It’s an hour and a half bus ride for me to get to school each morning, but I have never really minded; I have found that staring out the window at the city I love so much both soothes me and prepares me for a long day of learning.  However, with all the sustainability talk that is so prevalent, I have recently begun to notice that no two rides to school are ever the same.  One day, there will be a house being constructed, the next day a stump sitting where a tree stood the day before… little things, but changes nonetheless.  Sustainability, to me, is synonymous with consistency; it means making smart choices initially and falling into a routine that can, ideally, go an eternity without disruption.  In a country where ecological footprint calculations tell us that we are using our resources three times faster than the Earth can renew them, I often find myself wondering how much longer we can continue living this lifestyle of endless luxuries in a finite world.  Presently, contribution to the economy and sustainability appear to be mutually exclusive concepts.  Our society is so centered on growth—economic, intellectual, and otherwise—that it makes all of our green endeavours seem minute, and perhaps even hypocritical.

Classical economist Adam Smith noticed this problem in the mid 18^th century when he observed that  people trading in an open market led to the production of the ideal amount of goods, an efficient division of labour, an increase in wages, and most importantly, substantial economic growth.  However, he acknowledged that the physical aspects of economic growth were limited, and he predicted that population growth would lead to lower wages, a disruption in the distribution of resources, and, essentially, a spiralling economic decrease.  If the evident flaws of our current economic system were pointed out so long ago, why is it that we have continued on this path?  Let’s face it; we are constantly pursuing the illusion of an economy that is boundless.  Economic courses in schools traditionally teach that a continuously booming economy benefits everyone.  This hunger for growth caused the latest global financial meltdown, and was the unavoidable result of government policies, big business demands, and mass credulity.  Unless the government, industrialists, and citizens choose to diverge from the familiarity of growth, it is bound to happen again.

Although the concept of an economy that does not exceed ecological limits has long been perceived, ecological economists coined the term steady state economy in the 1970s.  These economists propose that it embodies not only an economic system, but an entire lifestyle.  It focuses on qualitative as opposed to quantitative growth—communities with sizes and structures that remain balanced to not exceed the limits of the natural environment and its production of resources.  This would mean that a country’s GDP would remain constant from year to year, instead of the continuous fluctuation that occurs now.  It does not mean, however, that the economy is to remain at a stand-still; non-physical aspects of economics (such as knowledge) are infinite and able to grow exponentially.  Essentially, the focus of a steady-state economy would deviate from personal gain to societal progress.

While it is evident that we have gone in the wrong direction for too long, realistically there is no way to for our current economic system to evolve into a steady state economy.  Our population is so reliant on fossil fuels that they have become the foundation of our society, and they are now inextricable from potential economic growth; it is indisputable that we require fossil fuels to allow our economy to continue to grow.  If we stopped using fossil fuels, or even reduced our consumption of the resource, the economy would undoubtedly falter, which would affect food production systems, international export systems, and the like.  The problem with the transition into steady state economy is our current debt, which requires economic growth in order to be paid off with interest.  Therefore, a steady state economy is unrealistic, because there needs to be practically no debt.  It is even arguable that technological advancements will soon allow a limitless economy to exist.

So, we find ourselves at an impasse, caught in a vicious cycle of growth and decline, waste and consumption, with no way to escape.  Personally, I believe that it is human nature to scope out environments that provide us with the energy and the resources to make us feel comfortable.  For this reason, we will not reduce our current level of energy use.  We have found our niche and are unwilling to leave.  It’s like protecting a home or preserving a culture and its traditions that have existed for so long.  Growth has been a part of our civilizations for so long, that the fate of our ecological footprints cannot lie in the economy, but in our lifestyle choices.  And as I make the choice every morning to take the bus to school, I await the time when my bus ride that day will be the same as the last, and will be able to remain that way forever.

- Angela Sun

My mother always told me that my first word was “recycle.”

