The Shortcomings of Windmills: Why the Green Movement Isn't Green

When many people think of environmental sustainability, the images that come to mind are of windmills, solar panels, and cars that run on vegetable oil.

I argue that none of those things are sustainable, and they never will be.

I realise I may draw unpleasant reactions from certain supporters of this so-called sustainability. I also realise that if I don't just say it, the thought will sit there and fester inside me until it undergoes some obscure chemical reaction and turns into a hatred of every human being on this planet.

In essence, my opinion is this: we're animals. We're animals, just like any other member of the Kingdom Animalia, and we should treat ourselves accordingly. What I mean by this is that we are, inherently, no better or worse that the ants that invade our kitchen. We impose ourselves over the world, and we lie to ourselves, upholding the false belief—and I'm sure some part of us knows it's false—that we are somehow above all else; that our agriculture and books and computers somehow render us automatically and innately better than anything that lives of itself and with the earth.

To me, that doesn't make sense. To me, it seems better to live as other beings do—whether they be Protista, Archaea, fungi, bacteria, plants, or animals like we are. To me, it seems best to live day to day and be one with the world, and to acknowledge each moment that we are all just tiny pieces in an infinite world. The stones, the trees—these things will outlast us by far, and yet they, too, are insignificant in the scope of what has been and what still may be.

My point is, windmills won't help. Admittedly, wind is a more sustainable resource than, say, coal; nevertheless, 'more sustainable' isn't enough. Sustainability isn't enough. If we all went and lived off the land and grew all our own food, even that wouldn't be enough, because we'd still be using nature. Changing it for our own good.

Nature isn't meant to be used, not the way I see it. Nature isn't meant for anything, really, except to be itself and to be free. A clever ape may pick up a twig and poke around a termite hole to gather some of the tasty critters for a snack, but that's not changing anything (except the lifespan of aforementioned termites); thus, in my opinion, it's acceptable. That twig, after it's been used, goes back to the earth like any other twig, the only difference being that it has now been bestowed with a portion of ape saliva.

On the other hand, a lettuce that has been bred and cultivated for specific purposes by humans is no longer capable of becoming natural. It's like a feral cat: it's descended from nature but its essential being has been intentionally changed, so that it is now a different thing entirely.

And windmills, although they purport to be 'energy efficient' and 'environmentally sustainable,' they aren't. They're unnatural contraptions that are made for one purpose: to fabricate a sense of benevolence while continuing to treat the earth and all that lives on it (except for humans, of course) as underlings, things to be cultivated for our own purposes and pleasure.

I say, exploitation is exploitation, and its ethicality or lack thereof is unaffected by what we presume to call 'efficiency.'

But don't get me wrong. "Sustainability" is great, insofar as it is better than dirtier energy, and it will be helpful as far as it goes. What I'm saying is that it won't go far enough, and we need to think beyond our steel contraptions and visions of sleek superiority, and get back to nature.

A windmill isn't nature. Nor is a solar panel, a farm, or any kind of car—no matter what kind of "natural" fuel it runs on. Nature is the wildness and all that comes from it. Nature, if only we would accept the fact, is us. And yet, we turn away and try to hide from ourselves, repeating over and over the lie that we are somehow different, better; we repeat that lie until we can no longer help but believe it, and we forget that we ever knew better.

As I see it, there's no way to be truly sustainable except to go back and be a part of nature again. For some people—for many people—that idea is strange and perhaps terrifying, but even given our ridiculously advanced technology, it's the only choice we have.

It's the only choice we've ever had.