The Monthly - Robert Manne
Why have we failed to address climate change?
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© Andrew Halsall / iStock |
Unless by some miracle almost every climate scientist is wrong, future
generations will look upon ours with puzzlement and anger – as the
people who might have prevented the Earth from becoming a habitat
unfriendly to humans and other species but nonetheless failed to act.
One hundred and twenty years have passed since the Swedish scientist
Svante Arrhenius discovered the basic cause of global warming – the
emission of carbon dioxide produced by the burning of fossil fuels
(especially, in his era, coal) – but climate scientists only came to a
consensus that the Earth was warming significantly in the late 1980s.
Despite our knowledge of the harm we are inflicting, the volume of
greenhouse-gas emissions that are warming the Earth has increased each
year since that time, recently at an accelerating speed.
Our conscious destruction of a planet friendly to humans and other
species is the most significant development in history. In response, in
1988 the international community, under the umbrella of the United
Nations, created perhaps the most remarkable co-operative scientific
enterprise: the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). On
five occasions – 1990, 1995, 2001, 2007 and 2014 – it has provided
policymakers and the world’s publics with comprehensive and conservative
summaries of the conclusions of the thousands of climate scientists.
Each new report has grown more certain than the last about the gravity
of the dangers we are facing. Interestingly, however, social scientists
other than economists – sociologists, psychologists, political
scientists, students of international relations – have not been invited
to contribute to the IPCC reports nor have they participated in the
global conversation on climate change. This is seriously strange. For no
less important than the impact of climate change on the Earth and its
creatures is the question of why human beings – international society,
governments of nation-states, communities, individuals – have so far
failed so comprehensively to rise to its challenge.
The work of the social scientists customarily begins with the
recognition that climate change is the most difficult problem human
society now faces or has ever faced. Frequently, climate change is
described as a “wicked problem”. This does not seem to me greatly
helpful. Horst Rittel and Melvin Webber invented and defined the idea of
the wicked problem in 1973. For them, however,
all social
planning problems were wicked. As they put it, “[S]ocietal problems …
are inherently different from the problems that scientists and perhaps
some classes of engineers deal with. Planning problems are inherently
wicked.”
Frequently, too, climate change is described as the kind of problem
Garrett Hardin had in mind in ‘The Tragedy of the Commons’, his seminal
article of 1968 that elegantly reveals the conflict between individual
and collective interest. Yet as Stephen Gardiner has pointed out in his
A Perfect Moral Storm,
climate change is a far more difficult issue than Hardin’s individual
herdsmen self-interestedly overgrazing on the commons at collective
cost. Hardin’s solution rests on state coercion. However, in the case of
climate change there is no international authority with that capacity.
Moreover, Hardin’s problem is located in the present. With climate
change the temporal issue is central. We can transfer most of the damage
inflicted on the commons for our benefit to future generations.
There are very many ways to describe the unprecedented difficulty
posed by climate change. Let one suffice. In their recently published
Climate Shock,
Gernot Wagner and the distinguished Harvard economist Martin Weitzman
argue that as a policy problem climate change has four dimensions.
The problem is firstly fully
global. Because everyone shares
the atmosphere equally, mitigation efforts do not discriminate in
favour of those who make them. As a consequence, the possibility of
altruistic nation-state action is undermined by the problem of the free
rider, the nation that benefits from the actions of others without
contributions of its own.
The climate-change problem is also unusually
long-term. The
most catastrophic consequences of current emissions may not become
apparent for decades or even centuries. Despite occasional disasters,
which are readily assimilated in collective consciousness to
old-fashioned weather, we can continue to enjoy the commons while
leaving true havoc for future generations. In addition, the principal
historical responsibility for the cumulative emissions that have created
the climate-change problem rests with the wealthy industrialised
countries, but the emissions of the developing world, striving to
provide its citizens with an equivalent material life, have become
equally important. The difficulty of finding an agreed ethical balance
between responsibility for past and present emissions means that the
question of climate change cannot be disentangled from the most
fundamental questions of international justice.
Moreover, because carbon dioxide remains in the atmosphere for a
hundred years or longer, the consequences of today’s emissions are
effectively
irreversible. Finally, while scientists are now
certain that human action is the principal cause of climate change, the
limitations of the current climate models mean that the exact time,
location and depth of impact of future climate change inevitably remain
uncertain. This uncertainty creates opportunities for political mischief, policy inertia and public confusion.
According to Wagner and Weitzman, these four dimensions of the
climate-change problem are all, separately, “almost unique”. In
combination they are certainly so. Yet they do not even include in their
list the most daunting challenge. The industrial revolution, now almost
fully globalised, would have been unthinkable without the energy
derived from the burning of fossil fuels. All societies are now required
to make a swift transition to nuclear energy or energy derived from
renewable sources or to both – a kind of consciously planned,
economy-wide, self-denying transformation never before achieved or
indeed required.
