Should I renew my Green Party membership?

It’s due in a week’s time and, on balance, I’m probably not going to renew. I thought I’d say why.

I’m not annoyed or exasperated or anything, because I suspected this might be the result when I re-joined in 2015, (after a brief spell of membership in 2001). I wanted to give it a go, to show support and maye even see if I wanted deeper involvement. It seems that, even though I enjoy observing some aspects of the political game (yes, it is a game – it’s just that games aren’t always trivial), actual participation in it is not really for me.

Shortly after I joined in 2015 I blogged “what is the point of the Green Party?” After some general comments about the nature of the political process and the difficulty of achieving what you want within it, I answered my own question:

the point of having a Green Party … is educational. [in the broadest sense]

The point of the Green Party’s existence is to remind people of the wider environmental context of our actions. […] The mere presence of a Green party in boring old mainstream politics […] has the effect of making it feel legitimate to take the environmental context seriously. […] Green ideas will sound louder because some of their proponents are willing to play the game of mainstream politics.

That might sound an insubstantial gain but I don’t think it is. I talked about the difficulty of getting anything done in politics, about the multiple pressures on one’s actions. One of those pressures is the surrounding ‘talk’, the environment of ideas. More Green politicians around changes the air, makes certain actions more possible, others less, makes some things more sayable”

Is that enough?

I certainly didn’t join the GP thinking “one day we’ll have a green government, everything will be lovely and I can help it happen”. No, I (re) joined thinking that the party could play a dull but important part in changing the zeitgeist, so that the things that need doing about the multiple environmental crises stand more chance of getting done. Party political activity is most certainly not the only thing worth doing: NGOs matter, academic research matters, business matters, the arts matter, grassroots projects matter, personal choices matters. They all interact and it’s usually hard to see any one thing as the clear sole cause of something else – so they’re all worth doing and as a part of that there needs to be a green party, just as a presence in party politics, if nothing else.

This may be a viable argument, but it is hardly the motivation of a passionate party hack! I rejoined because I kind of thought it was patronising not to – kind of as if I would be saying “you lot of naive wonks over there can go and do boring old party politics and I’ll do something a bit sexier like working for an NGO”. I think I wanted to show to myself that I was willing to do things that I consider boring, which have no guarantee of success, but which still need to be done.

And also I do consider many GP members to be thoroughly admirable – and not just the old warhorses like Clive Lord, Jonathan Porritt and the late David Fleming (who I shall be writing about shortly).

A provocative thought

After a year or so of fairly regular reading of the party’s internal members forum, it obvious to me that, although it is definitely worth having green MPs, MSPs, AMs and – most importantly – councillors (localisation and resilience eh?), a lot of “what there is to do” in the Green Party is busywork. It gives the enlarged membership something to do. Back in the day when it had a membership of scarcely 5,000 it punched well above it’s weight. Now, with ten times that number, it punches slightly below it.

Not to mention the fact that some of the current membership aren’t particularly green. For them the environment is just one good cause along with all the others. Yeah, I understand the arguments: everything is connected, intersectionality, etc etc. But that’s ineffective as strategy: ‘we have to have utopia all at once, everything’. It’s like attempting to hitch-hike with twelve of your best mates. No one is going to pick you up, even though each of you might have easily got a lift on their own, from twelve different people. The green party has to be about the environment. That is because, in the sphere of mainstream politics, no-one else is saying what needs to be said. Unfortunately, in their attempt to secure a foothold in that very mainstream, the green party seems to have stopped saying it as well.

Of course I do recognise that that there is a bit of a conflict in what I think is the exemplary, leavening, educational role of the GP and the fact that it is a political party. As a political party it has to play the game of appearing to want to be just like all the others – it has to don the uniform so to speak. All the tedious administrative stuff has to be done to get people elected, it has to have a reasonable policy spread.

I don’t pretend to know the answer to this – as with most things in life, it’s a balancing act – but as it stands, I almost feel as if I don’t have enough opinions to be a member of the party in its current configuration. The whole conference-policy thing is an energy-sink. It spins on its own little axis and doesn’t have any impact on anything: the greens are never going to form a government (but that doesn’t matter) so why spend all this time arguing over fine detail of legislation which will never be enacted and which doesn’t have anything much to do with the environment anyway? And how did a party with a fair old squirt of anarchism in its mix end up sounding so bossy?

