It certainly occurred to me, ahead of last month’s post, that the blog’s left turn into environmentalism might’ve whiplashed those expecting the customary deep dive into craft or culture. As part of our training as Climate Reality Leaders, we’re asked to reflect on our personal climate stories—the origins of our interest in the movement—something I’ve invested no small amount of time doing this past month. To that end, it dawned on me that the very same formative circumstances inspired both my passion for horror fiction and climate activism; they are not unrelated callings but very much part and parcel.
It was at the confluence of the Harlem and Hudson Rivers, my old stomping ground, where many of my first boyhood adventures were undertaken. My friends and I would scale the towering steel foundational girders of the Henry Hudson Bridge as high as we could climb. We’d cross Spuyten Duyvil Creek by way of the century-old railroad swing bridge to explore the Indian caves in the vast, lush expanse of Inwood Hill Park at the northernmost tip of Manhattan. (Incidentally, those caves feature prominently in the 2003 historical fantasy Forever, Pete Hamill’s centuries-spanning ode to Gotham. Great novel.)
On weekends, my parents would drive us up the Hudson Valley—to Sleepy Hollow or Nyack or Bear Mountain—which was a particularly spellbinding delight this time of year. It’s a truly magical region that in many respects looks just the same as it did to the Dutch explorers who first arrived in the early seventeenth century—and, more to the point, the Lenape Indians who called the valley their home for a dozen millennia before that. For the conservation of this land, you can thank—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—J. P. Morgan.
And not just him—George Walbridge Perkins and John D. Rockefeller, too. Owed in part to the efforts of these forward-thinking businessmen-philanthropists at the turn of the twentieth century, much of the woodlands on the banks of the Hudson was spared from development, as were the Palisades, the magnificent cliffs along the west side of the river. Consider it: These capitalists preserved the natural harmony of the Lower Hudson Valley from the ravages of capitalism itself; on account of their preemptive actions, much of it remains to this day virgin forest to be (re)discovered by successive generations.
The woodlands just blocks from where I grew up in the Bronx (photo credit: Sean Carlin, 29 December 2012)
As a writer of supernatural fiction who continues to draw inspiration from this region—virtually all my stories are set there—I walk in the footsteps of literary giants. Two of the first American authors—horror authors, no less—lived in the area and wrote about it: Washington Irving and Edgar Allen Poe. Savor the way Irving lets this “region of shadows,” pregnant with manes, cast a spell over his receptive imagination in the Halloween classic “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”:
The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback, without a head. It is said by some to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a cannon-ball, in some nameless battle during the Revolutionary War, and who is ever and anon seen by the country folk hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are not confined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the vicinity of a church at no great distance. Indeed, certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, who have been careful in collecting and collating the floating facts concerning this spectre, allege that the body of the trooper having been buried in the churchyard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head, and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes along the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the churchyard before daybreak.
Such is the general purport of this legendary superstition, which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that region of shadows; and the spectre is known at all the country firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.
It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have mentioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of the valley, but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who resides there for a time. However wide awake they may have been before they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative—to dream dreams, and see apparitions.
To walk through the woods in the wintry photo above—right now, in 2018—is to experience precisely what Irving evokes in that passage from 1820. It’s where I dreamed my dreams, where I first conjured the apparitions that now haunt my own stories. And unlike so many worlds lost to capitalistic “progress,” the Lower Hudson Valley isn’t consigned to the fictions of a bygone era; it—and its witching influence—are still ours to experience and imbibe.
Because we preserved it.
But like a malevolent wraith lurking in the woods, twentieth-century disaster capitalism nearly spoiled the Hudson Valley nonetheless. By the time I was first exploring its shores in the 1980s, four decades of unchecked pollution by General Electric—including mercury contamination and sewage dumping—had rendered the river toxically unsafe; fishing was banned the same year I was born. How I envied my late father’s reminiscences of growing up in Inwood in the thirties and forties—his accounts of having swam the mile-wide expanse of the Hudson, and plunging feet-first into Spuyten Duyvil Creek from the dizzying heights of Columbia Rock. As adventurous as my little gang was, we knew enough not to dip a toe into the river. Though the aesthetic integrity of the valley had been preserved by Perkins, et al., its ecological health—that invisible element—had been catastrophically compromised on the sly.
This time another unlikely hero came to the rescue: a folk singer. To preserve and protect the Hudson, musician Pete Seeger founded the nonprofit Hudson River Sloop Clearwater, Inc. in 1966, which to this day offers educational sailing tours of the river; a fifth-grade field trip was how I got to experience the Clearwater. Far from some hippy-dippy, feel-good vanity project, this instance of organized environmental activism has yielded far-reaching and long-lasting results: ecological restoration of the Hudson commenced under the federal Superfund program, which manages the cleanup of sites contaminated with hazardous pollutants, and, more broadly, we passed one of the United States’ first and most crucial pieces of environmental legislation—the Clean Water Act of 1972. Through grassroots effort—and, in turn, legislative regulation—we successfully addressed a seemingly insurmountable problem.
On the subject of intractable environmental challenges, if you’re looking for a good horror story to read this Halloween, they don’t come more blood-chilling than this month’s report from the nonpartisan Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) titled Global Warming of 1.5 °C. (For those seeking to be briefed on the matter in layman’s terms, the Climate Reality Project has prepared a post called “2030 or Bust: 5 Key Takeaways from the IPCC Report” that I encourage you to peruse.)
In short, the scientists have stated unequivocally that the global community has until the year 2030 to get a handle on climate change… or it’s basically game over. After that, we lose all chance of averting the most catastrophic consequences of the climate breakdown.
