Death by Environmentalism?

I've been considering the brouhaha generated over the past several months by Michael Shellenberger and Ted Nordhaus and their essay "The Death of Environmentalism." I'm not sure what all the fuss is about.

It's not like there is anything really earth-shattering in the piece. The authors take a few potshots at some of the old-guard BINGOs, as they call themselves (they love acronyms: BINGOs stands for Big International Non-Governmental Organizations), some of whom could probably use to have their spreadsheets shorted now and then.

A handful of observations and recommendations for the environmental movement can be found there: 1.) Push hard to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by 70%; 2.) Take a step back and reconnect to values and vision; 3.) Stick your neck out and stick to it; 4.) Rethink what is and what is not an environmental problem; and 5.) Push hard for investments in the energy industries of the future. The essay degenerates into a plug for Shellenberger's Apollo Alliance Project and Nordhaus' Strategic Values Science Project and fizzles out before its end.

I wish they'd gone further and really shook up the movement. In my opinion, it's too complacent and too incestuous. We spend more time considering our planning navel and trying to beat the other guy (or BINGO, as they case may be) than really embracing others into the movement (see my post from March 2005 on Enviro-Evangelists). The movement thus far has offered a defensive posture, criticizing the authors for calling for the "death" of anything. (See Carl Pope's whiny rebuttal in Grist.) How much more refreshing if we could admit our shortcomings, change what needs changing, and get down to the real work. It's only an essay for crying out loud.

We will fail if we can't connect our work to the real question of the day: How can the rest of the world achieve the American Dream without screwing up the rest of the world? They want it, they'll get it. We need to figure out a way to lessen their impact and keep our economy going in the face of such challengers.

Climate of One

It all starts with one of us. My wife recently finished reading Elizabeth Kolbert's three-part "Climate of Man" in the New Yorker and said to me, "Driving an SUV is immoral." She then proceeded to figure out how we could sell one of our cars -- my 1995 Subaru Legacy sedan, to be precise -- and get by with one vehicle, our 2002 Toyota Sienna. We live in a city and park on the street; most of what we need is within walking distance and we mainly use the van to cart our 21-month old twins and nine year old boy around. I work from home and rarely use the sedan for more than short trips downtown when I know the public transportation won't be convenient or to park it at the airport when I'm flying to some work destination. So, on the face of it we should be able to do away with one of our cars. We'll adjust.

Some time ago I wrote about carbon counters in my GreenBiz.com column. At that time, I calculated my carbon footprint at 491 lbs. (223 kg.), which I was told is less than average. Then I started working from home and down went my gas purchases, my dry cleaning bill, everything but my coffee intake and mobile phone costs. What would giving up this car do for my carbon footprint? According to CarbonCounter.org, "every gallon of gasoline you save avoids 22 pounds of CO2 emissions." That's a pretty good savings. Okay, so now I'm thinking, what if my carbon output is negative? Then maybe somebody owes me. In a world of carbon trading could that become a reality?

I'm only one person. What would it take for each of us to act responsibly and make reductions? Well, one incentive might be the ability to trade personal carbon credits with others. My work requires a fair amount of flying. What if, during those times when my travel is low, I could "bank" my credits and use them when my air travel increases?

And what if those friends of ours who took advantage of Bush II's tax credit for large truck purchases for business by buying a Cadillac Escalade could trade credits with me, thereby mitigating their increased output and allowing them to drive what they clearly have decided is a necessity. Forget the fact that their office is downtown and they only have two kids, while we pack three into a late model minivan. They have made a lifestyle choice. That's okay with me, but who foots the bill? Perhaps instead of such tax credits, people who drive such vehicles should pay a carbon tax, and maybe increased insurance rates based on a combination of safety and environmental risks. Then to offset that tax, they could trade with me on the open market. It's just a thought.

And by the way, a young man and his dad bought the Subbie from us tonight.

Opportunity Knocks, but it can't come in...

