Downward Exploration
In the midst of lockdown I was thrilled to be invited, by Jeremy Bassetti of Travel Writing World, to write a short article. It’s a brief insight into a mini-adventure I took last year, but from the perspective of how to ethically represent people we meet when travelling.
Flight Free for 2020: if I am entirely honest, I struggled to make the decision to sign the pledge. I value travel not just for the excitement of seeing somewhere new, but for the potential for intensive learning about unfamiliar (and familiar) cultures, and the opportunity to share that learning in my academic research and public lectures in the UK. I have travelled, mostly solo, since I was very young and consider myself fortunate that I have been able to make travel part of my several careers. As a result of living in Canada and Egypt, my closest friends live thousands of miles away and I rarely get to see them even when I was flying. My studies are centred around travel writing and the Middle East, so choosing not to fly has enormous practical impact across all parts of my life.
If I think back, before flights were so cheap – and easy to book – I travelled less often and perhaps valued it more highly. I spent more time exploring the UK and was excited by the prospect of visiting unknown areas of Britain; but over time that faded, and flights to Italy for £9.99 each way were not only significantly cheaper than taking the train to London, the novelty was becoming addictive. The climax of my increasing flying habit came in 2017 when I took 19 flights to Italy, Greece, Egypt, Helsinki, Norway and Switzerland. They were mostly for work and research, but occasionally for leisure: 
such as flying to Tromso, Norway to go trail running in the snowy mountains, simply because I could.
Don’t misunderstand me; there isn’t a single trip which wasn’t educational and inspiring, and I didn’t ever take my ability to afford travel for granted, but looking now at the rapid decline in the health of our climate I have come to realise how indulgent and privileged my approach to travel has been. And what most concerned me when I added up the total flights that I took in 2017, was that I hadn’t even thought about it; I had just booked the flights.
After that recognition, I started to have conversations with friends, family, and colleagues about the downsides of flying – the effects on our health from being in the air, the inevitable environmental impact, and the forced fast transition from one culture to another. The process of entering one brightly lit, barely sanitised concrete box in the UK, sitting in a plane for a few hours, then alighting into another concrete box with doors which magically open onto another country seemed to deny that beautiful experience of slow cultural transition. Ethical adventurers have always recognised this, as they exalt the power of feet or pedals on long-distance journeys. As I read more, I began to question whether this unnatural transition of flying actively prevents us from being able to interact in an empathetic way to locals and wondered if a slower way of entering a community might create more intention to understand and interact. Becoming co-director of Vicarious Festival (the UK’s travel literature and photography festival), where we will be exploring ethical travel and diversity, my decision made even more sense and I look forward to hearing plenty of informed discussion about how we unravel the ethics, privileges, and impacts of travel at the event.
It took me more than two years to take action, and it was the tireless work by groups such as FlightFree2020, and public statements of non-flying by full-time adventurers such as Tom Allen, which gave me the courage to step up. Yes, one or two people at work have sniggered at me when I’ve announced my intention (which considering that I work at a University is somewhat chilling), but I have received nothing but support from loved-ones, for which I am grateful because any holidays abroad will now be more marathon than sprint!
For the next year – at least – I can only get to Europe if I cross the channel by boat or train. I can only attend academic conferences (which for a researcher is vital networking), if I use public transport or my motorbike. I can only do research in the Middle East if I travel overland. Every trip will have to be three times as long which will have enormous impact on my income as I am effectively a freelancer. I do recognise that riding a petrol-fuelled motorcycle is not ideal either, but riding 5 days per week, all year, apparently has less impact than one long haul flight. I am hoping to test-ride an electric motorcycle in 2020 but even then, living downwind from a nuclear power station in Somerset raises the question of how we generate future electricity as well. There are so many issues which need addressing and we must use everything at our disposal to make change happen.
So yes, absolutely, my commitment not to fly is about raising awareness of climate change. But it is also about finding ways of travelling which enhance the experience not only for the travellers themselves, but also for the people and environments we travel to meet. I find that I am excited by the prospect of travelling differently and of slowing down as I explore, and with the best possible excuse: making change happen.
Read a version of this article, published on the FlightFree2020 website
For anyone else that might seem strange, but having spent two years living with Bedouin in Egypt, it didn’t really surprise me that someone would ask me that. “Well” I replied, “I know a little but I can certainly ask my contacts in Egypt for more detail”.
Leon was writing an article for Adventure magazine about the process of buying camels and wanted a little extra information on general pricing and food to supplement his current knowledge. We also share an intention to own camels ourselves one day, so it was a fascinating conversation (although admittedly one of the most bizarre either of us has ever had on WhatsApp!)