The Case for Environmental Moderation (Or Why People Who Live in Recycled Bottles Shouldn't Throw Stones)

Abstract

am an environmentalist. turn off the water while brush my teeth, and only buy beer in returnable bottles. started a paper-recycling system in my department at the university. And, as soon as can afford it, I'm going to trade my roomy, comfortable station wagon for a car that gets conscience-soothing gas mileage. Perhaps, though, I'm not an environmentalist at all. Perhaps I'm just overly conscientious. use my turn signals when no one is around to notice. always flush in public toilets, and contribute a dime every time get coffee from the departmental pot (well, almost every time). Maybe it's even worse than just being conscientious-I may be attracted to environmental arguments because am an unreasoning idealist. I've been a Chicago Cubs fan for thirty years (next year they will win the pennant). believe most people would not deliberately harm other people or destroy others' property, and my confidence in the American way remains high despite an awareness of public life that began when John Kennedy was assassinated. Considering why act the way do has convinced me that am not much of an environmentalist at all. By profession am a professor in a natural resources discipline, and have been conditioned to restrain my actions and thoughts based on an ecological overview. Nevertheless. other criteria affect my actions, and the environment, like money, isn't everything. am no more of an environmentalist than am a husband, or a sports fan, financier, and Christian; at times am mostly one of these, at all times am a bit of each. Extending my conception of personal action to society has greatly pacified my fears about the environmental crisis. The question of who is or isn't an environmentalist has become irrelevant, and the illusion of bitter rivals battling to either destroy or preserve nature has evaporated like the steam from a power-plant cooling tower. A friend once told me that where the environment was concerned, one could either be part of the problem or part of the solution. Nonsense. No one is totally devoted to preserving the environment. To paraphrase Descartes, I am, therefore pollute. The alternative to polluting the environment is to stop living; and then, as every Agatha Christie fan knows, someone still must dispose of the corpse. In practice, we all compromise environmental quality for the benefit of other desires-for wealth and convenience usually, but for other reasons as well, including the relief of human misery. Consider the paper recycling program in my department. The idea was endorsed enthusiastically: collection boxes in all offices, weekly transfer to largercontainers, and monthly trips to the recycling plant 40 miles away. The system worked fine for several months (except for a few professors who couldn't distinguish a collection box from a trash can and so used one or the other for everything). The students running the program, however, began to feel their own constraints. As research projects, exams, and graduation approached, collections became sporadic and eventually nonexistent. The price of paper fell, the price of gasoline rose, the containers were declared a fire hazard, and the recycling program died. The example is insignificant, but the principle is universal. Within each of us there is a desire for environmental quality-Aldo Leopold (1966) called it a land ethic-but the strength of that desire varies from individual to individual, from time to time, and from circumstance to circumstance. When focused on any single issue, the wide range in the intensity of that ethic is the cause of most environmental antagonism. believe, however, that if we accept this natural diversity of opinions, both the environmental movement and the environment will benefit.