I was talking with a friend of mine the other day, about two things that are integrally linked to our future. The first was her interest in an idea whose time has nearly come: namely, using nanotechnology to produce a photovoltaic material that can be spread like paint. Imagine a nano-solar cell that could be incorporated into the paint on your house or the hood of your car. The second was the brain drain.

Despite having read the Economist's excellent expose on nanotechnology a few months ago, I don't really understand how it works. But apparently there are enough brilliant scientists who do, and they are working on this at such stalwart academic institutions as UC Berkeley, Penn, and RIT. What I do understand about nanotechnology in this context is that even at face value it could revolutionize solar power generation in the next decade. Clearly something like this could transform solar from Mom-and-Pop operation to the Microsoft of the energy sector. But will it come to fruition? There are only two things holding advances like this up. One is obvious: investment (time + money); the other is the brain drain to which I alluded above.

Are we making it increasingly difficult to develop such technology in this country by restricting foreign workers? Many, some say tens of thousands, left the high-tech sector in the wake of further visa restrictions and returned to their homes in India, Pakistan, and China. Yet there is still talk of a technology worker shortage and companies like Microsoft and Intel are outsourcing to other countries around the world. And according to reports coming from the big venture capital meeting in New York last week, China is the next Silicon Valley.

I understand outsourcing and I'm all for globalization, as long as it is achieved in a socially responsible manner; a decidedly liberal view. But the conservative in me begins to wonder at the conservatives running this country when we continue to ignore the signs that a potential hope for our economic future is at hand. Opportunity is knocking, but it can't come in.

While in Indonesia earlier this year, I heard the story of the granddaughter of an acquaintance; a very sharp young woman with an interest in economics and math. She wants desperately to study in the States, but the visa restrictions are so onerous that she may not be able to come here. Why? Because she comes from a predominantly Muslim country. Hello London School of Economics, are you ready for her?

And what about those we do let in, the scientists, chemists, physicists, mathematicians and computer whizzes who do make it through the hoops? Do we give them an opportunity to stay? Are we making it easier rather than harder for new ideas from the new new economy to take root in this country and bolster our future economy? Or are we waiting for places like India, Pakistan, and China to eat our lunch? Because they will, and they'll take dinner, too; and maybe even breakfast the next day.

Rather than investing in trying to recover some unproven, undetermined billion barrels of oil from the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) -- estimates range wildly from Senator Frank Murkowski's 16 billion to 10.4 (USGS)and 1 billion (Wilderness Society) -- shouldn't we be pushing for a real energy agenda built on alternative technologies? Are we risking our economic future by ignoring investments in America's technological capabilities and by forcing an emotional issue to take center stage? Will we wake up before it's too late?

(Forgive me, I am of the opinion that developing ANWR can be done in an ecologically responsible manner, we have the technological know-how; I'm just not convinced it's worth an investment that could be saved for more long-term solutions.)

I'm afraid it already is too late. Everyday we lose the best minds of our country, and those who come to our soils to attend our top schools or help fuel our economy by working for U.S. companies. It's a failure of imagination. It doesn't take a nano-polymer chemist to envision the potential financial return of an investment in alternative technologies and a sustainable economy. Or does it? Anyway my friend doesn't think so; and I hope she takes the creative leap while others hold on to business as usual. Of course, it probably means she'll be moving to Asia one of these days, but more power to her.

The Evangelical Environmental Awakening, Part Two

I spent much of last weekend scouring the web for information from the Christian Right about their commitment to global climate change and the environment. I found much there that was enlightening and useful, including the National Association of Evangelicals' (NAE) "Call to Civic Responsibility," which was put forth this past fall. Throughout, I was struck by the clarity of their vision, but also how very different was their framework from most "greenies." (Hence, my last post on this blog about welcoming these aliens in our midst.)

I am increasingly concerned about the alienation the environmental movement fosters on others, either because we embrace traditions not our own (and seem like "New Age" liberal tree-huggers) or because we are too strident and really don't seem all that concerned with people outside of our mainstream. We rarely focus on those whose waters are not pristine, whose air is being polluted regularly, and who may not count environmentalism among their top ten concerns. In fact, we usually leave people out of the debate altogether, unless it's the "jobs vs. the environment" debate.

