Op-Ed: Who Is An Environmentalist?
By Luke Zarzecki
May 6, 2021
My friend Ariana lives in a one-bedroom apartment with her boyfriend in the Ukrainian Village neighborhood of Chicago. She does not own a car, she rarely eats meat, and only occasionally buys new things as she needs them. To get outside, she goes for walks in her neighborhood, and we like to hang out at the park near her house.
My other friend, Sam, only buys reused, thrift-store clothes. He shops Goodwill, Facebook Marketplace, eBay, Depop, and any other place where he can find second-hand fashion pieces. “My clothes are cheap, durable, and pre-owned,” he tells me. He shares an apartment with 11 other boys and walks to most places or carpools as needed.
Neither Sam nor Ariana studied the environment in college. Ariana majored in economics and neuroscience, and Sam majored in economics and history. I, on the other hand, majored in environmental studies in the Rubenstein School of Environment and Natural Resources at the University of Vermont (UVM). I drive a car, and I love buying new clothes. I eat meat occasionally, and some of my other habits would not necessarily be labeled as “environmentally friendly.” And of course, I never hesitate to call myself an environmentalist when the occasion arises. I run, hike, swim, and ski, and get outside whenever I can, self-righteously titling myself as ‘outdoorsy.’
Do these things make me an environmentalist as well? On one hand, I am passionate about the environment. I found all of my environmental coursework interesting, and most of my hobbies involve the outdoors. I hope to pursue a career in either environmental journalism or environmental law to contribute to the fight against climate change. On the other hand, my carbon footprint is bigger than many peoples and notably bigger than my friends who might not be consciously trying to reduce their environmental impact by choosing vegetables over meat at the grocery store. So, which gives me the green light? Talking the talk through studying environmental issues and walking the walk by getting outside? Or, rather, is there a certain threshold where my carbon footprint must fall under to label myself as an environmentalist? Something else?
A competitive culture often exists around this question within the environmental field. Who bikes to work, who discovers the newest piece of climate science, who lives the most sustainable life, who is an environmentalist? It can almost be like competing in Harry Potter’s “house games.” Forget your reusable bag—seven points from Gryffindor. Bring a ham sandwich for lunch—there go another 12 points. Drive a car instead of taking the bus—the House has taken another hit. Sometimes, this competition rests within academia. A professor once told me about the ecology research she did across Europe, emphasizing not only what they discovered, but also the amazing places they were able to visit. Although the research was important and intriguing, it begs a key question: was there a carbon offset for the carbon emitted from travel (although, carbon offsetting itself is a whole other controversy within the environmental field)? Another professor told me how he rides his bike from a distant small town to the university every day instead of driving to demonstrate his dedication to sustainable transportation. A different professor came to class with a high-end backcountry backpack (holding merely a laptop and charger), a glow-light for night skiing, and a sporty REI jacket. Outdoorsy, huh?
The UVM Outing Club is also another place where this competitive culture of environmentalism plays out. As a leader within the club, I can wholeheartedly attest to the members of the group going for the best gear, the steepest climbs, and the ‘sendiest sends.’ Yet, does all that gear protect those rocks they climbed or trails they traversed? Would buying a new pair of skis not send more CO2 into our atmosphere than a used pair? What about hiking Mt. Mansfield in jeans and flip-flops, instead of $150 hiking boots and the newest pair of waterproof pants? After talking with a professor who works with students new to outdoor activities, she detailed how this elitism around gear and competition also creates a culture of exclusion, in which those who are new to hiking, climbing, skiing, or other recreational activities face intimidation or feel unwelcome to join in on the fun. While many outdoorsy folks may describe themselves as environmentalists, they do not necessarily think about how they are affecting the landscapes upon which they impede. Does the privilege of having access automatically grant them a pass?
Many of the things I just mentioned I have done and will do in the future, and in no way am I trying to shame those professors or Outing Club members in doing what they define as their part in the environmental movement. In fact, I think we should all try to incorporate some environmentally friendly habits into our lifestyles and get outside as much as possible, even if we do it imperfectly. But where I do diverge from those in the environmental and outdoor realm is the judgmental and competitive outlook many mix into their activism.
