(Host) This time of year, many Vermonters dream about spending some time
on a tropical island, but climate activist and commentator Kathryn
Blume says it’s a way of life that is rapidly – and radically –
changing.
(Blume) Recently, I went to a concert given by some
performers from remote Pacific island nations which are being rapidly
inundated by rising sea levels – one of the many unfortunate
consequences of climate change.
There were dancers, singers, and
musicians all decked out in traditional woven costumes made by their
families. The program said that the beauty and intricacy of the woven
designs was indicative of how much the performers were loved by their
families.
The performers themselves were like shimmering coppery
earth spirits, dancing and singing a pounding, full-throated love
lament for the tight communities and deep, ancient cultures being lost
to the inexorably advancing tides.
One of the islands
represented, Tuvalu, is less than a mile wide and its highest point is
about 6′ above sea level. Climate change has progressed so far that
their beaches are eroding and their crops are being poisoned by
saltwater. Someday, in the not-too-distant future, there won’t be a
Tuvalu anymore. And they all know it.
Chatting with some of the
performers afterwards, one of them told me that a little atoll where his
grandfather used to live is already gone. Another young man said, "We
are warriors. No matter how high the ocean gets, we will stay. We will
die for our country."
I hugged him and made a big point of
saying that I knew all about Tuvalu, and so did a lot of my friends, and
our small place in the world was thinking about their small place in
the world and doing our best to try and address this… But he stopped
me and said, "It’s not just us. It’s everybody."
Of course he
was right. And I was a little embarrassed. Because, despite being a
die-hard climate activist, I somehow managed to forget, just for a
moment, that it’s all of us.
Everyone on the planet is being faced with some form of rising tide, and everything we know is going to be affected.
However,
grim as the scientific predictions are, things often come along which
still give me hope that we’ll get our climatic act together. As it
happens, I also just went to the annual conference of the Vermont Energy
and Climate Action Network. It was attended by a huge cross section of
people from all over the state: from conservation educators to town
energy committee members. There were activists who’d gotten arrested
protesting the Keystone pipeline and business leaders developing solar,
wind, and geothermal projects. There were selectboardpeople, state
representatives, agency secretaries, and even Bernie Sanders, who gave
one of his rip-roaring, no-holds-barred speeches full of commitment,
passion, and truth.
They were there to meet, to connect, to
share ideas, and to continue the ongoing process of hashing through the
nitty-gritty details of how we help our collective community enter a
post-carbon age.
I came away reminded that in the face of all
the rising tides, I am grateful and honored to live on my own little
island of sanity and citizenship. I came away glad to live in Vermont.