River Alchemy story and photos by Jeff Jackson


Winds of Change Can the writings of Buddha help build an environmental ethic?


I WRITE THIS from the eastern edge of the for- merly independent region of Tibet. The small city of Kangding is tucked into a snow-capped valley just below the rim of the treeless, windy Tibetan Plateau. The ZeDuo River bisects town at a steep and constant class II then cranks up to class V below town before dumping into the big and surly Dadu River, which has the look and feel of B.C.’s Fraser River in flood. I’m here as an ecotourism consultant at the


request of the state government. Though it’s an area far off the beaten path, one where others rarely travel, the regional authorities are eyeing ecotourism as a means of conserving their beau- tiful landscape while providing sustainable eco- nomic growth. For the last two weeks I’ve worked with officials, entrepreneurs and educators to develop ecotourism training programs. Workshop participants are eager to record my


every word in their intricate Chinese script. They write busily and without discussion, unwilling to show disrespect by questioning ‘Teacher Jeff’. Occasionally, during frequent cigarette breaks, someone will apologize and slip my interpreter an anonymous note. On the second to last day I was asked: “How do we get local citizens to embrace environmental protection?” I didn’t have a mean- ingful answer.


At 1.3 billion people and an economy growing at 10 per cent annually—four times faster than any other developed nation—China has some of the most severe environmental problems on the planet: air pollution, erosion, loss of biodiversity, toxic water, river diversions, salinization and the


16 // www.rapidmag.com


plain accumulation of trash are worse here than anywhere else I have been. As China accelerates towards “First World” status, and embraces the consumption that apparently goes along with it, all of these problems will get worse, possibly dou- bling the environmental impact humans inflict on the planet. Officially, environmental protection is a vested national principle, but it has always taken a back seat to economic development. It’s a principle that has tangible meaning, however, to rural and tradi- tional villagers, who have worked hard to conserve their landscape in order to hand it on to future gen- erations. Folk songs swoon over the beauty of the Tibetan mountains and rivers, but they don’t men- tion the raw sewage, construction debris, animal guts and trash being dumped directly into the rivers in accelerating quantities. The ZeDuo is awash in garbage. Plastic bags mark the waterline, advertising in bright blue their slow degrading presence.


Canada was in a similar situation once, albeit with a fraction of the population on a bigger land mass. A concerted effort by activists and the integration of environmental education into the school system has slowly moved our national consciousness forward, although we still have a long way to go. Note the number of coffee cups floating in your home river.


China has markedly low education rates, having 20 per cent of the world’s population but spending only 1 per cent of the world’s education budget. In many cases, environmental degradation is the out- growth of ignorance in people who have never


been to school, nor been very far downstream to see what happens to the shit they throw in the river.


But with development also comes some


progress, progress rooted in tradition. Liu Hong is a 30-year-old visionary who speaks fluent Tibetan, Mandarin, and a smattering of English. He trav- elled six hours by bus to come to one of the work- shops. He has written a book on Tibetan culture, and won an award for his educational efforts. Hong travels the countryside teaching locals how to preserve their culture in the face of massive economic change, and urges them to preserve their landscape. How does he do this? He invokes the writing of Buddha, who wrote that to pick a flower is to take a life. Liu builds on this idea with- in modern contexts and encourages communities to make their homes a place for “100,000 flowers to grow.” For this, he promises, they will be rewarded. My visit there was proof that some part of the state government thinks he is right. The next day I shared the story of Hong with the last workshop group, including my anonymous question writer. It brought appreciative nods from all, and I could see thoughtful recognition on the faces of many. An environmental ethic is not about right and wrong—it is about making people proud of who they are, and proud of their home. It is as true in North America as in China, and it was as true in Buddha’s time as it is today. Liu Hong is reminding people of this, and is making a differ- ence in the grasslands of Tibet.


— Jeff Jackson is a professor of the outdoor program at Algonquin College in Pembroke, Ontario.


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