Changing public attitudes to long-term issues
From Griffith REVIEW Edition 12: Hot Air
© Copyright Griffith University & the author.
Written by Ian Lowe
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Ian Lowe's biography and other articles by this writer
If industrial society is to survive, the next century will have to be a time of transformation, not just in technological capacity but also in our approach to the natural world and to each other. The second report in the Global Environmental Outlook series from the United Nations Environment Program says: "The present approach is not sustainable. Doing nothing is no longer an option."
A sustainable society would not be eroding its resource base, causing serious environmental damage or producing unacceptable social problems. But we are dissipating resources that future generations will need, damaging environmental systems and reducing social stability by widening the gap between rich and poor.
It is possible to move to a sustainable future, but it will require fundamental changes to our values and social institutions. While the UN report says that doing nothing about the huge problems we face is not an option, it remains the most common response of today's decision-makers; our National Strategy for Ecologically Sustainable Development, adopted in 1992, gathers dust in government pigeonholes. So how likely is it that we can achieve the fundamental changes needed for our civilisation to survive?
While sceptics point to the durability of cultural institutions and the reluctance of people to make voluntary sacrifices for the common good, we know that cultural traditions do change and people do make voluntary sacrifices. The examples that follow illustrate the willingness of people to make short-term concessions for the long-term good or to accept restrictions of their personal freedom for the good of the whole community. These examples suggest practical ways of achieving the sort of transition we will need for a sustainable future.
PERHAPS THE MOST DRAMATIC EXAMPLE OF RECENT CHANGE IN OUR CULTURE is the shift in the past forty years of attitudes to smoking tobacco, especially in shared spaces. In 1972, a persistent writer of letters to the existing domestic airlines celebrated the concession made by one of them to introduce a limited trial of setting aside a few rows of seats on some flights to be designated "non-smoking". Up until that point, it had been presumed smokers had a right to light up anywhere on aircraft, buses and trams; the same tolerance applied to restaurants, meeting rooms, public buildings and, in some states, even to cinemas.
The change on airlines was truly dramatic. With a choice, more and more customers asked for "non-smoking" seats until finally, in 1992, the Australian Government announced a total smoking ban on domestic flights. There was barely a flicker of protest against the total prohibition of an activity that had been presumed acceptable only twenty years earlier.
In the workplace, the crucial event was the successful legal action by Liesel Scholem against the New South Wales Department of Health. Scholem presented medical evidence to show that her emphysema was a consequence of the department's allowing smokers to pollute the air she breathed in a shared office. Within a year of the verdict, many workplaces became nonsmoking areas, forcing smokers to stand on the footpath outside their buildings. With the evidence accumulating that "passive smoking" is a health hazard, the prohibition has spread to most public-transport vehicles, public buildings, restaurants and even pubs. Most smokers have conceded that their right to smoke is overruled by the rights of others not to breathe exhaled smoke. As the right to smoke has been curtailed and more people have become aware of the health risks of smoking, the proportion of the adult population who smoke has fallen dramatically, from about half in 1950 to about a fifth today – a radical change, by any standard.
There are other, equally striking examples of radical changes in attitudes. When I first obtained my driving licence, police were allowed to stop a vehicle if they had reasonable grounds for believing the driver could be drunk. So a driver who attracted attention – for example by weaving all over the road or going through a red light – could be stopped, but an inconspicuous drunk could drive with impunity. Random breath tests were widely considered an infringement to personal freedom when first suggested in the 1960s. We are now accustomed to a regime in which drivers can be stopped "anywhere, any time" and be asked to provide a sample of their breath.
There is a close parallel with seatbelts in cars and helmets for motorbike riders. In each case, the compulsion was seen by some as an unacceptable intrusion, despite the overwhelming statistical evidence that the measures saved lives. Australia introduced compulsory seatbelts before most other nations. I recall bemused critics in the northern hemisphere seeing the measure as evidence we were sliding down the slippery slope to some sort of police state.
When I was young, plastic shopping bags did not exist and shoppers took their own permanent bags to shops. The plastic bag arrived and spread, so for a few decades there were very few shoppers taking their own bags to the supermarket. Now that increasing numbers of people are concerned about the wasteful practice of using throwaway bags, we are seeing a return to the practice of shoppers taking their permanent shopping bags. In some suburbs, those still using plastic bags are a small minority, attracting the attention and sometimes the opprobrium of other shoppers.
As a final local example, in the 1950s, soft-drink bottles incurred a deposit, so users returned them to get a refund. There was no deposit on beer bottles but community groups like the scouts collected them and were paid to return the bottles to distributors. We then passed through a throwaway era, with bottles used once and put into rubbish bins – a radical change. Recycling began in a half-hearted way, requiring trips to designated collection points, so few people took the trouble to return empty bottles. Then kerb-side recycling was introduced in many areas, with a consequent dramatic increase in the amount of glass, metal and plastic recycled. As with shopping bags, we passed through a stage of wasteful resource use before returning to the more responsible use pattern of fifty years ago: two opposite radical changes in less than the average human lifetime.
