Transcriber: Dewi Barnas Reviewer: Elisabeth Buffard
I have prepared a completely different talk,
but after listening to the news of the riots of last Black Friday,
I decided to change my talk and we're going to talk about enoughness.
So do you ever ask yourselves: "How much is enough?"
Enough to make you happy? Enough to carry you into the future?
Well, I have asked myself this question as well,
and so I set out to find some clues in the wisdom of indigineous people.
The images you are going to see behind me
are snippets from stories I have worked on
for the past twenty years.
My camera has taken me to about a hundred countries
in every continent in the world.
And I have used it to shine a light
on issues related to conservation,
but particularly on the point
where healthy ecosytems intersect
with the faith of indigenous people.
I have been extremely lucky
to spend a lot of time in the solitude of nature
and in the company of people who live isolated but are self-sufficient,
and they carve their living with their own bare hands
that is full of meaning and full of poetry.
And it is from them that I've started thinking about enoughness.
To start off, I wanted to tell you a story.
I just came back from Hawaii.
I arrived yesterday, hence the tan.
And I have been working there for National Geographic magazine,
doing a story on the traditional Hawaiian culture.
While I was there I had the opportunity of photographing a man named Keone Nunes,
and he is a master of the ancient art of Kakau,
which is traditional tattoo.
While he was working on this young man's tattoo,
he told me that he grew up in a shack on the beach
without much wealth, but surrounded by his "ohana," his family.
And seeped deep in tradition,
and speaking his native Hawaiian language,
and surfing on one of the most beautiful beaches on the world with all his friends.
He said to me: "I never knew I was poor until somebody from the mainland told me."
"I always thought I had enough."
And that to me was a huge revelation.
His story resonated with me,
because this is something that I've seen in many traditional societies.
We judge them as poor by our own standards,
but many of them are actually quite content. Why?
I have learned a lot from indigenous people.
One of the things that I have learned
is that our happiness is only due about 10% to material stuff.
So where do the other 90% that makes us feel good come from?
And it is not from material things, you know.
Contentment is something that is long-lasting,
that comes from inside,
and it's basically the satisfaction of knowing
what our place in the universe is.
So if I had to define enoughness,
I would tell you that it's an internal yardstick.
It's something that only we can develop
And if indigenous people have been doing it for so long,
maybe this is something we can learn for ourselves.
And maybe this is a tool that would carry us
into that sustainable future that we all dream about.
So let me tell you first that enoughness is amazing
because it really cuts across all indigenous cultures.
It doesn't matter where you go.
And it basically distills to if you have clean water,
a net full of fish and a warm fire.
That's basically all people need to feel quite content.
I photographed this girl,
she is from a Vezo tribe in western Madagascar
and she was coming home
after trying to catch supper for her family.
She didn't have much luck,
but she was incredibly proud
because she has been given this amazing responsibility
And I remember thinking, at the time,
she was not much older than my own daughter.
And I certainly would not have trusted my daughter with boiling a hot dog,
let alone bringing dinner for the whole family!
But it also got me thinking that when you give responsibility
to every member of a family
or every member of a community, to share and pull in together
collaborating to make sure that everybody is ok,
that is a great way to build enoughness.
I love this photograph because it reminds me
that you can be very serious about culture
but without sacrificing fun.
These gentlemen are from a tribe of Eastern islands in Papa New Guinea
They compete every year, they get together and they have this huge festival.
Thousands of people dressed up come and they compete to see
who is the most traditional.
They are not only super proud of who they are,
their traditions and their culture,
they want to share it.
This is my friend Pointuc
She is the eldest daughter of Chief Pukachiti,
who lives in a village in the Amazon.
I have been lucky to trek with Pointuc many times into the forest.
She is amazing, she can find this invisible trails that I don't see.
She can find where the "Açaí" tree - have you ever tried "Açaí"? -
where it grows and then she climbs up the tree about 40 feet
even when she is pregnant and with her machete,
she will cut it down and bring it down.
