Category: Climate change

“We meet people who have crossed deserts, floated on icecaps and cut their way through jungles – and yet in whose souls we would search in vain for evidence of what they have witnessed.”  Alain de Botton, The Art of Travel

Why do we travel?  Could we be as happy and fulfilled if we were to travel less?  It is interesting to consider these questions in their own right; and it is imperative to do so for the sake of the environment.

In a world of specialisation, few ‘experts’ are willing to tackle such broad questions.  Politicians, economists, business analysts, sociologists, and psychologists may tackle aspects ranging from the impact on national GDP to company sales to individual well-being; but it is unusual for anyone to attempt holistic answers.  For instance, the business analyst leaves the assessment of personal motivations to the psychologist, who in turn leaves analysis of the impact on national growth to the economist.  But specialisation has its drawbacks  given the severity of global climate change: holistic answers need to be attempted.  Matters are urgent; and time is short.

Commercial rationale

An oft-repeated argument in the world of business is that in order to do business it is necessary to meet people in the flesh.  Despite significant improvements in communication technology over the last decade, you cannot really get to know them, the argument goes, unless you have a face-to-face encounter.  And anyway, it’s a natural human thing to do – shows interest and a caring touch, crucial to winning work.

Know them?  This is a widespread delusion in the corporate world.  Having lunch with someone and talking shop does not translate into getting to know him or her very well.  Working relationships are largely quite superficial at a personal level, existing as they do within the narrow context of a particular workplace endeavour.  In Great Expectations, the novelist Charles Dickens described a relevant archetype in the character of Wemmick: a cold and austere lawyer by day, with a trap-door mouth that allows no entry or exit of emotion or caring; and by night a warm and generous family man, tenderly loving towards his old father back in his ‘castle’.  Many are we who have something of Wemmick about us.

But even if we accept for the sake of argument that we may not get to know our business partners deeply, isn’t it still true that a physical meeting is necessary to strike up a working relationship?  What of those non-verbal clues, so rich and varied in comparison with the mere words in a conversation, and hence so crucial to a successful transaction?  Surely it is necessary to meet in person to pick up those clues?

This used to be a strong argument, but such has been the advance of technology that modern video-conferencing can capture most non-verbal information – the aural clues, such as tone of voice, pattern of breathing, tapping of hands and feet, and the visual clues, such as furrowing of brow, impatient fidgeting, eye movements – as faithfully as (or rather, more faithfully than) human ears and eyes.  Admittedly, there may be some sensory data – the smell of sweat, the temperature of the room, the touch of someone’s palm – that is not relayed in a video-conference, but are these remaining clues so important that it is really necessary to travel hundreds or even thousands of miles to collect them?  Even when there is an evening’s entertainment with the host (often dispensed with in the current time-pressured world), it is hard to see how a trip abroad is essential to gain insights not obtainable by electronic means.

De facto, more and more business is agreed without physical meetings – and this in spite of a continuing international reluctance to include the environmental cost of travel in the price of a flight.  In our company, most sales are now agreed electronically, and the trend is growing.  The biggest deals still involve jetting about, but this seems to have more to do with culture and precedent than with necessity.

Personal rationale

I was brought up by parents who believed strongly in the cultural and moral benefits of international travel.  Trips from a young age to see Aztec ruins in Mexico, the Parthenon in Athens, European cathedrals, and a few months’ attendance at a Benedictine monastery school in Trinidad, were expected to broaden my outlook, and to make me a better person.

Judging by the trips planned each year by schools in Reading, this viewpoint is widely and enthusiastically shared today by the educational mainstream.  Trips are planned to Africa, Asia and South America – often involving some social contribution to be made by the school children, one which (inevitably) does not require a particular skill.  A trip to paint public buildings in a town in a relatively deprived part of England is arguably just as socially useful as a trans-oceanic pilgramage to paint them in Lima, but does not make it on to the curriculum.