You read that year correctly: 2030. That’s not just in your children’s lifetime—that’s potentially within the life span of some of your pets.
Told you this was scary. Happy Halloween.
Given the IPCC’s call to action, what, then, does “get a handle on climate change” mean, precisely?
“Pathways limiting global warming to 1.5°C with no or limited overshoot would require rapid and far-reaching transitions in energy, land, urban and infrastructure (including transport and buildings), and industrial systems (high confidence). These systems transitions are unprecedented in terms of scale, but not necessarily in terms of speed, and imply deep emissions reductions in all sectors, a wide portfolio of mitigation options and a significant upscaling of investments in those options (medium confidence)” (GLOBAL WARMING OF 1.5 °C an IPCC special report on the impacts of global warming of 1.5 °C above pre-industrial levels and related global greenhouse gas emission pathways, in the context of strengthening the global response to the threat of climate change, sustainable development, and efforts to eradicate poverty Summary for Policymakers [PDF]. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. 6 October 2018. p. 21.).
In other words: It means we need, to borrow the phrasing of former vice president Al Gore, a Sustainability Revolution—a global transformation on the scale of the Industrial Revolution but effectuated with the speed of the Digital Revolution. A fossil-fuel phaseout needs to commence posthaste. We have the technology to make the shift—now what we need are the policies to make it happen. But, hey—best of luck to our dysfunctional governments with that, huh? Despite this, however, there’s great hope yet…
Our cultural messiah narratives, from Judeo-Christian scripture to modern superhero movies, reassure us that a savior is coming to face our existential threats and deal with the problem in short and spectacular order. And why not? It’s happened before: George Walbridge Perkins, after all, preserved the Palisades; Pete Seeger saved the Hudson. So, who will rise to save us from the greatest threat in the history of humanity?
We will.
You. Me.
Us.
Can’t be done? Consider, my friends: Civil rights. Marriage equality. What do those lessons of history teach us about our urgent pursuit of decarbonization? That big social and societal changes—even in the face of political inertia or, worse still, opposition—can be forced when a public movement is mobilized. I’ve known since that Clearwater outing in elementary school that we can clean up the environmental messes we’ve made in relatively short and efficient order if we decide it’s a priority—and work together to make that happen.
Just as the spirits that reside in the enchanted woodlands of the Hudson Valley inspire my creative imagination, the phantom menace of climate change is a call to challenge our moral imaginations—to develop the visionary propensity, to use Irving’s phrase, to imagine (without the convenient intervention of a Chosen One) a post-carbon world now. If enough of us dream that dream, we ensure its inevitability as our new reality.
Some people say that we should study to become climate scientists so that we can “solve the climate crisis”. But the climate crisis has already been solved. We already have all the facts and solutions. All we need to do is to wake up and change. pic.twitter.com/Twioq1pmfZ
— Greta Thunberg (@GretaThunberg) October 23, 2018
Through talking to people about the climate crisis—and, to be sure, 73% of this country cares about the issue and wants to see governmental intercession—I’ve identified two key stumbling blocks to taking action: Either folks don’t understand the basic science of climate change—and that’s nothing to be ashamed of (unless you’re the mainstream media)—and/or they don’t know what they can do about the problem. Both are totally understandable—and easily remedied.
To learn about the fundamentals of climate change, contact the Climate Reality Project—through their website or through me—and arrange to have a Climate Reality Leader give a presentation, free of charge, at your job, your school, your church (faith leaders can and must play a central role in advancing this cause), your local library or community center, wherever. It’s the same slideshow Mr. Gore delivered in An Inconvenient Truth, but updated with the latest climatic and scientific developments. It’s inspiring—and even a lot of fun. (I promise!)
Then join a climate community. There is a broad coalition of green organizations—the Climate Reality Project, 350.org, Sierra Club, Citizens’ Climate Lobby—that work together on this matter. Reach out to any one of them and find out when and where their next monthly chapter meeting is being held in your area, then make a point to pop by. All of them have the resources and infrastructure to put you to immediate and meaningful use, whether it’s participating in a rally, tabling at an event, delivering a presentation, writing a letter to the editor, or meeting with policy influencers.
And your participation needn’t even be as formal as any of that. They’ll teach you simply how to talk to your friends and neighbors about this issue—ostensibly the people most receptive to what you have to say—because fewer than one in five Americans hear someone they know discuss climate change in a given month. A casual conversation over an afternoon coffee can be a difference-making act of climate leadership. Wanna start right now? Take five minutes to familiarize yourself with Energy Innovation C.E.O. Hal Harvey’s “Four Zeroes”—his overview of the quartet of energy-consuming economic sectors responsible for 80% of our greenhouse gases that are most in need of legislative oversight and systemic reform—and you’ll have more than enough to discuss for weeks. Right now, you’re one article and one conversation away from being a climate leader yourself.
I am a writer of horror, but as Los Angeles mayor Eric Garcetti recently put it, we are all the writers of history. The climate breakdown is happening on our watch, and we all have to play a part in addressing it. This one can’t be left strictly to the experts—everyone has to pitch in. 2030 is right around the corner. Let that be a constant reminder to each of us that it isn’t merely the woodlands of the Hudson Valley that are enchanted; the whole world is mystical—it’s only that we’ve grown accustomed to it. And the thing I love so much about the upcoming holiday season is that it invites us to reconnect with the part of ourselves susceptible to enchantment, sensitive to wonder, open to all possibilities.
