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| The Common Future of Rich and Poor |
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All of this, the scientists tell us, is just what we should be seeing as
the world warms, thanks to the carbon emissions we are pouring into our
atmosphere. By changing the temperature, we cause arid areas to grow
drier, and increase the odds of deluge in wet places.
It will be tougher elsewhere, of course. I've spent some time in
Bangladesh in recent years, a poor but green and fertile country. And
unfortunately a country that won't survive unless our leaders at forums
like the Johannesburg summit manage to reach real agreements. Bangladesh
lies close to sea level. If warming temperatures cause the oceans to
rise, as the consensus of scientists now predict, then much of that
nation will be uninhabitable. Already residents have started evacuating
Tuvalu, a Pacific island nation with a civilization dating back
millennia.
But it will be tough here too. Our own green and fertile land will see
huge changes as environmental conditions worsen. Some computer models,
for instance, predict that melting Arctic ice could cause the Gulf
Stream to falter or to fail, dramatically shifting our lives. At the
very least, things that we take for granted may disappear. Models for
our latitude show that winter may have disappeared by mid-century -- no
more snow and ice. Which is to say, when I think of my daughter's
children, no more sledding and skating.
And so, this time, we shouldn't rely on pity for the plight of others to
move us to action. That doesn't seem like a strong enough force. After
all, the gaps between rich and poor have only grown in the years since
Rio. What we must realize now, is that our own children's lives are at
risk as well. And that we can do something about it, since unlike the
parents of Erdo or Rosamaria, we contribute the lion's share of
pollution.
This sense of a grim, shared future is important, for America has been
particularly intransigent in the years since Rio. We've refused to
endorse a wide variety of international accords that could have helped
curb global warming and other problems. We've thought of ourselves as
distant, set apart, somehow different. President Bush's father went to
Rio declaring that "the American way of life is not up for negotiation."
But since, in many ways, the American way of life is precisely the
problem: with four percent of the world's population, for instance, we
manage to produce a quarter of its carbon emissions.
The smoke lingering in the air outside the window reminds me,
insistently, that much as we might like to believe it, we're not alone.
My daughter shares more than a quick wit with Rosamaria, more than a
love of school with Panjy. She shares a planet. And there's no way that
any one of them can secure that planet alone. They need us not to waste
another decade, but to make the changes that will give them all a
future.
Johannesburg represents one of those opportunities. So far there's no
sign that we'll take it. Even after September 11, our leaders have told
us to return to business as usual -- to the shopping mall and the car
dealership. Even as the rest of the world embraces new sources of power
(wind power grew 31 percent last year, the fastest-spreading form of
electric generation), the administration's energy plan calls for
emitting 40 percent more greenhouse gases by 2020.
What will convince Americans that they can't keep thumbing their noses
at the rest of the world? That is probably the most important
international question of our time. We have enormous power -- enormous
power that might preserve a habitable planet for my kid and everyone
else's. But only if we use it wisely. And quickly too.
Bill McKibben is the author of "The End of Nature" and other books on
nature, the environment and sustainable development. A former staff
writer for THE NEW YORKER, and a frequent contributor to THE ATLANTIC
MONTHLY, ROLLING STONE and THE NEW YORK REVIEW OF BOOKS, McKibben is currently a visiting professor of environmental science at
Middlebury College. His next book, "Enough," will appear in spring 2003.
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Haley is British. Her father works at an amusement park.
Erdo is Kenyan. His father is a nomadic herdsman.
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