Photo by: EJP Photo
The masses have spoken. They want green. They want eco-conscious. They want stunning vistas in the background and stunning celebrities in the foreground. They want all this stunning, green, consciousness splashed across the pages of Vanity Fair, Rolling Stone, The Advocate and even Fortune—at least once a year when Earth Day rolls around. Who are we to deny the masses?
The iconography of the post-Al Gore green movement is gelling, and even if the use of the actual color green is becoming a design cliché, there are some major upsides. Perhaps the biggest is that the charge of greening the world is no longer a responsibility relegated to the progeny of the counterculture—at least stylistically. Green’s glossy moment has arrived.
So it is that from our newsprint pages in Los Angeles—a city full of glossy tastemakers—we find ourselves struggling with this next chapter of the environmental movement unfolding in our urban, not-so-dense backyard. And we keep finding ourselves squarely in the "it's not easy being green" camp, and we're becoming resentful of anyone telling us otherwise.
Sure, it's easy switching to fluorescent lights, hopping on DASH or buying organic. But, for anyone with more than just a fleeting interest in the environment, there's always that nagging feeling. Was my organic Whole Food produce shipped from Chile? Was the green issue of Vanity Fair printed on recycled paper? Does living alone in my fluorescent-lit apartment increase my carbon footprint?
Politicians and celebs who dare to call themselves "green" face these nagging questions publicly. Gore—the man, the PowerPoint, the Nobel Peace Prize—has had to answer tough questions about the size of his house and his jet-setting ways of spreading the green gospel. Even Mayor Villaraigosa's use of the word "green" to describe Los Angeles—and his own mayorship by extension—is tainted. The DWP still relies on coal-fueled power plants for 47%, which puts us way out of the league of PG&E's 3% or California's average of 15%.
Going green is easier said than done and the process can easily slide into guilt-inducing territory. Now that we've entered the glossy phase, the twin oxymorons of lifestyle journalism and green consumerism are ready to sell indulgences to wash away our eco-sins. (Gore himself has opted for the less glossy but no less controversial carbon offset credits.)
The Times' green blog, Emerald City, is typical of this eco-indulgence trend. The blog links to stories from the green beat and tips on how to reduce your carbon footprint. But they're sandwiched between posts that rely a bit too heavily on a sort of press release journalism that's keen on advising eco-sinners where to get an organic facial or eco-hangers or organic oreos.
Here we face the catch-22 of environmentalist ideas in a liberal market democracy: to make a change, you have to be in the market for change. Environmentalism means consuming less, but consuming less equates to a lower profit margin on environmentally-friendly goods right from the get-go. American consumer culture and the enslavement to shareholder values means that the movement is catering to a group with the desire and money to retrofit their homes with neat-o gadgets that aren’t universally accessible. This notion that we can buy our way out of this crisis or that saving the environment is a matter of personal preference is dangerous and out-of-touch.
The trouble with the new toys and baubles is that they encourage consumerism and take the glint of guilt off the purchase—you can feel like you’re helping the cause, but if you’re changing the quality but not the quantity of your consumption habits, you’re kowtowing to the big cash register in the sky every bit as much as before, and that has never and will never make the world a cleaner place.
“It’s a good thing to have green be chic these days but it shouldn’t turn away middle America who don’t have access to latest fashions. It should still be something democratic in its involvement with everyone,” said Terry O’Day, executive director of Environment Now, a LA-based environmental group.
The iconography of the post-Al Gore green movement is gelling, and even if the use of the actual color green is becoming a design cliché, there are some major upsides. Perhaps the biggest is that the charge of greening the world is no longer a responsibility relegated to the progeny of the counterculture—at least stylistically. Green’s glossy moment has arrived.
So it is that from our newsprint pages in Los Angeles—a city full of glossy tastemakers—we find ourselves struggling with this next chapter of the environmental movement unfolding in our urban, not-so-dense backyard. And we keep finding ourselves squarely in the "it's not easy being green" camp, and we're becoming resentful of anyone telling us otherwise.
Sure, it's easy switching to fluorescent lights, hopping on DASH or buying organic. But, for anyone with more than just a fleeting interest in the environment, there's always that nagging feeling. Was my organic Whole Food produce shipped from Chile? Was the green issue of Vanity Fair printed on recycled paper? Does living alone in my fluorescent-lit apartment increase my carbon footprint?
Politicians and celebs who dare to call themselves "green" face these nagging questions publicly. Gore—the man, the PowerPoint, the Nobel Peace Prize—has had to answer tough questions about the size of his house and his jet-setting ways of spreading the green gospel. Even Mayor Villaraigosa's use of the word "green" to describe Los Angeles—and his own mayorship by extension—is tainted. The DWP still relies on coal-fueled power plants for 47%, which puts us way out of the league of PG&E's 3% or California's average of 15%.
Going green is easier said than done and the process can easily slide into guilt-inducing territory. Now that we've entered the glossy phase, the twin oxymorons of lifestyle journalism and green consumerism are ready to sell indulgences to wash away our eco-sins. (Gore himself has opted for the less glossy but no less controversial carbon offset credits.)
The Times' green blog, Emerald City, is typical of this eco-indulgence trend. The blog links to stories from the green beat and tips on how to reduce your carbon footprint. But they're sandwiched between posts that rely a bit too heavily on a sort of press release journalism that's keen on advising eco-sinners where to get an organic facial or eco-hangers or organic oreos.
Here we face the catch-22 of environmentalist ideas in a liberal market democracy: to make a change, you have to be in the market for change. Environmentalism means consuming less, but consuming less equates to a lower profit margin on environmentally-friendly goods right from the get-go. American consumer culture and the enslavement to shareholder values means that the movement is catering to a group with the desire and money to retrofit their homes with neat-o gadgets that aren’t universally accessible. This notion that we can buy our way out of this crisis or that saving the environment is a matter of personal preference is dangerous and out-of-touch.
The trouble with the new toys and baubles is that they encourage consumerism and take the glint of guilt off the purchase—you can feel like you’re helping the cause, but if you’re changing the quality but not the quantity of your consumption habits, you’re kowtowing to the big cash register in the sky every bit as much as before, and that has never and will never make the world a cleaner place.
“It’s a good thing to have green be chic these days but it shouldn’t turn away middle America who don’t have access to latest fashions. It should still be something democratic in its involvement with everyone,” said Terry O’Day, executive director of Environment Now, a LA-based environmental group.
But O’Day impressed upon us that buying eco-friendly Prada pumps or taking your house completely off the grid are not the only ways to make a difference. The things that average people can do to improve their impact on the environment aren’t sexy. They don’t involve buying new toys or running out and switching your old car for a Prius. They do involve making conscious changes in lifestyle and, the ultimate American hang-up: consuming less.
Unfortunately, one of the biggest changes that needs to be made here is sacrificing the notion that individual efforts can substitute for substantive political change.
Los Angeles is trying, but not hard enough. We’ve got a mayor that wants to go green but can’t quit the DWP’s oil habit, a Million Trees that just isn’t even close and a plastic bag ban that’s stymied in the Board of Supervisors who have passed the buck onto Assemblyman Mike Davis.
So please, green the government before you green up your clothing choices. In our glossy-green world of eco-Oscar’s and Leonardo DiCaprio’s pretty face on Al Gore’s important words, know that the most important individual effort any of us can make is at the ballot box. If not, we’re just biding our time before green goes out of fashion and with it the Hollywood gleam that’s giving it some cache.
--By Emma Gallegos and Ashley Archibald
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