A. Lauren Abele

One of the things I remember most of my study abroad experience with SIT in Australia (which was a nontraditional program focused on Conservation and Natural Resource Management), was something a guest lecturer, Peter Cuming, had said (now, I’m paraphrasing here,this was several years ago): “You best help the cause [the environment], by doing what you do best.” At the time, I remember thinking, “How does that work? What if what you are best at is dancing? How does that help the environment?” A year later I graduated from college with a degree in English Literature–which had been my strongest subject–and (like many English majors before me) thought to myself: “Now what? How exactly am I supposed to help the environment with a degree in literature and a love of Chaucer?”

What Peter Cumming was encouraging us to do was utilize our comparative advantages. Comparative advantage is “the ability to produce a product most efficiently given all the other products that could be produced” and is usually applied to international trade, highlighting the benefits of specialization in order to maximize benefits.

Now how does this apply to a “cause”? Let’s look at the environment, for example. In addressing environmental issues, a direct and literal way to help the cause would be by planting trees. In order to help this cause, I could literally plant trees for 40 hours a week. The question is: Is this the best use of my time? and, Does this maximize results? The answer to both of these questions is “No.” Despite my green interests, I am a plant killer. Cacti included. Putting me to work planting trees would probably be a disaster and would definitely not lead to maximized benefit for the environmental movement as a whole.

These guys would definitely be better tree-planters than me

(via Hadfield Infant School)

This is why comparative advantage becomes important: you are looking at a big picture--an entire system. In a world without trade, you are operating your own Little House on the Prairie–churning the butter, sewing the clothes, home schooling the kids, growing the vegetables, slaughtering the meat, etc. In a world with trade, you are a magazine editor who goes to the grocery store, sends your kids to school, and you cook your food if you feel like it, otherwise you order delivery.

If planting trees is the 1st degree of environmental action, a 2nd degree would be being the bookkeeper for the tree planting company. This would be an indirect way of contributing to the cause. You aren’t exactly planting the trees, but you are helping that operation run well by providing your expertise with accounting and management. The company is able to plant more trees because you are a great bookkeeper and have saved them money.  If this were me, I would probably be more successful at this job than the tree planting job so there would be a marginal (well, let’s be honest, maybe a massive) increase in efficiency and corresponding increase in overall benefits to the environmental cause. But would this be the best job for me? No, probably not, because I am not a bookkeeper.

So let’s skip a couple of degrees to the main question: “What if what you are best at is dancing? How does that help the environment?” The sky is the limit. If you are a great dancer, you could use dance as a medium for educating others about the importance of trees for carbon sequestration, volunteer performances for climate change fundraisers, donate earnings to environmental nonprofits, or serve as the spokesperson for an organic ballet shoe. These efforts may be 5 or 6 degrees separated from a direct service to the environment, but they are no less important. They may even have greater impact than a direct action. If George Balanchine wanted to help save the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge would we have told him to quit dancing and camp in the tundra? Maybe, but that would not really be leveraging his comparative advantage. Instead, he could use his celebrity and influence as a great dancer to bring attention to the issue in other ways.

George Balanchine being George Balanchine

While this has been hypothetical, I have a real life example that I think personifies the case. Last week I saw comedian Nick P. Ross perform at I Like You Maude at Bar 4 in Park Slope, and later learned of how he turned his experience with Hodgkins Lymphoma into a comedic performance. He paired two seemingly incongruous elements, comedy and cancer, and found a new and interesting way to address this issue and serve as a source of validation for others who have endured similar experiences. In this Newsweek video Ross explains that his show, “Highly Evolved Human,” walks a fine line between serving as an outlet for his experience via his medium of comedy:

“I don’t think a lot is funny about cancer. And it’s a fine line because what I wrote isn’t making fun of cancer, it’s not saying that cancer is a topic that should be joked about. I’m using more the absurdity of my experience of interacting with people, of stories that I went through, the absurdity of the experience in general.”

Not only is Nick Ross contributing to cancer advocacy through “Highly Evolved Human,” but he is also offering an honest portrayal of his experience by doing what he does best: comedy. While sports training organizations, like Team in Training, provide great opportunities for the general public to fundraise for cancer research and increase cancer awareness and cancer centers, like Siteman Cancer Center, are doing great research on cancer prevention and treatment, Nick has carved out a meaningful niche by just being himself. He offers those affected by cancer an honest portrayal of a difficult and life changing experience.

As Nick shows, you best help the cause by doing what you do best…no matter what that may be. Doing the things you are great at or, better yet, the things you love will always yield the greatest results for a cause you care about no matter how unrelated or indirect they may seem. So go ahead! Get creative and make great things happen!