Okay, the chances of that being true are slim to none.  Although my first words were probably “googoo gaga,” the implications are clear—I have been exceptionally environmentally conscious from a young age.  It’s inevitable, really.  Having grown up in the Green Age, terms like “composting” and “organic” are thrown around so often that, to me, it seems only natural to recycle my plastic bottle instead of throwing it out or, even better, bringing my own reusable mug to refill.  I have discovered that I like to surround myself with like-minded individuals, so my subconscious beliefs in maintaining a healthy planet have never been questioned, but always reinforced.

I had never been forced to reflect on my green practices until my grandmother came to live with my mother and me last year.  Never having left China save one time she came to Canada to visit my sister and me when we were babies, she had never been heavily exposed to the media and culture that greatly advertises a green lifestyle.  I recall the first time I watched her fold up the cardboard box of crackers and toss it into the trash can, and the look of utter bewilderment on her face when she saw my jaw drop in response.  How could I convey the need to do our part to take care of our planet to someone to whom it had never been explained?  It’s not easy to make lifestyle changes once you have had them for decades.  So, I embarked on a quest; I pledged that, by the time my grandmother returned to China, she would see the environment through my eyes.

I began by observing her day-to-day behaviour and actions.  I had alwlays known that she was extremely frugal; it was the way she was raised.  It’s a noble quality to possess and often leads to making choices that benefit the environment.  For example, in the winter months she would wrap an extra blanket around herself when she slept instead of turning on the heater.  Easy, practical… no harm done!  However, I often found that her thrifty ways often clouded her judgement in certain situations.  When we were at the supermarket, she would always choose to buy the cheapest possible option, never stopping to consider whether or not it was organic, grown locally, and produced ethically.

Still, the question remained.  How could I explain it to her?  When I said, “Grandma, we’re fortunate enough to be able to afford organic food.  It’s the right decision to make,” she would shoo me away and continue her shopping.  Verbal communication failed me, and even pictures, which are supposedly worth a thousand words, had proven themselves ineffective in this instance.

I began thinking about the City of Vancouver’s “greenest city by 2020” campaign, promoted for the most part through flyers and posters placed throughout the city.  Although all of the ideas that are implemented through this project are definitely ones on which everyone should be educated (green economy, green buildings, local food, public transportation, etc.), I couldn’t help but question its appeal to a large portion of the population.  My grandmother experienced an enormous language barrier while in Canada, and although she made a huge effort to communicate with others in whatever way she could, the prospect of going outside on her own and being surrounded so completely by a language she didn’t know was understandably daunting.  Not only would the advertisements not be able to reach her, but she wouldn’t even be aware of them if they did.  In a place such as Vancouver, where cultural diversity is not only prevalent but also a huge part of our city’s dynamic, I am left questioning whether or not the City chose the best strategy to target their campaign at the largest possible population.

Me, my grandmother, and my sister at Deer Lake Park.

Then it hit me.  Words and pictures are not necessarily universal, but experiences are something that everyone, regardless of background, can make connections with.  So I began taking my grandmother somewhere different every weekend.  We would go for long walks around Stanley Park, linking arms and listening to the soft chirp of the birds.  We went to the Capilano suspension bridge, and I watched my grandmother’s jaw drop in awe as she stared out into the distance.  We took my dog out to Buntzen Lake for a swim.  We did the Grouse Grind and both collapsed from exhaustion at the top, but not before enjoying the breath-taking view from the peak.

Her last weekend in Canada arrived, and I took her to my favourite place in the entire world: Jericho beach.  I love this beach so much because, when you sit there, you can see the ocean, the city, and the snow-capped mountains.  We sat there for a long while, and when I looked over at her, I saw tears welling up in her eyes.  I leaned towards her and asked her if she now understood, and she nodded silently in reply.

In Chinese culture, it is tradition for knowledge to be passed on from generation to generation.  Before this time with my grandmother, it never occurred to me that this knowledge did not necessarily have to be passed down, but could be passed up.  When I received a letter from my grandmother two months after her departure containing a photo with her and her friends, all holding up their reusable water bottles with huge smiles on their faces, I knew that I had achieved my goal of making my grandmother see things the way I do.  The power of education on sustainability not only has the power to invoke change, but also brings people together in a way nothing else can.

And I hope that, when I myself have children, I’ll raise them in such a way that their first words will actually be “recycle.”

- Angela Sun