One Small Step for Man, One Giant Stumble for Mankind

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.

Digital Capitalism Gives the Working Class a New Opportunity for Emancipation

Illustration by David Plunkert

By Jaime Caro-Morente

Mark Fisher, in his book Capitalist Realism, wondered if there was already no alternative to capitalism. This work captures the feeling of defeat that the international left has in the face of the failure of the experiments of real socialism in the Soviet world and the capitulation to the global neoliberalism that destroyed the Welfare State in the 70s.

Before this neoliberal world, which is nothing more than ultra-financed capitalism, it seemed that there was no possible alternative: the labor movement was disintegrated due to the impossibility of finding its enemies and the lack of true emancipatory examples. The 68´s Revolutions in the Western world showed that this supposed disintegration of the left, being incapable of developing a clear alternative to both capitalism and ultra-bureaucratic regimes, decided to find the emancipatory path by looking at all social constructs and bodies, which until that moment had kept quiet in their bosom under the premise of “your time will come when socialism arrives"; that is, the feminism and the anti-racist struggle, and after them the queer liberation movement, with a clear socialist surface. From the 70s to the present day, the left has advanced a lot in the field of conquering social rights for women, racialized bodies, and the LGTBQ + collective, but they have always found that there is one last impediment to achieving total emancipation: that monster that is the capitalist system.

Nowadays, the entire left knows perfectly well that none of the struggles can be carried out —that they can achieve their emancipatory objective —if they are not capable of destroying the system that oppresses them as a whole (capitalism), and afterwards creating another system free from these oppressions. But of course, the drive or strength that the labor movement had was totally overwhelmed by financial capitalism and delocalization: it seems that history repeats itself, in this case, we go back to the 30s, to the Steinbeck novel, The Grapes of Wrath. In this novel, all the inhabitants of a town found that there was a company that sent its workers to destroy their farms because “they were supposedly not productive.” Although they all had the same problem and wanted to fight against the company, when they demand to the guy who drives the tractor to see the boss to chat and negotiate — start a class struggle — he tells them that he doesn’t even know who the boss is; that the boss is someone in New York, or that he is Wall Street. They were facing a monster that they could not confront or even see; in fact, they say that if this guy continues with his work, they will shoot him. His response? That it will not matter because they will only be killing one of their own (since he was simply a worker from the town as well) and that the company will send another man to finish the job. In this world of crisis, these men were cannon fodder — they needed work to survive and no matter how much solidarity they had with their people, there was no one to fight against.

And this is how the international working class has felt since neoliberalism began in the 70s, without knowing who to fight against. It has been Wall Street, yes. It is capital. It is capitalism. But there are many Wall Streets, capital is everywhere, capitalism is all-encompassing, and everything is interwoven in a way in which you can blame the entire system while throwing punches in the air. Many people on the left have proposed a return to the Nation-States; that is, to broaden the Welfare State and attempt to wrangle the monster of neoliberalism, State by State. This solution seems practical until you realize that the United States, as a state, cannot prevent General Motors from taking production from Michigan to Mexico or Southeast Asia, in constant search of near-slave labor while leaving the industrialized and unionized working class in the dust. It has become obvious, in this late stage of capitalism, that states and their governments are totally subjugated by these industrial companies, which in turn only respond to the great neoliberal forces of capital… the objectives of financial capitalism.

At this point, we must introduce the work “No-Logo” of Naomi Klein, which shows in a fantastic way how this neoliberal financial capitalism operates in terms of production: jobs are not destroyed, but rather they migrate to other parts where the working classes are “not conscious” or have not fought for as much protection as the European or American ones. Therefore, at the end of No-Logo, there is only one possible way out: the proletarian internationalism that Marx and Engels once put as the most important “mission” of the working class. But of course, the labor movements in India and Southeast Asia have either been crushed as well, or companies have managed to once again migrate their productions to other areas where there is less class consciousness and/or greater degrees of interdependence due to colonialism and imperialism.