Pointuc has actually tried to teach me how to navigate the river
and how to build a fire and although some days I like to fantasize
that I am as capable as Pointuc,
the truth is that I am an ignorant outsider
with a lot of expensive gear around my neck. (Laughter)
The thing the Pointuc has really taught me is that I need not take me so seriously.
Humor is another great way of building enoughness.
Late one afternoon I was able to photograph these beautiful girls
as they were taking a bath in a river in the Amazon
in this beautiful waterfall.
I remember thinking,
"God, these girls are lucky, they don't have a worry in the world"
The river and the forest provide everything they need.
They do not have to worry whether Miley Cyrus is twerking,
(Laughter)
if she is peer pressure or Justin Bieber...
One of the things I remember thinking is that these girls own almost nothing
beyond the little clothes they're wearing,
but if you look at their bodies, they are painted.
That painting is part of a very rich tradition
that ties them deeply to every member of their family
as part of the social bonding is how they paint each other.
That sense of connection is what makes huge part of enoughness.
All across the world, indigenous people and the families everywhere
having this sense of connection to each other, to the environment, to ritual,
that's what gives meaning and purpose to our lives,
and that's what builds enoughness.
Whether I am trekking in the forest of the Yunan province in China,
with people still remember where their sacred foods grow,
or visiting the underworld with Mayan people,
I've visited the watery graves
where our ancestors were buried thousands of years ago,
I always try to think about how much is enough.
And one of the best places to find enoughness is in the arts.
Indigenous people have perfected their artistic skills.
And some of them take it over the top.
(Laughter)
For many of them, art, the fine arts, arts and craft,
body ornamentation is part of a rich spiritual life.
This man is an "Asaro Mudmen" from the islands of Papua New Guinea.
He believes that if he dresses himself up like the mud of the Asaro river,
his enemies will not be able to see him.
And what about play? We pity children, like indigenous children
will never get a chance to go to school.
We feel sorry for them, but the truth is, they get to be creative in their play.
And they play outdoors all the time,
and what they are learning is real-life skills:
they learn how to weave, how to cook, how to hunt,
and can you imagine the creative potential of people
who are never hooked to an iphone or a computer?
The other thing that is interesting about indigenous people
is that we are always worried about investing and saving for the future.
For them, they live in the day-to-day, they live so present and in the moment.
And that too is part of their enoughness.
So I have been incredibly lucky to spend a lot of time
with people that still remember the old ways
in which every productive activity, be it hunting or harvesting or fishing,
still resonates with meaning and with respect for the land.
Whether it is the Pantaneros of Brazil
or the fisherman of Abrolhos in Bahia,
everything that they do shines with the brightness of enoughness.
Sadly, a lot of indigenous people are experiencing something
that James Cameron would call an "Avatar" syndrome.
And they are having to fight the mighty power of the industrial world
with their own bare hands, like these chiefs of the Kayapo.
The third largest hydro-electric dam in the world
is about to be built on the beautiful river they call home.
Or the Gitga'at people of British Columbia
who are fighting to keep mega-tankers out of their waters.
Tankers bigger than the Exxon Valdez.
For them, it's not if, but when an oil spill happens.
It would destroy their entire livelihood.
So I want my images to remind us
that when all the rivers have been dammed,
and all the forests have been turned into chopsticks,
and the last wild creature has been hunted for trophy,
we will all be a lot poorer.
But it's people like this Antandroy woman from Madagascar
who lives on the razor's edge between poverty and nature,
that will be left feeling less than enough.
The reason it matters is because people who are living
a sustainable life today,
like this Miskito fisherman from Honduras who dives for lobsters to feed his family,
or this young girl from the foothills of the Andes
who watches her family's sheep after school,
They will be left with less than enough to eat.
So I encourage us all to go back to the initial question
and ask "how much is enough?"
I know the answer for myself and I ask myself everyday
with every consumer choice, with everything I buy.
But if we turn the mirror of enoughness towards you,
maybe you will start asking yourself.
And maybe that will lead us to
that sustainable future that we all dream about.
Thank you so much.
(Applause)