One of the fun features of facebook is the ability to register as a "fan" of various teams, causes, groups and individuals. But for some reason last week, I was feeling a bit dissatisfied about the on-or-off nature of such a choice. After all, there are things and groups I'm much more devoted to than others, and so I suggested an alternative--a three-level expression of fan-ness ranging from "fan" to "advocate" to "militant supporter."
While facebook has yet to adopt this suggestion, the conversation on this subject with my facebook friends yielded a further refinement--a scale starting at 6 and ending at ten that covers the full range of support:
6-would generally prefer it to competitors
7-consider it part of one's identity
8-would actively recommend to others
9-would defend its honor in an argument, or perhaps, a fist-fight
10-would start a fist-fight on its behalf (if the situation warranted)
In most categories, I have but one entry. For sports teams, my criteria is slightly more relaxed--teams which generally don't play each other can be added.
6: Burger King (global fast food), Ajax (Dutch soccer), Star Alliance (airline alliance), Starwood Hotels, Lonely Planet (travel guides), Vlasic (pickles), Cattleman's BBQ sauce, Calve chunky peanut butter, Louisiana Brand hot sauce, Arkansas Razorbacks (college sports team-US South), Caramel/Toffee/Dulce de Leche, Klene Suikervrije Visjes (licorice), Canadian Club (whisky)
7. Chicago Cubs (baseball), The Economist, Turkish Coffee, Eurostar (trans-channel train service), Sharp Cheddar, Limes, DC United (MLS Soccer), KimChee (Korean equivalent of sauerkraut), CCM (association of communication pros), Magret de Canard (duck breast-favorite French meal)
8. University of Wisconsin (university, sports teams), Belgian Beer, easyJet (European budget airline), Democratic Party (US), Cocktail Sauce (US condiment), Pastrami (favorite delicatessen meal), Prime Rib (favorite steakhouse meal), Iskender Kebab (favorite Turkish meal)
9. Tottenham Hotspur (English Soccer), Liberal Judaism, US Men's National Soccer Team (international soccer), Belgium (favorite country to live in), President Barack Obama, Landmark Education (kick-ass education and training programs), Reproductive Freedom/Abortion Rights, The Pigs (favorite species)
10. Israel, Health Care Reform (US), London Business School
What I found most interesting in looking at things this way is that it gave me an ability to compare my various favorites across categories. I'm about as much of an Obama fan as I am a Spurs fan--would defend their respective honor, but also occasionally moan about various on-field mistakes. It also reflects some personal evolution--while I love the University of Wisconsin, it's the Tottenham results I look for first these days.
The fist-fight distinction is also a bit aspirational--I haven't actually been in any fist fights since university, my last attempt being at a Young Republicans convention in 1992 which preceded my switch to the Democrats by two months. But it still crystalizes a level of support that goes well beyond mere preference or 'fandom'.
Please have a gander at this--and include your own ratings in the comments below!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Winter Olympics--What I'd Like To See
Aaah, it is but a few days until the Olympic Flame makes its triumphant entrance into the stadium in Vancouver, marking the start of the chilly version of "Seventeen Days of Glory."
Despite having had an abortive winter sports career that consisted of an abortive attempt at cross-country skiing (one that I never adequately apologized to my dad for--having duly bought me a pair of skis at my persistent insistence), I've long loved the cold version of the Olympics at least as much as the warm. Still, I think there's room for improvement--hence, my 2010 suggested Winter Olympic Combinations:
1) Biathluge: Combining the high-speed excitement of the luge with the precision of target shooting
2) Alpine Hockey: The offensive team passes the puck down the mountain while the defenders wait in front of the goal in the valley
3) Halfpipe Curling: Instead of pushing the stone straight to the target, the stone moves in pendulum motion, zigzagging down the snowboard half pipe towards Olympic glory
4) Short Track Ski Jumping: An abbreviated launch from higher altitude heightens the drama of an already breathtaking sport
5) Figure Slalom: Combining the artistics of figure skating with the short but precise turning of the slalom
While these are too late for inclusion in the 2010 agenda--how about trying these as video games?