As political scientists and historians of science have shown, climate
change only became a public issue in the late 1980s, with the Toronto
climate conference, the creation of the IPCC, and the widely reported
Congressional testimony of James Hansen, the chief climate scientist at
NASA, during the ferocious American summer of 1988. The vested interests
instantly rallied. Most important was corporate America’s Global
Climate Coalition. This group of businesses and trade associations
supported the conservative or libertarian think tanks that had
mushroomed during the Reagan years. In the area of climate-science
denial, the most important of these think tanks was at first the George C
Marshall Institute, which was led by genuinely distinguished
physicists. As Myanna Lahsen and others have argued, as committed Cold
Warriors their war against climate science was an extension of the
ideological battles they had fought against the left-leaning Union of
Concerned Scientists; as economic libertarians, it was an extension of
the earlier battles they had fought over state action regarding tobacco,
acid rain and the hole in the ozone layer; and as distinguished
physicists, it was an expression of the contempt they felt for the
intellectual quality of the new generation of environmental scientists.
To deploy Allan Schnaiberg’s valuable distinction, they were
representatives of “production science”, those disciplines oriented
towards industrial progress, and enemies of “impact science”, which
asked awkward questions about resource depletion and the damage wrought
by the cornucopian myths of endless growth and material progress under
contemporary capitalism.
The 1990s saw the growing international influence of environmentalism
in general and a preoccupation with global warming in particular. In
response, climate-science denial blossomed in the United States into the
pivotal project of what has been called the anti-environmental
counter-movement. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, a great deal of
the political energy of anti-communism was transferred to
anti-environmentalism. Economic libertarianism, or market
fundamentalism, facilitated the swift transition from the Red Scare to
the Green. The overwhelmingly most important institutions for the
dissemination of climate-science denial in the 1990s were the dozen or
so most prominent market-fundamentalist think tanks. In the following
decade, their influence exploded with the emergence of often vicious
denialist blogs, which provided the think tanks’ anti-climate science
propaganda with a highly effective echo chamber.
The key political strategy of the climate-science denialist
counter-movement was the manufacture of doubt, a strategy borrowed from
the tobacco industry’s success in delaying by decades the passage of
anti-smoking regulation and legislation. It was not necessary to
demonstrate that smoking was safe. All that was needed was to suggest
that the evidence of harm was unclear.
Science has a commanding cultural authority in contemporary Western
societies, including that of the US. As a consequence, the denialist
counter-movement had to create the illusion of an oppositional
climate-science community, what Naomi Oreskes and Erik Conway in
Merchants of Doubt
call a “scientific Potemkin village”. This was achieved in part with
mass petitions, supposedly signed by climate scientists, and in part by
financing the publication of scores of denialist books. Most
importantly, it was achieved by energetically promoting and generously
funding the handful of contrarian or denialist climate scientists.
Research has shown that by the end of the 1990s such scientists were
quoted as frequently in the quality US press as the leaders of the
field.
Even more, it was the denialist cadre of scientists whose testimony
was almost exclusively presented to the relevant Congressional
committees. As the influence of the denialist counter-movement deepened
during the 2000s, it was more common for genuine climate scientists who
appeared before Congress to answer charges of academic fraud than to
provide evidence of the dangers the world was facing.
By this time the quality US press facilitated what has been called
the false “duelling scientists scenario” by looking for “both sides of
the story”, an unthinking habit that the authors of a particularly
influential article christened “balance as bias”.
The duelling scientists scenario prevailed, especially due to the
influence of denialist blogs and right-wing media like Fox News and
populist radio. While four separate studies have shown that roughly 97%
of climate scientists regard the recent pattern of global warming as
human-caused, even today half of the American public think climate
change is a matter of fierce scientific dispute. In the process of
building the climate-science Potemkin village, in what has been called
“the social construction of non-problematicity” through “consciousness
lowering” activities, the climate-denialist counter-movement has
achieved, by any reckoning, outstanding success.
What was the relationship between the fossil-fuel and allied
manufacturing corporations and the ideologically driven conservative or
libertarian foundations in the funding of the denialist
counter-movement? On balance, the research shows that while during the
1990s both the corporations and the foundations funded denialism
directly, around 2000, following the defection of most corporations from
the Global Climate Coalition, only ExxonMobil continued to fund the
counter-movement directly and even then only until 2009. Robert Brulle
is responsible for painstaking research on the funding of
climate-science denialism. He found that between 2003 and 2010 the
dozens of conservative or libertarian foundations were the overwhelming
source of the more than $7 billion received by the denialist think
tanks. There is, however, one important caveat to this picture. The
numerous foundations connected to Charles and David Koch’s vast
corporate empire were by far the largest financial supporters of
climate-science denialism. As the Koch brothers’ most important
enterprises are in oil and gas, and as they are zealous market
fundamentalists, in their case it is impossible to separate the
corporate financial interest from the ideological motivation.
