The Intercept - Naomi Klein
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| Evacuees wade down a flooded section of Interstate 610 as floodwaters
from Tropical Storm Harvey rise in Houston on Sunday, Aug. 27, 2017. |
Now is exactly the time to talk about climate change, and all
the other systemic injustices — from racial profiling to economic
austerity — that turn disasters like Harvey into human catastrophes.
Turn on the coverage of the Hurricane Harvey and the Houston flooding
and you’ll hear lots of talk about how unprecedented this kind of
rainfall is. How no one saw it coming, so no one could adequately
prepare.
What you will hear very little about is why these kind of
unprecedented, record-breaking weather events are happening with such
regularity that “record-breaking” has become a meteorological cliche. In
other words, you won’t hear much, if any, talk about climate change.
This, we are told, is out of a desire not to “politicize” a still
unfolding human tragedy, which is an understandable impulse. But here’s
the thing: every time we act as if an unprecedented weather event is
hitting us out of the blue, as some sort of Act of God that no one
foresaw, reporters are making a highly political decision. It’s a
decision to spare feelings and avoid controversy at the expense of
telling the truth, however difficult. Because the truth is that these
events have long been predicted by climate scientists. Warmer oceans
throw up more powerful storms. Higher sea levels mean those storms surge
into places they never reached before. Hotter weather leads to extremes
of precipitation: long dry periods interrupted by massive snow or rain
dumps, rather than the steadier predictable patterns most of us grew up
with.
The records being broken year after year — whether for drought, storm
surges, wildfires, or just heat — are happening because the planet is
markedly warmer than it has been since record-keeping began. Covering
events like Harvey while ignoring those facts, failing to provide a
platform to climate scientists who can make them plain, all while never
mentioning President Donald Trump’s decision to withdraw from the Paris
climate accords, fails in the most basic duty of journalism: to provide
important facts and relevant context. It leaves the public with the
false impression that these are disasters without root causes, which
also means that nothing could have been done to prevent them (and that
nothing can be done now to prevent them from getting much worse in the
future).
It’s also worth noting that the Harvey coverage has been highly
political since well before the storm made landfall. There has been
endless talk about whether Trump was taking the storm seriously enough,
endless speculation about whether this hurricane will be his “Katrina
moment” and a great deal of (fair) point-scoring about how many
Republicans voted against Sandy relief but have their hands out for
Texas now. That’s politics being made out of a disaster — it’s just the
kind of partisan politics that is fully inside the comfort zone of
conventional media, politics that conveniently skirts the reality that
placing the interests of fossil fuel companies ahead of the need for
decisive pollution control has been a deeply bipartisan affair.
In an ideal world, we’d all be able to put politics on hold until the
immediate emergency has passed. Then, when everyone was safe, we’d have
a long, thoughtful, informed public debate about the policy
implications of the crisis we had all just witnessed. What should it
mean for the kind of infrastructure we build? What should it mean for
the kind of energy we rely upon? (A question with jarring implications
for the dominant industry in the region being hit hardest: oil and gas).
And what does the hyper-vulnerability to the storm of the sick,
poor, and
elderly tell us about the kind of safety nets we need to weave, given the rocky future we have already locked in?
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People rest while waiting to board a bus
headed for San Antonio at an evacuation center in Corpus Christi, Texas,
on Friday, Aug. 25, 2017. Photo: Nick Wagner/Austin American Statesman/AP
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With thousands displaced from their homes, we might even discuss the
undeniable links between climate disruption and migration — from the
Sahel
to Mexico — and use the opportunity to debate the need for an
immigration policy that starts from the premise that the U.S. shares a
great deal of responsibility for the key forces driving millions from
their homes.
But we don’t live in a world that allows for that kind of serious,
measured debate. We live in a world in which the governing powers have
shown themselves all too willing to exploit the diversion of a
large-scale crisis, and the very fact that so many are focused on
life-and-death emergencies, to ram through their most regressive
policies, policies that push us further along a road that is rightly
understood as a form of “
climate apartheid.”
We saw it after Hurricane Katrina, when Republicans wasted no time
pushing for a fully privatized school system, weakening labor and tax
law, increasing oil and gas drilling and refining, and flinging the door
open to mercenary companies like
Blackwater.
Mike Pence
was a key architect of that highly cynical project — and we should
expect nothing less in Harvey’s wake, now that he and Trump are
at the wheel.
We are already seeing Trump using the cover of Hurricane Harvey to
push through the hugely controversial pardoning of Joe Arpaio, as well
as the
further militarization of U.S. police forces. These are particularly ominous moves in the context of
news
that immigration checkpoints are continuing to operate wherever
highways are not flooded (a serious disincentive for migrants to
evacuate), as well as in the context of municipal officials
tough-talking about
maximum penalties for any “looters” (it’s well worth remembering that after Katrina, several African-American residents of New Orleans were
shot by police amid this kind of rhetoric.)
In short, the right will waste no time exploiting Harvey, and any
other disaster like it, to peddle ruinous false solutions, such as
militarized police, more oil and gas infrastructure, and privatized
services. Which means there is a moral imperative for informed, caring
people to name the real root causes behind this crisis — connecting the
dots between climate pollution, systemic racism, underfunding of social
services, and overfunding of police. We also need to seize the moment to
lay out intersectional solutions, ones that dramatically lower
emissions while battling all forms of inequality and injustice
(something we have tried to lay out at
The Leap and which groups, such as the
Climate Justice Alliance, have been advancing for a long time.)
And it has to happen right now – precisely when the enormous human
and economic costs of inaction are on full public display. If we fail,
if we hesitate out of some misguided idea of what is and is not
appropriate during a crisis, it leaves the door wide open for ruthless
actors to exploit this disaster for predictable and nefarious ends.
It’s also a hard truth that the window for having these debates is
vanishingly small. We won’t be having any kind of public policy debate
after this emergency subsides; the media will be back to obsessively
covering Trump’s tweets and other palace intrigues. So while it may feel
unseemly to be talking about root causes while people are still trapped
in their homes, this is realistically the
only time there is
any sustained media interest whatsoever in talking about climate change.
It’s worth recalling that Trump’s decision to withdraw from the Paris
climate accord — an event that will reverberate globally for decades to
come — received roughly two days of decent coverage. Then it was back to
Russia round-the-clock.
A little more than a year ago, Fort McMurray, the town at the heart
of the Alberta boom in tar sands oil, nearly burned to the ground. For a
time, the world was transfixed by the
images of vehicles lined up on a single highway, with flames closing in on either side. At the time, we were
told
that it was insensitive and victim-blaming to talk about how climate
change was exacerbating wildfires like this one. Most taboo was making
any connection between our warming world and the industry that powers
Fort McMurray and employed the majority of the evacuees, which is a
particularly
high-carbon form of oil. The time wasn’t right; it was a moment for sympathy, aid, and no hard questions.
But of course by the time it was deemed appropriate to raise those
issues, the media spotlight had long since moved on. And today, as
Alberta pushes for at least three new oil pipelines to accommodate its
plans to greatly increase tar sands production, that horrific fire and
the lessons it could have carried almost never come up.
There is a lesson in that for Houston. The window for providing
meaningful context and drawing important conclusions is short. We can’t
afford to blow it.
Talking honestly about what is fueling this era of serial disasters —
even while they’re playing out in real time — isn’t disrespectful to
the people on the front lines. In fact, it is the only way to truly
honor their losses, and our last hope for preventing a future littered
with countless more victims.
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