I did think (but I’ve sort of changed my mind on this), that one of the functions of the green party might be to act as a thinktank, to generate ideas – not necessarily ideas that become enacted but ideas that form part of the conversation, and maybe feed into other work. But the mechanisms of policy development seem to be too unfocused for this to happen usefully – and the connections – to academia, to NGOs, that I would have expected, don’t seem to be there either. But maybe there’s a reason for that – it is pretty much entirely self-funded and therefore maybe just a bit amateurish (which can be both good and bad). Dunno.

Might I renew despite all this?

Weeeeelllll possibly – though I wish I could remain as a local member only – I suppose that I don’t want to sever my connection entirely. I’ll slightly miss the …errr.. anthropological aspects of seeing inside green party culture (bit grand to call it ‘culture’ but you know what I mean). Dunno. Haven’t finally decided yet. Might be prepared to help out at next election. Genuinely undecided (that’s not an invitation to try and persuade me btw – in the unlikely event that anyone has read this far).

And yeah, I’ll still vote green. As Clive Lord put it, “Where Else Is there”?

Gardening #3 (why it can be ‘green’, sometimes)

In my previous post I pointed out that gardening is not necessarily a ‘green’ activity. It can be just as much a shopping opportunity as anything else, it can leave a wider footprint than you might expect.

A quick digression

For example, in my own efforts with the TSRB (tiny snail-ridden backyard), I’ve got to the point where I feel like I could just about imagine taking on an allotment (especially if I shared it). There are plenty of very local allotments – but with gigantic waiting lists. There are also plenty of immediately available allotments – but on the other side of the city. That makes a big difference: I could take on an allotment next season but it would have to be on an easy bus or cycle route and I’d need a regular, firm, block of time which would have to be reserved purely for work on it – no nipping out in the odd spare hour when I fancy it, no copping out when I don’t fancy it.

At this point all normal, right-thinking people will say “well silly you, just get a car, like everyone else! If it hurts your self-respect so much to buy one, then use a car club”. After all, my few years of driving, back in the last century, occurred because I was playing a lot of gigs, so I have in the past owned a car in order to facilitate engagement with a serious and noble activity and surely growing food is just as serious as music? Ah but the difference is that this time you are suggesting that in order to increase my personal sustainability in one area I should reduce it in another.

A not uncommon dilemma, btw. I’ve talked about another example in one of my interminable posts about flying (especially this one, from about halfway down and footnote 4).

(a digression from the digression

Not everyone even recognizes that extra car use reduces overall sustainability or is problematic. I once heard Lynn Sloman, author of car sick, make the comment that their car use is almost invisible to many greenies – almost as if it doesn’t count because it is the noble steed from which they conduct their activism (that last bit was not Lynn’s way of putting it btw). I was rather surprised to hear this, but this was probably because I didn’t know many enviros personally at that point. I’ve been watching carefully since, and you know, I think she’s right. Outside the specialised world of sustainable transport campaigners, it often doesn’t seem to register as a problem – well of course you need a car to facilitate your engagement with nature. Or rather, you need a car because you are special and ethical. But I’m not special and ethical so I’m not going to start driving in order to access an allotment and so, no, I probably won’t be getting one (well, ok, there are a few other reasons as well, but I am starting to wish I had a bit more garden to muck around with, and this is a real discussion I’m having with myself).

End of digressions!

Don’t give ”gardening”, without qualification, a free pass. But obviously, low-cost, thoughtful gardening is indeed a pretty “eco” thing to do and I’m glad that I’ve finally got to grips with it, even in a small way, even as a mere “garden-themed science project”. Here’s why I consider it worthwhile.

Any practical skill is worth having, for purely functional reasons.

You never know when it might come in handy. Self-sufficiency is completely out of the question, however you define it. It won’t save you money, at least not to begin with, and probably not much even once established. But … can I be entirely sure that the current situation, where there is food of any kind, at any season, from anywhere in the world, easily obtainable and affordable, will continue throughout the rest of my lifetime? This situation might well continue – I’m certainly not expecting the sky to fall in tomorrow, or next year, or ever, because that’s a silly image anyway. But I do think that the argument that we (and “we” means the whole world, with us anglophones in the lead) are well embarked on a gradual downward slide is not a foolish one and could well be, broadly, true . That discussion will eventually be the topic of a whole post to itself.

Any practical skill is worth having, for purely psychological reasons.

It makes you feel good to be able to do things. Real things – involving your body and mind (gardening involves not just digging, clipping and lugging but also considerable amounts of planning, deduction, and imagination), and, to get completely pompous about it, we are the kind of creature that needs to use both. This connects with the previous point. Sure, maybe there never will be any sort of food crisis in my lifetime or beyond, but knowing that if there were to be, I’m set to be a teeny part of the answer is a good feeling. If one feels helpless, then one is helpless.