Despite having had an abortive winter sports career that consisted of an abortive attempt at cross-country skiing (one that I never adequately apologized to my dad for--having duly bought me a pair of skis at my persistent insistence), I've long loved the cold version of the Olympics at least as much as the warm. Still, I think there's room for improvement--hence, my 2010 suggested Winter Olympic Combinations:
1) Biathluge: Combining the high-speed excitement of the luge with the precision of target shooting
2) Alpine Hockey: The offensive team passes the puck down the mountain while the defenders wait in front of the goal in the valley
3) Halfpipe Curling: Instead of pushing the stone straight to the target, the stone moves in pendulum motion, zigzagging down the snowboard half pipe towards Olympic glory
4) Short Track Ski Jumping: An abbreviated launch from higher altitude heightens the drama of an already breathtaking sport
5) Figure Slalom: Combining the artistics of figure skating with the short but precise turning of the slalom
While these are too late for inclusion in the 2010 agenda--how about trying these as video games?
Thursday, January 7, 2010
3 Jews, 3 Quadrupels, and a Beer That Tastes Like Dirt
It took several months after I moved into my own Brussels apartment before I successfully organized my first social event.
Partly, this was because it took several months before I extricated myself from an unhappy job situation--and the attached grind of weekly travel to a country resembling a parallel universe from the land of my birth. Partly, this was because of a lack of occasion.
But such an occasion emerged last month when my dear Dutch friend, Gidon--a fellow congregant at the International Jewish Center (indeed, he's what passes for a "macher"--a "big shot"--at our modest temple)--contacted me about a long-deferred evening of beer tasting. We discussed a return visit to Moeder Lambic, a hoary haven for Belgium's beer nerds, but I finally took the initiative. "Let's have it at my place."
Two soon became three, as "D", a student at a certain semi-sectarian Belgian university wangled an invite. (He insists on keeping his identity secret as his doctoral colleagues believe he does nothing in Belgium except to drink beer).
I came well armed--with my main contribution a 750ml bottle of 2008 Cuvee van de Keizer (about which I've waxed rhapsodically in previous bloggings) and a 2004 vintage bottle of trappist-monk-brewed Westvleteren 12, which I had to break at least 3 of the Catholic Ten Commandments to obtain (as the monks of Westvleteren consider grey-market resale of their exalted ales an unoriginal but much-vexing sin).
But Gidon, he of 1500 beer labels collected (versus my mere 165 Ratebeer.com reviews) came prepared with Holland's Bommen en Granaten, which weighed in at 15% alcohol versus the more modest 10% of the Cuvee and 12% of the ill-gotten Westvleteren.
After some idle semitic chit-chat, and, for no particular reason, the donning of yarmulkes (mine was leather an had an Obama '08 log), the heavy business of tasting these exceptionally heavy brews began.
I opened with the Westvleteren. But after pouring the normal-sized 330ml bottle into three vintage beer chalices, I found myself unable to drink the Westvleteren. Why? Because it smelled sooooooo good. It smelled like the brown pumpernickel bread that's baked with raisins here. Deep, savory, and sweet. Finally, when I broke down and started sipping, the combination of treacle/molasses-like richness and raisin-like fruitiness was explosive on the palate. Whether it's worth my mortal soul may be another question.
Gidon replied with the Bommen en Granaten, Dutch for "Bombs and Grenades". Amber, clear and very gently carbonated, Bommen en Granaten unloads a mixture of flavors--fruity, malty, yeasty and just the tiniest bit floral--that can stir a palate that had just been sent heavenward by the Westvleteren. Interestingly, Bommen en Granaten may be more difficult to get than "Ole Westy"--it's produced by an obscure Dutch brewery.
This obscure brewery also produces the aptly named Hemel en Aarde--Heaven and Earth. It's an apt name because the brew is brewed with peat from some Scottish distillery with about 70 letters in its name. And it flippin' tastes like flippin' peat. I've never drank something that literally tasted this much like dirt, except for some of the water I found while digging in sandboxes as a child. If you are a single-malt scotch hound, you may like this...otherwise, accept that beer and peat don't mix.
Capping the evening off with the Keizer was nice--it too joins the Westy and the Bommen as a legit contender for the "Beer Champion Of The World" of the world title, though the evening was declared in the beginning as a non-title bout. This was good, because the early tastes of the Keizer served mainly to exorcise the peat flavor.
Will there be a champion bout at Maison Klein in the future? There's always a possibility--just so long as there's no peat involved, and no yarmulkes are required.
