Dig This

          Of all last week’s newsworthy items, one that caught my attention was an argument for wine producers to ditch glass bottles in favour of cans. My immediate reaction was one of outrage that such sacrilege should be perpetrated against the noble nectar, yet the arguments presented convinced me otherwise. In short, glass bottles are eco-expensive to produce and, because of their weight and shape, also to transport. As for the wine itself, it will come to no harm in any type of inert container. I recall being equally outraged when cork stoppers were similarly abandoned for reasons of practicality, but now I am relieved that the requirement to check for a ‘corked’ wine is disappearing fast – especially given my anxiety about being able to.

          And there was another, more prominent news item that got me going – the spoliation of a patch of lawn at Trinity College, Oxford. Certain media outlets were full of outrage expressed against the perpetrators: “eco-fascists” and “loutish vandals” were just two of the derogatory epithets used. One headline claimed, “Britons Outraged!” (What, all of them?) And a passer-by was quoted as saying, “Have they nothing better to do?” Well, the answer to that question could be gleaned by looking calmly at the diggers’ reasoning, which runs something like this. Decorative lawns represent the kind of monoculture that destroys habitats for wildlife. By the symbolic (and superficially harmful) digging-up of a privileged patch of grass, we hope to bring to your attention a looming crisis that will affect us all. In other words, no, we don’t have anything ‘better’ to do than try to save the planet. Do you? But reason is not the stock in trade of people who use pejorative language to denigrate those whose arguments they do not or will not hear.

          And, if digging up lawns outrages you, consider the devastation wreaked on countryside ripped apart by open-cast coal extraction. There is currently a three-day long protest at such a site in County Durham, where I am involved (in a minor, supporting role). When you watch TV footage of protesters, it is easy to get the idea that they are mis-guided fanatics. After all, what we see are edited snippets. Yet even the most blinkered commentator might concede, should they take the trouble to interact with protesters, that they are not monstrous vandals, weirdos or fanatics: they are a cross-section of our society and they care enough about its fate to ruffle a few feathers. To encounter the activists face-to-face is the only way to truly understand their motivations, engage with their passion and, perhaps, sympathise with their cause. And, while their approaches vary – for example, the impulsiveness of youth versus the more considered actions of age – their shared commitment to a common goal is a powerful unifying force.

          In search of supplies, I ventured into the nearby town of Consett, where my expectations of a town that has lost its purpose were amply fulfilled. Where once coal produced wealth enough to sustain commerce and grand civic buildings, now, amongst the general decrepitude of a blighted high street, there remains just one beacon of by-gone splendour – the Empire theatre (and cinema). I hope it can cling on for a little longer, for there is a long-running campaign of local opposition to the extension of coal extraction, despite the sop of 39 extra jobs being promised. As one of the unfurled banners succinctly puts it, “Coal is our heritage, not our future.”

          Meanwhile, on the front line, the activists (and the police) are set for three days of freezing temperatures on a bleak hillside. It’s a hard life, saving the planet. I help out a bit, but my barricade-storming days are behind me. Bring on the wine-in-a-can, I say: it’s the way forward, logically.