Given that I grew up in Ontario in the 1970s, my parents were probably correct in their judgement.  Britain in 2016 is somewhat different: there is the internet, world news readily available on our mobile phones, cosmopolitan culture in Reading let alone in London.  And given this social diversity and ubiquity of global communications, the prevailing attitude of schools appears to be anachronistic.  It is unnecessary to travel great distances in today’s world to learn how people really live in countries far away.  The correlation between those who have travelled extensively on holiday, and those who show the greatest sympathy towards and understanding of the plight of people in developing countries, appears to be weak at best.

At the very least, schools which make a claim to be doing something socially useful by transporting unskilled adolescents across an ocean to paint buildings should at the same time teach those adolescents about the environmental impact of the trip.  The latter is less open to dispute than the justification put forward.

So why travel?

If travel is no longer essential to broaden our horizons, perhaps it nevertheless fulfills our need for adventure and romance.  Unfortunately, flying is anything but romantic: being processed in a sitting position across unseen continents has some similarity with a previous century’s transportation of convicts in ships in terms of passivity and obliviousness to the journey itself.  If romance and adventure are sought, then a trip across a country on a bicycle, staying with local people en route, would seem to be more appropriate.

Other merits of travel?  The opportunity to speak another language?  Europe can be reached on Eurostar.  The chance to do something bold, and a little challenging, as a means to develop one’s character?  White water rafting in Wales is nearby.  Experiencing different cuisine?  London has it all.

There are, indisputably, benefits to travel (not to mention a basic appeal, even if it is exaggerated by our culture) but these benefits are much less significant than they used to be.  And the problems – the environmental damage, the spread of pests and disease – have become much more prominent.  Quite simply, if the prevailing view of the world’s climate scientists is to be believed, we cannot as a species all engage in intercontinental travel unless we develop solar-powered or battery-powered planes.  There is no sign of that (and it is debatable whether it is even physically possible): meanwhile, isn’t the socially responsible approach to reduce our travel until such time as there is?

To a large extent, we travel because we are restless.  Some people (a fairly small proportion it would seem) are also curious.  So if we travel less, we need to find alternatives to sublimate our restlessness and our curiosity.

We are easily bored.  Travel holds the allure of a change in climate and scenery, an escape from the tedious daily routine, a reprieve (in some instances) from an onerous sense of responsibility or guilt.  The trouble is this can be self-reinforcing: the more we travel, the more easily bored we get at home, and the more we want to travel.

Noticing afresh

Instead of seeking a refuge from the daily grind through foreign travel, it might be more productive to see how we can re-invigorate our normal life and relationships.  Can we learn to re-read old books, re-learn old lessons and songs, see our homes and friends and loved ones with fresh eyes and new actions?  Samuel Johnson thought that most people are in greater need of being reminded of what they already know than trying to learn ‘new’ things.  Friedrich Nietzche was an admirer of the Xavier de Maitre, an eccentric Frenchman who once described his ‘holiday’ spent touring his bedroom, re-discovering the furniture: he was, wrote Nietzche admiringly, a man who could gain much from little, unlike so many of us who gain little from much.

It does not pay to overload.  We can live much richer lives if they are not too rich.  In the view of Albert Einstein, the best thinking can be done only when we empty our minds of unnecessary clutter.  Charles Dickens had a related thought with his character M’Choakumchild in Hard Times: “if only he had learnt a little less, how infinitely better he might have taught much more”.  We appreciate possessions all the more if they are not too extensive or lavish.  We appreciate a special foreign trip all the more if it really is special – to be savoured, reflected upon, discussed with friends long afterwards – not just another name to be ticked off an extensive list of places to visit.

As I write, David Attenborough’s latest series of Planet Earth is showing on television.  It reminds me of a conversation with a barber recently:  Attenborough was his hero, he said, and he wanted to travel to all the world’s wild places as a result.  Surely the beauty of programmes like Planet Earth is that we can have access to the world’s beauty without destroying it by rushing to experience it all first hand for ourselves.

Importance of being active

But even if we are persuadable that widespread travel is not essential to improve our stature as human beings, how can we overcome the yearning?  On the premise that this yearning often arises from dissatisfaction, or at least temporary boredom with our normal life, how do we re-discover a zest for it?

