Passage II

SOCIAL SCIENCE: This passage is adapted from an article by David Ferman, "Too Much of a Good Thing." which appeared in the magazine Adbusters Quarterly (©1991 by Adbusters Media Foundation).

Kermit the Frog should be proud. At long last North America is learning what the famous amphibian has lamented for years: It's not easy being green.

The greening of our society has surpassed the media trend phase, and has taken root in our culture as a permanent imperative, an ongoing reality that will affect every facet of our society.

When even corporate America takes (at least the rhetoric of) environmentalism to heart we can be confident that the movement has been firmly entrenched. When a corporate juggernaut like Procter & Gamble flies executives to a Victoria, B.C., city council meeting to beg that their disposable diapers not be banned from local landfills; and then offers to donate $100,000 in seed money to the city's composting program, we can be certain that green will be around as long as greenbacks.

But a disturbing pattern has developed within the movement as it grows. The pattern goes like this: scientists forecast a specific cataclysm (ozone depletion, global warming, rampant deforestation); the mass media disseminates the information (inevitably oversimplifying things); public reacts with shock and demands answers; the media redoes the story with household tips to prevent said cataclysm; corporate sector and finally government present "friendly" (bandaid) programs to slow down the inevitable; media drops the subject; public relaxes; scientists announce a new calamity . . . and the merry jig goes on.

There are many drawbacks to this sort of feedback loop, not the least being that each successive crisis brings us closer to a jaded, "quit crying wolf" attitude. Our problem lies in the nature of reaction itself. Because environmental problems are so often presented in an air of crisis, we lose the opportunity to calmly examine the source of the problems. When we do explore the reasons behind ecological threats, we delve no further than learning that, say, fluorocarbons from aerosols deplete upper atmosphere ozone. Rarely, if ever, do we face the fact that all these impending natural disasters stem from the same man-made source. All our specific little solutions make us miss the point of the problem as a whole. Virtuous consumption, bringing home CFC-free deodorant spray in a biodegradable plastic bag, diverts our attention from the true source of our environmental woes—consumption itself.

Our culture's highest aim, some would argue our only aim, is to grow, to consume. Industrial and commercial growth are the measures of our nation's strength. Our work ethic has been so twisted and mutated that even language reflects that our dearest wish for ourselves is to grow, to be productive, and to consume.

This has not always been the case. As social critic Stuart Ewen recently noted, "Up until the 17th century, 'consumption' had a negative connotation, essentially it's about destruction." Later, during the 17th and 18th centuries, consumption gained a neutral sense in describing the new marketplace economics. By the 20th century consumerism and consumption were being exalted.

"To be a consumer is what we are," says Ewen. "Consumption is the ideal we seek. Unfortunately, it is still what it meant before the 17th century. A consumption-based economy is an economy driven by waste ... and therefore constant buying and disposing of goods starts clouding the environment, starts destroying the ozone layer, starts filling the waters that sustain us with garbage ... making life on earth impossible. Then we have to realize that consumption as a way of life has to be thrown into question."

But when our ancestors prayed and worked for growth and productivity they didn't have material gain as their only aim. Growth could also be gained in spiritual, educational and other realms. Somehow, somewhere, we lost sight of what success means and fashioned in its place a glorious, shining future where bigger is better, new is good, and old is to be replaced as quickly as possible. I don't think our forefathers and mothers would be satisfied with our fifty varieties of cereal, our traffic jams, our undisposable nuclear waste, and our landfills full of disposable diapers. Impressed? Yes. Horrified? Maybe. Satisfied? I doubt it. Even without knowing of the ecological drawbacks, they would probably say we are making pigs of ourselves: wasting far more than we use; and using much, much more than we need.