Take Adrienne Maree Brown, a young activist who wrote in Grist this past week: "Overall, too many young people see the struggles of humans as separate from the struggles for a healthy environment." And that the movement has "helped enforce that disconnect by seeming to draw divisions between the natural world and its human inhabitants -- and by seeming to worry more about the former than the latter."

She went on to say that "the movement has failed to reach the urban masses, and it has fallen prey to the marketing of the right, which casts caring about the planet as goofy liberalism instead of instinctual preservation."

This brings me back to the evangelists. In many of the materials I read, a bunch of which were published or posted long before the announcement by the NAE two weeks ago, the writers make connections that we have failed to do: connections to human rights, health and well-being, and to poverty alleviation. Meanwhile, the bulk of environmentalists are drawing lines in the sand on places like the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and writing impassioned, "bleeding-heart liberal" open letters to Senators who could not give a damn. Out of touch? Man, are we ever.

We need, according to Ms. Brown, "to connect the different survival struggles we are engaged in if we truly hope to sustain a viable movement for change." Environmentalism is not dead yet, as some would have it, it just needs a good defibrillator.

Nature worship, passionate pleas, population control, and "nurturant parent" stereotypes, to use a term of George Lakoff's, have walled us off from many who may, as a result, never see our concerns as theirs. But, if Ms. Brown is correct, and we can meet them halfway -- Christians and people of color alike -- maybe, just maybe, we can make a real difference together.

Caring for the earth is, according to the NAE, "a sacred responsibility." This means "clean air, pure water, and adequate resources are crucial to public health and civic order...Because natural systems are extremely complex, human actions have unexpected side effects. We must therefore approach our stewardship of creation with humility and caution." These are strong words; imagine if they were heeded. We must, as Larry Rice of New Life Evangelical Center writes, "not only find our place in the natural realm but...move forth as instruments of healing, hope and help." When was the last time you heard such words from an environmental group?

Some evangelicals proffer that global climate change will have its greatest impact on the poor, especially in developing countries and, therefore, they see it is directly related to issues they care about. Islands and ways of life may disappear; already asthma and other health issues linked to environmental changes are on the rise. Even the unborn are affected, as mercury poisoning influences their development in the womb. All these are valid concerns. How dissimilar are they, really, to concerns of environmentalists? The language is different, as is the framing. What would it be like for us to re-frame our work in ways that are related to issues others care about?

I'm not suggesting that environmentalists shed their values or join the evangelical movement; and I'm not advocating we give our missions over to others wholesale. We all have programs, projects, and concerns that transcend our narrow view of the world. We don't have to shoe-horn our work to fit the shoes of others. But it might be good to walk a bit in those shoes and come back and examine the language we use.

What are we saying that is exclusive? What messages are we giving about nature that reinforces its separateness from humanity or human concerns? How can we focus on the things nature provides for humans rather than negative human impacts on nature?

There are plenty of examples to illustrate that conservation and environmental action provide clear and direct human benefits, as a colleague pointed out to me recently; we need to identify those benefits and put them into simple terms.

Ms. Brown offers a few pointers, which she calls "transition steps": "1. Change your framework; 2. Be easy and appealing; and 3. Stop the environmental evangelism." (By that last she means ditch the "sky-is-falling" proselytizing.)

Dieter Hessel, on Harvard’s "Forum on Religion and Ecology," writes about "a dynamic framework for thought and action that fosters ecological integrity with socioeconomic justice through constructive human responses serving both environmental health and social equity." (Despite the jargon, that sounds like a fairly reasonable platform.)

Finally, let me offer a few suggestions for how we might change the way we talk about our work. I've shared these with some of my colleagues, but offer them here for general consumption and debate. This is by no means an exhaustive list; I'd like to explore more ideas while going deeper on some of these individually:

1. Speak simply (and don't carry a hockey stick).
2. Use language that is more broadly understood: care, stewardship, hope, "nature's keepers".
3. Show definite links to issues of health & well being (poverty, sea level rise, floods, droughts, asthma, and "environmental refugees").
4. Show impacts on people and their lives; and what the real costs are.
5. Demonstrate how to make a difference; give reasons for hope.
6. Clearly define what success looks like.