The denialist counter-movement transformed environmental and
climate-change politics in the US. In the early 1990s there was scarcely
any difference in attitude to these issues between Democrat and
Republican voters or between self-identified liberals and conservatives.
By 2010, on every question concerning global warming there was a 30 to
40 percentage point party-political and ideological gap. The
polarisation of opinion among voters was paralleled by hardening
ideological division among the politicians. As late as 2008 it was still
possible to be a Republican leader and to express concern about global
warming, as demonstrated by both the leader of the House, Newt Gingrich,
and the Republican presidential candidate, John McCain. By 2010 that
was no longer so. Two events had altered the political landscape.
First, on the eve of the Copenhagen climate-change conference in
December 2009, the denialist movement had conjured a global scandal by
hacking into a University of East Anglia server and then publishing
innocent but apparently incriminating sentences selected from a thousand
email exchanges between several of the world’s leading climate
scientists. Second, by the time the vital Copenhagen conference
concluded it was clear to almost everyone that international
climate-change diplomacy had reached a state of gridlock.
In response to these events, and as part of its rightward Tea Party
drift, the Republicans had metamorphosed into the world’s first major
and unambiguous climate-change denialist political party. A study
conducted for Think Progress discovered that all but one of the 50 or so
Republican contenders for the 2010 Senate elections were opposed to
climate action. Climate-change denial had by now become as clear a
litmus test of loyalty to the Republican Party as abortion, Obama-care
or gun control. This is still the case, as the present grotesque contest
for the Republican presidential nomination all too plainly reveals.
Without the climate-denialist counter-movement’s brilliant success in
polarising American public opinion, this kind of Republican Party
political transformation would not have been possible. Dan Kahan’s
theory of “cultural cognition” offers the most persuasive and
sophisticated explanation for it. How, Kahan asks, can we explain the
uniformity of the opinions of Americans on a variety of logically
altogether unconnected issues? Why is it so easy to predict that those
who believe in the right of gun ownership will also oppose abortion and
deny human-caused climate change? Drawing on the work of Mary Douglas
and Aaron Wildavsky, Kahan argues that Americans adhere to one or
another “world view” – either hierarchical-individualism or
communitarian-egalitarianism. He claims that this binary division is
more universal, more instinctive, more deeply rooted than either
political ideology (conservative–liberal) or party affiliation
(Republican–Democrat), and a more accurate predictor of opinion than
gender, age, class or education. In the US, when there is no cultural
battle over scientific questions, the authority of science is accepted.
When, however, there is contention, and, in particular, alternative
evaluations of risk, citizens understand that they are in no position to
arrive at their own assessments independently. What individualists and
communitarians do is turn to the experts or the political leaders or the
commentators who, according to their world views, they have come to
trust.
The theory of cultural cognition shows how crucial it has been for
the denialist movement to concoct the duelling scientists narrative and
to build the climate-science Potemkin village. Among other things,
hierarchical-individualists do not criticise the ideas of capitalist
enterprise and material progress. The denialist movement provides them
with the culturally compatible scientific experts, politicians and
commentators to help keep their world view intact. Kahan does not even
regard the process of cultural cognition as straightforwardly
irrational. Given that individuals understand that they cannot influence
the outcomes of issues as large as climate change, it is rational for
them to choose a more comfortable life by conforming to the opinions of
their peers, for an oil refinery worker from Oklahoma to be a
climate-change sceptic and an English professor from New York a
climate-change true believer. Unfortunately for society’s wellbeing,
climate-change denialism, maintained by the process of cultural
cognition, by paralysing necessary action, is entirely irrational for
the collectivity as a whole.
Echoing Garrett Hardin, Kahan calls this particular study ‘The
Tragedy of the Risk-perception Commons’. President Barack Obama has
achieved about as much through regulation and the US Environmental
Protection Agency as is possible in the face of a hostile Congress.
However, while one of the parties in the US remains in denial, the
“indispensable nation” cannot provide the reliable long-term leadership
that is required for comprehensive international climate-change action.
Accordingly, Kahan’s tragedy is the world’s.
There are now several outstanding books exploring the relationship
between individual psychology and climate change. The most brilliant and
penetrating is Clive Hamilton’s
Requiem for a Species,
published in 2010. In addition, there are scores of sophisticated and
ingenious empirical experiments. Although most have been conducted in
the US, several surveys of international opinion suggest that the levels
of concern about global warming do not vary greatly across the
developed world. For this reason, the American psychological studies
almost certainly reveal more general patterns of individual resistance
to climate change in wealthy nations.
