Mastering the New Green Market - Part 2 - Collapses Don't Take Turns

 

In our last post, we saw that the economic downturn will make people less green -- in effect, at least — in their values and purchasing decisions.  (Of course, when it comes to purchasing decisions, "in effect" is the reality.)  This bad news is undoubtedly not news to you, but it may be helpful to have deeper insight into the psychodynamics behind it.

What can green marketers do about this?  Before we can arrive at good strategies, we've got to hold fast to the right attitude.  Sure, the situation we're facing is bad for green business.  But what is green business?  Why are you green in the first place?  Early on, we defined "green" as better for the planet.  That means that "less green" is worse for the planet.

That's where we need to keep our attention — in how we think, and especially in how we communicate.  Nobody will care that your business is in trouble, but people still ought to care that their planet is in peril.  Remind them of that, and you'll at least catch their ear.

Collapses don't take turns.  Right now we are facing an economic collapse, but we were already facing an environmental collapse (climate, biodiversity, fisheries, forests, farmland — you know the list.)  The environmental situation was dire a year ago.  It was more dire six months ago.  Is it any less dire now?  Did the impending environmental collapse politely step aside to make room for the newly arrived economic collapse?

Of course not!  Economic collapse may have shoved aside environmental collapse in people's minds, but it didn't shove it aside in the world "out there."  So to the extent that people are now less green in their thinking, the economic collapse has caused their minds to become misaligned with reality.  That's dangerous for anybody — including your customers.

In reality, we have not shifted from facing environmental collapse to facing economic collapse.  We have shifted from facing environmental collapse to facing both environmental and economic collapse.  The fact that the economic collapse is already upon us does not make the environmental collapse any less imminent.  In fact, the environmental collapse is not "on its way" — it's already here.  It's happening at this moment, on an enormous scale.  It's just hidden behind an ever-shrinking facade of affluent appearances.

Nor is the environmental collapse separate from the economy.  In the skyscraper of civilization, ecological services are the foundation and first three stories, the economy is floors four through ten, and all the rest of society is built up from there.  When the foundation and first three floors crumble, what will happen to floors four and above?  If bailing out the banks is hard, try bailing out the ocean!

Most informed people would still agree that saving the environment is important.  But many would argue that fixing the economy is now more urgent.  That's the cognitive error we as green marketers must strive to correct.  One urgency has not displaced another; rather, the urgencies have multiplied.  Unfortunately, the human mind does not easily comprehend multiple urgencies, but that's a reality our species must now outgrow — or else (as Hobbes put it)  we'll soon return to a world where life is nasty, brutish and short.

In the end, even realizing all this, people may still make less green purchasing decisions due to budget constraints.  But the first step in stemming the tide is to help them keep straight in their thinking.  Keep them in touch with the planet.  Let them feel its scream.

Is that all we can do to market green effectively in the new green market?  No.  Read our next post for more.

Keith Borden, Consultant
Brilliant Green Marketing

 

The Green Wave, Part 3 - The Conquest of Nature

 

As we saw in our last post, for most of history, nature was not something to protect, but something to protect ourselves against.  Especially to those who lived literally behind the walls of civilization, nature was an enemy.  It was to be feared and fought.  And so we fought it.

Gradually, we won.  We cleared the land, and killed or chased away our predators.  We conquered the seas.  Today there is nowhere on earth that humans cannot go, usually with as much comfort and safety (except sometimes from our own species) as we care to have — and so as not to run out of challenges, we've set our sights on Mars.

As nature was subdued, we gradually became less afraid of it — to the point where today people take idiotic risks like climbing mountains without due precautions, because they take their safety for granted even beyond the zone of human control.  We've forgotten the nature our ancestors knew.  For most of us, most of the time, today's nature is as tame as a teddy bear.

And as we became less afraid of nature, sensitive souls began to appreciate her beauty.  (Yes, her beauty.  It was always her.)  This was the West's "romantic" movement.  In 1798, William Wordsworth wrote his poem Tintern Abby, in which he describes himself as "a worshipper of Nature."   Eight years later, he wrote his famous lines calling attention to what we had lost by trading nature for the world civilization and commerce:

The  world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours....

These lines, which have become a mantra of the green movement, were written just 202 years ago — barely 2% of the period since the dawn of agriculture — and could not have been written much earlier.  It's no accident that the romantic movement arose when it did — it's hard to appreciate the beauty of a feared enemy.  Only when industry and science had rendered nature relatively tame was it safe to appreciate what we were missing by our separation from her.

But even as our appreciation of nature slowly grew, our war against her was far from over.  One of the most progressive and enlightened men of the late 19th century was William James, a Professor of Psychology at Harvard.  His The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902) is still cited by both scholars and enthusiasts of today's consciousness movement.  Early in the 20th century, he turned his attention to a perplexing question:  modern  warfare was increasingly destructive, yet men were drawn to it, and war often brought out the noblest in men.  As a psychologist, he thought war could not be eliminated unless we could find a suitable substitute.

So James searched for a substitute for war, and finally thought he'd found one.  In 1906 — a full century after Wordsworth's words, and just 102 years ago — he published The Moral Equivalent of War.  In it he described a great leap forward we could now take in our moral development.  Instead of continuing the carnage of war against our fellow human beings, we could turn our weapons upon a new enemy.  This new war would have all the advantages of war with none of the drawbacks, all the adventure with none of the destructiveness.  It would only bring benefit, not harm.