Part of the answer lies in being active, or as active as we can be.  There is a paradox in that physical inertia increases the desire to travel.  Being outside and taking exercise, whether able-bodied or handicapped, and whether it be walks, sports, gardening, DIY, or just moving about and breathing fresh air, makes us not only healthier but also less restless.

It is not just physical exercise that is necessary.  All of us need to use our minds – to stretch them by doing things that are difficult for us – either at work or at home if the former is too easy.  And it is not just our bodies and minds, but how we handle our feelings also, and the way we interact with other people.  Everything about us is muscular and needs proper exercise for our well-being and that of those around us.  Unfortunately, we are naturally lazy, so all of this takes effort.  But we can help each other – and in doing so, reduce our restlessness, increase our happiness, reduce our wanderlust.

How can we re-notice things we are no longer seeing?  I do not know the answer, but the habit of reflection and a change of attitude towards repetition would seem to be crucial.  Alas our culture and our education system treat repetition with a degree of contempt.  Re-reading a book, for instance, is largely seen as a waste of time … but why?  Most of us retain a tiny fraction of what we read, and notice only a small proportion of the beauty in a work of art, at the first attempt.  A difficult idea cannot be assimilated quickly.  Repeating an endeavour – be it physical, mental or emotional – does not mean simply going over old ground; it means discovering aspects that passed us by initially, and thereby increasing both our understanding and our appreciation.  Like M’Choakumchild, if we try to take in a little less (be it consumables, facts, or foreign holidays), how infinitely better we may appreciate so much more.

 

 

“…that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.” George Eliot, Middlemarch

“In historical events great men – so called – are but labels serving to give a name to the event, and like labels they have the least possible connection with the event itself.” Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

It is worth saying from the outset that no-one is perfect and there is no point in spending time casting blame.

In that spirit of humility, let’s consider this.  In the early decades of the twenty-first century, it has become apparent that, on the basis of current trends, human beings have a limited future.  This is not to say we have no future – but rather that our Western way of life cannot continue.

The reasons are straightforward.  In 2016, humanity consumes around 10 times as much energy, and there are 5 times as many people, as in 1916.  Exponential growth is time limited on a finite planet.  Each year, global energy consumption experiences a double boost in growth rate: from the ‘developed’ world as it aspires to higher levels of per capita wealth; and from the ‘developing’ world as it strives to catch up.  Not many of those living in the latter share the serene disregard for the former allegedly displayed by Gandhi who, when asked by a journalist what he thought of Western civilisation, quipped that he thought it would be a good idea.  Rather, they want what we have, the same material lifestyle and ‘high’ standard of living.

Then there is destruction of the natural world.  Without being (or needing to be) an expert, the fact that over 90% of the total mass (i.e. combined weight) of land vertebrates is now comprised of humans and farm animals should alarm each of us.  One can argue with Professor Drummond from the University of Auckland if one is partial to pedantry about the exact percentage – but not about the main point being made.  We can estimate the numbers, and hence mass, of humans, cattle, pigs, sheep, chickens and so forth; and also the mass of lions, tigers, elephants, wildebeest and so forth.  Maybe the figure of 90% is wrong by 1% but it will not be wrong by enough to invalidate the key message being made.  That we have largely usurped the world’s dry land for ourselves and our livestock is hard to dispute.

Likewise, it is pretty straightforward to measure carbon dioxide equivalent (CO2e) emissions from burning fossil fuels – this is much easier than, say, trying to understand the human mind or human physiology, or whether or not medical science will be able to keep pace with the spread of antibiotic-resistant bacteria.  Global warming to date, and the loss of wilderness, are relatively easy to measure; and when science is relatively easy, it makes particular sense to trust its findings.

In 1972, the Club of Rome published a report entitled Limits to Growth, which warned, rather as Thomas Malthus had done in the 19th century but this time on the basis of more systematic and comprehensive research, of the impending exhaustion of global resources due to unrestrained economic growth.  Whilst right in principle, Limits to Growth is thought to have underestimated global reserves of most resources, and hence also understated the time we have left to enjoy making ourselves richer.  In the 44 years since its publication, climate change and biodiversity, rather than depletion of mineral resources, have emerged as much more urgent causes of concern than people, including the authors of Limits to Growth, imagined at the time.

