Last fall, a few classmates and I spent a lot of time on a project that tried to identify why Vermonters seem particularly predisposed towards involvement in environmentalism. It was a continuation of a series of studies by [Professor of Economics] Jon Isham and [Stafford Professor of Public Policy] Chris Klyza, which analyzed trends in something called "social capital" in the state. To clarify, social capital refers to the idea that relationships between people, and social interactions in general, have value. And this could be a harsh generalization, but I'll say that anybody who has spent five minutes or more in Vermont can probably figure out that Vermonters like other people. A lot. So we ventured out to discover why exactly social capital in Addison County seemed to be "greening."
After weeks of phone calling, running (driving) around Addison County and interviewing everyone from farmers to hunters to real estate agents (curveball, right?), we began to piece together a somewhat more complete idea of why Vermonters – particularly these people who were members of environmental organizations – spend so much of this social capital stuff on the environment. We asked simple questions, like whether or not they considered themselves environmentalists, where they drew inspiration  and what nature meant to them. We received varied, complex answers. We also identified a very common trend: regardless of whether or not these individuals identified themselves as environmentalists, or whatever they called themselves, they all attributed their concern for the environment to reasons outside of themselves.
It could've related to a desire to preserve as many bird species as possible. Or emotional attachment to farmland inherited from family members. Or even wanting to make sure that the three-year-old child crawling on the floor has the same wildlife to hunt that his father has been hunting his whole life. We discovered in these answers a profound awareness and concern that their actions had very real effects, for better or worse, on the lives of others.
The ancient Greeks – yes, the ones after whom we've largely modeled our political culture – had this idea that the citizen could (and should) play not just an active, but a valuable, influential role in society. Because, oddly, things seem to work well not only when people are engaged in their society, but when they are concerned about what happens to it. In this magical fantasy land called "civil society," people care about whether their actions leave the community a better place because they know that the community is shaped by the actions and intentions of the individual. Now call me crazy, but this wonder world of involvement almost sounds like Vermont and that social capital stuff described above.
It is no coincidence that Vermont exhibits a whole lot of "civil society." For years, people have acknowledged that Vermont's population is one of the most politically active in the country. It could be that Vermont is a unique case. I, on the other hand, think it has to do more with something already discussed.
I don't believe that it's any coincidence that Vermont is at once a social capital goldmine and a hotbed for environmental activism. I think my earlier story illustrates that if you have people concerned about the environment, then you're likely to have people concerned about the community, and vice versa. The two just naturally give rise to one another, and I think it's there where we will find any hope of surviving as a species.
However painfully grim that last sentence may have seemed, I'm an optimist, I swear. Because only by talking about this thing I'm going to call "civic environmentalism" will anything actually change (ideally followed by a change in behavior, but we'll take this one step at a time). Though it hurts to say it, I know there are people out there who just aren't receptive to all that logic-y stuff and science black magic that says if we don't change, we're doomed. That's why I'm going to attack the issue from a pragmatic, realistic stance. Care about the community. Care about the environment. Even if it's not for the trees. Because as much as I love preservationism, preaching Muir's gospel may not get the job done.
In coming columns, I'll try (fail) to be witty and attempt to make like a good Phish jam and get really spacey for a while to illustrate a point and then tie it all together to make it sound somewhat cohesive (if there's one thing I love, it's a good Phish jam). I will try to abandon the soapbox every now and then while telling all you wonderful people why we should be nice to each other and the planet. Plus, this is an opinion column, so you've basically already subscribed to hearing me preach. Cheers.
I Am Environmentalism (and So Can You!)
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