Gathered in front of me was a sea of people corralled behind barricades, brandishing signs with slogans both catchy and cynical. “There is no Planet B,” read one sign. “Cook organic, not the planet,” boasted another. I stood in the back of the pack on 85th Street lost in the wave. Among the sea were 400,000 hands outstretched, fingers proffered to the clouds overhead or linked in solidarity. Everyone was silent in remembrance of those affected by climate change. And then, suddenly, it hit me. One by one, each voice joined together, until a massive wave of noise barreled down Eighth Avenue hitting me square in the gut. My breath hitched in my throat, and I inhaled sharply as tiny goose bumps trickled down my arms. I was engulfed in this all at once desperate and enthusiastic battle cry. And then one by one, members of the sea began to march.
Sitting in my remote, sheltered spot in White Clay Creek three days later, it is easy to reflect on the noise in the comfort of this silence. I realize that while I was deeply affected by that moment, The People’s Climate March—as with other demonstrations—left me slightly unsettled.
In Wendell Berry’s “Think Little,” Berry argues popular social movements of the past “have partaken far too much of the nature of fads. Not for all certainly, but for too many they have been fashionable politics of the moment.” The environmental movement should not be fashionable or “of the moment.” Yet, even a cursory glance around the rally would depict hundreds of issues reduced to catchy slogans and technicolor buttons. Berry continues, “As causes they have been undertaken by too much in ignorance; they have been too much simplified; they have been powered too much by impatience and guilt of conscience and short-term enthusiasm, and too little by an authentic social vision and long-term conviction and deliberation.” It is easy to gather for a day and advocate a sustainable lifestyle. It is harder to live by these principles each day.
Time and time again show that short-term enthusiasm ignites the spark that is eventually snuffed out by a new and passing trend. The fire never catches–Just ask anyone with a Kony 2012 bracelet in the bottom of his or her drawer, left forgotten shortly after the hashtag stopped trending. While these movements proved trendy, the issues behind them were often reduced to slogans and empty promises. Berry maintains, “while a crowd whose discontent has risen no higher than the level of slogans is only a crowd. But a crowd that understands the reasons for its discontent and knows the remedies is a vital community, and it will have to be reckoned with.” While the noise is attention-grabbing, comprehensive information is key.
The People’s Climate March is different than other social movements of the past, which have had a clear divide between the blameless and those responsible. Berry reminds us that we are all guilty of indulging in the “wastefulness of our economy—and our economy’s first principle is waste—we are causing the crisis. Nearly every one of us, nearly every day of his life, is contributing directly to the ruin of his planet.” Unlike social movements in the past, the climate rally was “not a convocation of accusers,” but rather a “convocation of the guilty.” He argues this fact “ought to clear the smog of self-righteousness that has hovered over these occasions,” but as I witnessed the crowd erupt into a chant of “Hey Obama, you talk the talk, now walk the walk,” I’m not so sure. Rather than claim responsibility, protesters shifted the blame to inefficient bureaucracy and profit-hungry industry. We continued to be engulfed by the smog.
I do believe some of this “blame game” is warranted. Corporations should be held accountable for their actions, especially actions that cause destruction to our planet. Protesting can be an effective way to demand this accountability; however, scare tactics and polemical signs can also hinder debate and solidify the schism between climate change activists and naysayers. Berry argues, “How superficial and foolish would it be to think that we could correct what is wrong by merely tinkering with this institutional machinery. The changes that are required are fundamental changes in the way we are living.” He illustrates this with the discussion of public and private causes.
While the public cause gains media attention and hashtags on social media, the private cause can be a simple, yet powerful tool for change. Berry suggests a cure could lie in gardening. By forging a deeper connection to the earth, “We will see that beauty and utility are alike and dependent upon the health of the world. But we will also see through the fads and fashions of protest.” He suggests we look inward saying, a man “willing to undertake the discipline and the difficulty of mending his own ways is worth more to the conservation movement than a hundred who are insisting merely that the government and the industry mend their ways.” Or rather, we must also begin to walk the walk.
Sitting in my secluded spot along the creek, I think about the sonic wave that crashed down Central Park West, and I am happy to have been a part of something so big. However, I recognize this moment as a part of a larger public cause, which despite its success may dissolve to reductive slogans and short-term fervor. It is time I focus on the private cause, and in the comfort of the shadowed creek, begin to “think little.”