Environmental morality in the present

The burden must fall upon those best able to prevent climate change

Look away from the history of greenhouse gas emissions and just think about the present state of play. However you cut the pie, present emissions are anything but equal. There are, of course, different ways of thinking about inequality and what to do about it. Some argue that fairness demands that a finite and precious resource be distributed equally, and in the case of climate change, you can have the planet’s carbon sinks in mind. We end up with the same conclusions now as we did when reflecting on the history of emissions in the last post. We end up with the view that the developed world has a responsibility to reduce its emissions, probably drastically and quickly, given the great differences in present emission rates.

The point can be strengthened by thinking not just about emissions entitlements, but also about the varying capacities of rich and poor nations. Not all emissions have the same moral standing. Some emissions have more or different value, even if the quantity of emissions is just the same. The emissions resulting from an African farmer’s efforts to feed his family are not on a par with the emissions resulting from an American dermatologist’s efforts to get to Vegas for the weekend. There is a difference between subsistence emissions and luxury emissions, even if pinning it down takes some doing. There is a sense then, that the West has more room for reduction, more luxury emissions. Suppose that 60% of the emissions of the US Virgin Islands are luxury emissions and all of Rwanda’s emissions are subsistence emissions. It’s clear, just given these facts about present emissions, who has room to reduce and who doesn’t. Arguing the point is as good as saying that some Rwandans should die so that some Virgin Islanders can keep their DVD players on stand by.

The developed world is also better placed to make reductions in other senses. Think just about the United States, the world’s only Superpower. It has the brains and the know how, the infrastructure, the money, the technology – the list could go on – to do something meaningful about climate change. The fact that it has done so little in this connection can jar a bit.

You would have some explaining to do if you walked past a drowning baby and did nothing to save it. You would have a lot more explaining to do if you were a fit lifeguard. The greater your ability to do what’s right, the greater the onus on you to do what’s right. It is a very short step from this thought to the conclusion that the developed world is making an enormous moral mistake when it comes to action on climate change.

James Garvey has a PhD in philosophy from University College London and is Secretary of the Royal Institute of Philosophy. He is author of some books and articles, most recently, The Ethics of Climate Change (Continuum 2008)
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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times