Guest post from the deep ecologist

A few weeks ago, I wrote this to my friend Les:

"I suppose I should be writing something about the big enviro let's-all-get-together-and-save-the-planet-except-not-if-it-costs-anything summit, but I'm too defeated. Do you want to? I have, like, 12 regular readers!"

I think I have more readers than that, but I was being modest.

Anyway, he wrote back no. But then he wrote back yes! So what follows is a missive from Les:

*****

Copenhagen isn’t just the name of your creepy uncle’s snuff anymore. Now it’s yet another watchword for the failure of the international community to adequately address, or even begin to address, climate change. The Copenhagen Accord, the product of a conference years in the making, is toothless and unenforceable—a colossal letdown.

What’s funny is that from the sound of it, the conference itself got most of the nitpicky ecopath stuff right. Attendees were given tap water instead of mineral water and transit passes instead of limousine rides. The disposable cups were biodegradable and the food was organic. The organizers even plan to offset the (substantial) quantities of carbon that delegates emitted in getting to the conference by replacing outmoded brick factories in Bangladesh.

It’s too bad, really. I bet the original ecopath would have had fun with reports of a more traditional, hypocritical UN meeting motif. I can almost hear her: There were plastic cups at the Copenhagen conference last week. PLASTIC. CUPS.

[Note from Hallie--that is exactly what I would have done.]

But instead, I’m here to wax nihilistic on why this conference was doomed from the start. In the process, maybe I’ll reveal what I think might separate me from other, less radical (and probably happier) ecopaths.

But first, let’s take a look at the list of suspects for the crime of killing Copenhagen, as compiled by our friends in the mainstream media and blogosphere:

Guilty Party #1: China. The oldest of all nations is apparently not giving up on the belief that it’s only fair they get their own carbon- and carcinogen-saturated industrial revolution, if only because the U.S. and Europe got to have one. But hey, at least they put on a great Olympics (even if they had to shut down half the cars in Beijing so audiences could see the competitors through the smog. I’m waiting for my anthropologist friends who work in East Asia to tell me where ancient Chinese wisdom comes into play on environmental issues; until they do, I’m petitioning that Hollywood portray all future wiser-than-the-room kung fu masters as Californian water misers.

Guilty Party #2: The United States. Of course.

… #3: The rest of the rich countries. For wanting to be like the United States.

… #4: The rest of the poor countries. For wanting to be like China.

… #5: Byzantine Bureaucracy. Actually, this one’s pretty much right on, especially when you consider that the Senate’s inability to even come close to an energy bill is one of the reasons Obama’s bargaining position at Copenhagen was so weak.

… #6: Capitalism, corporate oligarchies, the existence of private property, Monday Night Football, and everything else Hugo Chavez blamed in his rambling ideological mess of a speech. A speech that was nonetheless applauded by many of the delegates present, and that Chavez concluded, by the way, by asking the U.S. for money. Lots of money. And this right before he implied that Obama was the Devil (although not the Antichrist, for those of you Left Behind fans nodding in agreement).

Speaking of unlikely consensus (and devils), I found myself nodding in agreement with Rush Limbaugh, who had this to say about the conference and Chavez’s speech:

“…all these protesters that are over there and all these conference attendees, doesn't matter, they could be at a WTO meeting, they could be at a climate change meeting like they're at now, they could be at any other meeting the UN's in charge of, and all it is about is the destruction of the United States…”

Well, right up ‘til that last part, anyway.

Chavez did hit the mark when he quipped that if the environment were a bank, we would have saved it already. In fact, he hit a lot of the right notes. He just hit the wrong ones, too. That’s the problem with not worrying about whether your statements make any sense in tandem. Chavez thinks socialism is the answer to our environmental problems. And why wouldn’t he? I mean, we all know how great the USSR was on environmental issues…

Getting back to the point, I’m compelled to say that the (tiny?) rational part of Rush Limbaugh’s brain was onto something for a split second when he pointed out just how little it mattered that this was a conference on climate change. Now, I’ve already accepted two frustrating but inescapable facts about environmental debate among state actors: 1) that climate change is now their baby, and will continue to be a sinkhole for Our Mother the Earth’s inexplicably scant ration of political capital; and 2) that environmental debates will almost always be cast in human terms. I was very young when the reality of this second fact hit me, when I heard the argument that the rainforest needed to be saved in order to protect the pharmaceuticals we might find there. Really? Pharmaceuticals? Is that why we want to save the rainforest? So that we can find better antacids and ED tablets? Have you ever even seen pictures of this place? As I said, this is something I’ve come to accept. But what’s even worse about Copenhagen—and the apparent emerging realpolitik of climate change—is that the debate is not only framed in human terms, but in terms of even narrower political interests. Richer countries don’t want to give up their standard of living. Poorer countries are paranoid over getting screwed. The U.S. doesn’t want to lose any more jobs or market share, and will probably end up screwing a few poor countries just out of sheer force of habit. And Hugo Chavez just wants any possible platform from which to spew his muddled Marxism.

