My 14-year-old daughter wants to be an eco-warrior.
She’s drawn up plans of the off-grid earthship home she plans to make from recycled materials and minimalised her room down to the very basics, but she’d also really love the latest Adidas Samba sneakers for Christmas and an iPhone 14.
It’s hard to reconcile sustainability values and living with a lighter footprint on the earth when you’re 14 and surrounded by constant consumerist messages selling you bigger, brighter, and better.
People in our community are conscious about reducing their impact on the planet and flying less; but when it comes to the crunch, a holiday in Fiji just sounds so tempting it’s easy to let convictions “fly” out the window for a moment.
It’s hard to be committed 100 per cent of the time. It’s not like a short-term stint either – living more sustainably is not a summer boot camp. It’s a profound and sometimes slow-burning series of small changes – in what we choose to buy, what we throw out and what we choose to do, and it often results in eventual changes to how we think and what we value.
Along the way, it’s completely possible, like my teenage daughter, to have two conflicting opinions, or two conflicting moral systems about an issue. Officially, this is called biconceptualism. It’s commonly illustrated with that duck / rabbit image where some of us only see a duck while others insist it’s a rabbit!
It’s completely possible to have two conflicting opinions, illustrated by this image where some see a duck and some a rabbit. Photo / Supplied
If we’re told it’s a duck, those unfamiliar with the image may initially see only a duck.
However, if alerted to the possibility of another image, suddenly a rabbit might pop out. Thinking sustainably is a bit like this.
Some changes seem impossible – losing the plastic bag at the supermarket, phasing out combustion engine cars, but for whatever reason, someone or something triggers a thought and the alternative suddenly appears possible.
I heard a good example of how influential simple actions can be when Ethically Kate visited Hastings a couple of weeks ago and said “it’s much more powerful to take homemade crackers to a party and talk about how you made them zero waste with products from a bulk store, than to point the finger and shake your head at people with crackers packaged in plastic”.
Back to my kids, as I put my 9-year-old to bed the other night she said: “I want to get really big muscles Mum”
“Good for you! Why do you want big muscles?”
“So I can make everyone fix climate change!”.
Ensued a brief and muddled Aesopian talk about the sun, the wind and a coated traveller where I suggested there were other persuasive ways than having the biggest muscles, but as I left her room a deep sadness hit me that our children are already having to think about serious existential crises.
As our news channels are full of severe weather events, species and biodiversity loss, our youth are exposed to increasing amounts of uncertainty about the future and we don’t have experience in dealing with these emotions. What’s the appropriate way to grieve the loss of a glacier?
To support our rangatahi and tamariki from all areas of our community with climate anxiety, there are now two main principles to turn climate concern into hope: connection and action.
For youth with concerns about the future, joining a group like the Hawke’s Bay Youth Environment Council and realising their interconnectivity with others can share the load to reduce turmoil.
Finding common ground and acceptance for difficult conversations can be hard but transformational.
Then find action – volunteer with Waste Warriors, join a beach clean-up, get involved in EnviroSchools, advocate for systems change, or closer to home, make a meal plan and try to reduce your food waste. Save money, eat well and turn eco-anxiety around.
Importantly though, one of the most powerful things we can do in designing long-term solutions for future generations is to see the duck and the rabbit.