In these studies, climate change is invariably a minor concern, not
only compared to the economy or health care but also compared to other
environmental problems like water or air pollution. When 20 issues of
concern are presented to Americans, climate change almost always ranks
at the bottom.
Many studies that seek to understand society’s indifference or
inertia have shown the falsity of what remains the most common
explanation, the “information deficit model”. Statistically speaking,
both self-reported and genuine understanding of the climate-change
problem correlate negatively with the degree of personal concern
individuals express.
In one study, conservative white males who claimed scientific
understanding were more than three times less likely to believe in the
dangers of climate change than other people. Given that they are the
beneficiaries of the status quo, their greater hostility to climate
science than all other social groups was founded on the psychological
tendency known as “system justification”.
Another study discovered that it is a myth that conservatives are
generally
hostile to science. Conservatives were only hostile to Allan
Schnaiberg’s “impact science”, those disciplines concerning the
environment and health. They were, on balance, more trusting than
liberals of his other category, “production science”, those disciplines
linked to capitalist enterprise and material progress.
This is not to say that studies find impressive levels of
understanding. Frequently, climate change was confused with the hole in
the ozone layer. One study revealed that fewer than 10% of people
realise that more than 90% of relevantly qualified scientists believe in
human-caused global warming.
Several studies reveal that the choice of language helps determine
the level of concern. Conservatives are significantly less resistant to
acknowledging there is a problem when the talk is of “climate change”
rather than “global warming”. Because many studies have found the level
of “visceral” response to the problem to be low, communicative calmness
is implicitly or explicitly recommended. One concluded that people are
repelled by climate-change messages that seem to them “apocalyptic”.
Presenting the issue in this way interfered with their desire to live in
“a world that is just, orderly and stable”. Another discovered that
people were increasingly irritated by claims they regarded as
“alarmist”. Such findings suggest a serious political problem. How can
governments hope to convince citizens of the need for revolutionary
economic transformation in a voice of studied or confected moderation?
Many studies also emphasise the importance of framing. One suggested a
problem with using the frame of “care”, as this was the kind of
narrative conservatives rejected. Another found that climate-change
warnings were more effective if framed as public health concerns rather
than as national security ones. Liberals, the authors speculated, were
repelled by what they thought of as a conservative cause; conservatives
were repelled by the intrusion of a left-wing issue onto the cause they
held most dear.
These psychological studies use statistical methods with individual,
mainly American, subjects. Meanwhile, Kari Marie Norgaard’s
Living in Denial,
an investigation of the psychological sources of resistance to
confronting the question of climate change, is based on one year’s close
observation of a single Norwegian town at a time of baffling weather
patterns. Hers is a study not of individuals but of the interface of
individual and society, or what she calls “the social organisation of
denial”. Norgaard found that while the townspeople denied neither the
reality nor the gravity of climate change, it played little role in
their daily life. Climate change was rarely discussed. When it was, it
proved to be a conversation stopper. The townspeople thought it an
inappropriate topic for the education of their children. They felt the
need to protect themselves from its reality, for, if confronted, it
filled them with a sense of helplessness, dread and personal guilt. They
shielded behind their image of Norway as a small country incapable of
making much difference one way or another, their pride in Norway as an
environmentally responsible nation, and their oft-expressed anger at the
climate-change recklessness of George W Bush’s “Amerika”.
Norgaard’s study is interesting in part because it suggests that
psychological denial offers a more general clue to the puzzle of
humankind’s incapacity to rise to the challenge of climate change than
the kind of political denialism found more or less exclusively in the
US, the United Kingdom, Canada and Australia. Even more, it is
interesting because of her observation that climate change undermined
the townspeople’s sense of “ontological security”, their vital need for
confidence in the continuity of their community’s life. George Marshall
is, like Norgaard, a climate-change participant-observer. In his
Don’t Even Think About It,
he also notes how often the topic rapidly changes if climate change is
raised in polite conversation. But he goes further than Norgaard.
Marshall tells us that if he was able to engage people in conversation
about climate change, rather frequently it led to discussions about
death, an even more taboo topic. In his great encyclical
Laudato Si’,
Pope Francis recently expressed most succinctly the kind of ontological
insecurity aroused by recognition of the climate-change crisis:
humankind’s fearfulness about the continuity of our life on Earth.
“Doomsday predictions can no longer be met with irony or disdain.”
Climate change is a fully global problem. If the challenge is to be
met, principal responsibility inevitably rests not with individuals or
communities or even nation-states but with the practices and
institutions of international society. So far, to judge by results,
there has been almost total failure. When climate change became a
central question of international diplomacy in the late 1980s, the
concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere was approximately 350
parts per million. Today it is more than 400. How have
international-relations scholars explained this failure?
The most cogent critique comes from the “realists”: Gwyn Prins and
Steve Rayner, in a paper they published in 2007 called ‘The Wrong
Trousers’, and David Victor, in his 2011 book
Global Warming Gridlock.