I guess that’s what makes me a ‘radical’ ecopath. It’s the same thing that used to get me in trouble in my college bioethics class, when I would suggest, for instance, that the concerns of Grizzly Bears (global population: 500) might sometimes outweigh the concerns of people (population, 7,000,000). Sometimes it’s just not about poverty, or political justice, or social inequity, or us at all. But I don’t think any of the delegates in Copenhagen were ever in danger of understanding that.

Bottled water: more popular than ever!

I heard this on the radio a few days ago, but I needed a few days to recover before I could bring myself to write about it.

I'll keep it short and sweet.

NPR has been doing all kinds of "decade in review" things even though the decade is not over. They were interviewing a guy who reports on "food trends." People are eating in restaurants less for the first time in decades, people still eat "a ham sandwich" more than any other meal, etc.

He posed the question to the interviewer: "What do you think the drink of the decade was?"

In my head, I just knew, it was the first thing I thought: bottled water.

"Coffee," the interviewer answered.

"No, bottled water!"

"Really!?"

Yes, really, I thought. Because the world is ending.

The expert trender then went on to say that he supposes people just like having "something nearby at all times that they can drink."

We already have that, in a way. It comes out of the tap and is called water. But whatever. Sorrow.

Another crime of packaging

Remember that man-sized box for knee-high boots? My friend d keane, who's dating the wearer of those boots, got "another dumb box" (so their email to me was titled) with his new hard drive:


Or, I should say, for one of his hard drive's accoutrements (pictured). The hard drive itself, which I guess we can all agree is probably breakable and worthy of over-packaging, came in a different, more appropriate box.

The thing in the picture is like, some piece of metal that's a stand or something. IT IS NOT DELICATE, and also, does not require acres of cardboard and foam to encase it. LAME.

I was touched, however, that upon receiving this box, the first thing they did was take a picture of it for me. Look at the fillip with which d keane is displaying the offendingly small-relative-to-box item. Nicely done, friends!

Bizarro world, for real

Today I knew I'd be doing some food shopping, so I took some paper bags with me. (I'm away from home and my coterie of canvas shopping bags.) Later, when exiting the car, my father noticed that I was carrying them.

"What are those?" he asked.

"Um...bags."

"Aren't they going to give you bags in the store?"

"They would, but now they won't have to."

At which point my father stood by his open door and said--this happened!--"That's so ridiculous. Put the bags back in the car."

(He obviously hasn't been here lately, if ever.)

I am already holding the bags in my hand! And he wants me to put them back in the car. Because...???!!!

"Why?" I asked.

At which point he told me everything I was doing was useless and my efforts were sad, and if I didn't believe him, I could call up my brother Rob and he would tell me.

(Little does my loving dad, who nevertheless does not read his daughter's witty blog, know that I've managed to infect Rob with a mild case of ecopathology.)

And also, I already know that! That's why it's called ecopathology.

But, I mean, I already had the bags in my hand. And he wanted me to put them back in the car.

My dad informed me, in case I didn't know, that I was enriching the store without gaining anything in return...

(...except peace of mind, am I right, fellow ecopaths?)

...and that in any case, it wasn't going to make a bit of difference.

To which I say again, ecopathology.

What was weird about this exchange, besides everything, is that in the back of my head I am constantly wondering why it doesn't occur to people to leave a few bags in their car so they can avoid micro-ecocides, when in bizarro land, not only does it not occur to people, but when other people occur it to them, they think it's a "ridiculous" notion!

This anecdote obscures how cute and affectionate my father is, but it must be told.

In the garden of ecopaths

I'm in the LA area for the holidays, and I just got back from an overnight sojourn (via ecopath-friendly train travel) to San Diego. I was visiting Cathy, who appears occasionally in the comments section as a fellow sufferer.

