On a foggy day in Providence, I am running in a cloud along the East Bay Bike Path. The wind turbines to the west and Veterans Parkway to the east are obscured by the veil draped over the Providence River. Facing north, our downtown skyline has vaporized. A subtle combination of low temperature and high humidity has erased these monuments of humanity. Over the past semester, these runs have inspired me to think about the relationship between humans and the natural world.
I find myself now under the thumb of a far more potent natural phenomenon — Snowzilla, the blizzard of 2016. Twenty-nine inches of snow fell on my family’s house in Maryland, an all-time record. The actions of my community before, during and after Snowzilla’s attack reflect the complexities of our contemporary relationship with nature in profound and unsettling ways.
Leading up to the storm, the public was well aware that this would be a big one. Hoarding ensued as the masses descended upon supermarkets, clearing shelves and queuing restlessly at checkouts. Despite the hysteria, at least citizens were still willing to pay for the food; a reassuring sliver of civility remained. Thus I was presented with a scary sight: isles and fridges devoid of food like a Soviet-era supermarket. It is easy to forget how dependent our comfortable existence is upon a surplus of easily accessible foods. In a possible future emergency, during which supply chains may break down for a prolonged period, will this chaos devolve into anarchy? Could we grow our own wheat or hunt our own meat?
As the first flurries fell, I wandered past a Chick-fil-A, where my neighbors formed endless lines of pedestrians and cars. Were they thinking about the scarcity of the Earth’s resources with respect to their limitless desires? Despite the imminent threat of impassable roads, they wanted their chicken sandwich right now. Our society has become conditioned to easy fulfillment of its wants. Most of us never consider the fragile balance between the modern systems that allow for immediate gratification and the constant threat that our familiar ecosystems might collapse. Our glittering world could be rendered acutely impractical.
A trail of logistical miracles provides us with mindlessly convenient access to such decadent luxuries as the Original Chicken Sandwich. This system relies on the viability of diverse agricultural environments and the availability of cheap petroleum to fuel the transportation of ingredients to an outlet near you. Trucks from Nebraska weave their way through Appalachia. Paprika and palm oil from a farm cross the Atlantic on a behemoth barge. Brazilian lumberjacks fell ancient trees to make flimsy paper bags. And I walk to the counter and order a number one with fries.
A dangerous feedback loop emerges from this global network. Fossil fuel-intensive production and transportation processes exacerbate the greenhouse effect. As we are already seeing, climate change is submerging once habitable lands and rendering once fertile areas barren. This record snowfall is yet another harbinger of more extreme, adverse weather events to come. If we continue as a people to abuse the rich earth, eventually the wild party that is modern civilization will be brought to a halt. Most of us will find ourselves ill-prepared to face the hangover that follows.
In the thick of the storm, every home prayed that electricity would remain on. Our climate-controlled houses and high-definition entertainment systems were now all that separated us from the deer huddled beneath the trees outside. Our vulnerability becomes evermore evident as we deplete our natural resources under the leadership of individuals who seem intent on driving our society forward right until the collective well runs dry. In this inconvenient future, we lose what distinguishes us from the beasts in the woods. Laws and respect for human dignity become irrelevant when all of one’s efforts must be directed toward finding food and warmth. Perhaps if the populous considered this potential path as seriously as they have the zombie apocalypse, we could be scared into moving towards attitudes and policies that provide for a more sustainable direction.
Now that the skies have cleared, we all toil to dig out as quickly as possible. Each of us wants desperately to return to the society that has provided us with comfort for our entire lives. We are happy to participate in this system by which we are separated from the cold winds of the world beyond the control of our intelligence and reason — the world that came so much nearer once two-and-a-half feet of snow fell on our doorsteps. Fortunately, this time, when the fog lifted, the skyline remained.
Ronan O’Shea ‘19 can be reached at ronan_oshea@brown.edu.
Please send responses to this opinion to letters@browndailyherald.com and other op-eds to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