Their analysis goes like this. A few years before climate change was
recognised as a critical problem, scientists had identified a hole in
the ozone layer produced by chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs): industrial
chemicals found in refrigerators, air-conditioners and other common
products. Environmental diplomacy, which culminated in the Montreal
Protocol of 1987, proved remarkably successful in removing CFCs from
manufacturing industry. The process that largely succeeded in the case
of the ban on CFCs was almost mechanically adopted when international
diplomats turned their minds to the problem of global warming a few
months later in Toronto. As with tackling the problem of the hole in the
ozone layer, international negotiations took place under the authority
of the United Nations with the conference decisions requiring the
agreement of all nations. As with ozone diplomacy, these often painfully
difficult negotiations succeeded in producing an international
scientific body, the IPCC, and a framework convention. As with ozone
diplomacy, the negotiations led to the adoption of a so-called protocol.
As with the Montreal Protocol, the Kyoto Protocol of 1997 distinguished
between the responsibilities of developed and developing countries. As
with the Montreal Protocol, Kyoto established targets and timetables –
in this case, for the reduction of carbon emissions in the
industrialised countries. As with the Montreal Protocol, Kyoto was a
legally binding but non-enforceable treaty that would come into force
after ratification by most industrialised countries. As with the
Montreal Protocol, it provided a means – in this case, the Clean
Development Mechanism – by which funds could be transferred to the
developing countries to help them reduce their carbon emissions.
Prins & Rayner and Victor argue that using the Montreal Protocol
as the model for tackling carbon emissions, a more difficult problem by
several orders of magnitude, was a tragic mistake. The Montreal Protocol
dealt with a relatively modest problem with a relatively simple
solution, involving a manufacturing process conducted in a small number
of countries by a small number of corporations, regarding chemicals for
which economically almost painless alternatives were soon discovered.
The Kyoto Protocol dealt with a problem of baffling complexity,
involving every nation and corporation on Earth, regarding the source of
energy for almost all economic activity, without which one of the
greatest transformations in human history – the global industrial
revolution – would have been unthinkable.
In a world of fierce economic competition, where nations were driven
by self-interest and where the problem of the free rider was inevitable,
targets and timetables were unrealistic, guaranteeing at best
hopelessly inadequate cuts in emissions. A process that effectively
required international unanimity was certain to produce
lowest-common-denominator results, giving fossil fuel—producing nations
like Saudi Arabia and Russia ample scope to block progress and make
mischief. The creation of a legally binding treaty precluded the
flexibility that national economies needed. However, by creating a
legally binding treaty without enforcement provisions, agreements could
be dishonoured almost without cost. Without a far more effective
regulatory regime, the most popular Kyoto instrument, the Clean
Development Mechanism, could be easily corrupted. As it turned out, it
was. China and India, the countries where emissions were growing
fastest, were excused from any sacrifice. In turn, this ensured the
non-involvement of the US, the greatest world emitter at that time.
Kyoto did not reduce emissions. Its successor, the Copenhagen
climate-change conference of 2009, produced nothing but unfulfillable
commitments, like limiting the post-industrial temperature increase to 2
degrees Celsius, and improbable promises, like the offer of US$100
billion in annual grants to the developing world by 2020.
What is the alternative to Kyoto? David Victor points out that only a
small number of nations are vital to the research and development that
will create the renewable energy technologies, and that there are only a
relatively small number of nations responsible for the overwhelming
proportion of greenhouse gas emissions. He argues that what should be
created, instead of a legally binding but non-enforceable United Nations
treaty, is a “club” of significant climate-change nations, providing
benefits to members and imposing trade-based penalties on those nations
free-riding on the emissions reductions of others.
There are strengths but also obvious difficulties with his proposal.
Victor’s models for the club are the World Trade Organization and the
European Union. While Victor argues that nation-states established both
these “clubs” through self-interest not altruism, in the case of global
warming it is hard to see what kinds of short-term or narrow
self-interest would be served by the establishment of the climate club.
Moreover, while the spirit of Victor’s thought is realist, his solution
is utopian, requiring the conversion of the international community to
an entirely new way of thinking. In addition, as he admits, it is based
on slow institution-building and incremental change. However, if the
physics and the chemistry of climate change have made anything clear, it
is that time is the one luxury we do not have. In the name of realism,
Victor advocates incremental reform. If the hope is to protect a human-
and species-friendly planet, incremental reform is entirely unrealistic.