Over forty years later, scenes like this — of the Bear Mountain Bridge in Upstate New York — still take my breath away
This Halloween, wherever you are, allow yourself a moment to inhale the witching influence of the air and grow imaginative—to dream dreams, and see apparitions. Then roll up your sleeves with me and be part of the generation that conserves the magic of the natural world for all time—and maybe even builds a better social order in the process. If we pull it off, it’ll be a story for the ages.
The 2018 midterm elections are just around the corner here in the U.S. Are you and your family heading to the polls on November 6? Find your polling place here.
Great post Sean – and one I can relate to. In my case it was SciFi rather than horror. Remember how “Dun”e was written as a homage to the ecologist?. But there was science non-fiction, too, like Rachel Carson’s “Silent Spring”.
I also listened to Pete and Peggy Seeker back in the day – I met her at a gig in a tiny UK venue about 20 years or more ago. I purchased a copy of her book of music and lyrics which she dedicated to my grand daughter (who was 4 at the time)
That’s by the way, my point is that it was all those ’60s protest singer/song-writers that, along with science fiction and non-fiction, taught me the importance of the environment.
Our politicians in Europe are a bit more pro-active than your present government, but there is a kick back here, too, that needs to be resisted.
Thank you, Frank!
Yes, just as Romanticism (of which the Gothic literature of Irving and Poe is a subgenre) was a pushback against the Industrial Revolution (which itself was the grand realization, through the burning of coal and oil, of Francis Bacon’s profoundly arrogant assertion that nature could be bent to human will, that the unyielding and unpredictable elements that hampered the insatiable growth of extractive capitalism/industrialization could be effectively “sequestered” through technologies powered by fossil fuels, a chicken that’s now manifestly come home to roost), there seems to have been a countercultural response to the Second Industrial Revolution of the early twentieth century, which included a newfound ecological awareness as reflected in both our fictions (certainly Dune) and nonfictions (Silent Spring, arguably the catalyst for the modern environmental movement). It seems our artists have known from the outset that the natural world was a force to be respected, not a nuisance to be subjugated. Artists are always the first to know, aren’t they?
Science fiction and horror — closely related cousins in many respects (consider the amount of crossover in watershed shows like The Twilight Zone and The X-Files) — are such crucial instruments of social self-reflection, which is why I’d like to see both genres restored to meaningfulness again. We bled all significance from our sci-fi when it was reduced to grist for the franchise mill: When was the last time a Star Trek or Terminator or Alien movie had something profound to say about the human condition?
And don’t get me started on my genre: horror. Horror used to have rules and structure (and, thusly, suspense and meaning); now orgiastic, self-indulgent nonsense like American Horror Story is what passes for horror these days — and we reward it with ratings and Emmys. Both genres have so much to teach us about this unprecedented era in which we find ourselves, but they’ve been hijacked by undisciplined/dishonest storytellers. Perhaps I’ll make that the subject of an upcoming blog post.
As for governmental progress on climate change: Yes, the United States in stymied by denialism, whereas elsewhere the stumbling block is political inertia. Governments of the world, from the Americas to Europe, have been tacking extreme right in recent years — a troubling trend. Certainly the election of Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil for anyone pro-democracy and pro-environment is unsettling.
But there is good news: The United States is still very much in the Paris Accord; we can’t legally withdraw until before November 4, 2020, four years after the Agreement entered into effect — and, as fate would have it, the day after the 2020 U.S. presidential election! That’s why voting, imperfect (and often rigged) a system though it may be, is still so crucial: Get rid of any politician who expresses even a scintilla of doubt about climate change. We have an opportunity to engage in a meaningful act of resistance in a mere six days, my fellow Americans; I suggest we not let it pass us by.
My gratitude, Frank, for a lively conversation. Your passion and insights are very much appreciated!
I thought climate change is fake news, Sean. (Just kidding and ugh). It amazes me that humankind somehow thinks we can survive the destruction of our ecosystem. That makes no sense to me since we are part and parcel of that very system, completely dependent upon its air, water, food, and diversity for survival. It’s mind boggling. And the interdependence of every plant and animal is sublime, perfectly balanced for sustainability. Wipe out the bees alone and we face disaster.
But that’s the biology, and Mother Nature extends far beyond that, doesn’t she? In truth, she is the nurturer of spirit and imagination, rejuvenation and belonging. Our true home that takes care of our souls as well as our bodies. I’ve long believed that the land soaks up stories like a sponge, and we can access that creative tap whenever we choose. For those of us who have been lucky enough to explore green spaces as children, that sense of wonder never fades.
When we lose our connection to nature and stand by as it’s destroyed, we will be left with a “dead” world, both as a source of creativity and physical survival. Here is Oregon, clear-cutting and herbicides steal the life and spirit from great swaths of our mountainsides. Not a fish, insect, animal, or plant survives it. And though the forests are replanted with a mono-crop of trees, the diversity of the ecosystem is forever lost. We spray our forests with poison and wonder why we have the highest rate of autism in the country.
