Expectations

I was volunteering on the Lois McClure last week. As part of its summer tour of the Erie Canal it sailed on Seneca Lake and docked in Geneva N.Y. We spent three days talking with visitors about the history of canal transportation and the canal boat families that spent their lives on the water.

At one point I was in the compact cabin of the Lois, talking to a group of visitors about the lifestyle of canal boat families. Someone expressed surprise that a large family could live in a 12’ x 18’ space sunk into the deck of a boat. I replied that in the 19^th century expectations were different in terms of living space, privacy, indoor temperatures, and amenities. Being crowded into a small, indifferently heated space with a number of relatives was the norm for most Americans 150 years ago. From what they left in the way of personal stories, they seemed to have experienced as much satisfaction with life as we do now.

Our founding document categorizes the pursuit of happiness as an inalienable right, but happiness is bound up with expectations. Expectations, in turn, are an artifact of culture, and evolve with time. The happiness to which our founding fathers referred was based on a much more limited set of expectations than ours today.

Back in the 1860s a canal boat family got along with 216 square feet, a coal stove, a kerosene lantern, and a couple of cramped berths under the stern deck. Now we expect private rooms, temperatures within a 20 degree F range, and fast internet access, among many other things.

One fundamental expectation in our society is mobility. It is considered a given that if I want to be in a city 250 miles away by this afternoon I can achieve this. Not only can I achieve this, I can depart at a time and place of my choosing and travel at highway speeds in a climate controlled environment, right to the doorway of my destination. And I can do this relatively cheaply.

This capability is a relatively new phenomenon, and not destined to last. It came with the advent of relatively cheap automobiles and heavily subsidized road building. It also relies on cheap and plentiful supplies of oil and industrial materials.

Going back to our canal boat family, 2.5 miles per hour behind a pair of mules was the expected norm, with delivery to the nearest dock on a navigable waterway. Given the wooden boat and the organically grown feed (not that they knew any other option), it was sustainable transportation. The fact that sustainable transportation in the 19^th century was slow and inconvenient isn’t a coincidence.

A delusional expectation we now entertain is that sustainability will be convenient and painless. There is a green entrepreneurial faction that promotes a fuzzy, friendly concept of sustainability without sacrifice. Apparently, if you believe the marketing, we will simply replace our present motor fuel with oil from algae, or batteries charged by distant windmills, caulk around the windows of our homes, throw a log on the woodstove, eat a fair trade organic banana, and live the good life. The problem with this vision is that our society is a sprinter in a marathon. We are expending energy and natural resources at a rate that can only be sustained for a moment in history. Browse my other entries in this blog under “Energy” for the scoop on wood vs fuel oil, solar aperture, and other future restrictions on our unalloyed happiness.

My point is that our transportation future will have to be sustainable, by definition, and that it will look more like the world of the 19^th century canal boaters than some kind of high-tech ecotopia. For a little perspective, go to the Google Maps “Get Directions” tab and try out a route to a nearby city. It will default to driving, but then click the icon of the little walking figure for the pedestrian directions. Note the time difference. The bicycle icon will be better, but a two hour trip will still turn into ten. These are sustainable speeds.

And yet, we eventually will be able to pursue happiness. Our expectations will evolve to meet our circumstances. I am sure that there will be a period of frustration, resentment, finger pointing, and yearning for the carefree mobility of old. That isn’t sustainable either. Luckily, expectations are malleable, even within a single lifetime. Consider the change from novelty to necessity of cellphones and internet access in the past fifteen years. Of course it is more difficult to adjust on the downslope of convenience, but moping has never been a survival trait. As the road construction signs say, “Expect Delays.”