With the rise of digital capitalism, we find ourselves with an absolute realignment of a totally international class struggle, which allows the working class two clear advantages: 1) everything “digital” allows an interconnection and cooperation of the working classes from different parts of the world that was not possible before, and 2) digital technology (algorithms) can be used to manage the production of a new world that is not based solely on the invisible hand and the Market, in its capitalist sense. The second capability is essential as it would eliminate the need for tightly-wound bureaucracies that can stall the socialist transition to communism, while at the same time effectively coordinate where consumer goods are needed. If we apply this technological revolution to our productive capacities, we can overcome the fraudulent claims put forth by classical and neoclassical economists regarding capitalism, giving rise to an emancipation that could be classified as a sort of cybercommunism. We are on the cusp of such technology and must contemplate it for the future, while digital capitalism is giving the working class a unifying force like never before. The arrival of companies like Google, Amazon or Facebook have shown this potential. Google and Facebook are two paradigmatic cases — companies already based on the extraction of data from billions of individuals on the planet and the coordination of matching goods with these individuals anywhere in the world. Under capitalism, this potential is wasted, abused, and corrupted with the worst of intentions in its obsessive pursuit of profit. Under socialism, these models can represent forces of production and distribution that require minimal human labor. These companies have very few workers in relation with the old production chains of companies such as General Motors or General Electrics but they have the same amount of wealth or even more. A company like Google with 100,000 employees can generate the GDP of several countries in the world at the same time, just like Facebook, which with fewer employees generates the same amount of money.

The example of Amazon is even more pragmatic since it is the hybridization between the old forms of industrial capitalism with the digital one; a company that works like the digital ones, uses personalized ads to generate money, buys and sells items on its website, and even produces its own articles to distribute through a network of hundreds of millions of people. This is the perfect example of how the working class has to organize thanks to this rise of the new digital capitalism. It is useless to unionize workers in a single warehouse in the United States, but equally, it is useless to unionize all workers in Amazon in this country, since Amazon has all the resources to take production to any country in the world. In other words, to be able to twist their arms and amass genuine power, all Amazon workers — from all countries — should unionize in a single union that does not understand the distinction of nations. It would be a working-class, feminist, decolonial and anti-racist union, as the “working class” it represents. And of course, thanks to the digital technological revolution, through our mobile devices this union can perfectly coordinate all its actions around the world, to such an extent that even with different time zones it can call a strike on a global scale to bring even a goliath of capital like Amazon to its knees.

Digital capitalism is giving a golden opportunity to the world working class to organize internationally, as Marx and Engels insisted, and it is giving future tools for the total emancipation of work in an inherently decolonial, feminist, and anti-racist manner; that is to say, intersectional, where all efforts are put into the absolute emancipation of all human beings.

The Portent of a Pandemic

By Kenn Orphan

Just months ago, few would have thought it possible that a submicroscopic ball of genetic coding could bring the world’s wealthiest powers to their knees. But it has. In the space of a few months the Covid-19 virus projected its spiky arms not only into the delicate cells of the human lung, but into the very membrane of the global economic and political order itself. The United States, being the emblem of this order, has also become the biggest example of its enormous failure. In desperation, the American Empire, the wealthiest and most powerful one humanity has ever known, is flailing in spasms and fits of insanity, denial and outright cruelty. It is robbing from its allies and client states masks and ventilators, as it lashes out even more furiously at nations which have defied its hegemonic control. And, while it bails out corporations and the richest industries, it has abandoned its citizenry to fend for themselves amidst a raging storm where nearly every “non-essential” business has been shut down, the for-profit healthcare system is beginning to buckle, the bodies of the dead are mounting, and the mass graves are being dug. Amidst this assault on humanity, there is a growing assault on the living earth itself. The US is rapidly stripping the last meager protections for the environment, accelerating climate change and the collapse of the biosphere itself.

Donald Trump, a leader that is rapidly approaching the malevolence of Caligula, presides over this plague-ridden stage of the American Empire. On his watch, nurses and doctors are left to wrap themselves in garbage bags as their only defense against the microbe’s merciless rampage. Governors are reduced to a bidding war against other governors for life saving medical equipment. Workers that are considered “non-essential” are left to figure out how to navigate the brutal landscape of capitalist predation, with few options available to them to maintain their health, food security or home. Immigrants and prisoners are being left in cages to die without any adequate medical assistance. Most Americans are now left in an impossible situation. “Shelter in place” even though they may lose their livelihoods and homes in a very short time. Millions are unemployed with millions more on the way. Millions have or will lose their health insurance since this fundamental human right has been tethered to employment and whims of the market economy, one that has been built on the mercurial and shifting sands of the so-called free market. Now that marketplace is in shambles. The government’s answer to their plight has been to toss them a laughable, one-time pittance of $1200, while hundreds of billions of dollars are allotted to the wealthiest corporations and industries.

