Environmentality: Change is in Your Head

So we’re told that the average American puts 20 tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere each year. But talking’s not enough.

We’re told about how our thirst for oil is contributing to habitat and species elimination, placing, at times, entire ecosystems in jeopardy. Not even close.

We’re told global warming is a reality, and that proactive change on the part of consumers will inhibit its consequences. It’s not enough.

For whatever reasons, this country lacks enthusiasm (real enthusiasm) over the idea of civic responsibility with respect to the global climate of … um … the global climate. Sure, it’s easy to change our incandescent bulbs to energy efficient fluorescents. And it’s not too hard to shut off the lights before leaving our rooms. But, alas, the trick to doing this dance right lies in the subtleties. As with everything, real change takes genuine effort.

Real change takes more than simply a concern and superficial acknowledgement. It might mean a certain Massachusetts senator (that’s you, Teddy) must sacrifice his oceanfront view in favor of a wind farm. What’s more, it might take a second level of awareness; an acute sense of indirect contributions to change. Like, for instance, making sure the cow used to make your triple-quarter-pounder with cheese was slaughtered using clean wind power.

But let’s touch base on a topic of change ofte n overlooked ⎯ but glaringly relevant ⎯ in the struggle of the Green-necks vs. the Rednecks.

We’re in a horsepower war. These days, a car’s worth is measured in the number of seconds it takes to reach 60 mph — no matter what the context. Believe it or not, today’s Toyota Tundra or Honda Civic Si posts faster acceleration numbers than a 1984 Ferrari 308.

Consumers take it as commonplace that each new model year bestows a product with bigger dimensions across the board: more legroom, longer wheelbase, wider track, larger payload, bigger engine. My question then is this: what’s wrong with existing figures? What’s wrong with last year’s 333-horsepower BMW M3, and what justifies the 414-horspower monster present today?

And spare me the counterargument: with today’s technology, engines are made with greater power and heightened efficiency. Bah. Here’s an idea: design an engine with the same amount of power or less in combination with the technologies for increasing efficiency.

In 1987, a Toyota Camry was equipped with a modest, 115-horsepower inline-four cylinder engine. Twenty years of automotive evolution later, this commuter classic can be ordered with a 268-horsepower V6. Why?! Are highway headwinds stronger? Is the average penis size decreasing? Or maybe people are just waking up later.

Let’s be honest, no one aspires to drive a Camry, just like no one aspires to work in a cubicle. Putting 400 hundred horsepower in a rolling penny-pincher won’t make it any cooler. I can hear it now: “Come on guys, my mom left me the keys to the Camry! Let’s cruise!” Yeah right. As is, that car is about as exciting to drive as a Zamboni. Scratch that, no it isn’t: I’d love to drive a Zamboni.

Or, as we all know, we can walk. Conveniently, walking burns no fuel other than calories and, at the same time, makes Cornell’s campus look less like it was the subject of nuclear holocaust. But no, for some of us, even walking is too much...

The average TCAT roaring through our campus delivers around three and half miles of service for every glorious gallon of gasoline burned away. That’s all well and good when they’re jammed full of students ten minutes before 9 a.m. on a twenty-degree morning, but what about every route? How efficient is public transportation with three students onboard?

Clearly, Al Gore’s message is heard far more than it’s practiced. I think we all acknowledge that our worlds are plagued with the free radicals of environmentally inappropriate gluttony. This article, like the 4,689 that have come before it, is calling for action to accompany awareness. It’s essential to this cause that sincere effort and collective action lead to considerable change and, for once, produce tangible results.

Now finish your routine: throw away your paper and your coffee and take the TCAT back to Collegetown.

Justin Wheeler is a freshman in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. He can be contacted at jwheeler@cornellsun.com [1]. Notes to Self appears alternate Fridays.