It’s 2022. I’m standing on a beach in Aruba. My feet are covered in paradisiacal white sand, and I’m watching the sun set on the horizon. The transparent blue ocean has faded; now I see only the sun’s reflection on the darkening water. A life that sounds perfect, but there’s more below the sparkling surface. Beneath the glimmering waves, the last pieces of coral reef are fighting to survive, struggling against rising temperatures and all the tourists floating near cruise ships (SDG 13 + SDG 14; https://caribischnetwerk.ntr.nl/2023/07/24/code-zwart-voor-koralen-op-aruba-maar-nog-geen-crisistoestand-uitgeroepen/). Below my own surface, life isn’t stunning either. On the island I feel lonely; tourists come and go, and the local community is sheltered from outsiders.
It’s 2023. I’m in a forest in Canada. Hills stretch as far as I can see. It’s twenty kilometres to the nearest neighbour, nearly forty to the closest supermarket. On the ranch it’s just me and an elderly couple. Most days I spend caring for the horses and the land. A life that sounds tame for an eighteen-year-old. Still, I’m the happiest I can imagine. I feel welcome, connected and fulfilled.
It’s 2024. I’m back in the village where I grew up, in the Netherlands. During the day I worked at the café I’ve been working at on and off for two years. Not much has changed, except for freshly planted trees beside the ‘main’ road. On my way home, I bump into a café regular, an older lady. She starts a conversation about the blessing of the nearby forest. A day that doesn’t sound worth mentioning, but holds so much more value.
These three experiences share one big factor: the sustainability and health of a place and person stand or fall with the community supporting it ((https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0048969720334094). In an increasingly individualistic society travel has become a form of status (https://www.researchgate.net/publication/314236976_Global_Increases_in_Individualism). In that pursuit, people don’t see the devastating impact on environment and communities. Planes make a big impact, but the harm doesn’t end there: nature is overused (SDG 13, 14, 15), locals are priced out (SDG 1, 8), and cities become ghost towns in low-season (SDG 11; https://www.researchgate.net/publication/373644263_The_Impact_of_Tourism_on_Local_Communities_A_Literature_Review_of_Socio-_Economic_Factors). Scotland, too, is no stranger to these pressures (https://psuvanguard.com/tourism-is-affecting-scottish-economy-environment/).
I believe travelling comes with a bigger responsibility than just reducing your harm: the responsibility to support the community you’re visiting. To reduce my impact of the journey itself, I’ll take the train to London, then to Edinburgh. More importantly, during my semester I plan to join societies like Conscious Change, One Health Society or Save the Children Society (SDG 16). I hope to combine this knowledge with my courses in law, politics, and sustainability.
It’ll be 2025. I’ll be standing in the Edinburgh library. After a day studying the subjects I specifically came for, I’ll feel fulfilled. In the evening, I’ll attend a society meeting on responsible consumption (SDG 12). Before that, I’ll take a long walk along the river to my room in the Edinburgh Student Housing Co-op, a community working toward affordable student housing (https://www.eshc.coop/).
