The unbearable hypocrisy of being an environmentalist - Test 3

C1 Advanced · Gapped Text · Cambridge English Advanced 3, Cambridge University Press

You are going to read an article about the difficulties of being an environmentalist. Six paragraphs have been removed from the article. Choose from the paragraphs A–G the one which fits each gap (1–6). There is one extra paragraph which you do not need to use.

The unbearable hypocrisy of being an environmentalist

Canadian environmentalist Rosa Sharp explores the contradictions inherent in the lives of those who choose to live a greener life

After all, most of us would be put off to discover that, by deciding to start cycling to work or buying only locally produced food, we have tacitly branded ourselves and joined the often-mocked world of righteously indignant environmentalists who protest against energy companies while still availing themselves of heated homes and gas-powered transportation.

It seems cruel that trying to safeguard what you love should mean you are unable to experience it first-hand. But such contrasts exist in the lives of most environmentalists. Some of us own cars; some still eat meat. The more famous regularly fly great distances to speak about the horrific impact of carbon emissions – such as that released by the airplanes they arrived on.

And after all, why should anyone have to do this? There's an assumption that you'll have all the answers. 'Why bother recycling when you still drive?' 'Aren't those annual flights erasing the impact of anything else you do?' Well, of course in an ideal world, we environmentalists would live completely ethically, but this isn't an ideal world.

Although I advocate buying second-hand, I chose to lease new. I encourage walking, cycling and public transportation, and I do take advantage of these options regularly, yet here I was, accepting the keys and setting off with a shiny new ride and a sinking sense of discomfort.

They provide a perfect illustration of how being an environmentalist has always been about the need to make compromises. For most of us, leaving modern life behind just isn't an option. However, the fact that living a greener existence is challenging doesn't mean we shouldn't do what we can.

In order to avoid it, one would need to go off the grid; abandon modern living for a hut in the woods. It's a move which, if you're brave enough to make it, enables you to subtract most of your environmental impact, and I think everyone, myself included, fantasises about it from time to time.

And I've come to realise that it's a compromise I can live with. We can either accept the status quo, or work towards something better. Doing so often looks less like an off-grid hut in the woods and more like finding a way to exist in an uncomfortably unsustainable society whilst also trying to change it.

In a similar vein, an environmental lawyer I know, who came to his profession amid a deep affinity for and desire to protect the environment, now works seventy hours a week in a city centre office, staring at his computer screen. The work in which he makes great strides to protect the natural world also prevents him from enjoying it, leaving him torn between the change he wants to create, and his ability to enjoy the countryside for more than the odd weekend between cases.

This unbearable hypocrisy is a struggle for the individual and a delight for the critic, yet it seems both necessary and inescapable. All of us exist within the very system we hope to change. I use a laptop, a smartphone, internet, electricity. Most of the publications I write anti-consumerism articles for are paid for by advertisements for consumer products. This delicate balancing act epitomises the seemingly inescapable reality of the modern world which we've built and which now runs our lives.

However, an escape of this kind also means losing priceless human connection and culture, as well as the chance to educate or inspire change in others. The fear of navigating this intellectual conflict, as well as the fear of armchair critics declaring that you've failed is, I believe, at the heart of many people's reluctance to adopt more green practices.

Apparently, a decision to live in a way which limits the damage you're causing to the environment means instantly opening yourself up to harsh criticism. You never committed to changing everything in your life, and yet, having made one or two changes, you're suddenly expected to be able to justify just about any aspect of your life that your attacker chooses.

My own reluctant decision to continue running a car came about as a result of several carefully considered factors including the limited public transportation options in my city and six months of harsh Canadian winter. Yes it makes me feel bad, but choosing to try to be green means putting up with the fact that you'll fail, at least some of the time.

I think environmentalist George Monbiot sums it up best: 'Hypocrisy is the gap between your aspirations and your actions. Environmentalists have high aspirations – they want to live more ethically – and they will always fall short. But the alternative to hypocrisy isn't moral purity (no one manages that), but cynicism. Give me hypocrisy any day.'

I consider myself an environmentalist, yet last weekend I spent five hours in a car dealership going through the rigmarole of getting a new car – arguably one of the most polluting devices in modern-day life. ___ In a similar vein, an environmental lawyer I know, who came to his profession amid a deep affinity for and desire to protect the environment, now works seventy hours a week in a city centre office, staring at his computer screen. The work in which he makes great strides to protect the natural world also prevents him from enjoying it, leaving him torn between the change he wants to create, and his ability to enjoy the countryside for more than the odd weekend between cases. ___ This unbearable hypocrisy is a struggle for the individual and a delight for the critic, yet it seems both necessary and inescapable. All of us exist within the very system we hope to change. I use a laptop, a smartphone, internet, electricity. Most of the publications I write anti-consumerism articles for are paid for by advertisements for consumer products. This delicate balancing act epitomises the seemingly inescapable reality of the modern world which we've built and which now runs our lives. ___ However, an escape of this kind also means losing priceless human connection and culture, as well as the chance to educate or inspire change in others. The fear of navigating this intellectual conflict, as well as the fear of armchair critics declaring that you've failed is, I believe, at the heart of many people's reluctance to adopt more green practices. ___ Apparently, a decision to live in a way which limits the damage you're causing to the environment means instantly opening yourself up to harsh criticism. You never committed to changing everything in your life, and yet, having made one or two changes, you're suddenly expected to be able to justify just about any aspect of your life that your attacker chooses. ___ My own reluctant decision to continue running a car came about as a result of several carefully considered factors including the limited public transportation options in my city and six months of harsh Canadian winter. Yes it makes me feel bad, but choosing to try to be green means putting up with the fact that you'll fail, at least some of the time. ___ I think environmentalist George Monbiot sums it up best: 'Hypocrisy is the gap between your aspirations and your actions. Environmentalists have high aspirations – they want to live more ethically – and they will always fall short. But the alternative to hypocrisy isn't moral purity (no one manages that), but cynicism. Give me hypocrisy any day.'

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