Nearly all of the world’s climate scientists now accept, albeit reluctantly because most people including scientists do not want to accept bad news, that global warming is due to human activity; that we are at least halfway towards the 2 degree increase above pre-industrial temperature levels that is broadly accepted as the maximum we can allow to prevent global catastrophe; that no climate agreements yet reached – not even the COP21 United Nations agreement hammered out in Paris in December 2015 – are sufficient to prevent such a rise; and that all the major climate trends suggest this limit will be breached in the lifetimes of some of those born today.

A scientific consensus has been wrong before, and may be wrong in this instance, but it is foolhardy to bet on it.

Ten, sixteen or two?

The British government, the Committee on Climate Change, and leading academics, tend to subscribe to the view that at least the British are making progress in terms of reducing our greenhouse gas emissions; and that the challenge is getting the rest of the world to take the issue as seriously.  In a recent debate about climate change chaired by Brian Cox (University of Reading, 8th October), the eminent meteorologist Brian Hoskins reminded the audience that while the average Briton has an annual carbon footprint of around 10 tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent (tCO2e), we are replacing our fossil fuel power stations with renewables.  But, he said, we only account for a few percent of the global problem, so it is difficult for us to have much direct influence.

Government environmental statistics measure the greenhouse gas emissions that are produced in the UK.  They do not account for the greenhouse gas emissions incurred in producing the goods that we buy from overseas.  Nor do they account for the emissions associated with international aviation.  These emissions are not produced in the UK – but if we are largely responsible for them, why would we not attribute them to our own account?  If they are, rightly, taken into consideration, the average per capita footprint of UK citizens is more like 16 tCO2e.  On this “consumption basis”, the footprint of the average UK citizen has been rising since the early 1990s.  The Committee on Climate Change admit as much on their own website – whilst simultaneously showing their disingenuous graph of falling “production basis” emissions.  It is unsavoury for a largely white collar workforce in one country to blame a largely blue collar workforce in another country for the damage wrought by its own lifestyle.  The anger of Asian politicians and business leaders at the hypocrisy of the West is understandable.

And yet, even if one accepts the figure of 10 tCO2e, that is still 5 times the average per capita level that the same Committee on Climate Change says we need to reach globally by the year 2050, i.e. 2 tCO2e per annum, if we are to avoid catastrophic climate change.  Whether we need to reduce our footprint by a factor of 5 or a factor of 8 is to some extent moot: either implies a radical change in lifestyle.

But no-one, not even academics who frankly should know better, seems willing to accept this.  (No doubt there are a few; this is just what it feels like!)  Rather the emphasis is on technology and the de-carbonisation of the electricity generation sector.  Let’s see how this stacks up.  In the UK, total CO2 emissions from domestic power generation now amount to around 120-150 million tCO2e, with some variation year by year depending on the weather and competing fuel prices.    This is very easy to verify from, e.g., the UK Digest of Energy Statistics – and unlike some statistics, pretty trustworthy given the relative simplicity of measuring fuel burn.  [To be precise, DECC’s final statistics for 2014 – there is always a lag in publication – state that total greenhouse gas emissions from power stations in the UK were 147.9 million tCO2e in that year.  In the last couple of years, coal use has fallen so the emissions will also have fallen.]

Let’s say there are 65 million Britons and power sector emissions are 130 million tCO2e, to keep the maths easy.  That means that if we de-carbonise our electricity completely – zero emissions from power – we will reduce our footprint by approximately 2 tCO2e per capita.  That leaves a footprint of 8-14 tCO2e per capita, depending how honest you want to be about imported goods and flying.

Conclusion?  Decarbonising electricity is a useful first step, much as breakfast is a useful first meal of the day.  Neither fulfills our needs.  And time is short.

