Kids truly say the darndest things. Earlier this week, I found myself tearing down Rosehill Ave. near Yonge and St. Clair, on my way to give a talk to the environment group at an all-girl’s middle school. One of the teachers had heard about the delegation from the University of Toronto that will be attending the Copenhagen climate summit from December 7 to 18, and had inquired whether a delegate would speak at the school.
I was soon facing a semi-circle of youthful faces, eagerly waiting the cardinal knowledge I had to share on climate change. Because I had not expected such a young crowd (the youngest was 12), I was not sure where to begin. I briefly introduced myself as a student of political science and environmental studies. I described the diversity of the U of T delegation, and our hopes of not only reporting back on the negotiations, but also playing a part in placing pressure on the Canadian government, thereby holding them accountable for their actions (or inactions). I then introduced the UN Copenhagen climate summit as a self-imposed deadline by the international community, aimed at coming up with a post-2012 climate agreement that will succeed the current one, the ill-fated Kyoto Protocol.
I described, in my most animated disposition, how there were families losing their homestays in sub-Saharan Africa and entire countries being submerged under water in the Pacific. I explained the seemingly monolithic concept of “equality,” and how it plays an important role as we navigate between developed and the developing, rich and the poor, north and the south. I even mentioned—in truth for dramatic effect—the Plan B scenario of shooting sulphur dioxide into the atmosphere to block sunlight, which would turn the sky yellow, but block further UV rays from warming the Earth.
When I finished, there was a pause. I was utterly terrified that my talk of politics and science had gone over their heads, and that they had been falling asleep with their eyes open. But then, they began peppering me with questions.
Do you think if there were a different government leader, things would be different? What will happen when we use up all the resources on all the continents? How much coal do we have left? How are carbons formed? I heard on the news that they are thinking of kicking Canada out of the Commonwealth. Is this true? How did this all start? Why are the poor countries also the ones most affected? Even if we build more wind turbines, won’t we need energy from coal and oil to build them? How does coal mining work? What is so terrible with the tar sands? And the ever-endearing: Do you think, um, we could, maybe, solve all of this mess someday? Followed by the impossible-to-answer: What can I do to help?
One girl even asked, in all earnestness, whether I thought that the world would end. When I answered no, that I have faith in human ingenuity, she followed up by asking that even if we did save ourselves, whether humans in the future wouldn’t repeat its mistakes all over again.
Regarding the scientific questions, I muttered something about how I never paid attention in Grade 8 science class (“but you all should!”). They patiently listened as I attempted to explain the beginning of it all with the Industrial Revolution, and they watched attentively as I wrestled with big themes such as cross-generational justice.
When it came to the ubiquitous and inevitable question of what one little person can do to help, I was at a loss for words. I am really not sure. The current political situation does not allow for effective direct political engagement, and perhaps it is intentionally designed that way. There are only so many times you can send letters to the editor and strip in a flash mob before that becomes ineffective. There are limits to how many times you can donate to the Suzuki Foundation or Greenpeace.
Not everyone has the privilege to be present in Copenhagen. But that is why students like those in the U of T delegation are Copenhagen-bound this weekend: to be the eyes and ears, and hopefully voices, of those who cannot go.
I remain utterly amazed by how the young environmentalist cubs I spoke to seem to intuitively understand that everything is in fact political. And perhaps this sort of willingness to ponder deeply over an issue is what is needed. Perhaps what we can do is to live deliberately, and this doesn’t need to be accomplished through grand measures.
There is no price tag on engaging with others, and you can ask questions too. We have youth by our side, if not the sheer force of hope.
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