Clearly I can go on and on. Thanks for the beautiful photos of your stomping grounds as well as the success story of the river’s clean up. Let’s hope that we get our acts together and have a global environmental revolution before it’s too late. 🙂
I’m so glad you stopped by to comment, Diana, because I knew you of all people would appreciate the point of this post and have something relevant to add, child of nature that you are, expressed with the same passion you bring to your fiction and poetry. I hesitate to assign a label to my spiritual beliefs, but I suppose if I had to, I’d say I’m a metaphysical naturalist: I believe nature is a conscious entity. My belief system, such as it is, is best articulated by writer John Jeremiah Sullivan in his 2008 essay “La•Hwi•Ne•Ski: Career of an Eccentric Naturalist”:
As I said in my reply to Frank above, Romanticism — including the Gothic horror that inspires my own fiction — was in some respects a lament for the Industrial Age commodification of the wonders of the natural world. We gained technology, and certainly wealth, but we lost both a connection to nature and any respect for it, poisoning the soil with pesticides, acidifying the oceans, and polluting the air with greenhouse gases. It reminds me of Al Pacino’s line from The Devil’s Advocate:
That sort of perfectly sums up the symbiotic (and suicidal) relationship between extractive capitalism and climate change, really. We need, as I indicated at the end of the piece, a new social order, and storytellers are going to play an important role in advancing it. We need a neo-Romantic era, really, that envisions a new world based on old (read: pagan) values, what’s sometimes referred to in my circles as democratic eco-socialism. Storytellers are going to have to start challenging, rather than reinforcing, some of the outmoded and unsustainable ideals of Western civilization that require immediate systemic reconceptualization.
There’s a (relatively) new genre called “cli-fi” (think Roland Emmerich’s The Day After Tomorrow), and that’s important for spreading awareness of the climate breakdown, but we need more historical/fantasy fiction that shows us lost ways of life — sustainable modes of living — that can give us something to aspire to. Make no mistake: Artists will play a huge role in tackling climate change — and restructuring society in the process. And that’s what I want everyone to understand: We all have a part to play in this challenge, and we all have skills/talents that can contribute to the cause.
Thanks, Diana, for popping by! Your contributions are always very welcome here.
Sean
One of my favorite books is Earth Abides, written in 1949. I think Stewart had a peek into the future when it comes to showing us the “lost ways of life — sustainable modes of living.” Democratic eco-socialism works for me. Now let’s all go and vote for the future. 🙂
Great reminder of a prescient novel, Diana! And while Earth Abides wouldn’t qualify as “cli-fi,” it was definitely ahead of its time not only as a work of postapocalyptic sci-fi (predating Matheson’s I Am Legend by five years), but as a work of eco-fiction.
If you don’t mind, I’m going to hijack your comment to include a passage from Naomi Klein’s This Changes Everything (which I encourage everyone to read) that is nothing if not germane to the conversation we’re having, and a notion I suspect you of all sensitive souls will appreciate:
Until this terrific post, I hadn’t considered global warming to be a horror story, but I have to say, Sean, your presentation is compelling. I’ll never think of it another way. That we are–potentially within my pet’s lifetime–at the point no ecological return is a horror. I applaud this new focus–your Twitter feed keeps getting better and better–and admire how you, through the gift of your writing, tied those strands together.
Oh, Wendy, what a truly encouraging piece of feedback that is. Thank you. I know you have periodically expressed concern that your own wonderful blog occasionally veers “off-brand” (it doesn’t — it’s always identifiably you), and I confess to harboring the same apprehensions about this blog sometimes. So, in some respects, this post was about convincing myself as much as my readers that my horror fiction and environmental activism are in no way unrelated interests.
The IPCC report (also known as SR15) is a horror story, meant to prompt a healthy dose of fear — because fear is a survival mechanism. Come to grips with that fear — don’t resort to denialism — then acknowledge the good news that we absolutely have the wooden stake/silver bullet to slay this beast! We have the technology for a cleaner, fairer world, we just have to peel, finger by finger, the hands of Big Oil off the levers of power. We can do it. Keep following my Twitter feed for more suggestions on the latest developments and how you can help make a difference. And nag everyone you know to get out and vote on Tuesday. For anyone feeling cynical about the voting process, I encourage you to listen to the opening fifteen-minute monologue from the latest Team Human podcast.
Let me leave you with this suggestion, Wendy — just to think about. Young people — meaning current students in high school and college — are going to be the ones who spend the next decade solving this problem. As such, they need to be armed with the most information and strategic-engagement support. Being an educator, you’re perhaps in a position to have a Climate Reality Leader give the Inconvenient Truth slideshow presentation at your school. If that’s something you think would benefit your students, reach out to me and I’ll have a Leader from the Milwaukee chapter set it up with your school. (It costs nothing except 45 minutes of your time.) We left this mess for the children of the world to inherit, so least we can do is give them the tools — and encouragement — to solve it.
Thank you for the encouragement you offer me. Means the world, pal. Hope you had a Happy Halloween.
We certainly are ABLE to do it, but it becomes so difficult when politician and other leaders refuse to acknowledge the crisis of climate change. We’re currently having the same problem up here, with a new Premier who doesn’t believe in it, and has no interest in the federal government’s steps to combat it. “Disaster capitalism” is a term I hadn’t heard but I think it’s very apt!
100%, mydangblog — political will (or lack thereof) is now the only significant obstruction to climate action at present. Politicians (many of whom are in the pocket of the fossil-fuel industry) have kicked this can to the end of the road. Despite the manifest need to change our ways, though, denialism (here in the U.S.) and inertia (elsewhere) continues to stymie progress. It is frustrating. However…
Many climate-friendly politicians are taking meaningful action. Our governor here in California, Jerry Brown, has put the state on the path to zero emissions by 2045. Obviously, we’re going to have to make that goal considerably more ambitious — we don’t have till 2045 — but as infrastructures are put in place and barriers to entry lowered (meaning costs come down as more people adopt green-energy solutions), I have every confidence we’ll begin exceeding our objectives exponentially. And given that our state alone is the fifth (or sixth?) largest economy in the world all by itself, our energy plans/policies could very well become a model that other states adopt in short order. So, stay tuned…
Meanwhile, Canada has just implemented a carbon tax not much different than the one championed here in the States by Citizens’ Climate Lobby (another green organization I work with directly), so that’s something to crow about! If that proves successful, it gives CCL the impetus to push even harder for it here in Washington.
