Greetings! A special welcome to each of you who found this newsletter through the MCJ Collective and, wow, decided to sign up. Thanks for giving it a try.
This occasional newsletter touches a range of topics, but mostly these days I explore what it means to hold together thought and practice, reflection and action, inner and outer work in the face of the climate crisis and the many dimensions of change connected to it. The process of writing helps me think, learn, and act; I hope you also find these occasional posts useful. At any point, please feel free to hit reply and say hello, introduce yourself, or discuss these topics further! I’d love to hear from you.
This has been a mostly friends-and-family blog until recently. So let me make a quick introduction to you new readers.
There’s just one guy behind this, and my name is Nate. I live in Michigan, USA. I like birds and running in local parks and other public lands. I’m told I have Midwestern dad humor, heavy on puns and alliteration which, fair warning, sometimes comes out here.
I’m also a slow processor, whose mind has been on climate matters a lot the last few years. At a certain point, I realized worrying alone wasn’t helpful; I needed to get active on working for change. Writing this occasional newsletter became one way to do that.
It turns out, this led to other ways. As wise people have said for a while, when someone steps into a certain activity or mode that aligns with their values, it often helps to generate more steps in a sort of positive feedback loop. It builds something akin to momentum.
Momentum is today’s theme.
Just Begin
As September rolls on, I have goals set out for this month—and one project in particular I have been meaning to do for a long time. But until recently I’ve not done anything about it. I’ve let perfectionism and procrastination win. I’ve let thinking get in the way of doing.
I needed to just begin.
Weekly track workouts recently showed this to me. For months, I had little motivation to get back into hard training. I kept putting it off a week at a time, under a variety of excuses.
Thankfully my friend Todd kept inviting me along to his Thursday track workouts. One week, I went. Now I’ve been at it consistently for several weeks. I definitely had some rust to bust at first, but I remember this feeling from past training cycles: once there is a little momentum, some positive physical feedback that I can do this, it’s easier to generate more and keep going.
I’m reminded how important it is to just begin to take action—whether in running or writing or breaking old patterns or developing new habits or working for social change, or whatever. Once you can get yourself to just start moving, you give yourself the chance to build momentum. From there, action often begets more action. That’s the opportunity my friend Todd gave me by a little positive peer pressure to do a track workout with him.
Whatever that thing is you tell yourself you want to do, but find yourself consistently not doing, I say: just begin somewhere. The first move might be small, it might not be pretty, there might will be setbacks, but action of any kind provides information and often builds forward momentum. The verb is key: momentum is something you build, not just something you have. But waiting until we feel like doing something is, in my experience, a recipe for not doing much at all.
As Stulberg outlines, the only way forward is taking steps, even if they are small, imperfect, and incremental. That’s what I’m reminding myself as I continue to work on this month’s project, which I will share more about soon. Even if they are not perfectly planned or executed, little steps are part of the forward process. Here are some guiding questions for this process, in case they are helpful:
What do I want?
Does this goal or desire line up with my core values? (assuming you’ve identified these)
What is a small step I could take to get started?
What is my next right move? (and repeat)
Who could I invite into this with me? (worthwhile pursuits are often best shared, like Todd did with me)
And repeat as necessary. But usually, what’s most important is working on #4: “what’s my next right move?” It might not be perfect or thought-out, but the only way forward is by taking that first step, then the next one.
So often, I’ve learned, we just need to get “on the track” and see how it goes.
Momentous Policy
Moving from personal to policy, last month I shared some thoughts on the proposed Inflation Reduction Act. Now that the largest climate and clean energy bill in U.S. history has passed and more details have emerged, here are a few lenses I’m viewing it through:
Inflation. Critics continue to argue that the bill will not tame short-term inflation. Though the short term matters a lot, given the long-term challenges that reliance on fossil fuels pose to cost of living (fossilflation) and that climate change poses to crops and economic stability (heatflation), we cannot consider only short-term thinking or policies. As Grist’s Kate Yoder argues, “While climate action and economic concerns are often pitted against one another, the evidence is piling up that in many cases, they are one and the same.”