What was this enemy so evil that vanquishing it could only be good?  Nature!

If now — and this is my idea — there were, instead of military conscription, a conscription of the whole youthful population to form for a certain number of years a part of the army enlisted against Nature, the injustice [between rich and poor] would tend to be evened out.... 

To coal and iron mines, to freight trains, to fishing fleets in December, to dishwashing, clotheswashing, and windowwashing, to road-building and tunnel-making, to foundries and stoke-holes, and to the frames of skyscrapers, would our gilded [i.e., rich & spoiled] youths be drafted off, according to their choice, to get the childishness knocked out of them, and to come back into society with healthier sympathies and soberer ideas.

They would have paid their blood-tax, done their own part in the immemorial human warfare against nature; they would tread the earth more proudly, the women would value them more highly, they would be better fathers and teachers of the following generation.  [my italics/underlining.]

As you can see, what James had in mind would have been remarkably like today's AmeriCorps.  It was an excellent idea, and far ahead of its time.  But the fact that an advanced thinker conceived it as a war against nature a mere century ago reveals how far we've come since then.

It also raises a puzzle.  Looking back — for example, by reading Clive Ponting's A New Green History of the World: The Environment and the Collapse of Great Civilizations — we can clearly see that environmental devastation began much earlier.  It should have been clearly evident to someone as aware and progressive as James.  How, then, could he have still seen nature something to attack rather than protect?  We answer this in our next post.

Keith Borden, Consultant
Brilliant Green Marketing

 

The Green Wave, Part 2 - The Birth of Nature

 

We ended our last post by asking, "Why aren't we green by nature?  Why didn't the green wave arise earlier — and why is it here with us now?"  Green is an orientation towards nature — an attitude of appreciation and concern for the environment, coupled with a feeling of responsibility towards it — so understanding the green wave requires understanding the relationship of human beings with nature.

In the beginning, we had no relationship with nature, because there was no nature.

Huh?  What do I mean, there was no nature?  Didn't we arise from nature?  Weren't we initially a part of nature?  In the beginning, wasn't nature everything?

Yes, of course.  And precisely because nature was everything, it was nothing.  We know things by contrast, by their differences from what they are not.  When we were just a part of nature, and nature was everything, there was nothing to contrast it with, so nature as a concept did not arise.  And because we had no concept of nature, we had no relationship with nature.  We just lived.

Looking back, we can say that in those early days we lived within nature, as a part of nature — but that was not our view at the time.  We just lived.  And that may be one reason why, as Flannery points out (see previous post), we often lived destructively to our own future.  We related to the parts of nature — hunting and gathering some parts of nature and defending ourselves against other parts — but we took for granted the larger whole (nature) that supported what we hunted and gathered.  We didn't see nature because it was too big.  Because it was everything, it was nothing, and so we unknowingly abused it.

In some small, isolated ecosystems such as Easter Island and New Zealand, this abuse led to disaster as we stripped the land bare, but in larger ecosystems like Eurasia and the Americas we got away with it and came out ahead.  We grew, prospered and populated, to a point where the land could no longer support us by hunting and gathering.  So we switched to a more disagreeable way of living — initially less productive per hour of labor, but more productive per acre of land —  agriculture.

Agriculture allowed concentrations of people in towns and cities, surrounded by fields and farms, ordered by religion and government, protected by armies, and functioning through industry and commerce — humanly constructed environments

Some people — hunters and fishermen, soldiers and traders, foresters and hermits — still dealt with the fringes of the humanly constructed environments or ventured beyond them, but as cities and civilization grew, more and more people lived solely within them.  Now there was something to contrast with nature, so now it could be conceptualized.  This was the birth of nature.  Nature as a concept.  And nature was dangerous.

Once we had lived in that danger.  We took it for granted then, and were always on guard.  But in civilization we learned safety.  And the safer we felt, the more we feared nature, where civilization's safety did not hold.  Once our home, it became increasingly alien to us.  The more we became tame, the more we shunned the wild.

So we built walls, but nature often breached those walls in wild ways such as storms and floods.  Nature's incursions were not friendly, but often destructive and deadly.  Natural disasters.  We strove to isolate ourselves from the wilderness,  and the word wilderness itself contains "wild" — the opposite of tame.  Tame is controlled and safe; wild is uncontrolled and dangerous.

Today we agonize over rainforest destruction, and rightly so.  We treasure our visits to "untouched" wilderness, and so we should.  But old fairy tales truly tell the tale of old.  When a child ventures into the forest, it is not good.  It's an ominous moment in the story.  And that's no fairy tale!  For most of history, the boundaries of civilization demarked the zone of safety.  Beyond them lurked nature, invincible and terrible.

In the beginning, then, we weren't concerned about nature because we didn't even recognize it.  That's why we didn't develop a green instinct, an inborn concern for the environment.

Later, as we saw here, we did recognize nature — and feared it.  That fear kept us from appreciating nature and going green much earlier.  In our next post, we'll see how we overcame that fear.

.Keith Borden, Consultant
Brilliant Green Marketing

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