I say all of this because I want everyone to know that despite the dire warnings of the IPCC, there is a lot to be optimistic about. Consider it this way: We’ve been told in no uncertain terms we have a narrow window of a dozen years to get our act together. But we have a window. We can do it in that timeframe. We just need all hands on deck. Forgive the cliché, but it’s not over till it’s over.
I’m not certain who coined the phrase, but I was first introduced to the concept of “disaster capitalism” through the writings of Naomi Klein, an author and activist in your hometown of Toronto. She is an outspoken advocate for reforming capitalistic society, and a thought leader worth reading. And the more environmental activists you read and speak to, the more optimistic you will become that a solution is inevitable, and you’ll be energized to be a part of it. Keep the faith, mydangblog! And thanks for reading!
>Civil rights. Marriage equality. What do those lessons of history teach us about our urgent pursuit of decarbonization? That big social and societal changes—even in the face of political inertia or, worse still, opposition—can be forced when a public movement is mobilized.
I’ll tell you what Civil rights, Marriage equality, Women’s rights, Religious freedom, Freedom of the press, and other such social and societal changes are teaching us right now. They are teaching us that some people will gleefully destroy in seconds what took decades, even centuries to achieve
That there is no such thing as a “safe right”, no right so secure we need not worry about it
That we keep having to fight the same battles our parents had already won
And that all rights (and I’m including the right to have clean air, land, and water here) are interconnected. A threat to one is a threat to all
Indeed, Dave: Democracy — and its hard-won provisions — are fragile. They need to be protected. As such, voting rights need to be exercised to ensure that protection. And yet the voting process itself is now under assault, through gerrymandering, election fraud, voter suppression, etc.
As I was discussing with Frank in the comments above, the hard turn toward the extreme right that’s happening in many countries around the world (in those of North and South America and Europe, for example) is profoundly troubling, but also a reminder — perhaps much-needed — that democracy isn’t a fixed operating system; it is a manmade construct capable of being corrupted or outright dismantled. Mr. Gore talks often about how democracy has been “hacked.” He’s right. So if it means something to us — and democracy’s resilience is certainly being put to the test at present — we’ve got to fight for it, even if that requires taking up battles long since “settled.” (God help us with this conservative-majority Supreme Court.) I mean, now even birthright citizenship is under attack! The white patriarchy is not going to go quietly into that good night…
But you know what else isn’t an absolute ideology, either? Capitalism. We can reform that, too — return to a peer-to-peer transactional economy in which value is created rather than extracted, one that encourages the free flow of wealth rather than the hoarding of it. And when we do that, what will emerge is a fairer and more just society in which the directive of zero-sum growth is supplanted with a prosperity-for-all social order. And maybe then we’ll finally be relieved of fighting the same old battles.
And while I by no means think that utopian scenario is a sure-thing inevitability, I do believe it could be achieved within my lifetime — I think we could see a startling societal transformation in the next few decades if we work to make it happen. Climate change, unwelcome though it may be, presents that opportunity. That’s why I fight the good fight. I mean, how could I possibly let a chance to be a co-author of the biggest story in the history of humanity pass me by, right?
Thanks for always being willing to intellectually engage on this blog, Dave, no matter how slight or severe the topic. You have my appreciation, amigo.
Fascinating article you recommended–the one on the four zeroes. In a related thought, one thing has bugged me for quite some time–why doesn’t all new construction in California require installation of solar panels? Codes have been tightened on making buildings weather-tight (we’re waterproofers, so we experience this first-hand), so requiring local generation of power should be a no-brainer.
Sadly, not a single governor, senator, or president has called to ask my opinion on this matter. I do write them, but I never really know if anything is getting through.
I’m afraid I’m not cut out for committee work. Most of my climate efforts go into personal recycling and picking up litter. The last isn’t very glamorous, but if you pick up a bag of trash, that’s one bag’s worth that isn’t polluting the environment.
Thanks for working to bring this very important issue to the forefront of our awareness, Sean. 🙂
Glad you enjoyed the “Four Zeroes” overview, Cathleen — and thanks for taking the time to read it! If you’re interested in further exploration of the matter, Hal Harvey has just published an entire book on strategically lowering carbon emissions through policy initiatives: Designing Climate Solutions: A Policy Guide for Low-Carbon Energy.
Here’s why the book is for more than merely policymakers: You, for instance, write your elected officials — which we should all absolutely be doing — and yet don’t know if it’s making a damn bit of difference, right? Well, Mr. Harvey has a solution for that.
In the push to get meaningful climate policy enacted, Mr. Harvey talks about triage — that is, focusing on actions that have the biggest impact (as opposed to things that make you feel good, like swapping out lightbulbs, but aren’t going to address the larger crisis). The difference between transactional movement-building (raising money; photo ops) and transitional movement-building is all about considering not just the ethos (ethics) and pathos (feelings) behind an idea, but its logos — meaning, Can you get the job done?
So, with respect to that to the first “zero,” electric utilities, who decides whether they run on brown or green energy? The answer is: a surprisingly small number of people/policies determine that. There are fifty states, and correspondingly fifty public utility commissions. At five people per PUC, that means 250 people in this country determine if our energy sources are dirty or clean. That’s it.
And of those fifty states, only thirty really matter with respect to influencing national policy, so now we’re down to ninety people. Imagine it: Ninety people make the difference between a dirty grid and a sustainable one. Those are the influencers we need to be targeting with our lobbying efforts; we needn’t waste our time with governors, state senators, etc. (And certainly don’t waste any energy on Trump!)