Partly, this was because it took several months before I extricated myself from an unhappy job situation--and the attached grind of weekly travel to a country resembling a parallel universe from the land of my birth. Partly, this was because of a lack of occasion.
But such an occasion emerged last month when my dear Dutch friend, Gidon--a fellow congregant at the International Jewish Center (indeed, he's what passes for a "macher"--a "big shot"--at our modest temple)--contacted me about a long-deferred evening of beer tasting. We discussed a return visit to Moeder Lambic, a hoary haven for Belgium's beer nerds, but I finally took the initiative. "Let's have it at my place."
Two soon became three, as "D", a student at a certain semi-sectarian Belgian university wangled an invite. (He insists on keeping his identity secret as his doctoral colleagues believe he does nothing in Belgium except to drink beer).
I came well armed--with my main contribution a 750ml bottle of 2008 Cuvee van de Keizer (about which I've waxed rhapsodically in previous bloggings) and a 2004 vintage bottle of trappist-monk-brewed Westvleteren 12, which I had to break at least 3 of the Catholic Ten Commandments to obtain (as the monks of Westvleteren consider grey-market resale of their exalted ales an unoriginal but much-vexing sin).
But Gidon, he of 1500 beer labels collected (versus my mere 165 Ratebeer.com reviews) came prepared with Holland's Bommen en Granaten, which weighed in at 15% alcohol versus the more modest 10% of the Cuvee and 12% of the ill-gotten Westvleteren.
After some idle semitic chit-chat, and, for no particular reason, the donning of yarmulkes (mine was leather an had an Obama '08 log), the heavy business of tasting these exceptionally heavy brews began.
I opened with the Westvleteren. But after pouring the normal-sized 330ml bottle into three vintage beer chalices, I found myself unable to drink the Westvleteren. Why? Because it smelled sooooooo good. It smelled like the brown pumpernickel bread that's baked with raisins here. Deep, savory, and sweet. Finally, when I broke down and started sipping, the combination of treacle/molasses-like richness and raisin-like fruitiness was explosive on the palate. Whether it's worth my mortal soul may be another question.
Gidon replied with the Bommen en Granaten, Dutch for "Bombs and Grenades". Amber, clear and very gently carbonated, Bommen en Granaten unloads a mixture of flavors--fruity, malty, yeasty and just the tiniest bit floral--that can stir a palate that had just been sent heavenward by the Westvleteren. Interestingly, Bommen en Granaten may be more difficult to get than "Ole Westy"--it's produced by an obscure Dutch brewery.
This obscure brewery also produces the aptly named Hemel en Aarde--Heaven and Earth. It's an apt name because the brew is brewed with peat from some Scottish distillery with about 70 letters in its name. And it flippin' tastes like flippin' peat. I've never drank something that literally tasted this much like dirt, except for some of the water I found while digging in sandboxes as a child. If you are a single-malt scotch hound, you may like this...otherwise, accept that beer and peat don't mix.
Capping the evening off with the Keizer was nice--it too joins the Westy and the Bommen as a legit contender for the "Beer Champion Of The World" of the world title, though the evening was declared in the beginning as a non-title bout. This was good, because the early tastes of the Keizer served mainly to exorcise the peat flavor.
Will there be a champion bout at Maison Klein in the future? There's always a possibility--just so long as there's no peat involved, and no yarmulkes are required.
Bret Bielema Is NOT Drunk
One of the weird things that happens when one pops a device like StatCounter into one's blog is that it becomes very easy to find out a lot about the people who visit the blog.
About a year ago, I wrote an article defending then-under-fire University of Wisconsin (American) Football Coach Bret Bielema after a difficult 2008 season. I had met Bret a few years before at a Wisconsin Alumni event, and came away extremely impressed with his intelligence and his grasp of the magnitude of the job he had been hired to do.
It is rare for a man in his late 30's to effectively be named the CEO and Chief Recruiter of a multi-million dollar business, and one which had to satisfy the validation cravings of hundreds of thousands of beer-sodden Wisconsinites and Badger Alumni. This year's strong 10-3 performance signals what I hope will be an increasingly successful continuation of the Bielema era.
HOWEVER--one of the quirks of Google and other search engines is that if someone wants to put in a search inquiry, the whole content of an article or blog entry gets sucked into the inquiry. And from StatCounter, I've learned that nearly half of the visitors to FlightKL18 come here because of one inquiry: "Bret Bielema Drunk".
