needed to give something up, something they believed was rightfully theirs. Never again did a mainstream politician suggest the public use less of something. Even today, in what seems superficially to be a kind of “green renaissance,” our leaders speak of developing sources of alternative and sustainable energy, but not of reducing demand and consumption. Perhaps the real lesson of the Carter era was the one learned by our politicians: if one wants to remain in office, it is best not to ask voters to sacrifice anything, ever.
As America forgot about the lean times of the 1970s, consumerism began to grow exponentially. There was a growing sense of entitlement that spurred an increased demand for larger, more powerful automobiles, cooler air-conditioning, hotter heat, bigger homes, and more of everything. High-powered muscle cars returned, followed by an invasion of sport utility vehicles, culminating in the popularity of oversize gas-guzzlers like the Cadillac Escalade and the consumer version of the military transport vehicle the Hummer.
American homes got bigger as average residential square footage more than doubled between 1950 and 2005. Where 34 percent of new homes built in 1970 had central air conditioning, in 2004 that number was 90 percent.3 The term McMansion has found its way into our modern vocabulary, used to describe the emerging trend in supersized middle-class homes. Oddly, trends show that household sizes have steadily decreased in America,4 so it seems we have convinced ourselves we need more living space for fewer people, instead of sensibly learning how to get more out of less.
The loss of confidence Carter warned America about has indeed happened. The Reagan era ushered in a prolonged period of prosperity, but neither confidence in government nor a unity of purpose has returned. Over the last half century, the American legislative process has undergone a metamorphosis, making law makers more likely to listen to lobbyists or special interest groups than the will of the people, further exacerbating our frustration and alienation. In allowing this to occur, Americans have abdicated their rights and responsibilities as citizens of an important experiment in free democracy. Today, the importance of participating in the process of government is not taught in a meaningful way in American schools.
As we retain less and less sense of community, we tend to focus more and more on our individual well-being. Procuring the outward manifestations of success has become more important to us than developing our place as integral members of society. The accumulation of wealth, and the trappings that go along with it, have taken precedence in our lives, and we do not feel complete without money and things. We no longer strive toward moderation, nor are we developing skills for determining how much is enough to live a good life. Our surroundings, our role models, our media, all reinforce in us the ever-present message that more is always better, that wealth and the power it commands are paramount. We live in a society that has trouble accepting itself, where any sense of belonging to a common effort is muddled or lost entirely in our collective rush toward affluence.
Perhaps this is a good time to reflect on the recent wave of financial Ponzi schemes,5 investment swindles that pay unusually high returns to investors, and whose payouts either come from the investor's original money or are funded with money from new investors. Ponzi schemes depend on continual growth to draw investors in, but they are doomed to eventual collapse. Collapsing financial Ponzi schemes offer a preview of what happens when the ecological Ponzi scheme, on which much of the industrialized world's consumer culture is based, collapses. An ecological Ponzi scheme is based on fossil-fueled economic growth that has increased the earth's population far beyond sustainable levels, made it commonplace to buy products from across oceans, and created needs for depletable raw materials. The ecological Ponzi scheme works as long as there is a new “developing” nation to exploit for cheap labor and undervalued raw materials. As long as globalized corporations can move from country to country, extracting materials and availing themselves of cheap labor pools, developed nations can continue to have their inexpensive products. The costs are deferred to future generations, who will have to deal with the consequences of pollution, atmospheric CO2, and the collapse of local economies.
In a society like ours, which places such high value on the accumulation of wealth, any impediments to business or the free marketplace are often perceived as obstructive and are usually met with hostility or disbelief. Environmental protection, conservation, even energy frugality are seen as constraints to economic growth, especially when the ill effects of environmental degradation are not immediately detectable to the public at large. This situation is complicated by the fact that many of the scientific concepts explaining today's environmental problems are not easy to understand. Scientific and academic institutions have done little to ameliorate this problem-an excellent argument for including proficiency in communication skills in any study of science.
This chapter is not intended solely as a discussion of the United States' social and political climate, although the preceding examples are decidedly North American. These kinds of societal changes are found throughout the world, perhaps tied to the omnipresent nature of modern media. Open space on earth is shrinking; rural areas are becoming fewer and less populated as we globally gravitate toward urban centers.6 Where the United States was once the dominant capitalist industrial economy, India and China are acquiring a healthy share of the global market. So called developing nations now suffer the same environmental growing pains that America suffered, whether they choose to acknowledge and address it or not. In most countries, including in America, economic expansion still takes precedence over environmental protection.
The human state of denial exists globally. It is as though we have set aside any common sense in favor of short-term gain, and in doing so, we no longer consider or acknowledge our connection to the earth that sustains us. We think and teach that we are the masters of our own destinies, but this kind of thinking has serious flaws, which become increasingly obvious as we collectively move closer to destroying ourselves. This is one place where education can help us make some space in our thinking for the communal nature of the resources we depend on. Things like air, oceans, and freshwater belong to all life, not to a given nation, people, or species.
It is easier, perhaps even desirable, to look away when confronted by the magnitude and complexity of our current environmental dilemma. Believing that we, as individuals, can somehow bring about change, is probably somewhat simplistic. Local recycling is a nice idea, if everybody were to do it, but that's not happening. Environmental education must go beyond recycling programs and teach us how to achieve measurable and increasing impact by reducing our human footprint substantially in a lifelong endeavor. It must also show us that individual voices become louder in concert, and help us to appreciate that the problems we face are common to all of us, not subject to religious or political beliefs. Environmental education must clearly illustrate that there is only one earth, and we're all on it together.
If we look to history for examples, we find repeated instances where a motivated group triggered events that changed the course of history, frequently in the face of impossible odds. Environmental education has failed to teach us these lessons on a grand scale. Even though environmental advocates can talk the talk, the scope of real and measurable change is simply not broad enough. Awareness programs and schools do not currently teach flexibility or the critical importance of self-evaluation in the process of creating positive change. If one path seems like the sure way to proceed but fails to produce measurable impact on the problems it seeks to address, it must be modified or abandoned entirely in favor of something new. Diverse strategies must be applied simultaneously, and we can learn from both the successes and the failures of alternative approaches. Such a process of adaptive management must continue until concrete results are obtained. It is not enough to initiate legislation that bogs down or transmogrifies in the lawmaking process. Our leaders' habit of engaging in endless discussion and speculation, effectively pushing any real change far into the future, need not be tolerated. But how would we know this if we are not taught it? Educational institutions have not effectively taught us to exercise our collective buying power to stimulate immediate reductions in greenhouse gases, pollution, and overuse of resources by withholding our money from conglomerates who care little for our collective welfare and everything for their short-term profits. Withhold the cash and change