As the United States outdoes the rest of the world in Covid-19 cases and deaths, the Trump administration is rapidly dismantling the last, anemic protections for its beleaguered ecosystems. Lands that protect besieged endangered species are now open to hunters and poachers. The largely defanged Environmental Protection Agency has, for all intents and purposes, been shuttered amidst this pandemic. Now corporations are free to pollute without fear of oversight or penalty. The air and water, so integral to human health, are in open season for these industries. Indeed, even as the pandemic seems to be clearing skies and waterways around the planet, the “titans of industry” seek to rapidly cloud them again with toxins for their profit margin. It is an omnicide for profit, encouraged by the corporate state, on full display. And as if to add yet another layer to this absurdity, Trump recently signed an executive order announcing that the US will mine the moon for minerals. Apparently, plundering our own celestial sphere isn’t enough.

With little doubt, the Covid-19 pandemic has exposed painful truths about the nature of capitalism itself. The sacrosanct liturgy of the “free market,” for so long lauded by its faithful adherents, now comes across as a vulgar joke in the face of the inhumanity we are witnessing. This should come as little surprise since it possesses no mechanisms to cope mercifully with the calamity of a pandemic in the first place, let alone the existential threats of climate change or nuclear war for that matter. It understands only mindless expansion of the accumulation of capital for a select few. But it is also encroaching even more aggressively into habitats where few human beings have been before. Forests are being felled at record pace, the ocean floor is being scraped away for minerals as I write this, along with a myriad of species we may never even see, and ships now ply the once frozen waters of the Arctic circle in search for petrol.  And with this reckless abandon comes our inevitable encounter with pathogens that are likely to be far more deadly and with which we will have no defense.

Indeed, as horrifying as it is, Covid-19 could have been a far more lethal plague, eviscerating any vestige of civilization in a matter of weeks. We may have been spared this time around. But with the ice caps and glaciers melting, coral reefs bleaching, locust swarms blanketing crops in Africa, and fires burning forests and fields to ash with more ferocity each year in Australia and California and along the Mediterranean, we are facing an even greater menace than a microbial killer. Climate change is an existential threat on a global scale, and it does not just threaten the human species, but all life in the biosphere. And given what we have witnessed in the past couple months, we should not hold any assurances that the economic and political order that runs the world’s affairs will be any better suited at addressing the harrowing predicament of a rapidly warming planet. True to form, they will continue business as usual only, as things get worse, they will ramp up brutal repression of civil rights and accelerate toward outright fascism.

Just this month, the US stopped issuing passports except in matter of “life or death,” a move that echoes past authoritarian regimes limits on the freedom of movement. While its population is reeling from a collapsing healthcare system and the economic aftershocks, it is continuing its cruel sanctions on Iran, Cuba and Venezuela, even as it threatens military action against those countries. And the echoes of its influence can be seen in many of its allies and client states. In India, Narendra Modi has ignored and sometimes encouraged the police who have persecuted and beaten the poor, Muslims and Dalits for non-compliance to quarantine restrictions which ignore their socioeconomic plight. It continues to ravage occupied Kashmir. In Israel, draconian surveillance technology is being used to track citizen’s movements. And it continues to collectively punish the open-air prison of Gaza. In Hungary, democracy has all but been dissolved, giving far right Victor Orban sweeping, dictatorial powers for an indefinite time period. In the Philippines, Duterte has ordered police and soldiers to shoot people who break the lock down, even if they are desperately searching for food. In Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro has flouted the urging of health officials, endangering the lives and health of millions of people, and has encouraged radical Christian evangelicals in their genocidal aspirations to minister to uncontacted tribes in the Amazon who have no immunity to most western diseases, let alone Covid-19. Indeed, this pandemic has demonstrated the incompetence, cruelty, and despotism of the today’s global economic and political arrangement in stark ways, and it has indicated how this order will respond to the escalating nuclear arms race, continuing destruction of ecosystems through habitat loss and pollution, and the climate change catastrophes that loom on the horizon.

