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Suzuki's Nature — Page 5
“All I can do is the best I can
do,” he tells me. “I am not carrying the
weight of the planet on my shoulders. I’m not
going to save the world. My organization is not going
to save the world. You asked, are we gonna make it?
I have no idea. There are lots of people I know that
say we’ve already gone too far. And that, I think,
is what you’re expressing. But you can’t
ever say that in public because…well, there’s
just no point. All I can say is that you operate on
hope. There’s nothing scientific about it, but
that’s what keeps me going.”
The message echoes the closing words of Al Gore’s
documentary: “There are a lot of people who go
straight from denial to despair without pausing on the
intermediate step of actually doing something about
the problem. We have everything we need, save perhaps
political will.” Sadly, the political will of
the non-greens seems healthy. Within weeks of Suzuki’s
tour, Canada unveiled a distressingly ineffective environment
plan, and religious leader Jerry Falwell convinced thousands
that global warming is “Satan’s attempt
to redirect the church’s primary focus”
from from evangelism to environmentalism (a claim he
was soon able to verify at the source).
But if Suzuki’s powers of persuasion are lost
on conservative leaders, they are doubly validated in
the grass-roots ensemble. Thirty thousand well-intentioned
souls packed theatres, churches, and school auditoriums
on his tour, and another 250,000 tuned in online. Under
pressure from their citizens, B.C. leaders picked up
the ball dropped by the federal government when they
adopted an aggressive new green plan in March. And local
writers Alisa Smith and James MacKinnon—who called
Suzuki “one of the stars to navigate by”—are
helping to foster an international local-food movement
with their 100-Mile Diet.
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"Hope is
what sustains me," says Suzuki. "We
can never give up hope or stop believing that
we can be part of the solution."
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If the medium is the message, and Suzuki is the medium
of environmental action, then the message he brings
is not information, but passion. “I don’t
think there are many people on this planet who are as
passionate as David Suzuki,” says Welton, “which
is why he’s the champion that he is. He can convey
that passion and he’s able to bring that out in
others.” Welton gathered 110 hours of Suzuki footage
on the bus tour—speaking, eating, sleeping, shaking
hands, listening to ideas, walking with large groups,
sitting alone with his thoughts. But there was one thing
he didn’t glimpse. “I never saw him lose
hope.”
On Day 30 of his journey, Suzuki arrives at the finish
line by bicycle. An escort of fellow cyclists and bike
police surround him, children lining Victoria’s
makeshift parade route, screaming his name as if the
end of this tour is the end of global warming itself.
“Hope is what sustains me,” Suzuki tells
the crowd beneath the Terry Fox memorial. “We
can never give up hope or stop believing that we can
be part of the solution.”
Fox’s shadow looms over Suzuki in more ways than
one. Both men took on impossible missions. Both realized
the route to success was not a solo journey, but could
only be accomplished by inspiring others to action.
And while neither will be alive to enjoy the fruits
of his labours, both will be remembered as people who
made it happen. “It’s a very difficult time
to see young people in the world, to know what they’re
headed for,” laments Suzuki. “All I want
to do is to look my grandchildren in the eye and say,
‘Look, I did the best I could. I tried.’
And if there are enough people trying, you have to hope
this will have an effect.”
Since meeting Suzuki, I’ve sold my car, replaced
my light bulbs, started a garden, and rekindled a shaky
love affair with my bike. I hope my efforts will make
a difference. I hope.
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