This
year’s summer seminar and practicum in Brazil was my last class at AU, and I
can’t think of a more fitting end to my time in the Natural Resources and
Sustainable Development program. That’s because, in addition to picking up more
experience abroad and continuing to hone research and writing skills, we spent a
great deal of time talking and thinking deeply about values. As my classmates
and I graduate from our programs and begin to plan our next steps with fancy
diplomas in hand, we are confronted with intense pressure to focus on individual
achievement and on acquiring more stuff: Compete aggressively for the new title
and raise, use the money for a bigger house or apartment, a new car, new
furniture, the latest phone, and so on. In the US, and increasingly everywhere
else, we live in societies in which success is measured by the accumulation of
money and material things. I don’t mean to imply that seeking better jobs and
trying to earn a little more is inherently bad. Of course, those are the
primary reasons most of us chose to go to graduate school for in the first
place (and, let’s be honest, now we also have loans to repay). But I do
believe, more strongly than ever now, that titles and stuff shouldn’t be all
that’s left to seek after school.
One
of the primary texts we read and discussed over the course was Bill McKibben’s
2007 book Deep Economy. In it,
McKibben spills a lot of ink summarizing a mounting body of social science
research that shows that, despite steadily rising levels of consumption in the
US and other developed countries, people are no happier than they were some 30
or 40 years ago. In fact, by many measures we are worse off, as many developed
nations now report higher rates of depression and other serious mental health
conditions, as well as diet-related illness such as diabetes and cardiovascular
disease than they did half a century ago. As we have steadily focused on making
everything bigger (from houses and cars to banks and farms) we have grown
increasingly sick and isolated. As we
spend more and more of our time at work, in our cars, or glued to various screens,
tuned in to our individually curated programs and playlists, our ties to
community outside of our immediate friends and family have frayed and our
happiness and health has suffered. On the bright side, more and more of us seem
to be recognizing the sense of loss that comes with lack of community and
trying to do something about it.
Tucked
away in the midst of misty peaks, remnant rainforest, and steep hillsides
patterned with pasture and rows of coffee trees in rural Minas Gerais, Iracambi
served as an ideal place to mull on these themes. The fresh air, lack of cell
service, steep hikes, and stunning views certainly helped to provide some
distance from the hustle and bustle of grad school and city life. Even more
inspiring, though, were the handful of people we met who have decided to
abandon unsatisfying jobs and lifestyles in order to pursue new livelihoods
built around an intense respect for community and the land. Some have already been
introduced in this blog by others: Demian, who along with his best friend
Bruno, left a job in finance in the state capital to buy land and start a farm,
now divides his days between tending organic crops, working to reforest parts
of his land with native trees, checking in on beehives, crafting beautiful
drums and lamps out of bamboo, and reading and writing poetry; and Pavão, who
walked away from a job at a refrigerator factory in protest after discovering
they were dumping waste coolant directly into the local bay, and now works
intently to develop best practices for organic cultivation of coffee,
strawberries, and other vegetables and delights in sharing his ideas and his
produce with neighbors and friends.
We have met other inspiring
individuals as well. Leandro, a primatologist by training, came to the region
to study the endangered Muriqui monkeys that inhabit the nearby Serra do
Brigadeiro State Park, fell in love, and decided to stay. With the help of his
wife, family, and friends, he is about to finish building a beautiful house
made out of yellow bricks, hand pressed one by one out of dirt from his property,
and with floors, beams, and window trim crafted from reclaimed wood. It is a
project motivated from start to finish out of a desire to respect the land, use
less energy and natural resources, and make more with less. Toni, another close
friend and former employee of Iracambi, is perhaps the most extreme model of
anti-materialist living. Quiet, thoughtful, and intense, he spends his days tending
a small organic coffee plantation, caring for his horses, painting, and making
beautiful paper mache hummingbirds to be given as gifts to visitors and
volunteers. Toni owns no vehicle, spends very little money, and lives in a
small house with a wood stove for heat and just a handful of bare CFL bulbs and
candles for light. In our conversations with these people they spoke
passionately and eloquently about a renewed sense of satisfaction and
fulfillment they have experienced since moving to the region and working
closely with their neighbors and the land. Each, in their own way, models a
belief that, after basic needs and a moderate level of material comfort is met,
we can be happier, healthier, and more fulfilled when we devote our surplus energy
to art, family, community, and the cultivation of a deep respect for the
natural processes that sustain us.
These are extreme cases,
perhaps. I don’t realistically expect that all or most people will want to flee
their jobs and homes to become farmers and craftsmen in the countryside (though
anyone who does should have to courage to go for it!). All around us though,
there are examples of people taking important steps, both small and large, to
re-center community and ecology in our lives. In our last class discussion,
inspired by our readings and the people we met, my classmates and I
brainstormed ideas for concrete steps we might take to make changes in our own
communities at home: grow more of our own food and support local farmers,
volunteer with a non-profit or community group, go to local meetings and get
involved in local politics, organize with neighbors to invest in renewable and
local energy generation, and so on. I intend to follow through, and I hope my
classmates will too.
As a student of sustainable
urban design, I recognize that, for better or for worse, most of the world’s
population now lives in cities. We tend to think of cities as dense and dynamic
hubs for culture and industry, as antithesis to all this is rural or natural. I
believe though, that in addition to supporting dense populations, exciting new
technologies, and wonderful expressions of culture and art, our cities can also
be more like rural areas, full of tight-knit communities, gardens, trees,
wildlife, and functioning ecosystems. Technology, and smart policy and design (the
things we tend to study in school) will undoubtedly factor into making this
vision a reality, but our collective values will also play an equally important
part. Ultimately, more of us will have to desire more socially just and
ecologically balanced societies, and work to share and amplify those values in
our communities. We have so much to gain if we do, and everything to lose if we
don’t.
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