If you spent an hour or two a month researching and reaching out to those folks, that alone would be a deeply meaningful action — perhaps infinitely more so than sitting on a committee, organizing/participating in an event, or even recycling (which we should be doing, lest anyone think I am dismissing that). It’s all about taking the most efficient, most meaningful actions within both the time we have to give to the movement and the parameters of our skill set/personal comfort. Smart activism can be far better than voluminous activism.
(For more on simple, everyday steps “ordinary” people can take to make a difference, I refer you to this brief but informative article: “6 Ways Ordinary People Can Prevent Climate Change, according to Researchers and Advocates.”)
You and I are both Californians, Cathleen, and as such have much to reconcile with when it comes to climate action: We’ve taken historic steps under Jerry Brown, including the recent passage of SB100 (which puts us on a path to 100% renewable energy by 2045), but our economy (the fifth or sixth largest in the world) is still heavily dependent on fossil-fuel extraction — we’re second only to Texas in oil production. In order for our state to take its place as a world leader on this issue, we need to come to terms with our areas for improvement, and demand from our elected representatives a just (and immediate) decarbonization plan. I do want everyone to understand that — particularly my fellow Californians — which is why I’ve dedicated some of my blog’s real estate to this matter. As such, I thank you as a friend of the blog and fellow Golden State resident for your interest and engagement. I suspected when I joined the Climate Reality Leadership Corps that more people cared about this issue than dismissed it out of hand, and everyone here in the comments has contributed to the affirmation of that belief, as well as my continued enthusiasm for spreading awareness on the issue.
I’ll look into the book, but I’m afraid I’ve become deeply jaded about anyone’s efforts that aren’t mine.
As an example (and it’s only the most recent): I really wanted the latest grocery bag law. I bored the crap out of everyone I knew, trying to get them to vote for it.
And what happened? Now instead of cheap plastic bags, we have “reusable” ones, which are even more durable! The only thing that would have helped would have been going back to paper only, and that’s not going to happen. Our oceans are drowning in plastic, and it seems like nobody cares.
I’m saving up for a personal solar system on my house, and when I can afford it, I’d like to get a hybrid, so I can drive at least some of the time courtesy of the sun. I can use paper bags, sometimes for multiple uses. I can pick up trash. These are things I can do.
I’m afraid I’ve lost faith in the efforts of others, which might not be fair, but you can only get your hopes dashed so many times. The only real unequivocal victory I’ve ever had was circulating petitions to make more of the redwoods a national park, and that was over thirty years ago.
I’m appalled by the sheer inertia caused by greed and complacency. I’ll keep trying, but it requires a certain amount of optimism, and that’s in rather short supply right now.
As fate would have it, Cathleen, my next blog post (not an environmental thesis) is all about how the lion’s share of our well-intentioned, hard-fought efforts amount in the end to nothing, and the ensuing cynicism that (quite understandably) develops from the cycle of repeated failure.
Optimism is indeed in short supply these days — again, not hard to understand why — but at the extreme risk of sounding trite, optimism itself is a renewable resource. Optimism is easy to marshal when times are good; the question is: Can you summon it when it’s most needed — when you’re “feeling it” the least?
I’ll tell you this: Having spent the last two months immersed in the world of climate activism, those most well-informed about the dire realities of this crisis — from the exigent warnings of our scientific community to the inexcusable inaction of our political leadership — are by and large the most optimistic that we’re going to get a handle on it. And not through the magic wand of technosolutionism, either (the faith in which is its own expression of cynicism and arrogance) — through demanding and compelling social/political/economic change. And what do you think fuels such a movement? Appall over an egregious injustice, and optimism that it can be corrected:
Pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will — that’s not such a bad balance to strike, wouldn’t you say? Maybe that oughtta be the blog’s new tagline?
Pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will is an interesting contrast-and-comparison, and if it’s useful, go for it. 🙂
My mind doesn’t work that way. In my case I have a strong attachment to duty, possibly because of my faith.
It comes down to what area are you going to devote your limited time and resources. The environment? Homelessness? Pro-life issues? Poor medical care in the third world? Something in the political arena, like those terrible human rights violations when children of immigrants were forcibly taken from their parents, and some of them were subsequently abused? We can’t fight everything with everything we have all at once. We all have bills to pay, too. And sometimes the priorities shift, depending on the immediacy of the crisis.
Trying to do anything in this world is tough, and you always run into the incredible opposition of greed and inertia. Anyone who tries to help, deserves my respect. You’ve certainly earned that, Sean. 🙂
Aw, thanks for that, Cathleen.
No, we shouldn’t do nothing, and — equally important to recognize — we can’t do everything. We can’t be the champion of every cause, even within a single movement. Climate advocacy, for instance, has different subsets — climate science (measuring ocean acidification and glacial melt), environmental policy (like carbon taxes), environmental justice (like what was discussed in the previous post), green technologies (carbon sequestration, solar panels) — and an effective activist will choose one to commit his time and energy advancing. When we take specific actions and see them through, we can observe measurable progress and thusly stay motivated. Trying to “save the world” is too daunting a prospect; it dooms us to failure before we’ve started.
Author David Morrell once told me that all we have is time, and how we choose to spend it. Thusly, each of us needs to figure out what to put our energy into, and how to best do that. Through politics? If so: local, state, or federal? Through our church? Through community outreach programs? Through volunteerism — at a library, an animal shelter, a care facility? There are no shortage of opportunities to make a statement against greed and indifference, we only need start taking them.
Thanks, Cathleen, for contributing such thoughtful dialogue to this post. Because dialogue has the power to make a difference, too.