Implementation. The IRA contains a lot of money, and in many cases, stretched state and local governments may not be prepared to handle it right away. And while the clean energy transition will create a lot of jobs (already this year, clean energy jobs have surpassed jobs in the fossil fuel sector) and can have a lot of societal benefits, I’m expecting there to be plenty of scrutiny on where there are inefficiencies, where there are not workers to support the scale of investment, and so on. If it works, the IRA as an industrial policy will have major long-term effects. But the short-term might not look like unqualified success; in fact, it may look messy. Given how late in the climate game this investment comes, I am adjusting my expectations for what short-term implementation success looks like.
In/justice. The passage of the bill has highlighted how many folks feel betrayed by a bill that prioritizes an all-of-the-above energy policy over their well-being as frontline and fenceline communities. In U.S. history, the folks who get screwed by compromises “for the sake of the economy” are most often low-income and people of color, who are already facing the worst of the crisis. The IRA as an industrial policy should help transition the U.S.’s power sources. But does it adequately address its power relations? (To use the distinction made by journalist Amy Westervelt.) Many say no: it’s a clean energy bill, but it’s not a climate justice bill. That’s why for many advocates, this bill is just the next step in the fight but certainly not the last.
Incentives. By taking a pretty much “all carrots, no sticks” approach, the IRA presents a tremendous opportunity for everyday people to get clean energy in their homes. It will help people save money and be healthier to switch to clean energy and electric powered appliances whenever possible. On that note, here are some good tools from Rewiring America on what incentives you are eligible for if you live in the U.S.:
IRA Calculator for Households: how much will you get?
Your Guide to the IRA: everything you need to know to maximize your savings
Your Community’s Electric Potential: map to find out your area’s potential benefits
But beyond all these considerations, here’s what else the legislation offers: some form of forward motion. Which was badly needed.
Back in mid-July, when Manchin pulled out of talks and it looked like there may be no serious federal climate investment for years, in the advocacy space there was plenty of consternation about what options were left to limit warming to 1.5-2.0°C and prevent further catastrophe. These options were…not great. The outlook was bleak.
Now I see many more folks rolling up their sleeves, ready to build on this bill; businesses are responding to market signals; local and state governments are preparing for projects. As a 15-year veteran working in the climate space said on a webinar the other day, “momentum has begun. Decarbonization is now happening across sectors.”
Things have shaken loose; we don’t yet know how much. What’s needed now is scale and speed. But in terms of climate momentum, it seems we are in a different era than a year ago and certainly two years ago.
For the ways it is incomplete and inadequate, this bill presents new possibilities. It can lead to more and better policy and implementation. Putting it all together—where it’s good, and where it absolutely must be improved upon—and echoing many, here’s my two-word takeaway:
LET’S GO.
But also, physics
At the same time there’s a different sort of climate momentum in play in 2022, which is physics. Changes to Earth’s physical systems are already severe at only 1.2°C of overheating, and the resulting impacts continue to accelerate around the world.
Many of the impacts involve water. Again this year, there’s been either too little or too much of it in the U.S. as weather patterns shift, leading to floods in some places and a megadrought in the southwest through most of the year. Right now, reports are coming in that Puerto Rico is completely without power as Hurricane Fiona directly hits the island. Jackson, Mississippi just suffered nearly seven weeks of a drinkable water crisis, exacerbated by climate change and neglect (thankfully, the boil-water advisory was finally lifted a few days ago). Parts of China have seen their worst drought on record. And in Pakistan, floods have displaced 33 million people, killed over 1,500 people, and washed away 3 million acres of agricultural land, a level of devastation that is difficult to comprehend.
Pakistan’s plight underscores why climate justice funding is important and will become even more so. Pakistan has contributed less than 1% of all greenhouse gas emissions, yet is ranked among the 10 countries most vulnerable to climate change.
Even as I share this, I know that seemingly far-off disasters can lead to feelings of guilt and shame among those of us in the global north who are relatively well-off. Without a clear way to contribute, such reports can be overwhelming, even paralyzing.
