By Peter Fousek
A few weeks ago, Sir Richard Branson of Necker Island (a home selected, by his own admission, for purposes of tax avoidance) launched himself and into suborbital flight, thereby winning the so-called billionaire space race that he, Jeff Bezos (who has since gone to space himself), and Elon Musk have spent billions on over the past few years. This comes on the heels of headlines (including that of Bezos’s own Washington Post) announcing the staggering loss of life that the Pacific Northwest has experienced as a result of the recent heatwave, the latest in an ever-expanding list of tragic disasters brought on by climate change. Branson’s triumphant flight took place a week after the world watched a truly apocalyptic video of the Gulf of Mexico on fire following yet another pipeline rupture. The billionaire space race has unfolded while developing nations of the global South have already been forced to grapple with devastating droughts, floods, and famines, brought on by the pollution produced as a byproduct of profits accumulated largely in the West.[1] As the planet continues to burn, as countless people continue to suffer and die, the wealthiest members of our species spend fortunes to escape the Earth. I cannot emphasize enough how terrifying of a prospect that is—we, the 99%, those without the means (or interest) to pursue such a planetary exit, should be deeply, deeply concerned. As the effects of climate change continue to unfold, the future looks increasingly grim; nonetheless, as this latest, sickening display of wealth makes clear, those individuals with the economic power to perhaps pull us back from the precipice, are instead happy to watch as we continue to slip closer to unfathomable disaster.
In economics, an externality is an effect or consequence produced by an action, that is felt by people other than the actor responsible for it. The inequitable distribution of the impacts of climate change is a heartbreaking example of a negative externality. For years, the people of developing countries have borne the consequences brought on by practices that they have no hand in. In these countries, many of which continue to suffer from the lasting impacts of colonialist extraction and (economic and militaristic) imperialism, decades of ecological devastation have long since made it abundantly clear the threat posed by the climate crisis is truly existential. And the responsibility for that destruction has not been in question. As disaster after disaster has been endured, there has been an overwhelming, consistently growing collection of evidence supporting the consensus that rising sea levels, ozone depletion, extreme weather, mass extinction, and countless other forms of geological violence, are the direct result of industrial practices ranging from the burning of fossil fuels to the overconsumption of beef cattle.
So why haven’t we stopped? Why do we continue to increase the rate at which we pollute, while the planet itself cries out for help? The answer is largely a function of the aforementioned externality: those who pollute have not yet felt the heat. That isn’t to say people in countries like the United States or Canada (both among the top 20 CO2 producers per capita) aren’t experiencing adverse effects of the climate crisis—as the recent heatwave makes clear, they certainly are. But, while the ordinary United States citizen likely drives a car, eats beef, and engages in any number of other practices that increase the global emission output, they are nowhere close to being major polluters. That status is reserved for those individuals, corporations, states, and institutions who possess economic power over the production of pollution. It is the auto-manufacturer who is responsible for the destructive impacts inherent to the car, not the wage worker who needs it in order to drive to work. It is the natural gas conglomerate and the utility provider who are at fault for the fuel burned to power the generator of a regional electric grid, not the family who has no choice but to use that grid for their electricity. Those who are to blame, who have reaped obscene profits while jeopardizing the future of our world, are continuing to do so, because they can afford not to care.
As mountains of evidence demonstrating the harm caused by industrial pollution have continued to pile up, billions have been spent on lobbying to block policies that would address the causes of climate change. Forbes reports that oil and gas companies alone spend $200 million annually on such efforts. In comparison to the quarterly earnings they make as they continue to ravage the planet, that cost is negligible. And, while a 2019 study by the Pew Research Center found that 62% of Americans believe the federal government should do more to address the unfolding crisis, it is becoming increasingly evident that our political apparatus has already been bought and paid for, and that any effort on their part do undo the damage done will be far too little, far too late. Rather than act in accordance with popular interest and take measures to address climate change, our “representatives” would prefer to represent those whose substantial contributions will help ensure their reelection. Free market fundamentalists are quick to argue that the profit incentive drives all human innovation; while I disagree with them there, it is clear to see the profit incentive drives our legislation. As a result, those with the power and privilege to do so will continue to exploit the planet and its population, amassing enough wealth to insulate themselves from the consequences of their own actions.
In my previous article, Their Freedom and Ours, I argue that liberty in the United States is increasingly a function of wealth. The implication of freedom’s financial underpinning is that those without money are less valuable than those who possess. Whether in a pandemic or an ecological disaster, this means that our institutional authorities are willing to sacrifice the wellbeing, and even the lives, of the working class, for the sake of the interests of the wealthy. The climate crisis stands only to exacerbate that dynamic of legally and institutionally backed inequality and injustice. We have already witnessed that to be the case, as disaster and devastation have been thrust onto millions of geopolitically marginalized people. Going forward, like the billionaires currently occupied with shooting themselves into space, the wealthy elite will continue to shield themselves from the byproducts of their own greed. Make no mistake: if the more profitable move is to watch the world burn while continuing to add fuel to the fire, they will do so. The economically marginalized and oppressed must recognize their potential ability to ensure that the continued callousness of the wealthy is anything but profitable.