Let me state for the record. I've never seen Bret Bielema drunk. And I think most people looking for that entry are gunning for the wrong guy.
Better they should pick on University of Tennessee coach Lane Kiffin. My dad doesn't like him, after all.
About a year ago, I wrote an article defending then-under-fire University of Wisconsin (American) Football Coach Bret Bielema after a difficult 2008 season. I had met Bret a few years before at a Wisconsin Alumni event, and came away extremely impressed with his intelligence and his grasp of the magnitude of the job he had been hired to do.
It is rare for a man in his late 30's to effectively be named the CEO and Chief Recruiter of a multi-million dollar business, and one which had to satisfy the validation cravings of hundreds of thousands of beer-sodden Wisconsinites and Badger Alumni. This year's strong 10-3 performance signals what I hope will be an increasingly successful continuation of the Bielema era.
HOWEVER--one of the quirks of Google and other search engines is that if someone wants to put in a search inquiry, the whole content of an article or blog entry gets sucked into the inquiry. And from StatCounter, I've learned that nearly half of the visitors to FlightKL18 come here because of one inquiry: "Bret Bielema Drunk".
Let me state for the record. I've never seen Bret Bielema drunk. And I think most people looking for that entry are gunning for the wrong guy.
Better they should pick on University of Tennessee coach Lane Kiffin. My dad doesn't like him, after all.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Paris vs. Brussels
It's taken me a while to come up with a paean to my beloved Brussels, mainly because it's such an easy place to live, and because so few of my readers have actually lived there.
Paris, on the other hand, provides a bold point of comparison, one much more familiar as a destination and as a city of significance. Now, on my first decent stay in the City of Light since returning to Europe in 2007, I am finding some help in telling the story.
Brussels is no Paris, in much the same way as Washington is no New York. While Paris (and New York) overwhelm with a density of world-class museums, ethnic and home-country eateries, and beloved visual landmarks, Brussels has a few showstoppers (the central Grand Place key among them) but they are delivered on a far more modest scale. Indeed, when I have visitors, I recommend that they spend their days outside Brussels in the more telegenic Brugge, Ghent ot Antwerp, unless they are true museum hounds. That much being said, I have yet to go to any Brussels museum.
Paris, of course, is a great place to visit. The shopping's world class, the museums, the landmarks, and the river, which creates breathtaking views, particularly after nightfall. The dining in Paris is superb, not only for all of the French standards, but because of the immense variety of ethnic places (I am writing this from an Afghan place on the Left Bank, having not had the cuisine de Karzai since leaving Washington in '07).
It's funny to go to Paris to eat ethnic. But in a way, that's a testament to the strengths of the Brussels eating scene as well as its weaknesses. Brussels is considered an outpost of traditional French cuisine, and it is hard to get a bad meal in Brussels, to the delight of my palate and chagrin of my waistline.
My favorite Brussels restaurant, Le Petit Pont in suburban Uccle, can go toe-to-toe with anywhere I've eaten in France (or anywhere, for that matter). But Brussels is the capital of a continent, not a capital of a diverse, fallen empire (and the cuisines of Congo and Rwanda have yet to build a following among non-members of the African diaspora). Asian cuisine in Brussels tends to be pedestrian, Indian inconsistent, Jewish nonexistent, and even Turkish, while widely available, suffers from a dumbing down of ingredients.
Brussels does do a good job of serving its big expatriate populations. Fat Boy's Sports Bar has the best hamburgers and BBQ wings in Europe. Western European restaurants abound, Balkan grills are on the rise, Italian and Greek are ubiquitous, and Brussels' longstanding Spanish and Portuguese communities have loads of cheap standardbearers in a number of enclaves.
Moving from eating to sleeping, the story becomes clearer. Property is at least twice as expensive in Paris. A small 20 sqm (220 sq ft) apartment in a prime Paris location costs EUR 1100. My larger 70 sqm apartment in a comparable Brussels location costs EUR 720, including the (intermittent) heat.
Paris has 19 metro and regional express rail lines. Brussels has four metro lines, though two were artificially created as part of a rebranding exercise. But while Paris has only four tram lines, Brussels has more tram lines than one can shake a stick at. And what's more fun. Dark, dank, underground Metros or romantic, elegant, and ever-so-European trams?
