Last week my agency held a seminar called Be the Change, designed by the Pachamama Alliance. The Foundation was establshed with representatives of the Pachamama, an indigneous nation in South America, who invited people from the global north (mainly USA) to talk with them about how a return to some ancient values and lifestyle practices could help save the world. The global north representatives agreed to pass on the good word, and now the Foundation educates people all over the world to facilitate events like the one I attended.

Now, though I’m all for saving the planet, by the end of the day I got a little tired of watching video presentations of Americans telling me what to do. I found that others felt the same. I wondered if I had too much prejudice against white Americans to really learn anything from the seminar, but one criticism of the seminar turned out to be fairly valid among others that day. In nearly all the videos presented, very intelligent, highly motivated and well-researched speakers spoke about the immediate threat to the planet’s survival, and we heard a call to change the way we live. Yet in each of these videos, these same people wore make-up, expensive suits and well-groomed hair, in rooms with beautifully plastered walls, paintings of high art, Ming vases and satin drapes. While we heard the words of a people intent on doing good, we saw images of a people who also loved the beauty of first-world wealth. Methinks the creators of Be the Change need to be reminded that there is more text in video presentations than just the words of the speaker being filmed, and that text can carry meanings which conflict with the intended message.

Yet that thought which has survived most in my mind has been that created by listening to Julia Butterfly Hill (read more about her here. I’ll try to remember her words exactly here (a vain attempt):

When we throw something away, where is away? There is no away. The paper we throw away is a forest. The plastic we throw away is petroleum that was taken from an exploited community somewhere. The coffee we buy is taken from another exploited community somewhere. We buy it, use it for a second and throw it away, further exploiting the world by our own pollution. The modern world kills a planet for a moment’s pleasure.

It made me think about the packaging that covers everything I buy, and the waste that falls in my bin every day. For the first time in a long time, I was offered a moment to really consider what I’ve taken from the planet, and her people, in order to enjoy five minutes of caffeinated consumption. Only to throw the remains away and ignore where that waste goes. Not just coffee, also the plastic that covers all my groceries, or that new Bluetooth dongle (on sale for only $25). And they are all so cheap, and their consumption means little to my own resources. For too long I’ve ignored the impact made on the resources of others, employed and exploited for the market demands of my own little world.

So making the change. I’m giving up take-away coffee. I’m buying a monthly subscription to Carbon Planet to offset (some of) my carbon footprint. I’m trying to minimise the amount of packaging in my supermarket trolley (bloody hard work). I’m not printing as much (also bloody hard work - I really hate reading research articles on screen, and I miss printing out my daily Sudoku).

But I could do much more. And I need help. If you’ve got some suggestions, I’d love to hear it. But please be kind, I’m still very much a global bastard, but I am trying to reform.

Update: My God we Aussies are bad. According to Carbon Planet, Australians produce 28 tonnes of CO2 per year, compared to Europeans (11 tonnes p.a.), Canadians (25 tonnes p.a.), Kiwis (15 tonnes pa.a.) and Americans (25 tonnes p.a.). A person living in China only emits 4 tonnes per year, and we’re so arrogant to be worried about their environmental policies!?!

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