Bidding a final farewell to his unenlightened ways, our
hero gets off to a good start
on the earth-friendly track. Soon he is struggling against
overwhelming odds
as he plunges into savage urban America. Will he survive...?
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The Perils of Environmental Man
The answer to living an environmentally friendly life is
usually better technology replacing bad technology. Still,
it'll take some pretty sophisticated industries to come
up with something better than plastic to-go containers for
hamburgers. Yes, Environmental Man looks to technology to
win the day and save the earth. He faces the future with
confidence that there are solid answers just waiting on
the horizon to be implemented.
After all, it wasn't too many years ago that careless industries
were spewing all sorts of suspended particulate into the
air, as well as a host of other evils. Putting high-tech
filters on the smokestacks cleaned up the air alright, but
it still came out hot, contributing to global warming. Perhaps
if we can come up with cheaper air-conditioning we can cool
the smokestacks down. "Cheaper" can almost always
be defined as "more polluting" though, and the
chemicals involved work against the ozone layer. And Mother
Earth's temperature is rising. What can you do for a planet
when she has a fever?
Well, we can chuck modern technology altogether, and go
back to a mule and a hoe. You know, basic sustainable agriculture,
lots of fresh air, and sweat. But have you noticed that
people already living at the bottom of the technological
pile are trying to knock down our doors to escape such a
life? Few people seriously envision a world of small farms
run by hard-working, enlightened people who are content
with just keeping terra firma tidy. There just aren't that
many around who are ready to make such an extreme move.
You're probably not one of them either.
But perhaps you have taken steps to remove yourself from
the self-destructing rat race of a greedy polluting consumer
society. Steps like getting rid of your car and bicycling
to work. This is a significant step, surely, since the automobile
is the symbol of everything Environmental Man loathes. After
all, it does more to make Mother Earth sick than any other
one factor. Driving that infernal machine poisons her lungs
and gives her a fever, and just the manufacturing of it
creates toxins without number, shutting down her liver.
Only someone pretending to be Environmental Man would ever
be found owning one.
So you bite the bullet and buy a bike. Pedaling to work,
you risk your fool neck in insane traffic as those despised
automobiles full of environment-hating rednecks whiz by
you without a care. Breathing deeply, you ponder the wisdom
of your choice as you fight to not cough from the hydrocarbons
pouring out the tailpipe of that last car. What good will
it do Mother Earth if you wind up squashed like a bug on
the asphalt? Who will take care of her then?
Slightly dizzy from the last diesel blast of a city bus,
Environmental Man looks down to evaluate his contribution
to saving the earth. After all, a truly efficient bicycle
is quite a marvel. Of high-technology, that is. Do you have
any idea what it takes to manufacture a graphite-composite
frame, or even a metal alloy one? Well, and what about the
coating on your brake cable housings? Or more basic, just
your tires? One guess, and it's spelled e-l-e-c-t-r-i-c-i-t-y,
and lots of it. And most of the world's electricity is generated
by coal (ugh!) or worse, a good deal of it by nuclear power!
How are you going to generate enough of it with solar panels
and windmills to make bicycles for 6 billion people? (And
who knows how to make solar panels and windmill generators
without pollution? Or without electricity?)
But still, you gotta survive. No matter how noble his thinking,
or how much he considers such lofty matters, Environmental
Man must eat. Fortunately for him, he lives in the richest
nation in the world, provided for him in part by immensely
profitable and immensely polluting industries. Never one
to dwell on the negative and full of determination, he makes
the decision to grit his environmental teeth and walk to
work.
The next morning, Environmental Man laces up his sneakers,
having decided to jog to work. It's better for him, he figures,
and besides, it gives him more time in the afternoon for
racquetball. (It used to be hacky-sack.) As he laces the
last eyelet, the dreaded thought comes, 'How do they make
these things?' Slipping into reality, his mind becomes entranced
with accurate visions of some dingy factory in a Third World
country. Right at the change of shifts shabbily dressed
men and women file into the gaping doors of this brick monster,
their heads hung low from the hardship of a futureless life.
Out the other doors come the weary victims of night shift,
having produced another blue million high-tech sneakers
with some basketball player's name emblazoned on the side
in fluorescent letters. Above all of their heads the smokestacks
chug out choking-black fumes, like a harlot blowing cigarette
smoke in your face, mocking their hopes for a better life.
Snapping back, Environmental Man realizes he'll be late
for work if he doesn't leave right away. His mind weighed
down by the immense task of living environmentally friendly,
he considers a possibility. Maybe he could import Guatemalan
organic cotton hand-knitted shoelaces into the country for
people like himself. That would help. And of course, it
would have a better chance of catching on if some famous
basketball star endorsed it.
He flings on his cape, opens the apartment door, and pauses,
troubled by his recent vision. Making a few minor adjustments,
Environmental Man hurls himself out the door" barefoot.
After three days of walking to work starting at 3 am, Environmental
Man hobbled back one gloomy evening. A cloud as thick as
bus smoke hung over his head. All the stress of being environmentally
devout was getting to him. He'd snapped at his friends all
day at work and cut his foot on a piece of a broken beer
bottle as he walked home.
He was perplexed as to what to do next. Adam may have left
the Garden barefoot, but Environmental Man had his doubts
that he could get back in the same way. The more he tried
to live with a good conscience, the less joy he had in life.
He felt the impact on his soul as he was becoming so unkind
to his friends, and loneliness was becoming the only one
who understood him. All his environmental ideals were leaking
out, making him feel as flat as the tire on the bike he
had given away.
How, oh how, could Environmental Man get out of this genetically
modified pickle? Are there any answers for him?
For further reading: a personal account— Seeing
My Own Blindness and the message of hope — A
Truly Sustainable Life
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