As an example, I took an environmental law course with a professor who commuted from Middlebury. Some students called “Code Green” because instead of driving an electric car, he drives a gas-powered one, contributing to carbon emissions and air pollution that environmentalism aims to combat. Electric cars tend to cost more upfront. As a new professor supporting young children, maybe the high upfront costs of an electric vehicle are inaccessible to him, as they are for a large fraction of vehicle owners who are limited by the lack of inexpensive and used electric cars. Should he be taking fault for this one aspect of his life? My environmental law professor works within the environmental movement by teaching and inspiring new generations of thinkers and activists. His profession, in my words, not his, became his activism. This raises questions around who earns the label ‘environmentalist’ and who does not. Is there really one right way to be an environmentalist?
There is no perfect environmentalist and there never will be. In our current society, it is nearly impossible for anyone to structure their entire life to reach a carbon footprint of zero. Everyone has many habits, many hobbies, many faults that negatively affect some aspect of this world. If I tried to make every single one of my actions parallel with environmentalism, I would be overcome with frustration from the lack of agency to do so. Yet, it is important to recognize this and examine accordingly. An environmentalist should examine their own privilege and how that privilege allows them to show up in the movement. There is a difference between choosing not to, and not being able to. Many working and middle-class folks do not have the means to make decisions based on environmentalist ideals, but many other people do. As someone who drives a car, I can decide to walk to work instead of driving. I can decide to eat meat only once or twice a week. I have the means to make these decisions, but judgment from others may steer me, or anyone else, away from these solutions.
It is easy to ‘sit in the ivory tower,’ complete academic research, and then preach to everyone else how they should change their lives based on conclusions. A balance must be struck. As a student who learned about how damaging meat is to our atmosphere, I should not begin lecturing others on why their diet should be changed significantly and immediately. Instead, informing others of the issue and letting them decide how they can best react sometimes is the only way to solve a disagreement coming from across the aisle. The least we can do is meet each other halfway, and try to change for the better.
Often, there is a privilege that comes with making environmentally-friendly decisions congruent with lowering a carbon footprint, and a privilege that comes with what we believe it means to be an environmentalist. This reality shows the necessity of moving away from a carbon-based economy to a renewable one, and one that accounts for environmental externalities currently left out of the equation. Air pollution costs need to be factored into gas prices, ocean biodiversity depletion needs to be calculated into the cost of seafood, and much more. Once environmentally sustainable decisions are embedded into our everyday lives, then we can begin to make meaningful change in the climate crisis.
Many students, activists, and attentive citizens look to popular voices within the environmental field for advice. Bill McKibben is deemed to be a trusted voice because he writes for The New Yorker, has done immense amounts of research, and has studied the environment for years. Likewise, Naomi Klein, who details the pitfalls of capitalism throughout her work and gives us small attainable solutions to help build a better society, is also granted credibility. Rubenstein Dean Nancy Matthews, because of her experience within the Wildlife and Fisheries field and her passion for a more sustainable and equitable world, is given a seat at the table. We call these folks environmentalists.
I, too, call myself an environmentalist. I am a writer and editor for Headwaters, I study the environment, I love to get outside, and I am deeply passionate about environmental issues. Yet perhaps I give myself this label so I feel like I am making a positive difference. Perhaps academics, a position that takes privilege to achieve and only brings with it more, call ourselves environmentalists to feel less guilty for our environmentally detrimental habits. Are we doing the most that we can, without driving ourselves to the brink of burnout?
To solve environmental issues, perhaps we should look no further than our peers and friends. What if we ate meat as frequently as Ariana? What if we only bought used clothes like Sam? I do not know Bill McKibben’s lifestyle choices or how big Naomi Klein’s house is or how much meat Dean Matthews eats. Perhaps the footprints they leave within Earth are bigger than my friends’, who have less interest in the environment, except when they listen to me ramble about environmental economics. Are my friends the real environmentalists?
