A few months ago, I attended a discussion between environmentalists and journalists. The two sides were trading impressions of each other in a Seattle microbrewery.
One of the themes sounded by the journalists was that too often, environmentalists cry “the sky is falling” when in fact, it is not. Some of the journalists allowed that the media shares some blame for this, in that journalists are more likely to respond to such tactics than they are to more reasonable, but less exciting arguments.
At the time I thought, perhaps they have a point. Beyond the windows, it was a beautiful summer evening and as we 40 well scrubbed, well educated white people sat around politely agreeing to disagree, the sky seemed as firm in the heavens as it ever was.
The next day I was back at my desk and in the weeks that followed, as I read the environmental reports that are the substance of the my professional life, the question kept
returning to me: is the sky falling or not?
I believe the sky does not fall on us all at the same time. The sky does not fall equally. The sky falls in pieces and those who have not yet been struck by a piece may question whether any sky has fallen at all.
When one has been struck by a piece of falling sky, how can one “prove” the experience to those who have not yet been hit?
For example:
– The southeast coast of the US has been battered in recent years by ever more intense storms. Flooding in the Mississippi River basin in 1993 caused billions of dollars in damage. Lobbyists for the oil companies dispute any link between the burning of fossil fuels and climate change, but for those whose homes have washed away, the sky has fallen.
– In the northwest, Native Americans, commercial and sport fishermen watch the population of wild salmon dwindle each year. The electric utilities that own the dams blame the loggers who fill the streams with silt, the loggers blame the developers who urbanize the coastal areas and the list goes on. We may never be able to apportion the blame fairly, but for the salmon and the people who depend on them, the sky is falling rapidly.
– In industrial areas around the world, the health of children may be affected by the chemicals to which their parents have been exposed. You’re more likely to find yourself in this situation if you are black or brown and certainly if you’re poor. Chemical companies uniformly respond with a phalanx of lawyers to deny any connection to the company product. You might not be able to prove it in court, but if you and your spouse are unable to have children, or your child is born with a birth defect, the sky has fallen on you in the worst way imaginable.
Once you’ve been hit by a piece of falling sky, your life changes. You cross a line and you can’t go back. The people on the other side of the line, where you used to be, don’t understand you anymore. You’re not even sure they can hear you.
As an environmentalist, it’s my job to speak for those who are busy fighting cancer and those already dead – for salmon, Douglas firs and watersheds – to give a voice to those things on the planet that cannot cry out as they fall to the chemicals and the sawblades.
Back in the brewery, the sky was secure, the stars were in their firmament and all seemed – let’s say seemed – right with the world. But Seattle is a boomtown in a western landscape not yet plundered beyond redemption.
It’s easy to slip into smugness and complacency, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll look up every once in a while.
The Sky Falls in Pieces
A few months ago, I attended a discussion between environmentalists and journalists. The two sides were trading impressions of each other in a Seattle microbrewery.
One of the themes sounded by the journalists was that too often, environmentalists cry “the sky is falling” when in fact, it is not. Some of the journalists allowed that the media shares some blame for this, in that journalists are more likely to respond to such tactics than they are to more reasonable, but less exciting arguments.
At the time I thought, perhaps they have a point. Beyond the windows, it was a beautiful summer evening and as we 40 well scrubbed, well educated white people sat around politely agreeing to disagree, the sky seemed as firm in the heavens as it ever was.
The next day I was back at my desk and in the weeks that followed, as I read the environmental reports that are the substance of the my professional life, the question kept
returning to me: is the sky falling or not?
I believe the sky does not fall on us all at the same time. The sky does not fall equally. The sky falls in pieces and those who have not yet been struck by a piece may question whether any sky has fallen at all.
When one has been struck by a piece of falling sky, how can one “prove” the experience to those who have not yet been hit?
For example:
– The southeast coast of the US has been battered in recent years by ever more intense storms. Flooding in the Mississippi River basin in 1993 caused billions of dollars in damage. Lobbyists for the oil companies dispute any link between the burning of fossil fuels and climate change, but for those whose homes have washed away, the sky has fallen.
– In the northwest, Native Americans, commercial and sport fishermen watch the population of wild salmon dwindle each year. The electric utilities that own the dams blame the loggers who fill the streams with silt, the loggers blame the developers who urbanize the coastal areas and the list goes on. We may never be able to apportion the blame fairly, but for the salmon and the people who depend on them, the sky is falling rapidly.
– In industrial areas around the world, the health of children may be affected by the chemicals to which their parents have been exposed. You’re more likely to find yourself in this situation if you are black or brown and certainly if you’re poor. Chemical companies uniformly respond with a phalanx of lawyers to deny any connection to the company product. You might not be able to prove it in court, but if you and your spouse are unable to have children, or your child is born with a birth defect, the sky has fallen on you in the worst way imaginable.
Once you’ve been hit by a piece of falling sky, your life changes. You cross a line and you can’t go back. The people on the other side of the line, where you used to be, don’t understand you anymore. You’re not even sure they can hear you.
As an environmentalist, it’s my job to speak for those who are busy fighting cancer and those already dead – for salmon, Douglas firs and watersheds – to give a voice to those things on the planet that cannot cry out as they fall to the chemicals and the sawblades.
Back in the brewery, the sky was secure, the stars were in their firmament and all seemed – let’s say seemed – right with the world. But Seattle is a boomtown in a western landscape not yet plundered beyond redemption.
It’s easy to slip into smugness and complacency, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll look up every once in a while.