Any practical skill is worth having, for purely social reasons.

You have something else to talk about. You have surplus to give people, which creates goodwill, and maybe they give you some of their surplus too, but it feels like more than mere exchange. Though it wasn’t quite how Ivan Illich meant the phrase, gardening is a tool for conviviality.

Those all sound pretty ‘green’ to me.

And then of course, there is what you actually learn from the attempt to grow edible stuff. Next time.

Gardening #2 (is it “green”?)

Is gardening a “green behaviour” anyway? Not necessarily!

I regard it as a recycling and repurposing opportunity (all sorts of throwaway items turn out to have potential garden uses, that’s part of the satisfaction) but buying a few things is unavoidable. So I’ve trotted along to my local garden centre and my local Wilkos. From this it is very clear that gardening can also function as a shopping opportunity.

For example it turns out you can buy specially made little plastic nubkins to pop on top of your canes so that you don’t accidentally poke your eye out when bending down to look at your plants. The principle is a good one but it takes no ingenuity whatsoever to make your canes safe with corks, or plastic bottle tops, or chunkettes of expanded polystyrene, or old drinks bottles or whatever. Plastic whatsits are also available to join canes (also available in plastic) together when constructing wigwams for climbing beans – but but but, you know … string for goodness sake. But not only are these gizmoids sold, but someone somewhere must have designed them, someone whose employer was trying to expand the number of things that could be sold to people.

Which is fine, I suppose, because that’s how the world now works – flogging stuff to people – and heaven forbid that anyone should call me “anti-business” (whatever that’s supposed to mean – like “luddite” and “anti-car” it’s just another meaningless boo-word), but these plastic fubbles do not add any real functionality above corks and string. Presumably some people do buy them, but why?

More money than time? So you think “I’ll get into gardening!” which is at root a wholly positive, wonderful, and green urge, and, as one does at the start of projects, one gathers together materials. The gathering together of equipment and materials feels like a part of project itself, feels like an active sort of doing something, making a start. But this can be deceptive because what can happen is that one’s enthusiasm becomes displaced onto shopping – especially as shopping is not a new activity but a wholly familiar one, and one which takes place in a familiar and predictable environment. And shopping is fun, yes I know that: it can create quite a gratifying sense of directedness and autonomy. Kind of: “Ok, got my list, got my shopping trolley, all set to go, I need these and these and better get more of these … and oh, look – those will be useful, and ooh, I like the look of that, and ummm maybe instead of bamboo canes I’ll get those plastic ones because they won’t splinter, and …”

So you feel like you’ve done something. But in fact, so far, you haven’t done anything at all except fulfil your social role as ‘consumer’. You have not moved one inch closer to the benefits that you can expect from a bit of gardening: no closer to perfectly fresh food, no time spent outside, no physical exertion, no social capital from being able to talk about gardening with other gardeners, and certainly no true feelings of greater connection with the natural world.

And when (or possibly if) you actually do get going, there will arise a further set of consumer opportunities in the purchase of overspecc’d tools and equipment (power tools make sense for professional gardeners, and so – perhaps – do heavyweight pesticides for farmers, but it doesn’t make you a better gardener to use the tools used by professionals because there are questions of appropriateness, of understanding).

Oh dear, this is going to be like the flying thing isn’t it? I start out with a plan of a couple of posts and it just drags on and on and on … and I also appear to be a darker shade of green than I wish. So anyway, why can “growing a few veg” be counted as “green behaviour”? I’ll do that one next time.

Quote

Individual and collective

As individual action, and why it’s worth doing, seems to be one of the themes of this blog, here are some apposite words from Kevin Anderson:

“I do not see the individual and collective (formal and informal institutions) as separate. They are unavoidably and intimately entwined, only drawn apart as a convenient reductionist tool of analysis to help make sense of complicated and complex issues. But we have to repeatedly remind ourselves that the separation is nothing but an epistemological construct – it is not ‘real’.[…]

When I focus on the individual, I’m seeing them, typically, as a symbolic but essential catalyst for collective (system) change.[…]

So individuals are solely an ignition source for the flames from which a Phoenix may arise – but only if others and ultimately institutions are mobilised.”

