The Rebirth of Environmentalism

Striking images of the wilderness surround us from the time we are young. From calendars to posters, photographs to films, we are inundated with the spectacular views of the natural world. And if the biophilia hypothesis is correct, these images as well as the landscapes they represent should move us and appeal to us purely by virtue of the way we are wired. As young children we are fascinated by our pets and as adults, we line our cubicles with Sierra Club calendars. In many ways, the campaign for the environment doesn't seem necessary because our whole lives are lined with environmental tendencies. At very least, the "green"movement should be one of the less controversial movements on the modern docket. But somewhere along the way, the cause started to crumble. It lost its connection with the public, the very people with whom it so desperately needed to stay in close contact. 

And most important in this cataclysm of communication, the language of the environmental movement took on a new lexicon, ripe with fear and warning about the potential for great loss. As stated by one of the authors of this week's readings, the new vernacular of green living became about a nightmare, not a dream. We speak of the environment in terms of all the things that could go wrong, all the things that we could lose. We hear about environmental catastrophes, climate upheavals and destruction. For a movement that strongly needs to call on the public for comraderie and a reevaluation of many lifestyles, language so dire does little to appeal to the masses. What we are hearing may very well be absolutely true. Our situation is in need of a great turn-around. But scientists, advocates, and environmentalists of all kinds are forgetting how to speak to people. It comes up in everything from basic child management to elementary communication: people do not like to be threatened, or told what not to do. This generalization has many exceptions, surely, but we are reminded of that feeling that we all got whenever our parents would tell us not to run in the house, or that we couldn't play until we'd finished our chores. Telling people that they cannot do something and threatening them with a dreadful alternative denies them a fundamental identification of respect. For when we tell someone what they cannot do, the language conveys that we have the authority to direct them because we know more, or know better.

So what, then, is the alternative? The language of environmentalism needs to change, therefore shifting the way in which the conservation community interacts with the public. We need to offer enticing visions of a world in which people live more sustainably. Offer them many options for how to accomplish this goal. Many families do not have the resources to trade in their vehicles for hybrids. But they do have the resources to use canvas bags when they shop and to support leadership that will make it affordable and possible for every family to contribute to a greener world. 

The environmental movement is extremely fortunate in that the rewards we have to offer for such choices are undeniably strong. The alternatives we offer shouldn't be dark or unforgiving. They should be the beauty of the wilderness, the benefit of urban nature and the spectacle of the untouched environment. With a movement that has such wonderful things at the end, these should be the landmarks we boast, instead of constantly threatening that they will be taken away.