The Next Eco-Warriors (26 page)

Fortuitously, a global communications revolution was happening at the same time—social media. Facebook, YouTube, Flickr—you name it—social media was becoming the critical means by which people were talking to each other about what was going on with the world. We had built Earth Hour to be open to anyone. We didn't own it. Everybody did. We just provided the basic resources: from examples of how to approach your local mayor and available posters to put up to guidelines on how to run an event and, of course, ideas on how to reduce your footprint. In essence, the whole project was “open source,” a very unusual approach in any organization at the time, as the brand
is open to everyone and can be used by any interested party as long as it is within the spirit of the campaign.

The parallel rapid growth of social media enabled Earth Hour to grow at an unprecedented rate, without central bureaucracy getting in the way and without the need for a lot of resources. And in 2009, Earth Hour became viral. With the amazing efforts of some inspirational people within WWF, Earth Hour happened in more than four thousand cities, in eighty-eight countries around the world. It reached well over a billion people, and we knew that hundreds of millions had participated in the global concerts.

This 2009 Earth Hour had an even bigger purpose, to build itself as a global mandate for action on climate change, in time for the Copenhagen Climate Summit, as a way of reminding and inspiring our national leaders across the globe to finally address our planet's crisis. Nine months before the Copenhagen Climate Conference, one billion people participated across the world, nearly one-sixth of our world's population. There could have been no greater signal that the mandate for change was there.

Yet in many ways, as we headed closer to Copenhagen, it dawned on me that we had put an awful lot of trust in our leaders, many of whom were convinced that a deal would happen. But what if it didn't? Would everyone lose faith? Would Earth Hour have been a waste of time?

Believing that people would still have hope, no matter what the outcome at Copenhagen, WWF staff in Denmark and the Earth Hour team in Sydney had organized a one-city Earth Hour in Copenhagen on December 16, 2009. But disappointment soon fell upon us. Maybe it was naïve hope that so many years of rhetoric would be met with action. Yet the bubble was quickly burst.
Exhausted, miserable, and going on empty, I boarded the plane back to Australia.

It took me a little while to realize, with the benefit of retrospect and a some quality time in Australia's outback, that some good did come out of Copenhagen. For the first time, 118 world leaders had met specifically to talk about climate change. It was agreed across all countries to endeavor to keep emissions low enough to keep temperature increases below two degrees Celsius (3.6 Fahrenheit degrees). And in the aftermath of Copenhagen, I realized that trying to corral that many countries into one agreement is not necessarily the best way of achieving success. Just like back in 2007, when Earth Hour started, the power is not solely with global leaders but far more so with our city governments, business leaders, community leaders, and, most important, with individuals. It was in the movement we had helped build. This knowledge helped me remain hopeful that we could still finish what we started.

Predictably, in the wake of Copenhagen, the minority climate skeptics smelled blood. For a few crazy weeks, it seemed as if the basic argument to deal with emissions was under threat. I wondered if this would undermine peoples' interest in Earth Hour 2010, which was only three short months away. Had public perceptions of the problem gone backward? Had all the media stories on skeptic arguments begun to affect peoples' views on the peer-reviewed science? Many in the environmental world seemed to think it was having an influence. It seemed to me that Copenhagen had created a sense of panic among campaigners. No one seemed sure what to do next. For me and my team, while I had some concerns, this only increased our determination to make Earth Hour 2010 happen on an even greater scale.

We set to work, and before we knew it, Earth Hour 2010 was here. Just before heading to the office on the night, I stood on the balcony at home holding my four-month-old son, Solo, while my wife, Tammie, took a photograph. He was wearing his WWF Earth Hour t-shirt. I felt calm and under control, a far cry from the extreme anxiety of this same night three years earlier. By then I knew that at least 129 countries and territories around the globe would be taking part in Earth Hour in the next twenty-six hours, up from
eighty-eight the year before. Earth Hour would be bigger than ever. In spite of the failure of Copenhagen—or perhaps because of it—Earth Hour's reach had grown. I gave my small son a hug, then walked out the door to watch the world switch off its lights.

