“The fruit and veg man passed away yesterday”, said the street sweeper to the newspaper vendor, pointing towards the still-operating stall across the street. I was struck by the reverence of his euphemism, especially as he didn’t appear to know the name of the deceased or the name of whoever had inherited the license to trade. The newspaper vendor nodded and they paused as if preoccupied with contemplating their own mortality. I didn’t know the stallholder myself. I was not a customer: the provenance of his produce was questionable, unlike that in the supermarket next door, which is properly labelled so that you can choose to buy only that which has the lightest carbon footprint and, in doing so, exert some consumer pressure in the fight to save the planet. Still, I admire the way that the fruit and veg man played his small part in impeding the monopolisation of markets – the default mission of capitalist corporations such as the supermarket from which I had just emerged.
Later that day, a few hours before the UK’s official departure from the EU, my Finnish pal phoned to say “goodbye” and to offer condolences. He was concerned that I might be feeling depressed at the event. “I’m over the worst of it, thanks. Besides, there’s no use crying over spilt vodka,” I said, appropriating a part of his culture in a pathetic attempt to assert my European credentials. “Agreed,” he said, “but you must pay me that promised visit before the transition period expires and your passport turns toxic.” So began the challenge of planning a self-imposed, flightshame-free trip to Helsinki.
The alternatives to flying this route are more expensive and time-consuming but, if you are able to accept those conditions, the journey itself might be treated as a pleasurable part of the venture. Let’s face it, “hopping” on a plane has long been a misnomer for a process that can eat up most of the day, even short-haul. And the last time I flew Easyjet, I felt like a captive customer being urged to buy food, drinks and a range of curiously described “award-winning gifts” that spoke to me of unnecessary consumption. The flight made no concessions to eco-friendliness and the journey itself lacked any sense of adventure. So, this time, it’s going to be the campervan and ro-ro ferries that get us there – though just what the carbon footprint will be is beyond my ken. Once upon a time, ferries plied the seas between Britain and Scandinavia, but the airlines rendered them unviable in the end. Those that remain sail to mainland Europe, where you must catch another ferry to cross the Baltic Sea. There is, however, some evidence of a possible resurgence for seaborne crossings: if Scandinavians, especially, continue to shun flying, demand will rise for alternative transport. Already, there is a revival of sleeper-trains in Europe. Ferries could be next and, if our entrepreneurial capitalist system can be relied upon to respond, we could soon be travelling Ryansea – with free, unlimited baggage allowances.
But the capitalist system is not focused on what is good for humankind. It is driven by profit, demand and innovation. Its activities are at the root of the climate crisis and the challenge it now faces is to find ways to make its profit by investing in eco-conservation, not eco-destruction. Will it respond? If not, there is another model that could take its place – Chinese, state-sponsored capitalism. It gets things done decisively, quickly and, sometimes, brutally, underpinned as it is by a tradition of the sacrifice of individual freedoms for the benefit of the whole of society. When considered that way, it seems to have the advantage over the western economic model. Yet I can’t help thinking, there must always be room for the fruit and veg man on the High Street.
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