If there is anything to be learned from the Covid-19 pandemic, it would be that it is a portent. A miniscule sphere packed with laces of genetic strands that perhaps symbolize the power of knowledge itself.  It offers us a glimpse at how some governments are acting responsibly, like Cuba, for instance, who has sent medical teams to China, Italy and Spain. And how others, ones driven by the despotism of the so-called “free market,” are incapable of responding in any manner that is even remotely humane. The United States being the prime example. It also gives us insight into the power of nature and its ability to halt the very machinery of human society. But in addition to this, it offers us an opportunity to organize and act collectively as a species, even in isolation.

From the streets of Paris and Santiago, to the rainforests and wetlands of the Amazon and the Niger Delta, we have seen how ordinary people can arise and unite in solidarity against the barbarism of the global corporate state, whose omnicidal demeanor endangers us and the living earth itself. They continue to fight for the world we all deserve, the world we desperately need. We should take note of them now because, without a doubt, their struggle will become everyone’s in the years to come.

How the Rich Plan to Rule a Burning Planet

By James Plested

Originally published at Red Flag News. Republished from Monthly Review.

The climate crisis isn’t a future we must fight to avoid. It’s an already unfolding reality. It’s the intensification of extreme weather–cyclones, storms and floods, droughts and deadly heat waves. It’s burning forests in Australia, the Amazon, Indonesia, Siberia, Canada and California. It’s melting ice caps, receding glaciers and rising seas. It’s ecosystem devastation and crop failures. It’s the scarcity of resources spreading hunger and thirst. It’s lives and communities destroyed, and millions forced to flee.

This crisis is escalating at a terrifying rate. Every year, new temperature records are set. Every day, new disasters are reported. In Australia, we’re living through a summer of dust and fire. Hot winds from the desert are sweeping up dirt from the parched landscape and covering towns and cities hundreds and thousands of kilometres away. Creeks and riverbeds are being baked dry. Our cities are shrouded in smoke from fires burning for weeks on end, while on the hottest and windiest days the flames grow, devouring everything in their path.

Do our rulers–the political leaders and corporate elites who, behind the facade of democracy, make all the important decisions about what happens in our society–understand the danger we face? On the surface they appear unconcerned. In September, after millions of school students participated in the global climate strike and Greta Thunberg gave her “How dare you!” speech at the United Nations, prime minister Scott Morrison responded by cautioning “against raising the anxieties of children”. And when, in November, hundreds of homes were destroyed and four people killed by bushfires in New South Wales and Queensland, he told the ABC there was “no evidence” that Australia’s emissions had any role in it and that “we’re doing our bit” to tackle climate change.

Is Morrison stupid? Somewhere along the line it appears his words have become unmoored from reality, and are now simply free-floating signifiers, spinning out of control in a void of unreason. As the empirical evidence of the devastation being caused by climate change in Australia and around the world mounts, so too does the gulf between this reality and the rhetoric of conservative coal-fondlers like Morrison grow into a seemingly unbridgeable chasm.

But something is wrong with this picture. To believe that someone in Morrison’s position could genuinely be ignorant of the dangers of climate change is itself to give up on reason. The prime minister of Australia is among the most well-briefed people on the planet, with thousands of staff at his beck and call to update him on the latest developments in climate science or any other field he may wish to get his head around.The only rational explanation is that Morrison and his like are aware of the dangers posed by climate change but are choosing to act as though they’re not.

On first appearances, this might seem like a fundamentally irrational standpoint. It would be more accurate, however, to describe it as evil.Morrison is smart enough to see that any genuine effort to tackle the climate crisis would involve a challenge to the system of free market capitalism that he has made his life’s mission to serve. And he has chosen to defend the system. Morrison and others among the global political and business elite have made a choice to build a future in which capitalism survives, even if it brings destruction on an unimaginable scale.

They are like angels of death, happy to watch the world burn, and millions burn with it, if they can preserve for themselves the heavenly realm of a system that has brought them untold riches. This is language that Morrison, an evangelical Christian, should understand. What might be harder for him to grasp is that he’s on the wrong side.

