Everyone, it seems, wants to save the planet. This time last year, few people
would have heard of the phrase 'carbon neutral'. Now, no one who is anyone
will do anything without first counting the carbon and offsetting their emissions.
Brad Pitt and Leo DiCaprio have both made carbon neutral films, while Coldplay
and Atomic Kitten have produced carbon neutral albums. The city of Newcastle,
in the north east of England, aims to be the first carbon neutral city in
the world. Rupert Murdoch's Sky empire aims to be the first carbon neutral
media company. New Zealand's Grove Mill winery has produced the first carbon-neutral
wine. And so it goes on.
To help people reach their Nirvana of carbon neutrality, hundreds of companies
have sprung up offering (for a small profit, of course) to plant a tree or
build a wind turbine to offset the damage caused by your recent holiday or
your new computer (or even your latest film). You can even buy carbon offsets
as a wedding gift, presumably to ensure that the happy couple don't start
their married life in green sin. This week the British government became the
first in the world to introduce official standards for carbon offset companies.
In all this frenzied activity, one question never gets asked. Why do we want
to save the planet? That's not as absurd a question as it might appear. How
we do things depends on why we want to do it. Everyone, for instance, wants
to reduce poverty. But neoliberals and socialists have very different views
on how to go about doing it, because they have very different views about
why they want to reduce poverty.
When it comes to saving the planet, however, everybody simply accepts that
It Is A Good Thing. As a result the act of saving the planet has become almost
a religious undertaking, and carbon offsetting a form of penance for our fleshly
sins. It's a way of assuaging your guilt for all your decadent activities
- such as living.
For the assumption that underlies much of the discussion on carbon neutrality
is that any activity that emits CO2 - and that means virtually
every human activity - is something to apologise for. All human activities
must be judged by their carbon content, and the morality of an action gauged
principally by its carbon count. Carbon calculators have become the moral
barometers of our age.
This approach leads, however, to a peculiar kind of moral blindness. Ethics
gets turned inside out, as the content of an action becomes less important
than its carbon count. It does not matter to the carbon calculator whether
the person flying to New York is a drug baron sealing a deal or a neurosurgeon
about to perform a life-saving operation. Each is being equally sinful to
the environment. The worthiness or otherwise of people's activities gets pushed
to the background as the focus shifts to the numbers of CO2 molecules
deposited in the atmosphere.
Take travelling. Visiting other countries, exploring new cultures, and broadening
our social and intellectual horizons is a moral good. Yet the very idea of
cheap travel - and particularly of cheap flights - has come to be seen as
morally repugnant. Making it more difficult for people to travel is not necessarily
an ethically worthy act - after all, it is not just the rich who should be
allowed to broaden their horizons.
Much of what humans do - from playing football to exploring the solar system,
from staging operas to unravelling the secrets of our genome - is, from a
strictly environmental point of view, wasteful and even harmful. That is no
reason to stop doing it, or to think that such activities are in some way
morally suspect.
Part of the problem is that we have come more and more to see human beings
as the problem rather than as the potential solution. We live in an age of
cynicism and scepticism, particularly about human capacities. 'In a real sense',
the late ecologist Murray Bookchin observed, 'we seem to be afraid of ourselves
- of our uniquely human attributes. We seem to be suffering from a decline
in human self-confidence and in our ability to create ethically meaningful
lives that enrich humanity and the non-human world.'
Such misanthropy makes more difficult the very real problem of dealing with
climate change. What we need are not individual gestures to assuage personal
guilt, but social and technological measures both to slow down rising temperatures
and to mitigate its impact - measures such as improved energy production,
greater efficient of energy use, and the building of the infrastructure that
many third world countries need to protect themselves from flooding or drought.
But in doing this, it makes no sense to view carbon emissions as a sin and
carbon neutrality as the ethical yardstick by which we measure all our actions.
After all, what's the point in saving the planet, if in the saved planet we
are all stuck at home living a dull, parochial existence?