I stated earlier that we should be terrified. More importantly, we should be livid. Those who have reaped the benefits of longstanding destructive practices will gladly watch the rest of us suffer in order to continue down their gluttonous path. What could be more despicable, more utterly inhuman, than that? I also wrote that the average American is not at fault for the crisis. That is not to say that we don’t hold responsibility—we very much do. As consumers, we drive gas powered cars, eat food shipped hundreds of miles from industrial farms, order plastic wrapped plastic products from Amazon, and so much more. As workers, we act as the multitude of miniscule but integral cogs in the economic machine of our late capitalist dystopia, filling the many roles and executing the countless tasks necessary for major corporations to continue functioning. Thus, for the same reasons that we hold a share of the responsibility for the future of our planet, we also hold incredible power.
Consider the lengths that this nation went to, to ensure that our economy never came close to completely shutting down in the face of the deadliest pandemic in a century. Without our continued cooperation as both consumer and producer, the economic system of this country would fail to function—those all-important profits would disappear. Corporate propaganda has tried to convince us that individual consumer choice (e.g. recycling and using paper straws) would be our salvation. That is a lie intended to shift blame away from the corporation to the individual. However, the collective choices of many individuals, acting together for a shared goal, can certainly have a transformative effect. The influence and interference of wealth in U.S. politics and culture has resulted in numerous legal and social barriers to mass strikes; while strikes, legal or otherwise, remain one of the most important political and economic tools held by the working class, we cannot rule out the other elements at our disposal as we strive towards the level of organization and engagement necessary for a general strike. The power of a widespread boycott, for example, is immense. Ours is a consumer economy, in which consumption accounts for nearly 70% of GDP. With sufficient organization, the impact of a well-planned boycott could be monumental, and help pave the way for other mechanisms to enact meaningful political change.
Still, taking action is difficult, even in the best of times; that difficulty is certainly exacerbated by the sheer magnitude of the obstacles that we see stacked against us as we endeavor to confront the climate crisis. Between being indoctrinated into pacifying illusions, and being overwhelmed by the desperate struggles of the day to, the very need to engage in such a pressing struggle can become all but obfuscated. Moreover, it is truly daunting to even consider the economic and political fortitude of those entities that have sent us hurtling down this dark path, against whom we stand opposed. As a young person whose short life has been relentlessly punctuated by reminders of the dire situation we’ve landed in, I’ve often found myself dealing with depression brought on by the existential dread of our historical moment. Because, as we watch countless innocent people suffer and die, as we watch the natural beauty and splendor of our world decimated, as we bear witness to the slaughter of the last tigers, we see a profound tragedy unfolding before our eyes. I believe, however, that our best, and ultimately our only course of action in the face of such cataclysm is to act, and act boldly. Now is not the time to lose hope—the situation is too pressing for that. Instead, it is the time to plan, to organize, and ultimately, to take a stand and advocate for ourselves, each-other, and our planet.
Organizations like the Citizens Climate Lobby (CCL) are already well underway with such efforts. Despite the attempts of corporations and investors to turn the mechanism of government into an oligarchy, the CCL has a track record of success on pushing important, progressive climate legislation through at both state and federal levels. Along with other likeminded organizations, the CCL offers an opportunity for all of us to engage in meaningful activism by compelling our institutional authorities to act in our interest, and the interest of the planet on the whole, rather than for the sole benefit of the most wealthy among us. Moreover, these organizations act as vehicles for collective, large scale strategizing and mobilization—an incredibly important role when we consider the steps that will be necessary to prepare for any economic mass-movement of resistance and dissent that we hope to undertake in the future. That kind of economically mediated activism, a general strike in the long term and widespread boycotts in the nearer future, represents our most substantial mechanism of sociopolitical influence. The power of the investor class to shape the politics and law of this country stems from their instrumental use of economic power; when working in unison towards a collective goal, the working class, as producers and consumers, possess a nearly limitless degree of such power.
We cannot allow ourselves to be the frog who sits patiently in the pot, waiting for the water to boil. We must act before it is too late. While we should have acted sooner, efforts of corporations to conceal the consequences of our consumption coupled with our own desire for comfort and convenience, and in doing so kept us complacent. Now, that complacency must end—those conveniences and comforts come at too high a cost. Now is the time to organize, to join organizations working to address the crisis that we are facing, and to help build a movement capable of enacting the degree of transformative change necessary to combat these challenges. Now is not the time to give up hope, but rather to fight, against all odds, quite literally to save the world. That task, like so many of the most pressing that humanity has faced throughout modern history, is left in the hands of the working class. It is our privilege, our historical mission, to answer the call: “do not go gentle into that good night!”
Notes
[1] I do not dismiss China’s recent and substantial greenhouse gas emissions; nonetheless, the duration of Western contributions to emissions, and the continued magnitude of our pollution on a per capita basis, is astronomical, even in comparison to China. Additionally, it’s worth considering that a substantial portion of Chinese emissions are produced by Western-owned corporations.
