Yesterday on the smallholding Hubster found a tattered, 8th birthday foil balloon in a hedge. He brought it to me in the house and presented it, facetiously beaming with joy, as it was indeed my birthday (although I am 8 with an extra 47 years of age). It was not my ideal gift, I intensely dislike these party balloons for many reasons. I even teach a whole lesson on the topic to my Year 7s which goes something like this:
The story of the lost balloon
Once upon a time a company called Balloons for Profit decided to sell inflated party balloons at inflated prices. The owners of the company wanted to make money from convincing parents that a transitory party decoration would bring a little joy into young people’s lives. The particular star-shaped balloon at the centre of this tale was decorated with very familiar, cartoon princesses to make it attractive to young children and grow profits, through royalties, for this affiliated brand too. The production of the balloon is overseas and no one can see the pollution caused during manufacture and printing. The laminated metal foil and plastic are single-use and non-recyclable. The helium gas used to fill the balloon is non-renewable and supply on planet earth is finite. This light-weight gas is essential for medical scanners such as MRIs that help save lives. It also has many other uses in scientific research and industry.
Without really thinking of balloon production methods, or other vital uses for helium, a parent buys the balloon for their child who indeed is delighted with their shiny floating balloon. And taxes are paid so even the government makes a percentage cut and everyone is happy… The balloon however has not finished its journey. The little girl accidentally lets go of the red, plastic ribbon and our balloon is blown over hills and dales to rural countryside where it gets tangled in a fence. Sad, alone and ownerless.
Our balloon could take 400 years to degrade, it could harm the lambs who have recently been born or it could get washed out to sea where it could be swallowed by a turtle who thought it looked just like a jellyfish. Whatever happens to the balloon the production company, the parents and the government won’t pay for damage caused.
Eventually the child, or the child’s child may suffer the consequences as our planet is overwhelmed by plastic pollution or has an illness which goes undiagnosed from a lack of helium for the medical scanners. The actual end for this particular balloon, which was found and put into the waste stream, is probably an incinerator in the local area where it will be burned, potentially releasing dioxins into the atmosphere and causing asthma in another child who lives nearby. All this for the immediate, and short-lived gratification of a single use party balloon that was fated to escape but at least made a profit for the businesses involved. If the polluter doesn’t pay, who does?
Adult version of the lost balloon
The definition of capitalism is ‘an economic and political system in which a country’s trade and industry are controlled by private owners for profit, rather than by the state’. So our story of the lost balloon could also be called “Why capitalism is bad” but, for reasons best known to the DfE, teachers aren’t encouraged to have an anti-capitalist stance in the classroom. Personally, I’m a big fan of Kate Raworth’s doughnut model for sustainable economics. The doughnut consists of two concentric rings: a social foundation, to ensure that no one is left falling short on life’s essentials, and an ecological ceiling, to ensure that humanity does not collectively overshoot the planetary boundaries that protect earth’s life-supporting systems. If we go back in time, the term ‘economics’ is derived from the Greek word ‘Oikonomia’. Its meaning is ‘household management’ which doesn’t even relate to money – and let’s face it, we need to put our house in order and step away from the all-consuming greed that fuels unsustainable wealth.
Let them eat brioche
Anyway, other than the balloon, my birthday was lovely. Hubster made me a new bird table which has already attracted greenfinches, bullfinches and chaffinches alongside several tits. As a surprise he also completed a, much needed, deep clean of the kitchen – it took him eight hours and enough elbow grease to fuel a small lawn-mower. The heart of our house has never sparkled quite as much – its floor is generally a magnet for soil, grass and dog hair from Mabel. Rather than brioche we had a homemade cake to celebrate too with our own eggs and jam.
It’s a simple little life but spending time on the smallholding watching the meadow flowers sway in the breeze, hearing the sounds of bees buzzing and the melody of the birds singing and feeling immense peace is where I find the most joy. The occasional roar of a plane overhead or car engine driving by breaks the peace and quiet. If it wasn’t for the noise pollution and the immense contribution to global warming, I’d almost feel sorry for the passengers hurtling round in overcrowded, uncomfortable metal boxes. Yet, we just can’t have our cake and eat it. It is impossible for nature and biodiversity to thrive unless humans stop consuming everything in our path.
Note to self: storytelling is a fantastic pedagogy. Remember to tell the Year 8s the tale of blood diamonds when teaching about rocks and the Year 9s the story of the chicken poo that caused an extinction event. Not every story has a happy ending.
CLICK HERE TO DONATE TO OUR CROWDFUNDER
HELP US BECOME STRONGER SO THAT WE CAN CONTINUE TO DELIVER POWERFUL CITIZEN JOURNALISM!
