As an environment and sustainability studies major with a focus on agro-ecology, there’s never been a doubt in my mind that environmental sustainability goes hand in hand with the “green-ing” of our food production. Agricultural malpractice contributes to the denigration of the environment a multitude of ways – involving everything from the burning of excessive amounts of fossil fuels to power machinery for commodity production, to the unprecedented impact of bovine flatulence on greenhouse gas emissions. In fact, the two were so closely linked in my eyes that I couldn’t imagine a world where sustainable agriculture could exist and spread sans awareness of the imminent environmental catastrophe of our time.
The understanding of this connection was what drove me to apply to and attend the CELL programme in Iceland. Even though the curriculum had relatively little to do with my specific area of interest, I still saw it as a good opportunity to gain some practical experience in sustainability studies, and obtain some background from which to address the issues which I see myself as being most concerned with.
It was from this perspective that I approached our tour of Skaftholt Farm, the self-proclaimed only biodynamic farm in Iceland. The prospect of experiencing and gaining an insight into a new type of farming that was just a little different from the small-scale organic model I had thus far been a proponent of was very exciting for me. It also provided a welcome deviation from the long stream of power plants and politics (interesting though they were in their own right) that had characterised a lot of our study of Iceland to that point!
Skaftholt Farm was everything I had hoped and expected (with one marked exception in that they don’t use their sheep for dairy production). Tours of the sheep barn, chicken house, and creamery left me with a renewed enthusiasm for my personal goals in sustainable agriculture, as well as a touch of nostalgia. As a former farm girl myself, I am firmly of the belief that only people who were raised with it can truly understand the reminiscent qualities of sheep dung and curdled milk!
Then came the Q&A session with the farmer, Guðfinner. Of course, we all had a wealth of questions and doubts about the more eccentric aspects of biodynamic farming – herbal preparations, burying cow horns stuffed with manure, etc. He and his staff were glad to answer all of these and the resultant discussions were undeniably fascinating. Then, one of our group asked him a question about global climate change, and how he perceived the effects there, at Skaftholt. In his evasive reply, it became clear that Guðfinner, while an outspoken proponent of sustainable biodynamic agriculture and the all-encompassing respect and care for the earth that it extolls, had significant doubts about the truth of climate change.
This was a shock to me at first, as well as a source of frustration, as it always is when I encounter climate change deniers. How could this man, whose farming practice keeps him in close proximity to the earth at all times, who claims to be so connected to every biological aspect of his holdings, how can he not believe? As we made our way back to the van however, I found myself thinking more deeply about Guðfinner and his perceived hypocrisy. At the end of the day, does his denial make his principles and his treatment of the earth any less meaningful, really? I asked myself this repeatedly. In a movement that, as so many people believe, can only find its roots in small-scale, localised change and every person doing what they can and know best, what does it really matter what their reasoning is?
The scientific aspect is important, certainly. But often, particularly in the context of an environmental science classroom, widespread understanding of the way the earth is being defiled by our carelessness is perceived as the only way toward improving our situation. But the whole world, let alone the average citisen, isn’t necessarily going to understand or want to put faith in the science of environmental degradation and while I, as a student of the science, find that unsettling and frustrating, perhaps we need to put more focus on the ends, rather than the means. If the long-term effect is the preservation of our planet’s natural beauty and communities, who will be the one to place any great weight on whether that preservation was achieved through an understanding of the science-heavy aspects of the impending catastrophe, or through a simple appreciation and respect for the earth and all its fragile beauty? What would you prefer the environmental movement to have? A following of millions of people who see the earth’s beauty and fragility esteem it as something deserving of respect and protection and who act accordingly? Or a great host of people who understand the horror and scale of our current situation, and are paralysed by that understanding and that of their own “insignificance?”
I do not intend to devalue the scientific aspects of the issue, by any means. To me as much as any student of environmental science, the facts are crucially important. But I believe that we all have something to learn from the Guðfinners of the world. The fight for our planet’s health will not be won by science alone, so maybe it’s time that we embrace that other perspective, and turn to face the greatest menace of our time with a united front of science intertwined with aesthetics, and realism with optimism.
By Jenifer Morgan-Davie