I had forgotten that when two or more ecopathologists get together, it is ridiculously easy to fall into pearl-clutching conversations about ecocidal acts we bear mute (or sometimes not mute) witness to, ecocidal things we ourselves have not been able to avoid, and snippets of information like, "Las Vegas basically drained its aquifer dry for casino fountains and golf courses."

[Hideous, hideous.]

It seems that for ecopathologists living in southern California, the monstrosity around which one's ecopathology is organized is water waste. Cathy and her partner Hildie are not fucking around, okay, like their showering habits reach winter in Antarctica levels. That is to say, short and...maybe fewer per week than average.

Two, they have this gorgeous bathtub that I naturally expected them never to use, what with all the talk about water waste. But no, Hildie takes baths occasionally. Only after, this happens: she empties the bathwater out with a bucket, and uses that water for the garden! Come on! And there are nights when she is so so tired and doesn't want to, and thinks just this once she will let it go down the drain, but then she pulls herself together and does it the next morning, thereby still enjoying the relaxing aftereffects of a nice bath, but not giving up the graywater just because sometimes being an ecopathologist is hard.

Three, Cathy has rejiggered the garden to be a) a monarch nesting site and b) heavy on the succulents. Succulents are, I am guessing based on what I learned this morning as I followed Cathy around the garden and nodded thoughtfully, plants like cactus. Drought resistant and what not. She did this in order to enjoy the soothing hobby of gardening without having to raise things like roses, which are apparently water sluts. (Who knew?) Oh, she also did something fancy with the irrigation system.

They compost, of course. I don't think I ever realized that compost turns into soil without the addition of any starter soil. A teabag from Trader Joe's mixes with onion skins and like...becomes soil. It's straight-up alchemy as far as I'm concerned.

And finally, although it's not strictly about water, but more like general energy conservation, Cathy and Hildie removed their clothes dryer. They drape sheets and things over various trellises in the backyard. Wind and sun, baby!

It's not like you can tell just by looking at their nice clean house and perfectly arranged flagstone-pathed garden that Cathy and Hildie are raging ecopathologists. How do they do it? I don't know yet. I think this will require longer study.

The Kindle is out there...USE it

Okay, way too many useless books are being published on actual paper. Not that I have or want one, but now that devices like the Kindle exist (and people supposedly read books on their cell phones, WTF), maybe it's time for a two-tiered publishing system.

Tier 1--Jane Austen and the multicultural canon. Books that have been around for more than 25 years. Books with staying power. Allow them to be published on paper and circulated.

Tier 2--Electric format only, because you are (probably) just a flash in the pan and not worth the tree-killing. This tier will be a much larger pool, made up of:

a) Internet sensation turned book. Yes, you were very clever with your blog, and now somebody wants to turn it into a book. A good stocking stuffer...for someone else.

b) Pop intellectuals. If I can read it in an afternoon sitting on the porch, and then forget it almost immediately, it does not need to be printed on paper.

c) Academic intellectuals. Publishing your book is a hoop to jump through for tenure, believe me, I understand. But it's time to get real about the number of people that will be reading it.

d) Chick lit, dick lit, crime lit, and mystery lit. If the average chapter is three pages and ends with a rhetorical question or cliffhanger, this book is the nutritional equivalent of Cheetos. And can be digested electronically, thank you very much.

e) Seasonal fare. How many books about a) the holidays, b) the recession, or c) both do we need? It's like, double-seasonal. With a shelf life of about two minutes. Does it need to sit on a literal shelf? No.

f) Most memoirs. Unnecessary at best, but let your fans who need more than the internet can offer (!) buy an electronic version.

g) Nearly everything else.

It's not that I'm against books. I love books. It's that I'm for trees.

They have Sam's Club in Asia?!

My brother sent me this link. It is a two-part eco-heroic statement against disposable cups, first in the form of a little animated cartoon flagrantly using paper cups like they are going out of style (when unfortunately, they are not), and then a written thing that brings on the biblical.

The cartoon merely takes the disposable-cup-at-the-side-of-a-water-cooler monstrosity to its logical conclusion: if you are someone who works in a place with a water cooler but can't manage to bring in your own effing reusable cup to drink from, then you might as well take a new cup every time you take a sip of water. You might as well, earth-raper.

I know who these people are, because I have seen them in every office I have ever worked in. They take a cup in the morning when they want a cup of water in the morning. Two hours later, they get a cup for their mid-morning cup of water. And so it goes.

These people make me die a little inside.

This is why I crave confirmation from others that they are the problem, not me. NOT ME.