Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica, where we have a project that I couldn't participate in without flying (FuturAgua). |
Ever since I was a boy, I’ve imagined
myself as a hero of sorts. I’ve given up on the 24-inch biceps, but elements of
the hero image still have a pull. The Energy Biographies website includes
inspiring stories about environmentalists who have virtually given up on
flying, which is a personal sacrifice that strikes me as the kind of heroic act
that I could enjoy. I firmly believe that we all ought to take responsibility
for our impacts on nature and on people via the environment. Climate change is
a crucial vehicle for such impacts. So I should give up flying, right?
Years ago, I was
poised to make this kind of a leap, but colleagues of mine at UBC (Hadi Dowlatabadi and James Tansey) presented me
with an argument that led me to a different approach. They pointed out that
trying to mitigate one’s impact on the planet by changing one’s own lifestyle
or purchasing is extremely inefficient.
The car we ended up buying, with my family (my younger daughter dressed to match). |
Nelson, NZ from the air. This offset (round trip from Vancouver to New Zealand) was no small matter: $122.54. Worth every cent. |
I like smart
investments, so I’ve been ‘offsetting’ my travel ever since. I’ve made a
commitment to myself, and to the rest of the world, to do so. It is a personal
sacrifice, because carbon offsets are often not reimbursed or covered by
grants, so I pay out of pocket more often that not. And flying has a very heavy
toll for the climate, so $100 doesn’t even offset a family trip to our extended families in Toronto. It’s
no 24-inch bicep, but it still helps my grandiose eco-hero self-image.
I never would have made it to this beach without flying. |
My commitment doesn’t
make the kind of a statement as buying a Prius, or as refusing to fly. There’s
something differently powerful about those conspicuous choices, and I applaud
that. But personally, I also worried that by giving up flying I would be
severely limiting my ability to be effective in work and advocacy. I feared
that giving up my travel was giving up too much because I am optimistic about
the impact I have when I travel and my ability to inspire others to take
responsibility for their environmental impacts.. Besides, travelling can be fun!
I have no
financial stake in offsetting companies, and I am very sympathetic to arguments
about the failures of carbon markets, etc. (For several reasons, that I can
expand upon if you’re interested, I think that reputable offsets, such as
through Offsetters.ca, are not problematic in the same ways as carbon credits
purchased off carbon markets.) But I do firmly believe that we need to provide a set of options for
taking responsibility for environmental impacts that anyone could be keen on,
not just those of us who fashion ourselves as climate superheroes.
Clearly there's no one right answer. What do you do? How do you navigate the competing demands of family, work, pleasure, and climate responsibility?
Clearly there's no one right answer. What do you do? How do you navigate the competing demands of family, work, pleasure, and climate responsibility?
[If you’re
interested in mitigating your environmental impacts—not just reducing them but having
a net positive impact on the climate and other aspects of the environment, and
leveraging larger structural change so that it doesn’t always take heroics—we’d
love to hear from you at community.sphere@gmail.com,
so we can tell you about CoSphere, a Community of Small Planet Heroes….]
Please note: the Energy Biographies site is keen on receiving submissions from anyone, telling their story of changing energy use. http://energybiographies.org/energy-stories-gallery/create-energy-stories/
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