The psychology of evasion

In order to make progress, perhaps we need to consider psychological barriers and how to overcome them.  After all, it is relatively recent in the history of humanity that our species has had to confront global problems of its own making – even the so-called “world wars” of the twentieth century were largely confined to Europe and did not threaten the people and animals of, say, central Africa.  We are relative novices when it comes to the emotional response to global warming, a bit like first-time parents trying to adjust to the life-changing addition to their remit of responsibility.

Without being an expert, it is possible to observe a range of unhelpful pyschological responses, of which five are as follows:

Denial

This is the mindset that says in effect: global warming does not exist or doesn’t matter.  It is a hoax created by the Chinese (Donald Trump).  It is a conspiracy created by NASA (Australian Senator Malcolm Roberts).  It does exist but is by no means our main environmental problem and “not the end of the world” (Danish professor Bjorn Lomborg).

Optimism

Global warming exists but we will be OK: we just need to get the scientists and engineers to sort it out.  Faith in science in the twenty-first century has some of the hallmarks of faith in God in the Middle Ages: in both cases, it is a form of wishful thinking (or at least wishful, thinking does not come into it much).  As Emily Armistead observed of Tony Blair when he was prime minister: hoping for the best is not a policy, it is a delusion.

Optimism can be a form of denial – denial of the difficulties of solving the problem.

Pessimism

Global warming exists but is insoluble.  It’s all too late and we might as well give up.  The world is already doomed.

In my personal experience, this is quite a common attitude amongst young people.  It is just as dangerous as blind optimism and just as likely to impede efforts to save our world.

Vicarious atonement

It is up to our government: that is what they are there for.  We democratically elect ministers to act on our behalf.

Under this mindset, the people abdicate responsibility to the government.  The difficulty is that government simply passes responsibility back to the people by taking actions that appear to be popular and conducive to re-election.

Disavowal

I am insignificant; it makes no difference what I do or don’t do – so I will do what I want, as long as it is within the law.

This is perhaps the most insidious and damaging psychological barrier of them all.  By conflating little influence with no influence, millions of us fail to undertake what action we can.  Disavowal frees us from a nagging sense of responsibility.  It allows us to pursue actions that we think will make us happy (though there is increasing evidence we are not very good at that).  The more we gain, the more we feel entitled to possess, and the more outraged we become if certain goods and services are withdrawn.  Hence the political nightmare that is the “lights going out” even temporarily, the price of meat or petrol rising, train companies or binmen going on strike, or shops running out of stock.

Disavowal can be at a national as well as personal level, as for instance in the mindset that Britain is doing its bit to combat global warming but we’re too small to make much difference.

A new psychology

Contrary to the conventional mantra of the media, politicians and economists, our future is not dependent on ‘economic growth’ or ‘growth in GDP’.  It is dependent on re-inventing our aspirations for a good life, so that we learn how to live within the confines of the natural world.  In practical terms, that means: having fewer children; living more communally or in smaller, better insulated homes; travelling less and being in less of a rush; buying less ‘stuff’; eating a more vegetarian or vegan diet.  It is not possible to substitute adequately for these personal measures by simply relying on renewable sources of electricity.

Before we will be willing to take these seemingly unappealing measures in our own lives, we need to develop the appropriate pyschology of outlook.  All of us can have much greater influence than we are usually prepared to countenance.  That is the first prerequisite: acknowledgement of our individual importance and hence our individual responsibility.

The second prerequisite is an honest acknowledgement of the scale of global crisis in which we live.  We need to accept not only the reality of climate change but also the difficulties of combating it, so that we do not fall into the rut of assuming other people will be able to sort it all out for us.

Thirdly, we need to dispense with judgement and blame.  It is pointless and destructive to point fingers at the old, the rich, the government, the corporate sector, or other nations, and say “it’s your fault”.  We have to do what we can – without casting blame – and trust that others will do the same.

But the most important prerequisite of all may be to learn how to think positively about a different, simpler and gentler way of life.  Can we learn to aspire to a life in which we own and travel less?  To be enriched by life on the basis of the quality of its experiences rather than their quantity?

These are difficult questions to which I want to return in my next post.