When seen from this perspective, everything becomes clearer. In the face of the climate crisis, the main priority of the global ruling class and its political servants is to batten down the hatches. Publicly, they’re telling school kids not to worry about the future. Behind the scenes, however–in the cabinet offices, boardrooms, mansions and military high commands–they’re hard at work, planning for a future in which they can maintain their power and privilege amid the chaos and destruction of the burning world around them.

**********

We’re not, as some in the environment movement argue, “all in this together”. There are many ways in which the wealthy minority at the top of society are already protected from the worst climate change impacts. Big corporations can afford to spend millions on mitigating climate change risks–ensuring their assets are protected so they can keep their business running even during a major disaster. Businesses and wealthy individuals can also protect themselves by taking out insurance policies that will pay out if their property is damaged in a flood, fire or other climate-related disaster.

The rich are also protected from climate change on a more day to day level. They tend to live in the leafiest suburbs, in large, climate-controlled houses. They have shorter commutes to work, where, again, they’re most often to be found in the most comfortable, air-conditioned buildings. They’re not the ones working on farms or construction sites, in factories or warehouses–struggling with the increasing frequency of summer heatwaves. They’re not the ones living in houses with no air conditioning, sweating their way through stifling summer nights. They have pools and manicured lawns and can afford their own large water tanks to keep their gardens green in the hot, dry summer months.

What about in the most extreme scenarios, where what we might call the “natural defences” enjoyed by the wealthy are bound to fail? What happens when the firestorms bear down on their country retreats or rising seas threaten their beach houses? Money, it turns out, goes a long way. In November 2018, for instance, when large areas of California were engulfed in flames, and more than 100 people burned to death, Kanye West and Kim Kardashian hired their own private firefighting crew to save their US$50 million Calabasas mansion.

When Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans in 2005, the city’s wealthiest residents evacuated well in advance and hired a private army of security guards from companies such as Blackwater to protect their homes and possessions from the mass of poor, mainly Black residents who were left behind. Investigative journalist Jeremy Scahill went to the city in the aftermath of the hurricane and witnessed first-hand the highly militarised and racialised nature of the response. One security contractor, hired by a local businessman, told Scahill his team had been fired on by “Black gangbangers”, in response to which the contractors “unleashed a barrage of bullets in the general direction of the alleged shooters … ‘After that, all I heard was moaning and screaming, and the shooting stopped. That was it. Enough said’”.

In the event of disaster, the response of the rich hasn’t been to work with others to ensure the collective security of all those affected. It has been to use all resources at their disposal to protect themselves and their property. And increasingly, as in New Orleans, this protection has come in the form of armed violence directed at those less well off–people whose desperation, they fear, could turn them into a threat.

The most forward thinking of the super-rich are aware that we’re heading toward a future of ecological and social break-down. And they’re keen to keep ahead of the curve by investing today in the things they’ll need to survive. Writing in the Guardian in 2018, media theorist and futurist Douglas Rushkoff related his experience of being paid half his annual salary to speak at “a super-deluxe private resort … on the subject of ‘the future of technology’”. He was expecting a room full of investment bankers. When he arrived, however, he was introduced to “five super-wealthy guys … from the upper echelon of the hedge fund world”. Rushkoff wrote:

After a bit of small talk, I realized they had no interest in the information I had prepared about the future of technology. They had come with questions of their own … Which region will be less affected by the coming climate crisis: New Zealand or Alaska? … Finally, the CEO of a brokerage house explained that he had nearly completed building his own underground bunker system and asked: ‘How do I maintain authority over my security force after the Event?’

The Event. That was their euphemism for the environmental collapse, social unrest, nuclear explosion, unstoppable virus, or Mr Robot hack that takes everything down … They knew armed guards would be required to protect their compounds from the angry mobs. But how would they pay the guards once money was worthless? What would stop the guards from choosing their own leader? The billionaires considered using special combination locks on the food supply that only they knew. Or making guards wear disciplinary collars of some kind in return for survival.

There’s a reason these conversations go on only behind closed doors. If your plan is to allow the world to spiral towards mass death and destruction while you retreat to a bunker in the south island of New Zealand or some other isolated area to live out your days in comfort, protected by armed guards whose loyalty you maintain by threat of death, you’re unlikely to win much in the way of public support. Better to keep the militarised bunker thing on the low-down and keep people thinking that “we’re all in this together” and if we just install solar panels, recycle more, ride to work and so on we’ll somehow turn it all around and march arm in arm towards a happy and sustainable future.