Paris is in France. No one can credibly dispute its Frenchness. But while many Bruxellois like to think of their city as a bastion of la langue de Moliere, the legions of French-hating Flemish civil servants who descend on Brussel daily, and the growing number of East European EU staffers who eat, work, socialize and above all socialize in la langue de Shakespeare have other ideas.
Going to Paris and seeing everything in French awakens my inner Francophile. But living in Brussels stirs my inner Flandrophile, who is larger, meaner and drinks more heavily.
Paris is 80 minutes from Brussels by high-speed rail, and reachable for anywhere from EUR 30 to EUR 150 round trip depending on traffic. Having Paris so close--and not having to live there--is priceless.
Paris, on the other hand, provides a bold point of comparison, one much more familiar as a destination and as a city of significance. Now, on my first decent stay in the City of Light since returning to Europe in 2007, I am finding some help in telling the story.
Brussels is no Paris, in much the same way as Washington is no New York. While Paris (and New York) overwhelm with a density of world-class museums, ethnic and home-country eateries, and beloved visual landmarks, Brussels has a few showstoppers (the central Grand Place key among them) but they are delivered on a far more modest scale. Indeed, when I have visitors, I recommend that they spend their days outside Brussels in the more telegenic Brugge, Ghent ot Antwerp, unless they are true museum hounds. That much being said, I have yet to go to any Brussels museum.
Paris, of course, is a great place to visit. The shopping's world class, the museums, the landmarks, and the river, which creates breathtaking views, particularly after nightfall. The dining in Paris is superb, not only for all of the French standards, but because of the immense variety of ethnic places (I am writing this from an Afghan place on the Left Bank, having not had the cuisine de Karzai since leaving Washington in '07).
It's funny to go to Paris to eat ethnic. But in a way, that's a testament to the strengths of the Brussels eating scene as well as its weaknesses. Brussels is considered an outpost of traditional French cuisine, and it is hard to get a bad meal in Brussels, to the delight of my palate and chagrin of my waistline.
My favorite Brussels restaurant, Le Petit Pont in suburban Uccle, can go toe-to-toe with anywhere I've eaten in France (or anywhere, for that matter). But Brussels is the capital of a continent, not a capital of a diverse, fallen empire (and the cuisines of Congo and Rwanda have yet to build a following among non-members of the African diaspora). Asian cuisine in Brussels tends to be pedestrian, Indian inconsistent, Jewish nonexistent, and even Turkish, while widely available, suffers from a dumbing down of ingredients.
Brussels does do a good job of serving its big expatriate populations. Fat Boy's Sports Bar has the best hamburgers and BBQ wings in Europe. Western European restaurants abound, Balkan grills are on the rise, Italian and Greek are ubiquitous, and Brussels' longstanding Spanish and Portuguese communities have loads of cheap standardbearers in a number of enclaves.
Moving from eating to sleeping, the story becomes clearer. Property is at least twice as expensive in Paris. A small 20 sqm (220 sq ft) apartment in a prime Paris location costs EUR 1100. My larger 70 sqm apartment in a comparable Brussels location costs EUR 720, including the (intermittent) heat.
Paris has 19 metro and regional express rail lines. Brussels has four metro lines, though two were artificially created as part of a rebranding exercise. But while Paris has only four tram lines, Brussels has more tram lines than one can shake a stick at. And what's more fun. Dark, dank, underground Metros or romantic, elegant, and ever-so-European trams?
Paris is in France. No one can credibly dispute its Frenchness. But while many Bruxellois like to think of their city as a bastion of la langue de Moliere, the legions of French-hating Flemish civil servants who descend on Brussel daily, and the growing number of East European EU staffers who eat, work, socialize and above all socialize in la langue de Shakespeare have other ideas.
Going to Paris and seeing everything in French awakens my inner Francophile. But living in Brussels stirs my inner Flandrophile, who is larger, meaner and drinks more heavily.
Paris is 80 minutes from Brussels by high-speed rail, and reachable for anywhere from EUR 30 to EUR 150 round trip depending on traffic. Having Paris so close--and not having to live there--is priceless.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Our Herb Brooks Moment
With the World Cup draw having been so ably handled by the gorgeous if ultra-leftist actress Charlize Theron last night in South Africa, we now know where all 31 of the qualifying countries will be playing, and we know where France will be playing as well.