In recent years, there have been various suggestions for an
alternative international climate-change architecture. Todd Stern of the
Center for American Progress (now special envoy for climate change at
the US Department of State) and William Antholis of the Brookings
Institution advocated the establishment of a climate association called
the E8, which would include a small group of key developing and
developed countries. Moisés Naím, then the editor of
Foreign Policy,
argued for minilateralism in the form of a new 20-nation climate-change
institution. William Nordhaus, president of the American Economic
Association, recently supported Victor’s idea of the climate club. None
of these ideas has any significant following at present or any obvious
prospect of success. What the international community has in fact now
settled for is a system of Intended Nationally Determined Contributions
(INDCs). These voluntary emissions-reduction timetables and targets are
neither legally binding nor enforceable, and are subject to periodic
review. INDCs are in essence the system of “pledge and review” proposed
by Japan before the creation of the Kyoto Protocol. At the time of the
Paris climate-change conference, humanity’s hopes now rest on an
international treaty idea, more realistic but less ambitious than Kyoto,
first floated a quarter century ago.
Several political economists have offered a different explanation for
our collective failure to rise to the challenge of climate change. This
argument, which Naomi Klein has christened “bad timing”, divides the
history of the advanced capitalist economies into two distinct postwar
periods. The first, from 1945 to the mid 1970s, dominated by the thought
of John Maynard Keynes, was characterised by acceptance of the mixed
economy of public and private ownership, a recognition of the need for
government economic intervention and regulation, state investment in
designated industries, relatively high levels of taxation, and
scepticism about the consequence of untrammelled market forces. The
second, since the late 1970s, dominated by the thought of Friedrich
Hayek and the Chicago school, is characterised by a belief in the
superior efficiency of privately owned enterprise, disbelief in
government intervention and regulation, scorn for state industry policy
or attempts to pick winners, hostility to taxation, an aspiration to
small government, and a fundamentalist faith in untrammelled market
forces. “Neoliberal” is the usual descriptor used to characterise this
second period.
As it happens, so the argument proceeds, the emergence of neoliberal
hegemony coincided almost exactly with the time when concerns about
climate change moved from being a topic of discussion among a small
group of scientists to a matter of general social concern and alarm. At
the very moment when the neoliberals came to dominate the political
economy of advanced capitalism, a rational response to climate change
required powerful government regulation and intervention, state action
to rein in the activities of the fossil-fuel corporations, state
industry policies investing heavily in renewable energy, high tax on
carbon pollution, recognition of the catastrophic potential of market
failure. These were precisely the policies and attitudes that
neoliberals had cast into the rubbish bin of history and that they most
abhorred.
The continuing hegemony of neoliberalism means that the actions
needed cannot be taken without the renunciation of the dominant
political faith of contemporary times: market fundamentalism. Even a
natural neoliberal like David Victor recognises that climate policy
requires major state intervention and massive government investment.
Similarly, Peter Newell and Matthew Paterson argue that if there is now
hope it lies in the emergence of something they call “climate
Keynesianism”. If neoliberalism persists, as they believe it most likely
will, the only prospect is “stagnation” or something far worse. Newell
and Paterson called their book
Climate Capitalism. The
common-sense premise of their argument, which I accept, is that whatever
path is chosen, “capitalism of one form or another will provide the
context in which near-term solutions to climate change have to be
found”.
During the Soviet era the communist regimes were described as “really
existing socialism”, a phrase that sought to distinguish communism in
practice from communism in theory. The examination of the climate-change
behaviour of “really existing capitalism” might free us from impossibly
contentious, highly theoretical and presently unhelpful ideological
debates, and allow us, more modestly, to identify some readily
observable characteristics of capitalism, the now-unrivalled global
economic system, that are implicated in the climate paralysis we now
face.
Several of the most powerful corporations on Earth are involved in
the fossil-fuel business. Scholarship has revealed disturbing aspects of
their recent behaviour. As soon as the problem of global warming was
recognised, the American fossil-fuel corporations and allied
manufacturing interests became actively involved in fierce struggles to
prevent action against climate change. As noted, in 1990 the Global
Climate Coalition, representing a very large number of the major US
corporations, began funding climate-change denialism in the US. At the
same time, in Europe an automobile manufacturers’ campaign killed off an
EU proposal for a carbon tax. As Eric Pooley shows in
The Climate War,
fossil-fuel corporations fought ruthlessly and spent lavishly to dilute
and destroy the two “cap and trade” bills when they were introduced to
the US Congress. Despite their billions of dollars of annual profits and
their occasional promises, no fossil-fuel corporation has invested
seriously in renewable energy. During the brief period when BP rebranded
itself as Beyond Petroleum, as much was spent on advertising its
supposedly noble climate credentials as on renewable energy investment.