The rich don’t have to depend only on themselves. Their most powerful, and well-armed, protector is the capitalist state, which they can rely on to advance their interests even when those may conflict with the imperative to preserve some semblance of civilisation. This is where people like Morrison come in. They’re the ones who have been delegated the task, as Karl Marx put it in the Communist Manifesto, of “managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie”. In the context of climate change, this means taking the steps necessary to ensure the continued ability of the capitalist class to profit even if the world may be unravelling into ecological breakdown and social chaos.

There are three main ways in which Australia and other world powers are working toward this. First, they’re building their military might–spending billions of dollars on ensuring they have the best means of destruction at their disposal to help project their power in an increasingly unstable world. Second, they’re building walls and brutal detention regimes to make sure borders can be crossed only by those deemed necessary to the requirements of profit making. Third, they’re enhancing their repressive apparatus by passing anti-protest laws and expanding and granting new powers to the police and security agencies to help crush dissent at home.

Military strategists have been awake to the implications of climate change for a long time. As early as 2003, in a report commissioned by the Pentagon, U.S. researchers Peter Schwartz and Doug Randall argued that “violence and disruption stemming from the stresses created by abrupt changes in the climate pose a different type of threat to national security than we are accustomed to today. Military confrontation may be triggered by a desperate need for natural resources such as energy, food, and water rather than conflicts over ideology, religion, or national honor. The shifting motivation for confrontation would alter which countries are most vulnerable and the existing warning signs of security threats”.

More recently, a 2015 U.S. Department of Defense memorandum to Congress argued: “Climate change is an urgent and growing threat to our national security, contributing to increased natural disasters, refugee flows, and conflicts over basic resources such as food and water. These impacts are already occurring, and the scope, scale and intensity of these impacts are projected to increase over time”.

The Australian military has also been preparing for an increasingly unstable geopolitical environment driven in part by the impact of climate change. The 2009 Defence White Paper included a section, “New Security Concerns: Climate Change and Resource Scarcity”, which pointed to the vulnerabilities of many countries in our region. The paper was explicit in linking these to a possible increase in “threats inimical to our interests” and suggested that military capabilities would need to be strengthened accordingly. A 2018 Senate inquiry into the implications of climate change for “national security” drew similar conclusions.

Although discussions about military preparedness are often pitched in terms of the need for increased development assistance, disaster relief and so on, the practice of the U.S., Australian and other military powers over the past few decades leaves little room for doubt as to what their role will be. When they’re not invading countries on the other side of the world–killing hundreds of thousands, reducing cities to rubble and imprisoning and torturing anyone who opposes them–to secure access to fossil fuels, they’re acting as the enforcers of capitalist interests closer to home.

The response to Hurricane Katrina in 2005 is again a good example. When troops from the U.S. National Guard joined the army of private contractors sent to establish “security” amid the death and destruction of the hurricane’s aftermath, the Army Times described their role as quashing “the insurgency in the city”. The paper quoted brigadier general Gary Jones as saying, “This place is going to look like Little Somalia. We’re going to go out and take this city back. This will be a combat operation to get this city under control”. A similar dynamic was at work in Australia when, in 2007, the Howard government sent troops to establish “order” in remote Indigenous communities as part of the racist Northern Territory Intervention.

The idea that the military could be a force for good in the context of environmental catastrophe and social breakdown is laughable. Whatever the rhetoric, the role of the military is to secure the interests of a nation’s capitalist class amid the competitive global scramble for resources and markets. New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman had it right when he argued in 1999: “The hidden hand of the market will never work without a hidden fist–McDonald’s cannot flourish without McDonnell Douglas, the designer of the U.S. Air Force F-15. And the hidden fist that keeps the world safe for Silicon Valley’s technologies to flourish is called the U.S. Army, Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps”. The military are gangsters for capitalism. And in the future, they’re likely to double down on savagery.

