Yesterday that bastion of respectable journalism stuff.co.nz put up an assignment: what you would say, if you were given a chance to speak to the World’s leaders about climate change? Here’s my attempt (link to Stuff.co.nz publication, complete with trolls, here) – what would you add?
Kahikatea Forest, New Zealand’s South Island (pic: WWF)
What would I say, given a chance to speak the world’s leaders about climate change? It sure would be a tough task. After all, what can you say, that hasn’t already been said?
I know what I wouldn’t say.
I wouldn’t speak about the irrefutable scientific evidence that demonstrates that our climate is warming. I wouldn’t speak about the consensus amongst scientists who attribute this to mankind’s actions, or the peril that we face if we continue to ignore it. I wouldn’t speak about how achievable change is, or the economic benefits that it might bring. I wouldn’t speak about how we have but one earth, or detail how its limits dictate our conduct – whether or not we acknowledge them. I wouldn’t speak about the societies before ours who failed to live within these limits, and the ends to which they came. I wouldn’t speak about the impact of drought on food crops, or the political unrest that scarcity fuels. I wouldn’t talk about denial, ideology or the financial powers who seek to protect their vested interests – at the expense of us all.
I wouldn’t speak about the permafrost melting, or the millions whose lives will be displaced by a rising sea. I wouldn’t speak about the dolphins, or the urchins or the coral lost to an acidic ocean. I wouldn’t speak about carbon, tipping points or mass extinctions, nor would I mention energy efficiency, compromise, or future generations.
Given the choice, I wouldn’t speak at all.
My message would be simple: come with me. Come with me and see this land. Come walk in the forest. Let your city feet feel mud; let your city mind be still. Hear the wind as it shakes the treetops, watch their dance. Do you remember? This was once yours. Or rather, you were once its. This land knows you; indeed, it knows us all.
When you leave the city and its stream of meetings and deadlines, addendums and agendas – what is it that you feel? Do you see yourself, adrift in an infinite universe – and wonder why? Do you see the shadows, hear the silence – or is yours a world that has abandoned them?
For what do you work? For whom?
Be one with this place – or better yet, be one with the place that makes your heart sing as mine does here – and tell me: what it is you seek to protect, when the meeting room fades and the earth and its people speak?
There is but one answer.
el Hombre del Sur 