The corporations’ entirely characteristic behaviour is even more
damaging than this. Climate scientists like James Hansen have argued
that burning all fossil fuels will inevitably lead in the long-term to
an ice-free Earth. Environmental activists like Jeremy Leggett of the
Carbon Tracker Initiative have pointed out that if a temperature
increase is to be kept to the consensual, post-industrial 2 ºC limit,
80% of the fossil fuels currently on the books of the corporations will
have to remain in the ground. Nonetheless, the corporations have shown
no inclination to moderate their quest for the tar sands of Alberta, the
coal of Queensland’s Galilee Basin, and the oil and gas now potentially
available because of the melting of the Arctic Circle. Nor has any
country, not even climate-conscious Norway, shown any desire to prohibit
or even restrain the activities of the fossil-fuel corporations. In his
Don’t Even Think About It, George Marshall tells us that he
had asked both Leggett and the founding chair of the IPCC, Sir John
Houghton, whether they could recall even one instance where a proposal
to limit the activities of the fossil-fuel corporations had been
discussed in government circles. Neither could. In the age of neoliberal
capitalism, everyone in authority who is concerned about global warming
seems to agree that the solution to the problem is to put a price on
the emissions produced by the burning of fossil fuels but not to
restrain the global corporations from expanding their search for ever
more coal, oil and gas. An intelligent and observant Martian visiting
the Earth and learning of our climate problem would be entitled to
believe the human race insane.
The debate about capitalism lost credibility and respectability in
part because of the historic mistake made by the dominant stream of the
left, which for far too long thought of the viciously authoritarian,
economically irrational and environmentally destructive communist
regimes as attractive alternatives to capitalism. It was pushed even
further to the margins because of the unprecedented material prosperity
postwar capitalism has brought from North America and Europe to
significant parts of Asia. However, because of the climate crisis,
questions about the viability of capitalism, not in theory but in
practice, have insinuated themselves into mainstream intellectual debate
for the first time since the Great Depression.
It is not only Marxist scholars like John Bellamy Foster or
longstanding anti-capitalist activists like Naomi Klein who have raised
fundamental questions about the contradiction between capitalism and the
climate, and the disaster that unresisted “really existing capitalism”
is presently visiting upon the Earth. So has the scrupulously mainstream
environmentalist Gus Speth, in his
The Bridge at the End of the World, and the eminent political sociologist Michael Mann, in his four-volume study
The Sources of Social Power.
In his gloomy concluding chapter, Mann argues that the climate
catastrophe awaiting the planet is a consequence of three interconnected
forces dominating the social landscape: the nation-state, the
consumer-citizen and the transnational capitalist corporation. Recently,
two Australian scholars, Christopher Wright and Daniel Nyberg,
published their important book
Climate Change, Capitalism, and Corporations,
an analysis of the impact that the business-as-usual, supposedly
environmentally sensitive contemporary corporation has had on climate.
Echoing the great Austrian economist Joseph Schumpeter’s description of
capitalism, its subtitle refers to “creative self-destruction”. The
term’s meaning has been most succinctly expressed by Elizabeth Kolbert
in her book
Field Notes from a Catastrophe: “It may seem
impossible to imagine that a technologically advanced society could
choose, in essence, to destroy itself, but that is what we are now in
the process of doing.”
It is not only among the climate scientists that the level of panic
is rising. A telling example of the fear that now is gripping many of
the social scientists who have given their lives to the study of the
impending climate crisis can be seen in the most recent book by the
eminently respectable, highly intelligent and extraordinarily
well-connected former World Bank chief economist Lord Nicholas Stern.
In his famous 2006 intervention commissioned by the then UK
chancellor Gordon Brown for the Blair government, Lord Stern advocated a
greenhouse gas atmospheric ambition of 550 parts per million carbon
dioxide equivalent (ppm CO
2e). He knew that 550 ppm CO
2e
would run the very real risk of disastrous, irreversible environmental
damage. But he regarded any action that exceeded a 1% annual cut in
global greenhouse-gas emissions as politically impossible and
economically irresponsible, as likely to trigger a worldwide recession.
Implicitly, as left-wing critics like Clive Hamilton and John Bellamy
Foster cogently pointed out, in the Stern Review environmental wellbeing
had been sacrificed on the altar of the unquestioned idea of economic
growth and supposed political realism.
In recent months Lord Stern has published a new analysis of the climate-change crisis,
Why Are We Waiting?
The tone is now much more urgent. Stern points out that, at a time when
global emissions are accelerating, if humankind opts for business as
usual by 2100 we will have a 750 ppm CO
2e world with a likely
4 ºC or more post-industrial temperature rise, a temperature not
experienced on the Earth for ten million years. Even if we now
stabilised the volume of emissions at the current 50 billion tonnes per
annum, we would bequeath our children and grandchildren a 650 ppm CO
2e
world with only a 50–50 chance of holding temperature to a ruinous
3.5 ºC increase above pre-industrial levels. If somewhat more radically
we were to opt for a 550 ppm CO
2e world – Stern’s own former
target – we will still have a less than 50–50 chance of remaining below a
disastrous temperature increase of 3 ºC. Stern accepts that the world
must aim for the now internationally agreed limit of no more than a 2 ºC
temperature increase on pre-industrial temperature. According to his
calculations, for there to be any hope of only a 2 ºC increase
in the next 15 years,
in the developing world – where both greenhouse-gas emissions and
population levels are currently accelerating very rapidly – emissions
will have to be reduced. In the developed world – where emissions have
become more or less stable – they will have to be cut in half. All
politically realistic and economically prudent talk about restricting
emissions reduction to 1% per annum has by now been abandoned. What
Nicholas Stern now calls for is nothing less than an immediate,
global-wide “energy revolution”.
