Fifty-four years ago, on a nice spring day, the first widespread Earth Day celebration took place... at least in North America. As I recall, I stole a few hours away from studying for final exams and went to hear some speakers, listen to some music, breathe some ganja-scented air, and stare longingly at hundreds of environmentally conscious coeds proving less is more by not wearing excessive clothing in the warm spring sunshine.
There was hope in the air, but mostly there was confusion. No one seemed to know much about the subject. The depth of environmental problems were largely unknown. Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring had been out for eight years, but it took a while for it to be seen as a clarion call to environmental awareness, as opposed to an indictment against DDT and other pesticides.
Besides, we had other, more pressing problems, the most immediate of which for me were those pesky exams. Flunking final exams meant facing a far bigger problem than environmental degradation. It meant losing full-time student status and winding up in Vietnam taking rice paddy baths with thousands of other surly grunts.
At this dawn of environmental consciousness raising, Vietnam, still smouldering race relations, incipient feminism and the hangover from the Summer of Love all seemed like more immediate issues from my limited perspective in the USofA. I don’t know what the hot-button issues were in Canada. At that time, I only ever thought of Canada as a very attractive alternative to the Mekong Delta.
Two years into the nightmare of Nixon and only a few corners away from the outrages of Watergate, the OPEC oil embargo and, ugh, disco, it was easy to relegate environmental concerns to the webby corners of the mind, where it fought for shelf space with other pressing problems, acne for example. Since we all wore clothes from Sally Ann and Goodwill and none of us had cars, we didn’t perceive ourselves to be part of the problem anyway. God knows we weren’t part of the solution.
Fifty-four years later, we are the problem and God knows we still don’t have a clue what the solution is. We’ve traded in our beat up Corollas for F150s, the greatest-selling segment of automotivedom in the Great White North, or massive SUVs. They’re bigger, heavier, suck gasoline like a ’68 Coupe deVille, and have replaced both the station wagon/minivan as the family vehicles of choice and the little red sports car as a mid-life crisis solution. Full disclosure: I own a little red sports car. We rationalize our choices under the guise of protecting our family—Baby On Board—and wanting something old joints can get in and out of easier. Full disclosure: little red sports cars do neither.
We—collective we, mostly the wealthy, vacant, second homeowners in Whistler—build homes that look like boutique hotels out of massive, showcase logs, using enough wood to construct a dozen more rational houses. We congratulate ourselves for selecting only the finest of the best, huge, straight, towering trees to support and envelop homes far larger than we need and, in many cases, homes that will stand empty—but heated—for much of the year. These are homes where we can proudly take friends and family and instil the values of waste, conspicuous consumption and greed in our children, thus ensuring these values are propagated into the future.
Maybe, just maybe, the smug complacency Canadians have fallen into regarding environmental issues received a sharp elbow in the ribs last week when yet another massive wildfire threatened to consume much of Jasper. Who’s kidding who here? If we don’t live in Jasper or have particularly fond memories of the place—I don’t—we’ve already been distracted by something else. Oooh, a squirrel.
In poll after poll, Canadians claim environmental quality and threats are top of mind. After housing. After inflation. After, and I’m only guessing here, where to spend their winter, sun-seeking vacations. But right up there. Especially during what used to be called summer and now is more frequently referred to as fire season.
Fire season is in full swing in B.C. and Alberta. Probably elsewhere in Canada as well, but there’s only so much I can keep track of. Enough C02 is being released into the atmosphere to offset most of the gains made by taking whatever half measures we’ve been taking to reduce our active contribution to greenhouse gas emissions.
If all this seems too, shall we say, pessimistic, take heart. At least there is the political will to take bold steps to tackle the problem, rise to the challenge, do something to secure a better future.
Just kidding.
Our political leaders seem as timid as ever. The baby steps they have taken are rapidly being disavowed, stepped away from, shunned. Last week Vancouver reversed its bylaw banning natural gas as a choice in new construction. Citing the questionable rationale the move would reduce barriers for construction of more middle-income and multiplex housing, thereby making Vancouver homes more affordable, at least one councillor was honest enough to hang the decision on choice. “Choice on how people cook their food, heat their homes and heat their water.” He failed to add choice on how they contribute to the problem.
Meanwhile, Pierre Poilievre claims he’ll tackle the problem by scrapping the carbon tax, lifting caps on oil and gas emissions and loosening environmental regulations. “If Environment Minister Steven Guilbeault enacted it, the Conservatives are likely to reverse it,” he said.
Of course, in Tiny Town we have our Climate Action Big Moves. We want to build zero-emission buildings, close the loop and shift toward lower-carbon consumption. But we don’t want to do something as simple as ban propane heaters on patios. We apparently have a God-given right to drink cold beer on a cold patio after a day of so-so skiing because of a thin snowpack and be warm and comfortable doing so. Goes hand-in-hand with restaurants and pubs having the same right to serve those beverages to warm, cosy patrons.
It may be splitting hairs, but I’m not being pessimistic. I prefer the path of Zeno of Citium... sort of. Zeno was the proponent of stoicism. Stripping out all the components of living peacefully with nature, the takeaway of his writings on stoicism comes down to accepting things outside your control, focusing on what you can control... which ain’t much, but does include how you react to what’s going on around you.
Not quite don’t worry, be happy, but better than yelling at clouds.
