost. While these are often absorbed by the institution, smaller organizations or NGOs may struggle to afford sustained access. Infrastructure upgrades (like better bandwidth, internal tech support, or data security systems) also add to the total cost of ownership.
Cost-benefit analyses in corporate environments rarely factor in environmental or social sustainability. There’s an opportunity here to broaden how we define “efficiency” or “ROI” in training contexts.
Hidden Labor
Behind every successful Zoom session are not only instructors and learners, but also IT support teams, moderators, and instructional designers—roles I’ve held or collaborated with. Crawford (2021) draws attention to the “ghost work” that supports AI and digital systems. In education and training, that ghost work includes troubleshooting, customizing learning materials, and offering tech support—efforts often unrecognized in budgeting or planning.
Gaps in Transparency
This part of the assignment was particularly frustrating. Despite my attempts to locate concrete data on Zoom’s energy consumption or supply chain impact, most of the information I found was vague or buried in corporate social responsibility (CSR) statements. Zoom’s annual reports and ESG statements provided general commitments but lacked specifics.
Similarly, device-specific lifecycle assessments were incomplete or outdated. This suggests an intentional obscuring of material costs—what Crawford might call “the aesthetic of immateriality” that dominates tech branding.
Conclusion
As a lifelong learner, instructional designer, and educator, I believe deeply in the potential of educational technology to transform lives. But as I deepen my understanding through the MET program, I’m also becoming more aware of the ecological and ethical trade-offs embedded in our tools.
Zoom has enabled powerful teaching and training experiences, especially in corporate learning environments where I’ve worked. However, it’s not a neutral platform. It depends on extractive industries, centralized cloud infrastructure, and invisible labor. As we move forward, I believe we must push for alternatives—open-source tools, hybrid models, and low-bandwidth solutions that are both inclusive and sustainable.
This reflection is just one step, but it’s reshaping how I choose, advocate for, and implement technology in educational spaces. And I know now that the best tools are not just functional—they’re also just.
References
Buss, D. (2018). Conflict minerals and sexual violence in Central Africa: Troubling research.
Social Politics: International Studies in Gender, State & Society, 25(4), 545–567.
https://doi.org/10.1093/sp/jxy038
Crawford, K. (2021). Atlas of AI: Power, politics, and the planetary costs of artificial intelligence.
Yale University Press.
Lohr, S. (2020, September 23). Cloud computing is not the energy hog that had been feared.
The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/23/technology/cloud-
computing-energy-usage.html
Mills, M. (2020, December 5). Our love of the cloud is making a green energy future impossible.
TechCrunch. https://techcrunch.com/2020/12/05/our-love-of-the-cloud-is-making-a-green-energy-future-impossible/