The climate scientists have shown us why this revolution is needed.
What the social sciences have analysed are some of the roadblocks to
action in the face of what is, admittedly, the most daunting problem
humankind has ever faced. A comprehensive long-term international
solution to the climate-change crisis is not feasible without the US.
Political scientists have shown how the force of climate-change science
denial, conjured by the alliance of vested interests and conservative or
libertarian ideologues, has corrupted that country’s political culture
and captured one of its major parties. Empirical psychologists have
shown that there is an even deeper and broader form of denialism than
the political version held by conservatives in the Anglosphere.
Citizen-consumers in both the developed and the developing worlds are
the beneficiaries of the kind of unprecedented material prosperity that
our fossil-fuel driven industrial civilisation has delivered. There is
little hope that they will turn spontaneously against the source of
present comfort in the interests of the poorer nations and future
generations, particularly in the absence of moral leadership from
political and economic elites across the nations, without what Paul
Gilding has called “the Great Awakening”.
Left-leaning political economists have shown that this awakening has
been inhibited by one of the unhappiest accidents of history: the fact
that consensus developed among climate scientists at the precise
historical moment that neoliberal capitalism in the industrially
developed world usurped its earlier postwar Keynesian form. According to
these economists, it is now inconceivable that the climate crisis can
be overcome within the neoliberal frame, that is, without massive
interventionist state activity – punitive carbon taxes or steep
cap-and-trade emissions ceilings, demanding building and transport
regulations, massive subsidies for renewable energy industries. Even
such policies, however, will most likely not be enough. We know that
something like 80% of known fossil-fuel reserves have to be left in the
ground if a human- and species-friendly planet is to survive. Before too
long, the licence granted to the fossil-fuel corporations, which allows
them to continue their obscene search for ever more of the coal, oil
and gas that we know is destroying our planet, will have to be
withdrawn.
There is, too, as international-relations scholars are beginning to
understand, the need for a new international climate architecture. After
a lost 25 years, the world has accepted that the Kyoto Protocol has
failed. It is highly unlikely that its replacement – the
pledge-and-review system of voluntary, unenforceable targets and
timetables that will be embraced in Paris – will be able to deliver the
kind of immediate and radical emissions reductions that are now needed.
Although time is against it, the most plausible suggestion is for
something like a climate club, proposed by David Victor and William
Nordhaus, which would facilitate international fossil-free energy
collaboration, and allow irresponsible nations, free-riding on the
emissions reductions of others, to be penalised by trade or other
sanctions. As most social scientists now realise, the overwhelming
question of international justice can no longer be evaded or even
postponed. Before too long, emissions from the developing world will
constitute two thirds of the global total. Without massive transfers of
money and technology from the developed to the developing world, the
kind of fossil-free energy revolution we need is simply inconceivable.
Yet, as many people now realise, something much more profound than
all this is required: a re-imagining of the relations between humans and
the Earth, a re-imagining that will be centred on a recognition of the
dreadful and perhaps now irreversible damage that has been wrought to
our common home by the hubristic idea at the very centre of the modern
world –
man’s assertion of
his mastery over nature.
Such a recognition signals a coming moral shift no less deep than
those that have already transformed humankind with regard to the ancient
inequalities of race and gender. It is a recognition of the need to
overcome the philosophy of what Naomi Klein calls extractivism, a
recognition that drives the young people who are on the frontline of the
struggle against the depredations of the fossil-fuel corporations, in
the virtual space Klein calls “Blockadia”. It is this recognition that
will have to penetrate the minds and the hearts of the political and
economic elites if there is to be Gilding’s Great Awakening, but that is
already making Bill McKibben’s international movement for divestment
from fossil fuels one of the fastest growing, most effective and most
morally charged international protest movements since the anti-apartheid
struggles. And it is this recognition that forms the core of Pope
Francis’s recent summons for a worldwide cultural revolution. ‘‘No
system,” he writes, “can completely suppress our openness to what is
good, true and beautiful … An authentic humanity … seems to dwell in the
midst of our technological culture, almost unnoticed, like a mist
seeping gently beneath a closed door.’’
It is on our instinct for what is good, true and beautiful, and on
the arousal of that authentic humanity from its present slumber, that
hopes for the human future and the future of the species with whom we
share the Earth now rest.