Air-Conditioned Sidewalks
by J. Daniel Janzen

As New York gets wracked by one heat wave after another this summer, its citizens suffer mightily, slogging through molten gum and pothole tar and cursing the F train on subway platforms that would make Dante proud. But the pedestrians of Midtown are better off than some. As botox moms and navel-ring daughters shop their way down 57th Street, they are greeted by one blast after another of cold — not cool — air, courtesy of the wide-open doors of Louis Vuitton, Tiffany's, Bulgari, Van Cleef & Arpels and other retailers. And it's not just luxury brands who are cooling passers-by; even ostensible temple of sweat Niketown exhales frigid air, including from the part of the store currently under renovation.

Back in Indiana, an open door in August quickly brings an order to close it, accompanied by the question, "Were you raised in a barn?" On 57th Street, as in suburban malls and other retail environments, air-conditioner overkill is of course neither an accident nor a mystery, playing a similar role to the fake lobster aroma vented out of a seaside tourist trap. Not only is it refreshing; the conspicuous consumption of climate control actually enhances the shopping experience. A recent article in the New York Times explored the correlation between shop temperature and brand prestige, and determined that the cooler you are — well, you know.

Still, with oil zooming past $60 $63 $66 a barrel and your basic unleaded running nearly three bucks, two years after a massive blackout, with the little remaining countervailing evidence on global warming now discredited, it's striking to consider how impervious our behavior is to the fundamental reality of our energy situation. As the gas mileage of our vehicles continues to stagnate, there remains virtually no public pressure (outside of California) on automakers to do better, either through market forces or CAFE standards. While the EnergyStar program has made many appliances more efficient, there's little public awareness of the notion of energy conservation — certainly nothing like there was during the late '70s, when a cardiganed Jimmy Carter turned down the White House furnace on snowy evenings and the national speed limit of 55 mph was enacted to improve fuel economy. These days, flipping a switch or flooring a gas-guzzler's pedal involves no more soul-searching than the flush of a toilet.

With typically acute long-range vision, President Bush has based his energy policy (the one the secret task force came up with) more on tax breaks for companies than conservation and efficiency, and the only alternative energy he's ready to embrace is "nucular." With the bully pulpit standing empty, it would be up to individual Americans to take the initiative on a more reality-based way of thinking about energy. But it's not as simple as it once might have been.

Over several years of cheap foreign oil and relative Mideast peace, laxness on energy has become entrenched in both our economy and our lifestyles. Big consumer vehicles make it possible to buy more at big box stores, which make it more tempting to buy a big car. Exurban demographic trends have led to longer, more congested commutes from areas neglected by public transit. Between over-programmed kids, over-designed car seats and overwhelming amounts of parenting gear, no modern family would dare pulling out of the driveway in less than a minivan, preferably with seat-mounted DVD players. Our entertainment depends on an endless supply of tiny batteries and power strips.

What would it take for us to change the way we live, to do the hard work of transitioning our nation to a future of sustainable energy? The leadership clearly won't come from the top; will Joe Fuel Pump, Jane Halogen Lamp and the retailers of 57th Street ever find it within themselves to see this as a matter of life and death?

There's no time like the present. The "No Blood for Oil" crowd who seemed off-target and simplistic just a few years ago have become harder to argue with as other reasons for the war in Iraq have been shown false. Collaboration with Al Qaeda? Only after we invaded. WMDs? MIA. Spreading security through democratic ideals? Let's see how long that ideology holds up when Iraq's Shiite majority hits the polls (if they can ever get that constitution together). No matter how you slice it, the US wouldn't be in Iraq — wouldn't have to care about security in the Middle East, nor have angered the Arab Street by supporting corrupt dictatorships in the region — if it weren't for our complete inability to get by on our own vast natural resources. For a time, our dependence cost us little more than a few warplanes and a portion of our dignity. Those days are over. The bill for the war in Iraq is around $5 billion a month and the number of US dead is rapidly approaching 2,000. At this rate, by the time President Bush leaves office, more Americans will have died in Iraq than at the World Trade Center.

And yet, yellow ribbons and Cindy Sheehan notwithstanding, the connection of the public with the people we're actually asking to do the fighting and dying remains abstract and remote. We wince when we see the headlines, hope they get that body armor soon, wish they'd never had to go over there in the first place — but they remain only a small part of our consciousness, considered only for brief intervals now and then between reality shows, fantasy games and online porn. After all, there's nothing we can do about it now, is there?

During World War II, by contrast, the battlefield was ubiquitous in popular culture — in film, books, magazines, even in consumer advertising. The soldier on the front smoked Camels, drank Cokes and sang the praises of the automakers who produced their tanks and planes. When various industrial inputs were rationed — rubber, nylon, green dye — Lucky Strike took the opportunity to announce that the ink used to color its boxes had been conscripted, announcing, "Lucky Strike Green has Gone to War!" (In reality, the change of packaging had been planned for other reasons; the ink in question remained freely available). But you won't see too many companies trying to leverage the Iraq War. Who would want to associate their brand with this demoralizing fiasco?

During the Good War, the fostering of military themes in daily life was managed through the Office of Wartime Production and other government agencies as part of a broader campaign to put the home front on a war footing. Messages to defer the consumption of such durable goods as cars enabled the government to focus more of the nation's industrial capacity on the war without inflating prices in the consumer economy. Public service campaigns asking, "Is this trip really necessary?" freed gasoline for more essential engines. The impact of recycling drives and victory gardens was more psychological; although they made little difference in the overall war effort, they boosted morale by giving civilians a way to get involved and provided a constant reminder of the need for sacrifice.

President Bush has drawn much criticism for his dogged refusal to call for any kind of real sacrifice. Instead, the American public is encouraged to think good thoughts, "support the troops" and blithely go about its business, and not mind too much about the bag searches and state secrets. At this point, with approval ratings for the war in Iraq matching those for Vietnam in 1968 (shortly before President Lyndon Johnson removed himself from command), it's unlikely that Bush could get much traction with such an appeal anyway.

But maybe there are little sacrifices we could come up with on our own, little gestures we could make to show the troops that we want to correct the mistakes that put them in harm's way — even if the real impact of our individual efforts amounts to little more than a victory garden carrot. Turning off lights in unoccupied rooms. Checking our tires for correct inflation to maximize gas mileage. And maybe the retailers on 57th Street could keep their doors closed when it's hot out. Were they raised in a barn?

E-mail J. Daniel Janzen at dan at clownyard dot com.