Is it worth flying halfway around the world to see an endangered species if the greenhouse emissions from flying put that species further at risk?
I may have just talked myself out of one of my dreams.
For years now I’ve held out hope of an opportunity to travel to Africa to
see one of my favorite species, mountain gorillas, in the wild. This year it
looked like that dream could finally come true. I have the vacation time, I
have the money (well, the credit cards), and I don’t have any work or
personal commitments keeping me close to home.
I could do it if I really wanted to.
But a question has been gnawing at me: Should I do it?
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the big problem
looming over a trip like this is its impact on the climate. Based on some
quick calculations I made on a travel site, it looks like an airplane trip
to Uganda would produce at least 2.13 metric tons of CO2 emissions. That,
according to the EPA website, is the equivalent of burning 2,329 pounds of
coal — enough energy to charge my cellphone more than 271,000 times.
And that’s just for the trip there, using one possible flight path. It
doesn’t even count the return flights, ground travel or other
accommodations.
All told, any trip to see my beloved mountain gorillas could produce
something in the neighborhood of 5 metric tons of planet-damaging emissions.
Damn, that’s a lot.
With climate change threatening just about everything on Earth — including
mountain gorillas — does it make any sense for me to do something that would
produce so much atmospheric damage, and something that could contributing to
damning the very species I want to see?
We all know that ecotourism, done right, can do a lot of good. This may
actually be a fair example of that. In order to see mountain gorillas I
would have to buy special permits, and that money would, in theory, be
funneled back into mountain gorilla conservation. Much of the other money I
would spend on travel, tour guides and food would help support local
economies, giving people a reason to support their local wildlife and
habitats.
On top of that, as a journalist I would certainly write about my trip,
hopefully inspiring others to understand the threats these animals face and
the need to protect them.
But is that enough?
I know others have done it. A journalist colleague flew to China last year
to see and write about giant pandas. I recently spoke to a professional
conservationist who took some vacation time to fly to Asia to see snow
leopards. Another friend regularly flies to remote parts of the world for
important environmental journalism work.
So why can’t I do the same?
The thing is, I also know people who are not flying for the very same
reasons that worry me. One of them is climate scientist Peter Kalmus, who
runs a website called No Fly Climate Sci, where he and other researchers,
academics and activists pledge not to fly, or to fly as little as possible,
and to meet their professional commitments with less emission-heavy methods.
I reached out to Kalmus about my conundrum.
“That’s a tough one,” he told me. “It’s probably no surprise that I can’t
answer for you. Personally, however, I would not fly there. I know too much
about the damage that burning fossil fuel does.”
And that brings to me to my decision. Right now, I just can’t see myself
making my longed-for journey. I’m not saying others’ choices to fly to these
remote locations are wrong, but personally I can’t balance out the costs and
benefits for myself (or even for my readers). I know we’re at a place in
time where every single action we can take to reduce emissions on a personal
and societal level is absolutely necessary. I already fly a few times a year
for work, so adding a massive, continent-hopping journey like this would
just feel wrong.
And so I defer my dream to see mountain gorillas. And beyond that, my other
dream to see orangutans in Borneo. And the next dream to see rhinos in South
Africa. And the next fantasies after that.
Perhaps someone can talk me back into it. They could argue that I’d use the
opportunity to tell stories about conservation. Maybe they could offer
information on techniques to offset the emissions from my trip, although
Kalmus tells me he feels those exist more to make people feel good than to
actually compensate for anything. Or they could encourage me to find out
exactly how the money I would spend would directly benefit mountain gorillas
and the species around them — messages and details I could convey to my
readers.
Or maybe I could just take some of the money I would have spent on that trip
and donate it to a nonprofit dedicated to mountain gorilla preservation —
something that would help to keep these incredible species going for as long
as possible.
That feels like a better dream after all, at least for now.
But damn it, I still want to see mountain gorillas.
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