Quote

Not talking about climate

From George Marshall on climate outreach (my bolding):

My view is that the climate change community (a deliberately all-embracing term that encompasses politicians, policy makers, scientists and  campaign organizations) have all underestimated the critical importance of social conversations in generating change. Peer-to-peer conversations provide a vital signal to us about the issues that are important and the opinions that are socially required for us to hold. And the conversation itself provides us with the forum within which we can then rehearse and negotiate our own views.

Such climate conversations are the essential underpinning for political change. If people do not mention climate change with friends, they do not mention it to pollsters either, which is why climate change never appears on the regular polls of key voter issues and is sidelined in elections. Politicians see it as a risky and divisive issue which will yield few votes so they too avoid mentioning climate change.

(The piece is about how little we talk about this – ‘stealth denial’ (“the fact that the majority of those who understand the problem intellectually don’t live as though they do“). Oh how true – I’ve talked a bit myself about how difficult it is to bring up such subjects in everyday life – relevant bit is halfway through, below the asterisks)

 

Quote

Why is “less” so bad?

From Vaclav Smil (Energy at the Crossroads, 2003, MIT press) (emphases in bold are mine, those in italics are the author’s).

“what is called for is a moderation of demand so that the affluent western nations would reduce their extraordinarily high per capita energy consumption not just by 10% or 15% but by at least 24-35%. Such reductions would call for nothing more than a return to levels that prevailed just a decade or no more than generation ago. How could one even use the term sacrifice in this connection? Did we live so unbearably 10 or 30 years ago that the return to those consumption levels cannot be even contemplated by serious policymakers because they feel, I fear correctly, that the public would find such a suggestion unthinkable and utterly unacceptable?

[…]

“would the billions of today’s poor people be distressed when a generation from now they could experience the quality of life that was enjoyed by people in Lyon or Kyoto during the 1960’s?”

…I will ask any european reader … having a good recollection of the 1960’s, this simple question: what was so unbearable about life in that decade? What is so precious that we have gained since that time through our much increased energy use that we seem to be unwilling even to contemplate a return to those levels of fuel and electricity consumption?”

[from pages 338 and 353 of the 2005 edition]

On not owning a fridge

… nor a freezer, before you ask.

In a previous post I listed this as one of my ‘green behaviours’ – please don’t forget that I’m not telling other people what they should do, I’m describing some things that I do, and why I consider them to be ‘green’. So what on earth is ‘green’ about not owning a fridge?

Well it was never intended to have any particular implications or meaning. About – oh I don’t know, maybe fifteen years ago – I noticed that I never seemed to have anything in the fridge apart from a bottle of milk, which seemed ridiculous. It was winter, so I thought I might as well turn the fridge off and do the studenty thing and keep the milk on the windowledge. To my surprise, when the next electricity bill came it was noticeably lower than expected. I had noticed the same thing, and felt equally surprised, when I’d changed the incandescents lightbulbs for compact fluorescents – I really hadn’t anticipated much of a difference.

These two little ‘experiments’ were, I think, what got me interested in the topic of energy – which is a very useful lens through which to view environmental issues. When I moved home, I sent my fridge to be disposed of and since 2007 haven’t even owned a switched-off one.

***

There are two strands which make up the argument as to why not owning a fridge is ‘green’.

1. Negawatts are cheaper than megawatts.

The delightful coinage ‘negawatts’ is a way of capturing the idea that “using x amount less electricity” is the equivalent of  “x amount we don’t need to generate”. Generating less is good because – oh, you know, emissions, security, expense. Using less electricity tends to be less expensive (of resources as well as money) than generating it. So given this, using less electricity (and other types of energy as well) should be a prime policy goal.

As I have argued previously, if you think something should be a policy goal then it demonstrates good faith to implement that policy in your own life, if possible.

2. The rise in the number single person households

This means a rise in the total number of appliances (and hence electricity usage), because of duplication. This is a key point – I’m not some sort of weird anti-refrigeration nut, it’s just that as a healthy single person, living alone, in a temperate climate, who doesn’t count cooking as a hobby, I don’t feel I need a fridge all to myself. Of course I do benefit enormously from refrigeration (shops, medicine), and if I lived with other people (which I would prefer to do) then of course we’d have a fridge. In fact I often have use of a shared fridge at work in my various temp jobs (note that I said “own” not “use”), but I tend not to use it very much – just the occasional lettuce.

Aside from the question of embodied energy, you might think that the energy difference between two separate people each with a single-size fridge, and two cohabiting people with a double-size fridge would be non-existent or trivial. Not quite: larger fridges are more efficient than smaller ones because of the ratio of surface area to volume. When you get to the difference between a single commercial cold store and the equivalent chilled volume in domestic fridges the difference really starts to count.