This is a dynamite post and should be widely read! I’ll be sharing it with my contacts. My small home town Silverton OR is looking at banning single use plastic bags and clamshells. Oregon has moved on this in several cities and we have options for using green energy to power our homes. Step by step, choice by choice, we can make a difference.
BTW, at Halloween my husband and I watched “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” movie made in 1995 starring Johnny Depp as Ichabod Crane. Recalling your recent post about Johnny’s current troubles, it was wistful to recall what a fabulous actor he is, a face so plastic yet contained, communicating much more than words.
Thank you, Lennie — for both the kind words and willingness to share the piece with others. I am a Climate Reality Leader, and committed to spreading awareness about the climate breakdown, so please let anyone with whom you share the post know I am happy to provide more information or put them in touch with a local Climate Reality Leader in their area. And please encourage one and all to tune into 24 Hours of Reality: Protect Our Planet, Protect Ourselves on December 3–4. For more information — including a :30 trailer — please go here.
Like California, your home state of Oregon is taking a leadership position on climate change, as I’m sure you know. Our Children’s Trust is based out of Eugene; they have filed a landmark climate lawsuit, called Juliana v. U.S., against the federal government for violating the youngest generation’s constitutional rights to life, liberty, and property, as well as failing to protect essential public trust resources. Just last week the Supreme Court permitted the case to proceed, but as of yesterday the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals has delayed the case yet again. This is a lawsuit everyone should be aware of and actively supporting, because it has the potential to reshape the social contract. It’s that significant.
And I concur: Step by step, choice by choice, all of us can make a difference. “Saving the world” is too ambitious, too nebulous a goal. Here’s a great article on ten relatively simple things we can all do to mitigate climate change.
Now on to a more fun subject: Sleepy Hollow! Because of where I grew up, I have a special affinity for that story. If you think about so many of the great literary monsters, they’re all European in origin: Dracula, Frankenstein, Mr. Hyde, the Wolf Man, the Invisible Man, etc. The Headless Horseman, on the other hand, is really the first famous monster of American folklore. And that his haunts were set twenty miles up the Saw Mill River Parkway from where I was raised is a source of tremendous personal pride for this horror aficionado!
I grew up with Irving’s original short story and the old Disney cartoon, and I absolutely love the Tim Burton/Johnny Depp movie. It took some (necessary) liberties with the source material, but it’s just a terrific interpretation of the legend. I love the way it’s basically a black-and-white movie, because the muted color palette is almost exclusively in grayscale (save the blood, which is comically crimson and jelly-like!). Aesthetically, Burton manages to pay tribute to both the Universal horror films of the thirties and the Hammer offerings of the sixties (hence the casting of Christopher Lee as the Burgomaster).
The movie boasts strong atmospherics (Burton at his best), a nuanced performance from Johnny Depp (what a tightrope walk of romance, whimsy, and pathos), and a sharp script (which benefited enormously from an uncredited rewrite by playwright Tom Stoppard). Two decades after its release, I think the film has only gotten better with age. It was in some respects the swan song of a cinematic revival in the nineties of star-driven Gothic supernatural horror that started with Bram Stoker’s Dracula and continued through Wolf, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Interview with the Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles, Mary Reilly, Snow White: A Tale of Terror, The Devil’s Advocate, and The Mummy.
The Burton/Depp Sleepy Hollow is truly one of my favorites; I’m delighted you feel the same! (I was far less enamored with the recent Fox TV show, which I felt didn’t understand the spirit of the source material at all, and was yet another in a long line of sprawling postnarrative shows that went on and on and on to no apparent end.) Sleepy Hollow makes for a great double bill with The Ninth Gate, a (flawed) horror movie from the same year, in which Depp offers a totally different kind of performance. His range is a marvel to behold; he is truly a once-in-a-generation talent.
Thanks so much, Lennie. I greatly enjoyed your recent blog post on the Teotihuacan empire! Wishing you a nice weekend…
My dad used to work for the EPA. He said “You have no idea how much we fucked up this world.” The cleanup was rough for him but there are a lot of changes being made, we just need to amplify and spread them exponentially 🙂
We certainly have fucked things up, Jess, as this past weekend’s National Climate Assessment makes manifestly clear. Which is why, as you rightly observe, we have a responsibility now to address the problem with speed and scale. I notice that the Trump administration’s stance has recently shifted from “It’s a hoax!” to “Well, it’s so dire there’s nothing that can be done anyway, so let’s just party while Rome burns!”
Whether one’s inclination is to indulge denialism or doomism, neither are helpful, and both are an abdication of our moral obligation. And for those waiting on magic-wand technology — the religion of technosolutionism — to solve this problem, the good news is this: We already have the means to make the switch from brown energy to green energy… we only now require the political will.
To that end, I would encourage everyone to research and support Congressmember-elect Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s Green New Deal, which represents the kind of bold government investment in sustainable infrastructure required. For the first time in my adult life, I am optimistic such a sweeping policy proposal stands a chance of being implemented. But the Green New Deal requires massive public support — so spread the word! — and, of course, we’ll have to get His Orangeness out of the White House in 2020!