The Evangelical Environmental Awakening, Part One

Several years ago I attended a conference hosted by one of the country's progressive environmental and cultural institutions. Invited were writers and artists, environmental activists, conservation practitioners, and a host of others. The event was held on the beautiful campus of the National Conservation Training Center in West Virginia, a venue which exists because a forward-thinking Republican from that state marshaled the resources necessary to bring it to reality.

I arrived on that first evening with a sense of excitement; we were in for a few days of intense dialogue, debate, and communion among the conservation concerned. After checking into my room and making a quick tour of the grounds, I walked up to the first evening's festivities, an invocation and series of readings by some of the nation's best and most influential "nature" writers. After the reading, we all ambled up to a high point on the property for what was described as a "Summer Solstice Celebration." A bonfire was lit, a circle of the tribe gathered, and there was song and words of inspiration shared by the mostly white, mostly male participants, decked out in what ranged from outdoors uniforms to neo-hippy chic. This was the Birkenstock and granola crowd.

As the celebration continued it spiraled into what I can only describe as pagan ritual, with a few diatribes against those who were not in attendance – the despoilers of the land. I had a sinking feeling that I didn't belong and started to move away from the crowd. This was despite the fact that I am both a writer who draws inspiration from the natural world and a professional conservation practitioner. Why did I feel like an alien in my own land, among what should have been my tribe? As I observed the group from down the hill, its music and dancing seemed to take on a decidedly Gaia-worshipping tone, as participants gyrated and "grocked" to their own brand of eco-spiritual convergence. I felt somewhat like I was at an old Grateful Dead concert, with a bit of Native American and World Music flourishes thrown in for good measure.

The discomfort I felt at that celebration was that of a stranger in a strange land. I felt like an outsider, an interloper, like I didn't belong there. I almost left that evening, but the promise of four days of learning and connecting kept me from the road. My feelings were compounded by questions that began to form in my head: What if I was an outsider, observing this ritual from another, differently held worldview? How would it appear to me?

"I see the pagans are at it again," said a voice off to my left. I was a good hundred yards or more from the site and hadn't noticed anyone else around me. I didn't catch this fellow's name, but there he stood shaking his head between drags on a cigarette. He looked like a federal employee; at least, he was dressed like a park ranger, although I didn't think to ask.

"Why does every one of these gatherings have to kick off with rituals like this?" I asked.

"Because we think prayer circles are for psycho-Christians," my neighbor quipped. "Imagine if we tried to start a conference like this with a prayer circle, we'd be ridiculed – or stoned."

And, yet, I thought, we're comfortable with these types of displays, as if they are desirable because they are so patently other than more traditional, western religious practices. In fact, anything but rituals adopted from Judeo-Christian traditions seemed to be completely acceptable, a matter of tribal integrity. What were the religious groups in attendance thinking? And where were they?

My companion for that brief, revelatory moment had disappeared, as if he were a visiting alien or a prophet in modern clothes. His words stuck with me; in fact, his words came back to me a few days later when I listened to William J. Wade, the former president of ARCO, address the group in a plenary session. He was talking about the impact of reading Barry Lopez’ Arctic Dreams as he prepared to take ARCO's top job in Alaska in the mid-eighties. Later, he got to meet Lopez and fly over the state's many natural wonders. He was a committed conservationist and was talking to us as one who had converted to the cause, like Saul on the road to Damascus, and was doing what he could to care for nature.

The audience reaction to having such an alien in our midst was tepid and suspicious. How could an industry representative – one of "them" – deign to speak to us about appreciation for the natural world? We were the keepers of nature not the despoilers. And yet, Mr. Wade's experience was among the most genuine and authentic of the entire conference.