PROBABLY THE MOST STRIKING EXAMPLE OF RADICAL CHANGE in the past twenty years is the end of communism, most dramatically symbolised by the fall of the Berlin Wall. For decades, the wall divided the city of Berlin and was patrolled by armed guards to prevent people fleeing gloomy East Berlin for the bright lights of the West. As a physical structure and as a symbol of the power of the communist government of the German Democratic Republic, it seemed absolutely impregnable. Only a handful of people succeeded in escaping to the West; many perished in the attempt. Then, almost overnight, the wall was abandoned. Joyful Berliners tore pieces out with their bare hands. Today, Berlin is a united city, once again the cultural and political centre of Germany. A small museum has preserved the history of the wall and entrepreneurs sell small fragments of the structure to tourists. But, for most visitors and residents, it is as if the barrier had never been there. The waters of history have closed over it.
The end of apartheid in South Africa is a similar story. For nearly a century after the Boer War, the Afrikaners ruled the country with their strange mix of Christianity and racism. The people of South Africa were divided into the three groups of whites, "coloureds" and Africans, a process that required some arbitrary decisions despite penal sanctions for sexual activity between members of different classifications. Public spaces such as beaches and even park benches were marked according to which group could use them. Those seeking change inside the country, like Nelson Mandela, were imprisoned or executed. Internal protests were ruthlessly suppressed in such actions as the infamous Sharpeville massacre. Antiapartheid feelings in other countries became stronger, but conservative politicians sided with the regime, with the Queensland premier, in 1970, going to the ridiculous length of declaring a state of emergency to allow police to deal with those protesting against a Rugby tour. Sports people who refused to play against official South African teams were ostracised, in some cases ending their representative careers. Calls for economic sanctions or sporting boycotts were derided by business leaders, sporting officials and most politicians.
Eventually, the rising tide of political reaction forced politicians in many Western countries to support pressure on the South African regime, leading in time to the dismantling of apartheid and the enfranchisement of the entire adult population. Nelson Mandela, released and almost saintly in his willingness to forgive his tormentors, became president of the "rainbow nation" and the long-banned "Nkosi Sikelele Africa" was incorporated into the national anthem, with Mandela's wearing of the country's Rugby jersey at the World Cup final a powerful symbol of reconciliation. Many of those unable to face the dismantling of their system of privilege fled the country, but most remained and adapted to the new reality of twenty-first-century South Africa. While a hundred years of institutionalised disadvantage meant there was a need for some arbitrary measures to accelerate change, such as quotas in sporting teams, South African cricket and Rugby teams are increasing representative of the diversity of the country. As with the Berlin Wall, it is difficult now for a younger generation to imagine the old system even being defensible, let alone appearing unassailable.
There are more modest examples of radical changes in community attitudes enabling political reform. London Mayor Ken Livingstone decided to try to cut through the policy impasse that was making the city unworkable. With the public-transport system becoming steadily older and less attractive to commuters, more people were taking cars into the city, producing congestion and pollution. The reduced patronage of the public transport system meant it was unable to raise the revenue to invest in improvements. Livingstone implemented a "congestion charge" – essentially a levy on those bringing motor vehicles into the inner city area – to fund the revitalisation of public transport, arguing that sticks (financial penalties) and carrots (better public transport) were needed to change behaviour. The levy was not trivial, equivalent to about $12, and there were dire predictions of economic and social chaos before the introduction of the scheme.
Instead, it was so successful that, after the first year, Livingstone had widespread support for increasing the levy to the equivalent of $20 to speed up the raising of funds to improve the bus and underground rail systems. Far from creating chaos, the change has made the inner city much more pleasant – the streets are less congested and the air is cleaner, leading to an increased willingness of people to be in the city. Instead of the feared collapse of commerce, shops are doing more business as people return to the centre of the city. This was confidently expected by the planners, because it is exactly what has happened when streets have been closed to create shopping malls. Now that the change has been made, it would be politically very difficult to return to the old ways.
As I was finalising this article, Sweden announced its commitment to clean energy, with a goal of phasing out coal and oil by 2020. Iceland had set the same objective in 1999. Denmark, which already gets about a fifth of its electricity from wind power, aims to increase the level to half by 2020. Public opinion in the Scandinavian countries reflects increasing awareness of, and concern about, the two problems of "peak oil" and global climate change. This has made it not only possible, but politically wise, for governments to adopt energy policies that appear radical from the perspective of Australia, where politicians are still in denial about both.