_________

Andy Ridley is the executive director of Earth Hour, the annual global climate change campaign by the World Wildlife Fund. He is currently organizing Earth Hour 2011 and is continuing to work toward a sustainable future for his son, Solo, and future generations
.

Twenty-seven
Netherlands
Art Activist

PHOTO BY WIETSEVAN DERWERF

I PUT ON MY SHOES AND REACH for my bag. As I open the front door, the cold England air blows in my face. Doing up the buttons on my coat, I walk down the steps and find my way to the bus stop. Looking up at the clear, star-filled sky, I consider that in a few months, the world's most powerful economic leaders will be holding their annual summit in Scotland. They will meet behind closed doors, and the details of their conversations will be kept secret from the public, despite the daunting reality that their decisions directly affect our lives. With Africa's debt to Western nations growing and escalating climate crisis, many are calling on the Group of Eight to take responsibility for the outcomes of their policies. In the silence of the night, I wonder if that day will ever come. My thoughts are interrupted by the squeaky brakes of a double-decker bus. I step inside and nod at the driver.

“Single, please. Cheers, mate.”

As the bus makes its way toward the city, I envision the rich politicians sitting down for exclusive dinners in extravagant hotels, wearing top hats and cleaning their whiskers. I find myself excited about the prospect of going to Scotland and dream of running through the Highlands and making life difficult for the delegates attending the summit. I want to send a message: We are going to raise hell unless something changes. The G8 represents the destruction caused by the free market economy and the raping of the world's resources. I'm ashamed to live in a so-called civilized society, where people's only cares revolve around sports, soaps, and never-ending
celebrity gossip. Isn't anyone paying attention to the reality of what is happening to our planet? I get off the bus and follow a stream of people heading out for a night on the town.

Crossing the road, my eye catches a display outside an art gallery. I feel drawn to it, and among a small group of people, I can see two women dressed in all white distributing what appear to be copied banknotes.

“We're asking people to write on this money what they would do if the world economy was in their hands,” one girl says.

With pen and paper in hand, I consider the question at hand. Other notes, already written on, are pinned to their white dresses, making such proclamations as:

“I would make sure everyone has a home to live in.”

“Take from the rich, give to the poor.”

“Double taxes for the corporations and free tea for everyone else.”

Some of the suggestions make me laugh. Others make obvious the painful reality of our current global economic climate, the inequitable way in which our resources are divided, or how the current economy has turned the world upside down. I scribble something about justice and abolishing money on my fake banknote and pin it to the dress. I consider what a fun and clever way this is to engage people with an issue. Instead of handing out leaflets with facts and figures, this approach requires people to question themselves, arrive at an answer, and exchange their ideas with others. While I had been involved in activism and political protest for years, I had never considered art in my activism work. I began speaking with the girls. One of them remarked: “It's really empowering to give people a pen in the street and ask them to write about their feeling on an issue. It makes them think for themselves. When they pin their note onto our dresses, they read other peoples', and in the dialogue that follows, they enrich their knowledge about the subject.”

I let the women know how impressed I am by this “conversation,” exchange contact details, and head off.

While I had been excited by the girls' activist style, my thoughts about how to incorporate this style into my own protests were fleeting. Then, by chance, I ran into the girls again, and we arranged to meet. While sipping
tea in a local café a few days later, we discussed the upcoming G8 summit and the idea behind their performance style. It was inspiring to see people getting active on issues that lay close to their hearts and in small yet creative ways.

After our second meeting, I decided to stay in contact with these women and learn to engage my activism with art. Up until this time, I had been involved in activism for a while and was a little set in my ways on how to go about making things happen. For
real
action to be effective, I thought, there needed to be mass mobilization, intense organization, and a
“we're not gonna take it”
attitude. This time, when working with these art activists, the strategy was completely different.