The next way in which the world’s most powerful capitalist states are preparing for climate catastrophe is by massively increasing what’s euphemistically called “border security”. In 2019, Germany celebrated 30 years since the fall of the Berlin Wall, an event supposedly ushering in a new age of freedom and democracy. In the decades since, however, European countries have built around 1,000 kilometres of new border walls and fences–six times the length of that hated symbol of totalitarianism in Berlin. Most have been constructed since 2015, when millions of Syrians were forced to flee and seek sanctuary in Europe amid a brutal civil war that was triggered in part, at least, by climate change.

A 2018 report by the World Bank, Groundswell–Preparing for Internal Climate Migration, found that just three regions (Latin America, sub-Saharan Africa, and South-East Asia) could generate 143 million climate migrants by 2050. Australia’s immediate neighbourhood will be affected severely, with several Pacific island nations forecast to disappear completely under rising seas. Already, in response to the relatively small numbers of refugees who have managed to reach Australia by boat in the past few decades, the Australian government has established one of the world’s most barbarous detention regimes. Other governments are now following suit.

So far, the measures discussed have been those primarily directed outwards by states seeking to defend the interests of their capitalist class in the international sphere. This is in part designed to create an “us and them” mentality within the domestic population. In Australia, this has been a staple of both Labor and Liberal governments for decades–the idea that the outside world is dangerous, full of terrorists and other bad people whom we should trust the government to protect us from. In the context of growing global instability associated with climate change, we can expect governments everywhere to double down on these xenophobic scare campaigns.

This should be resisted at every step. Not only for the sake of those “others”–civilians in Afghanistan, refugees imprisoned on Manus Island and so on–whose lives the government is destroying in the name of our security. But also because the racist fear of the outsider promoted by our governments is designed in large part to draw our attention away from the increasingly direct and open war being waged against the “others” within.

In the years since the 11 September 2001 terrorist attacks, Western governments have expanded and strengthened the state’s repressive apparatus. Today we’re seeing, as many predicted, how the crackdown on basic freedoms carried out in the name of the “war on terror” has created a new normal in which anyone opposing the government’s agenda becomes a target. Environmental protesters, and anyone else standing up against the destructive neoliberal order, are now firmly in their sights.

In the U.S., the battle to halt the construction of the Dakota Access oil pipeline provides the most extreme example to date. In November 2016, the Native American blockade at Standing Rock was broken up by a police operation so heavily militarised that it looked like something out of the invasion of Iraq. In sub-zero temperatures, blockaders were attacked with water cannons, tear gas, rubber bullets and concussion grenades. Hundreds were injured and many hospitalised. Two women who were involved in the blockade and who later vandalised the pipeline are now facing charges under which they could be jailed for up to 110 years.

In Australia, we’ve seen those protesting peacefully outside the International Resources and Mining Conference in Melbourne face an unusual level of police violence and mass arrests. In Queensland, the state Labor government has passed new laws targeting environmental activists. In early December, three members of Extinction Rebellion were jailed when a magistrate refused them bail–something without precedent for charges related to acts of non-violent civil disobedience.

**********

Perhaps nothing provides a better metaphor for the future our leaders are steering us towards than a picture, taken during Hurricane Sandy in 2012, of the New York city skyline shrouded in the darkness of a blackout–all except one building, which remained lit up like a Christmas tree. That building was the headquarters of global banking giant Goldman Sachs, where, protected by a mountain of sandbags and using a back-up generator, the company was able to keep the lights on and the profits flowing even while the city was inundated by a three-metre storm surge and hospitals, schools, the subway and most other services were forced to close.

If you imagine this picture as the world, and the Goldman Sachs building as the gilded realm inhabited by the world’s super-rich and the political class that serve them, all you’d need to add is some heavily armed guards around the building and you’d get a pretty good sense of what’s ahead.Our rulers’ apparent lack of concern about climate change is a ruse. They hope that, if they can just head off dissent for long enough, they will succeed in building this future, brick by brutal brick, and there will be nothing the rest of us can do about it.

We need to fight for something different: a system in which our economy isn’t just a destructive machine grinding up human and natural resources to create mega-profits for the rich. One in which the productive life of society is managed collectively by those who do all the work, and where decisions are made not in the interests of private profit, but in the interests of human need. We need socialism–and the fight for it is the great challenge of our generation. At stake is nothing less than the world itself.