For the United States, my first love in the game of "football" even if it is a place I prefer not to reside in, the draw could not be better. For not only does its group involve two of the last countries to qualify from their respective continents, Algeria and Slovenia, it also requires that the US kick off the account against England.
Fearsome England. Birthplace of The Game and home of the vaunted Premiership. Thanks to Charlize and the Football Gods, American soccer has been given the one opportunity it has sought, pined for, and ached for--a money game against the world's most storied football power on a Saturday afternoon in June.
For American Soccer, this game is for all the marbles. A draw, or improbably but not impossably a win, and this game will not only mark America's true arrival as a first-tier footballing nation but of soccer as a first-tier American sport. A humiliating shut-out, and it's time to forget soccer once and for all and start considering how many NFL rejects we can recycle into rugby players for the following year's Rugby World Cup.
Great games deserve great speeches. So, here is my adaptation of the famous speech by the last US Hockey Coach Herb Brooks to his charges before the epoch-changing match against the Russians in the 1980 Olympics, with apologies to Kurt Russell's performance in the movie "Miracle":
Great moments...are born from great opportunity.
And that's what you have here today, boys.
That's what you've earned here today.
One game.
If we played 'em ten times, they might win nine.
But not this game.
Not today.
Today, we play with them.
Today, we stay with them.
And we shut them down--because we can.
Today, WE are the greatest footballing nation in the world.
You were born to be footballers.
And you were meant to be here today.
This is your time.
Their time is done.
I'm sick and tired of hearing about
What a great football side the English have.
Screw 'em.
This is your time
Now go out there and take it.
For the United States, my first love in the game of "football" even if it is a place I prefer not to reside in, the draw could not be better. For not only does its group involve two of the last countries to qualify from their respective continents, Algeria and Slovenia, it also requires that the US kick off the account against England.
Fearsome England. Birthplace of The Game and home of the vaunted Premiership. Thanks to Charlize and the Football Gods, American soccer has been given the one opportunity it has sought, pined for, and ached for--a money game against the world's most storied football power on a Saturday afternoon in June.
For American Soccer, this game is for all the marbles. A draw, or improbably but not impossably a win, and this game will not only mark America's true arrival as a first-tier footballing nation but of soccer as a first-tier American sport. A humiliating shut-out, and it's time to forget soccer once and for all and start considering how many NFL rejects we can recycle into rugby players for the following year's Rugby World Cup.
Great games deserve great speeches. So, here is my adaptation of the famous speech by the last US Hockey Coach Herb Brooks to his charges before the epoch-changing match against the Russians in the 1980 Olympics, with apologies to Kurt Russell's performance in the movie "Miracle":
Great moments...are born from great opportunity.
And that's what you have here today, boys.
That's what you've earned here today.
One game.
If we played 'em ten times, they might win nine.
But not this game.
Not today.
Today, we play with them.
Today, we stay with them.
And we shut them down--because we can.
Today, WE are the greatest footballing nation in the world.
You were born to be footballers.
And you were meant to be here today.
This is your time.
Their time is done.
I'm sick and tired of hearing about
What a great football side the English have.
Screw 'em.
This is your time
Now go out there and take it.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Pro Choice on the Environment
OK, I’m back in blogging form and, as much as I love travel and beer (and am indeed writing this on an airplane with a newly malt-fortified Maes Pilsner in hand), headier matters come to mind.
This past weekend, I attended a conference called the European Summit for Global Transformation (www.europeansummit.org).
For the most part, it was an inspiring weekend spent with social entrepreneurs and activists from around the world. Included—women who founded high-performing schools in Nepal and Tanzania, a fellow who is spearheading an effort to buy 20 million hectares for reforestation (and thus suck and store CO2 out of the atmosphere--www.weforest.com), and a 23 year old from New Jersey who is now the “mother” of twenty seven orphans in the foothills of the Himalayas.
But I found one section of the event particularly disturbing—a three hour video session portending imminent environmental doom, and asserting that the only viable choice was some undefined notion of global economic “justice”.
I used to joke about being “pro-choice on the environment”. I accept it is no joke now. I believe that the current environmental crisis is the greatest threat to life on this planet since the ice age. But I also see its potential for enabling the greatest assault on human liberty since the end of World War II.