Objections:

3. Why not just get a state-of-the-art efficient fridge?

Actually, fridges are one of the few examples where replacing an old-but-working machine with a new-but-more-efficient one is a good idea in eco-terms – with many other machines the efficiency you gain is outweighed by the amount of embodied energy you chuck away with the scrapped gadget. But even asking the question is to be sucked into a certain type of thinking which assumes that ownership of machines is good in itself and that the answer to any problems they cause is always a better machine.

4. Isn’t it dangerous to keep food without a fridge?

Fridge ownership only became universal (in the UK at least) in the sixties. Before that many houses had some sort of room/cupboard built on a north facing wall – the ‘larder’ – which was therefore cooler than the rest of the house. I remember the larder in my grandfathers house in Preston, and can just about remember him showing off his first fridge, which was of course kept in that larder. That’s what you are supposed to do with fridges, for optimum efficiency, keep them somewhere cool, don’t run them empty, allow some space at the back so the heat can dissipate and clean the dust off the pipes now and again. But of course many people aren’t what you might call technology-literate – and it doesn’t seem to matter does it?

Anyway I am able to get along safely without a personal fridge by a combination of choice of food, and keeping it in the cooler downstairs part of my flat (and before you say it, no, I don’t eat out a great deal). I could finesse this by cobbling some sort of homemade evaporative cooling device, but I haven’t yet felt a pressing need to do so. The lack of a fridge even has some beneficial personal consequences which I will discuss in a future post about food.

****

Oh and I can’t resist linking to Tim Hunkin’s charming 1988 TV programme, the secret life of the refrigerator.

Flying (part 4)

Recap:

This blog doesn’t have a theme, other than maybe “things that are on my mind, that I’ve thought about and that I want to say but don’t have any other venue for saying”.

One of those things is the environment. I start from one of the standard green viewpoints, which is that the evidence shows that we’re in the environmental soup and I am interested in the question of “what should any individual do about this?”. To demonstrate good faith, and as a starting point for discussion, I’ve given a list of my own, not terribly exotic or unusual , “green behaviours”.

One of those behaviours concerns transport, a fascinating and difficult area. Even though my real area of interest is land-based personal transport (which I’ve written a bit about elsewhere), here I seem to have got temporarily stuck writing about flying and travel – because one of my own “green behaviours” is that I haven’t flown for nearly twenty years. A few people would find this laudable, many more would find it astonishing, and others would take it as some sort of personal challenge. Anyway I’ve pulled at the thread and it has turned out to be longer than expected. This, I hope is the final post in this sub-theme. So far:

Part 1 – some people don’t fly, some don’t fly much

Part 2 – ‘flying less’ is impossible (we’re told)

Part 3 – would a world with ‘less flying’ really be so terrible?

I shall finish this theme by returning to something from part 2, where I listed some justifications for flying, including:

“I would never have become an environmentalist if I hadn’t travelled to the amazon/the himalyas/the rift valley/somewhere difficult and expensive to travel to”

This argument has a tendency to make me see red and I’ll start this post by explaining why.

***

Here is a recent example of the sort of thing I mean. It’s from December last year in the comments section of John Michael Greer’s Blog.

Out of all the technologies our society has access to, cheap and fast travel is the one that I think is the most valuable. This may seem counter-intuitive, but without that cheap travel, I probably wouldn’t care about the environment at all. …

At this point I stopped reading and fired off a harrumphing reply that started by pouring scorn on the idea that cheap travel is more valuable than, say, antibiotics and anaesthesia. One of the characteristics of internet communication is that it tends to produce this kind of blurting and although I don’t regret replying, I do regret (ahem) replying before I read the rest of the post (ahem).

The post quoted pressed my button and jolted me into replying before reading because I’d come across these sentiments before, in which the writer declares indignantly that they were inspired to protect the environment solely because of the natural wonders they viewed on another continent to which they had flown on holiday – how dare anyone suggest that there could be any sort of problem with their vacation habits?

This argument gets my goat because I find myself taking it as a status move. Only the very best for them! A peasant such as myself can be inspired by their garden, the trees in the street, a day trip to the coast, but their superior sensitivities will only respond to the mighty Amazon, the Himalaya, the Arctic. Surely my own commitment as an environmentalist cannot be as good, or real, as theirs because mine comes from humdrum sources? After all, I’ve only seen Madagascar on a BBC documentary, surely my feelings must be of an inferior quality?