One final comment (and it’s germane to your father’s remark): I just this past Thanksgiving weekend read a wonderful book by astrophysicist Adam Frank called Light of the Stars. In it, Frank makes the case that climate change is the inevitable byproduct of any energy-intensive, technologically advanced civilization, and that we are likely not the first intelligent lifeforms in the vast history of the cosmos to have impacted our planetary climate, and by extension threatened its habitability — a consideration which prompts an unsettling cosmic question:
In other words: Yes, we’ve fucked things up, but that was an inevitable consequence of planetary evolution. Conditions on the Earth seeded life, life became intelligent and the project of civilization began, and civilization is going to impact the environment and, by extension, the climate. So if we accept that human-caused climate change was inevitable, what remains to be definitively answered is whether the project of civilization can remain viable in a new climatic epoch (the Anthropocene) or whether it will collapse. That’s the part of our cosmic story that has yet to be written. I remain hopeful of humanity’s ingenuity, but I choose to respond to this crisis with neither blind optimism nor fatalistic pessimism, but rather engaged pragmatism, which is why I’m advocating for the Green New Deal, and I hope others will get behind it and support it in town halls and on Twitter alike.
Thanks for popping by, Jess. Wishing you a happy holiday season…
I just looked up a local Sierra Club chapter (not exactly close, but within reasonable driving distance) to get more information. Words are encouraging. Action is better.
Action is important, yes, but don’t underestimate what even mere words can do: The best — and easiest! — act of environmental leadership any of us can take is to simply talk to people about the climate breakdown. That’s it. The refreshing amount of mainstream-media climate coverage we’ve been seeing over the past three months is an anomaly: Up till now, it’s mostly just been an invisible, unsexy problem that doesn’t get reported on. Each month, fewer than one in five Americans hear someone they know discuss climate change. So just talking about it makes a difference: It puts it in people’s faces; it reifies it.
Find a local chapter of a green organization — the Climate Reality Project, 350.org, Sierra Club, Citizens’ Climate Lobby, The Climate Mobilization — and sit in on a monthly meeting. Nobody is going to try to “convert” you or hit you up for a monetary contribution. All of those organizations are comprised of concerned citizens trying to mobilize a grassroots movement. You’ll meet a bunch of cool people, and after a single meeting, you’ll have information that can drive a coffee-shop conversation about the climate crisis.
That’s especially important for someone like you, Erik, who mentors young people. Because Gens Y and Z are going to be the ones who spend the next decade or two getting a handle on this problem. If any of your kids are interested in getting involved, I would direct them to the Sunrise Movement, which is a growing army of fed-up young people trying to move the needle on this issue. Here’s the Facebook page for their Boston chapter.
And… if by chance any of the teens you mentor are looking to become Climate Reality Leaders, personally trained by Al Gore, the next three-day seminar is in Atlanta on March 14–16. The training itself is free of charge, though attendees are expected to pay their own way re: travel and lodging. If you know any kids, though, who are interested in submitting an application, let me know and I will write them a letter of recommendation (which will carry considerable weight given my standing as a Climate Reality Leader).
You win over the young people out there — the ones who have to spend the next half century living on an overheated planet — and you put us on the road to at long last dealing with this crisis. As someone who doesn’t (by circumstance) particularly engage with anyone under 20, I’d be genuinely curious to know, Erik, how many of the teens you mentor harbor thoughts or concerns about this issue.
Are you familiar w/ “hopepunk”?
https://www.patheos.com/blogs/daylightatheism/2019/09/prelude-to-commonwealth-iii-hopepunk-dreams/
https://festive.ninja/one-atom-of-justice-one-molecule-of-mercy-and-the-empire-of-unsheathed-knives-alexandra-rowland/
Seems like the sort of ting you’re talking about
Dave,
Thank you for being patient with me as I responded to this. Don’t think my delayed reply in any way means I didn’t appreciate your contribution. On the contrary: You always seem to have a link to a relevant post I wish I’d known about when I was writing my own take on the subject! And for that — for bringing so much to these conversations — you have my profound gratitude.
I’d never heard the term “hopepunk” before, but I love it; and I appreciate that Ms. Rowland framed it as occupying a middle ground between “grimdark” (which I’ve definitely heard of) and “noblebright.” My own fiction aspires to more of a “hopepunk” worldview, I would say, in that I won’t indulge cynicism or nihilism, but I’ve never quite cottoned to the “… and they lived happily ever after” conclusion so prevalent in our popular entertainments, either. Ideally, at the end of a narrative, a character has been changed by his experiences, and I respond to stories that embrace personal transformation in all of its emotional intricacy, even incongruity. I wrote recently about my ardor for the Dublin Murder Squad novels, because I think those books appreciate the need for optimism without sugar-coating the moral complexities of the human experience.
When I wrote last year about the pernicious messaging unconsciously embedded in so many of our favorite cultural narratives — to say nothing of the sheer amount of utterly meaningless fiction out there nowadays (shit like post-Lucas Star Wars and Game of Thrones, with their storyless agenda of expansive world-building) — I was making a plea for more “hopepunk” (without having the word in my vocabulary to cite as a convenient shorthand).
To wit, Rambo: Last Blood stands as the quintessential example of a movie that invokes every nefarious trope in the book: the (needlessly) violent white male savior, pornographic gunplay, extrajudicial vigilantism, relentless nihilism, inexcusable xenophobia — you name it. And what makes it all the more frustrating in this instance was that Stallone had a golden opportunity to take an eighties action relic emblematic of all those questionable mores and credibly turn him into the poster boy for a new, cooperative, nonviolent worldview of empathetic coexistence — a case I made in my recent analysis of the movie. But, alas, they had to take the low road…
Storytellers have a social and cultural responsibility to do better than that. And since this particular post is specifically about environmentalism, I leave you with a fitting quote from climate activist Naomi Klein’s essay “The Leap Years: Ending the Story of Endlessness”:
Thanks, Dave. Just a suggestion: Maybe think about writing a full-length post on the different worldviews of hopepunk, grimdark, and noblebright fiction…
Sean