There is more to say, here are some small ways to help for now:
here is one place to donate to relief efforts in Pakistan;
voting in elections, up and down the ticket, for policies that attempt to reverse the trend toward more extreme weather;
advocating politically and doing what we can personally to shift away from practices that make the world hotter and more flood and drought prone, like burning fossil fuels for energy, deforestation, and industrial agriculture (which often drives deforestation).
But also social tipping points
Some good news, though: Americans underestimate how much their peers care about climate change. In the U.S., we think that way fewer than half (37-43%) of people around us want “transformative mitigation policies” when really it is two-thirds to four-fifths (66-80%). Again, Grist’s Kate Yoder with the upshot: “Americans are convinced climate action is unpopular. They’ve very, very wrong.”
My two takeaways from this:
If you ever feel “radical” for wanting climate action that prevents further catastrophes, protects one another and the most vulnerable among us, and requires leaders and systems to stop doing the same things the same way and expecting different results: no, you’re actually not. And it’s not just you, or me, who feel this way. In the U.S., it’s the vast majority of us. And we are not as powerless as we’ve been led to believe.
Talking about climate is an important (maybe the most important) thing we can all do, rather than succumb to the “spiral of climate silence.”
When lots of people engage, which starts with speech, it becomes possible we cross social tipping points—contagious shifts in norms and values that accelerate widespread change.
And more sources
Some recent stories where I’ve found inspiration and motivation:
Beavers. Recently, scientists have been re-discovering a lot about what native species do for their home landscapes. I recently heard one scientist, Dr. Emily Fairfax, presented her fascinating research on beavers and wildfires. Check out her fun, short, video illustration of her findings. Even 15 years ago, people all over the western U.S. thought beavers were pests and wanted them dead; now they just want them. Here’s an article on these furry, semi-aquatic climate resilience heroes.
Big Oil backlash. As the House Committee on Oversight and Reform continues its investigation into “the fossil fuel industry’s efforts over the decades to mislead the public about its role in climate change,” this week more companies’ internal documents came to light as part of the committee’s findings. As more evidence is available on how these companies have gaslit the public on climate—such as using campaigns like BP’s “carbon footprint” to shift the burden for climate change onto individuals when they knew for a long time what the consequences of their products could be—I hope this will lead to the public further distrusting these companies’ claims and revoking their “social license to operate.” Nonetheless for now, Big Oil still retains a lot of political and financial power around the world.
Billionaire no more. The news that Yvon Chouinard and his family have given away Patagonia for the sake of fighting the environmental crisis is a big deal. In a move directly opposite other billionaires’ bunker-building, Chouinard has transferred Patagonia’s wealth “to protect the source of all wealth” (Earth). This is not the first time Chouinard has set a new standard in business, outlined in his book Let My People Go Surfing. But this latest, largest action could create ripple effects in social business and sustainability: it could transform what’s considered possible and desirable, shift the window, perhaps create new pathways others might follow. As his announcement letter states: “there were no good options available. So, we created our own.” I respect this level of imaginative leadership. Chouinard’s letter does not shy away from a challenge: “If we have any hope of a thriving planet—much less a thriving business—50 years from now, it is going to take all of us doing what we can with the resources we have.” It indirectly poses a question for the rest of us: what can we do with what we have? Or at least, what can we do next?
Biking is cool (again). Biking is fun, good for you, and good for the world. That’s the message of a recent How to Save a Planet episode. How to Save a Planet is a great climate pod, and this episode by Kendra Pierre-Louis and team is a new favorite. I learned so much and laughed out loud several times. It’s a fascinating history on “the closest thing to flying “ and all the joy and health we stand to gain by doing more of it. So good. (The show notes feature practical action steps.)
That’s it for now. Future posts will be about ways we can all contribute to solutions. I’ll be trying these out on Instagram first, so feel free to follow me there if you’d like.
Thanks for reading! At any point, please feel free to hit reply and say hello, introduce yourself, or discuss these topics further. I’d love to hear from you.
Note: international readers, thanks for bearing with a more U.S.-centric post than usual. Also, I am not a trained journalist: if you find factual errors or faulty thinking, please let me know.