The session was followed by the next speaker, Peter Matthiessen, who fired rude salvos at Mr. Wade, the oil industry, and all conservatives who wanted to open the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to drilling. It was an embarrassing moment, but one cheered by the majority of the crowd.

I felt sick. Mr. Wade was a brave fellow who had wandered into "enemy territory" without even realizing it. How could we treat another human being this way? Where was our ethical integrity and respect for other human beings? Had we welcomed Mr. Wade to the conference only to belittle his worldview, attack his politics, and make him a whipping-boy for our gripes against industry? Where was fairness and liberal morals? Clearly these were checked at the door.

After the conference, I wrote Mr. Wade a letter of apology and sent it to him care of ARCO. I'm not sure he ever received it or that I ever heard from him. I was embarrassed by my own, some of whom I considered colleagues and even friends. If an environmentalist were to be invited to speak to a conservative group or association and was attacked like this, we would most assuredly cry "foul" and decry the manners of the group at large. And yet, we were not "doing unto others as you would have them do unto you." Maybe we should have started with a prayer circle instead of a pagan rite; maybe then we would have remembered the manners we learned in childhood.

I write this now because the environmental movement is confronted with a new "alien in our midst" - Evangelical Christians. Many environmentalists are suspicious and wary of this group's motivations and, indeed, some have questioned their sincerity in articles and the electronic print media. This is wrong. We need to apply the same sort of tolerance and respect for diversity that we espouse in our daily lives and work. We need to adapt our liberal moral tendencies to be accepting of this group as a partner. They may not join our organizations and certainly will not put aside their moral visions or worldviews to fit ours, but they have an important voice and perspective on the work ahead of us.

We could learn a lot from their way of knowing this earth, despite what knee-jerk environmentalists might assume. We have not cornered the market on stewardship and care of the earth, regardless of whether you believe the earth as we know it exists through divine creation or evolutionary adaptation.

The diversity of human experience of the earth can be as diverse as the fabric of life itself; we must take heed of this still, small voice in the wilderness and nurture it, welcome it into the good fight.

Oh no, Kyoto!

Today the Kyoto Protocol goes into effect. I must say, it feels a bit like when I was on a boat in Indonesia last week and we crossed the Equator (twice) -- we didn't notice much of a difference, not even a discernible bump!

Yet a majority of the world's industrial countries will now begin their efforts to reduce greenhouse gases under the agreement; indeed Spain, Portugal, New Zealand, Canada and others have already reached the reduction goal of 5% below 1990 and it didn't seem to hurt too much. Companies like BP, Alcoa, and even Dupont are applying more stringent reductions and finding cost savings that may increase profits. Even developing countries are getting into the act, including powerhouses China and India who are starting to look into clean energy generation.

So where is the U.S.? Still on the sidelines. Actually, they haven't shown up for spring training. They want to "study the science" a bit more before making a commitment. That translates as a stall technique to bring Bush's energy bill back from the dead and put it before the House Energy and Commerce subcommittee. (Ouch.)

There is some hope on the horizon. Our favorite Republican John McCain (oh, why isn't he our president?) and his buddy across the aisle, Joe Lieberman, have reintroduced their climate stewardship act proposal, and Rep. Senator Chuck Hegel of Nebraska (yes, the guy who killed Kyoto in '97) has seen the (green) light of potential alternative technologies to address the dark climate future.

Writing in The Economist a few weeks ago, even Brit PM Tony Blair called for the world to rally together to make climate change a priority and pledged to make it one of his chief goals while head of the European Union. Maybe he can cash in his chits with Bush for his support of the latter's war in Iraq and get the U.S. on board. (Don't hold your breath.)

And where are the greenies on this day? They are much too quiet. They should be fanning the embers of this occasion and call for immediate ratification by the world's largest producer of GHGs on the planet. Are they afraid to get snubbed by the media? More likely they just couldn't get their cooperative butts together to make something out of this day. Of course, it could prove the theory that Kyoto doesn't mean much after all; it certainly seemed business as usual across America today.