(In fact, it turned out that this particular writer was talking about relatively infrequent travel within the North American continent – and the rest of his comment, when I calmed down and read it, was nuanced, thoughtful and I had no problem with it apart from considering the opening hyperbolic. An apology is in order and duly offered to the commenter. But the point still stands that other people do make this argument about flying, often with great indignation. I had previously come across a couple of other egregious examples from blog comments, and one in particular was almost foaming at the mouth. Inevitably when I tried to locate this particular example, I couldn’t find it, so I’m afraid this example will have to stand in for them. )

Ok then. Making a firm effort to get over myself and stop taking things personally (in other words, to stop behaving like the people I’m complaining about), I have three comments about this justification-for-flying.

The first is to ask whether it really is true that some people only care about the environment because they flew a large distance to see it – they think that was the cause-and-effect, but causality in human affairs can be a very opaque thing. In any case it’s a counterfactual, so we can’t really know for sure; how can we ever know what we would or would not have done if circumstances had been different? Let me posit an alternative suggestion.

It’s certainly possible that all (or most) of us have a latent love for the natural world that is just waiting for a trigger. It it hadn’t been triggered by Mount Kilimanjaro something else would have touched it off, perhaps something closer to home. That is an important point. “The environment”, “nature” isn’t some external thing you visit. It surrounds us, it’s what we swim in, we grew out of it and remain part of it. If the non-human parts of your local area are so impoverished that you cannot respond to them, then that is an argument for the key importance of the local, for making towns and cities more pleasant, for taking care over rural development. It is not an argument that everyone should have the facility for travelling increasing distances for a dose of officially certified awe to make up for the crappiness of where they live. (The importance of the local is one of the reasons I’m so exercised about the private car and so manically pro- walking, cycling, bus-ing and rail-ing; one of the major factors which makes so many places so unpleasant is motor traffic).

My second comment is to note the intensity of the indignation that can sometimes be aroused. Instead of just going “Pah! This guy’s an idiot. No need for me to take any notice of what they say”, they take the trouble to post a long comment defending their behaviour to a complete stranger who has no power over them whatsoever. And they sound hurt. Perhaps they feel their identity is bound up with being the sort of person who travels a lot, who is “adventurous”?

My third point returns to the question I touched on in my earlier posts in this sequence. I’m not talking about no flying, I’m talking about less, which raises the questions of tradeoffs – what is worth flying for? To repeat what I said in a previous post, “it is a bad thing to be confined to the same place all ones life and never see the sea or the mountains or the big city” but would it be even possible for everyone to match the ambitions of, say, this chap:

A very large part of the reason I’m an environmentalist is because I want to climb Mt Kilimanjaro and experience every single climate in the world on one mountain. Or because I want to visit Patagonia one day. Or the rainforest. Or the Darjeeling tea plantations. And I want those places to exist for other fellow travelers.

I also would love to visit all these places. Who would not? But what would be the impact if everyone who would “love to” did in fact visit? If everyone who had a fancy to visit such places did so, would they be worth visiting? Would they become less desirable, because less “distant”, less exotic? More concretely, would they actually become tourist-battered, less authentic, more developed? Would the genuine benefits of visiting diminish? Certain types of destination might actually be destroyed if over-visited. Wilderness is no longer wilderness if too many people go there. It is tempting to see oneself as one of the special people who deserves to visit the special places, who can truly appreciate them. We all like to think we are travellers rather than tourists, but that cannot be true of everyone. Therefore I am reluctantly prepared to accept that there are many wonderful things on our planet that I can never experience directly no matter how much they excite my imagination. You might say that such “reluctant acceptance” is simply unbearable, I would say that (for me) it is a necessary part of the acceptance of planetary limits.

There is a compensation though. Which is that at this point in history we have a substitute which was not available until the twentieth century: photography, cinema and television. It is only because of over-familiarity that we forget how amazing this is. For example, the work of the BBC’s Natural hisotry unit seems to me a very worthy use of flying, the lifetime work of David Attenborough offsets its environmental impact many times over. No, it’s not the same as a live experience, seeing with your own eyes, and it carries no bragging rights, but it is enormously better than nothing. (I would also argue that, in certain cases, a televisual ‘holiday’ is better than the trip that one could expect to make oneself, but that’s for another post).

I’m finally rumbling to a close on this topic. In a one-sentence summary of these four posts about flying: “if a sustainable world is going to involve less flying then I don’t think it would really be as bad as you might imagine”. Thankfully I can now move on to something else.