It does not need to be this way. Both extremes in the environmental debate—those who oppose any meaningful solutions for reasons of profit, inertia or laziness, and those who see the green banner this century as a way to achieve the totalitarian nirvana they failed to achieve under the red and brown banners of the last—are at cause for this duality.
But imagine this: what if the money, effort and energy being spent to refute right-wing denials of a problem could be spent on identifying viable alternatives and choices that can make a big difference for relatively little cost in terms of money and freedom? And what if people could see a viable environmental future that doesn’t require giving up cars, air conditioning, t-bone steaks and a child’s dream of being an airline pilot? What would be possible then?
A lot would be possible. Making some choices available would take some paradigm-shifting thinking. Some of this thinking is already going on—in aviation for instance, research is underway into bean-based jet fuel and high-capacity, fuel efficient turboprop airliners.
From a food standpoint, it is only starting to be well known that chicken production is far more carbon-efficient than beef production on a kilo-by-kilo basis. People are giving up some snobbiness towards boxed wine. Japanese breweries are brewing in Canada and trucking their “imported” brews over the border to the US. And Soda Club machines (www.sodaclub.il) are becoming increasingly popular, saving dozens of plastic bottles and eliminating the shipping involved in delivering sparkling water to the home.
Will a choice-based approach be enough? Are we really too far gone? In my view, free people will never be too far gone to fight for their freedoms, and even if things become dire, some choices will remain available, even if their cost may escalate to the magnitude of real sacrifice.
But at the same time, we also have the right to ask whether the world envisaged by those who place an environmentalist (and/or redistributionist) agenda ahead of human liberty is one that would be worth surviving in. And we certainly have the right to ask if there are indeed other ways of saving the planet that preserve those things we think make life worth living.
This past weekend, I attended a conference called the European Summit for Global Transformation (www.europeansummit.org).
For the most part, it was an inspiring weekend spent with social entrepreneurs and activists from around the world. Included—women who founded high-performing schools in Nepal and Tanzania, a fellow who is spearheading an effort to buy 20 million hectares for reforestation (and thus suck and store CO2 out of the atmosphere--www.weforest.com), and a 23 year old from New Jersey who is now the “mother” of twenty seven orphans in the foothills of the Himalayas.
But I found one section of the event particularly disturbing—a three hour video session portending imminent environmental doom, and asserting that the only viable choice was some undefined notion of global economic “justice”.
I used to joke about being “pro-choice on the environment”. I accept it is no joke now. I believe that the current environmental crisis is the greatest threat to life on this planet since the ice age. But I also see its potential for enabling the greatest assault on human liberty since the end of World War II.
It does not need to be this way. Both extremes in the environmental debate—those who oppose any meaningful solutions for reasons of profit, inertia or laziness, and those who see the green banner this century as a way to achieve the totalitarian nirvana they failed to achieve under the red and brown banners of the last—are at cause for this duality.
But imagine this: what if the money, effort and energy being spent to refute right-wing denials of a problem could be spent on identifying viable alternatives and choices that can make a big difference for relatively little cost in terms of money and freedom? And what if people could see a viable environmental future that doesn’t require giving up cars, air conditioning, t-bone steaks and a child’s dream of being an airline pilot? What would be possible then?
A lot would be possible. Making some choices available would take some paradigm-shifting thinking. Some of this thinking is already going on—in aviation for instance, research is underway into bean-based jet fuel and high-capacity, fuel efficient turboprop airliners.
From a food standpoint, it is only starting to be well known that chicken production is far more carbon-efficient than beef production on a kilo-by-kilo basis. People are giving up some snobbiness towards boxed wine. Japanese breweries are brewing in Canada and trucking their “imported” brews over the border to the US. And Soda Club machines (www.sodaclub.il) are becoming increasingly popular, saving dozens of plastic bottles and eliminating the shipping involved in delivering sparkling water to the home.
Will a choice-based approach be enough? Are we really too far gone? In my view, free people will never be too far gone to fight for their freedoms, and even if things become dire, some choices will remain available, even if their cost may escalate to the magnitude of real sacrifice.
But at the same time, we also have the right to ask whether the world envisaged by those who place an environmentalist (and/or redistributionist) agenda ahead of human liberty is one that would be worth surviving in. And we certainly have the right to ask if there are indeed other ways of saving the planet that preserve those things we think make life worth living.
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