Can you become rich just by changing the way you think? There's an
entire sub genre of self help books dedicated to this premise, the best
known being The Secret. The problem with The Secret -- well, OK, one problem with The Secret
(there are others, but that's a discussion for another day) -- is that
it promotes the fatally flawed equation that more stuff equals greater
happiness.
We can join Bill McKibben on Oct. 24 in nationwide protests over rising carbon emissions. We can cut our consumption of fossil fuels. We can use less water. We can banish plastic bags. We can install compact fluorescent light bulbs. We can compost in our backyard.
It's no coincidence that most of
those who are obsessed with population growth are post-reproductive
wealthy white men: it's about the only environmental issue for which
they can't be blamed. The brilliant Earth systems scientist James Lovelock,
for instance, claimed last month that "those who fail to see that
population growth and climate change are two sides of the same coin are
either ignorant or hiding from the truth.
Rich consumers are still voraciously gobbling up the world's resources, despite the worst recession in a generation, with their appetite pushing the planet into "ecological debt" from today, according to a report by think-tank the new economics foundation.
This "ecological debt day" marks the point in the year when consumption around the world exceeds the Earth's annual "biocapacity" — so for the remainder of the year, we will be eating into environmental resources that will not be replaced, according to nef's calculations.
The price of back-to-school shopping may be higher than parents think.
New research finds that children as young as five are already capable of judging who's "cool" and who's not based on their peers' consumption habits. The study, which will appear in a forthcoming issue of the Journal of Consumer Research, sheds light on what you might call popularity economics: social value as the sum of products and brands flaunted.
When the jets come, they start out like the shrill distant whine of a
child, or with the deep rumbling sound of thunder in the mountains.
Each jet crescendos into an elephantine wail that fills the sky and
all the spaces below it: kitchens, patios, bathrooms, bedrooms—there’s
no escape. The wail turns to a sudden roar above the house, rattling
the Victorian redwood timbers of mom’s home.
Finally, as the planes pass, their roar fades into a distant rumble….
As long as it isn't expensive, noisy, inconvenient, uncomfortable or labour-intensive, we're eager to save the environment.
Little wonder our greenhouse gas emissions keep climbing. Little wonder Canada produces more municipal waste per person than any other country. Little wonder we rank among the world's top consumers of fossil fuels. (The oil-rich Gulf states are worse.)
Our 20-year quest to preserve the ecosystem – without changing our lifestyle – has led to a succession of unrealistic plans, missed targets and ineffectual initiatives.
Would any sane person think dumpster diving would have stopped Hitler, or that composting would have ended slavery or brought about the eight-hour workday, or that chopping wood and carrying water would have gotten people out of Tsarist prisons, or that dancing naked around a fire would have helped put in place the Voting Rights Act of 1957 or the Civil Rights Act of 1964? Then why now, with all the world at stake, do so many people retreat into these entirely personal “solutions”?
The landscape of Guiyu, a remote town in
China's Guangdong province, embodies a collision between past and
future. Amid acidic plumes of smoke and vast mountains of trash,
migrants scour for valuable scraps using their bare hands and simple
tools. Yet Guiyu's apocalyptic wasteland is a byproduct of the
Information Age: the workers have eked out a living from dissecting
cell phones, computers, televisions, and other toxic debris of the
electronics industry.
