Luxury mud
Aw, sad.
[Last] Sunday was not a fun day for the thousands of people on their way to Burning Man. In the days leading up to the bacchanal, traffic is typically a nightmare on the two-lane highway that leads to the barren former lake bed in the Black Rock Desert, a national conservation area that, for a week every year, becomes known as Black Rock City, population 80,000.
But this year, a small group of climate protesters parked a 28-foot trailer across the road, causing miles of gridlock. Seven Circles, a coalition of organizations that includes Extinction Rebellion and Rave Revolution, made some simple demands of the Burning Man Organization, which hosts the annual desert party: “Ban private jets, single-use plastics, unnecessary propane burning, and unlimited generator use per capita at the nine day event in Black Rock City, Nevada.” There were also calls for the organization to mobilize its members “to initiate systemic change.” But the ban on private jets — that seems pretty straightforward.
Oh come on, how is all that not worth it for the sake of a great party?
The protesters, it deserves to be said, had a point: Burning Man is famously bad for the planet.
The many tens of thousands of people the event attracts must travel through some of the most remote parts of the country to a destination where there are few natural resources, where everything gets trucked in, and where vast structures are lit ablaze on the last night of the festival, pumping carbon-filled smoke into the atmosphere. But over 90 percent of the event’s carbon footprint comes not from the fires themselves but from travel to and from Black Rock City, according to a 2020 environmental sustainability report from the Burning Man Organization. Another 5 percent comes from gas- and diesel-burning generators that keep lights and air conditioners on during the festival.
Air conditioners. Ya gotta love it. “Let’s go spend a week in the desert, don’t forget to bring the generator and the portable air conditioner!”
All things told, each Burning Man generates about 100,000 tons of carbon dioxide. That’s more than about 22,000 gas-powered cars produce in a year.
Well, ok, but after all, Burning Man is an essential service, like hospitals and, uh, fire departments.
The explosive growth and popularity of the festival in the past three decades mirrors an entire history of humans favoring their own version of progress over the consequences it produces. What started out as a gathering on a beach in San Francisco has grown into a destination for celebrities and the ultra rich, especially tech billionaires. That’s why private jets have become an issue. There are now fancy camps, meals prepared by private chefs, and VIP parties. Bear in mind, all of this is built just for the weeklong festival at the end of the summer, and it all has to be disassembled and taken away after. One of the founding principles of Burning Man is “leave no trace,” but even the event’s organizers were stunned by how much trash got left behind in the desert last year.
Jeez, what a grouch. Some people just don’t like parties.
These sorts of things have long been one of my gripes. I’ll avoid the rant; I’d mostly be preaching to the choir here.
A friend of mine used to go to this every year; I hope she’s long since given it up. I’m sure it’s not exactly the scene she loved back in the day any more.