There’s No Vaccine for Climate Change

There’s No Vaccine for Climate Change

Everything is connected—the world is woven together by invisible threads of causation and carelessness, effects and unintended consequences.

People tend to collapse the world when they imagine it. An American envisioning India, for example, might have a pretty homogenous view of the country, but even someone living in New Delhi inhabits only a small segment of a full reality comprised of a layered social system, an economy, a fraught history, and the lives of millions of people. People get caught up in the immeasurability of community, religion, nationality, and race and how they overlap in so many unique ways, making it difficult to pick up the threads of a global problem in a local community, or conversely to trace local priorities across transnational boundaries.

The difficulty of scale is apparent now more than ever, and as a global problem, the pandemic works its way into every single community in the world. From our homes, we watch our favorite local bookstores and cafes go out of business, we watch our neighbors grow tomatoes for the first time in their front garden, we watch the local supermarket stock packages of disposable face masks by the entrance. These things feel more real than the news that the U.S. has reached 100,000, now 200,000, now 218,000 deaths. More real than the nearly 900,000 people currently infected in India, certainly.

Image from The Star

The local/global scale perspective problem isn’t limited to the pandemic. It’s the defining feature of climate change, too. The world as a whole contributes to the worsening of the global environment but the impacts are felt locally in countless different ways. Wildfires and hurricanes are more prevalent than ever, causing life-changing catastrophes for thousands, if not millions, of people. The water level rises down in South Beach, near where I grew up, so that there is almost constant construction on the streets that trace the beaches and canals, always to raise them just a few more inches against the floods that don’t always need rain anymore to spill over.

There’s a quote that’s been floating around on social media: There’s no vaccine for climate change. People have been wearing face masks against the smoke from polluted air since before the pandemic, and should we be so fortunate as to find a cure for COVID-19, people will continue wearing their masks against air pollution after the virus has abated. This is the new normal, right? Except it’s not new, and it’s not something we should accept as normal. Now, nestled away at home in our own communities, we have time to think, to reevaluate how our lives and decisions support a global system that is killing not the Earth but its most prolific inhabitants, humans. Now is the time to tie together the knowledge of what’s happening and rebuild.

This sounds overwhelming, and challenging, and exhausting, because when something is too big and miraculous or terrible to comprehend or verbalize, people focus on the small, and so it is often the small things which count more so than the big. Focus on the small, then—what can you do in your life, yes, during the pandemic, yes, during the most political turbulent time in our lives, yes, despite the fatigue of emotionally dealing with these realities, to better the world?

Small things. Wear a washable, reusable face covering instead of one that will end up in a landfill or strangle wildlife. Buy local produce to reduce emissions from shipping, and if you safely can, eat at or order food directly from local restaurants, instead of ordering food through UberEats or other companies that take a percentage of profits from small businesses already struggling to pay rent.

I know it’s difficult to balance the world’s needs with your own. I typed out ideas for this article while under the heating lamps of a cafe in Paris, where I’m based this Autumn. Those warm, glowing contraptions that make the tables that spill out onto the sidewalk so inviting—the idea being to heat the literal outdoors—were going to be banned in the city starting this year due to their environmental impact, but because of the pandemic, the policy was postponed a year so that restaurants can keep people outside and reduce contact. Hence, my face is as warm as the steaming cup of coffee before me as I ponder questions of how to not kill the planet. We do what we can in an imperfect world.

Image from The New York Times

That’s why it would be tempting to add, don’t order from corporations like Amazon, which doubled its profits during the pandemic, but Amazon in particular has actually been somewhat proactive in minimizing the harm it causes, creating 175,000 new jobs, distributing a $500 million bonus to its frontline workers and partners, and increasing its hourly wages. Whether this balances out the cost to the environment and to local businesses is for you to decide, but perhaps corporations are more aggressive about creating positive change than other powerful entities, like the government, because sometimes they have a financial incentive to do so.

Image from Thrillist

It would seem that governments and corporations have the power to influence the course of the pandemic, as well as of climate change, on every level from the international to the local. Individuals have a more direct influence on the local level, but also have the power to vote both in political elections (like this November—make sure you’ve registered!) and with where they choose to spend money. The local and global, and indeed, the pandemic and climate change, are more interconnected than they seem.

How people value those around them impacts how they perceive and interact with the world. Each person must strive to value the small: every individual is capable of planting a tree, and also of being a virus super-spreader. In addition, each person must attempt to grapple with the big: the forces of history that seem to, but can never fully, overshadow the small, that led to the globalized system that made the spread of the virus and the level of industrialization that is fundamentally altering the environment possible. The world is both too big and too small for human comprehension, but action is still possible, and necessary.

Featured image from Hydroinformatics Institute

Written by Francesca Von Krauland, Columbia University Masters Student in Global Thought and Climate Justice Now Intern.

From Disruption Comes Creation

From Disruption Comes Creation

As bodies packed together, a mass of glitter, champagne and excitement, to welcome in the new year and new decade just ten months ago, no one thought that such a scene would be unthinkable so soon after. Even then, the virus was beginning to spread. In the coming months, flights would be cancelled, sports seasons called off, museums, theme parks, and universities closed. All the noise and movement, the hallmarks of normalcy in our society, ceased.

It was science, meticulous building and testing and perfecting and creating, that built this complex, shared, unsustainable world. It was science—the way that a virus shuts down a body, lingers on surfaces, spreads to other bodies—that made it impossible for the world to continue as it was. And it was science, or more precisely, the system of technological communication that people have designed, that alerted everyone of the need to shut everything down.

Image from Artnet.com

So, the world went home. And at home, people went online. We looked inwards, but we also looked to each other, and the way we did it is a testament to the success of modern technology in creating a new realm for social interaction. People also turned to gardening, cooking, and bread baking as ways to pass the countless hours at home. These, too, are a science: an older kind, a timeless kind, chemicals interacting with chemicals in the heat of a seldom used oven. People rediscovered their own ability to make things, to grow things, as the world slowed down in quarantine. But not everyone was at home and online. More than ever, essential workers relied on technology to hold up what remained of the societal infrastructure. Factories continued, despite multiple outbreaks among workers, to produce and deliver goods to grocery stores. Drivers from food delivery apps dropped food directly at the houses of people who couldn’t safely enter supermarkets. Doctors used ventilators to keep patients with the virus breathing. The phrase “essential worker” was popularized, but each group relied on essential technologies to keep the population fed, home, and safe.

The workings of science did more than just sustain. They also inspired. At the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, NASA launched its first manned commercial rocket, marking the beginning of a new era of space travel. People from around the world watched onscreen as science made something so seemingly magical and otherworldly happen. It was a reminder that it is still possible for people all around the world, all of whom are impacted by the pandemic, to look up at the sky and dream of a future, and to feel proud of what science can achieve.

Science and fiction may have blurred when some articles about nature’s rebirth as a result of the pandemic were popularized, like that of dolphins returning to Venetian canals, but there was some fact in the coverage, too. Pollution levels dipped internationally, if only for a while, demonstrating how intrusive the processes are that fuel our pre-pandemic society. But nature is equally uncompromising in its determination to thrive, and after only a few weeks demonstrated the resilience of its ancient processes. Nature is a reminder that scientific achievement predates humanity.

Image from The Guardian

It’s all science, our lives and societies. Science is behind our education and entertainment, supports our creativity and both fuels and is fueled by the limits of our imaginations. Yet nothing served as so potent a reminder about the human relationship to science as the virus itself. The pandemic showed that despite our ability to create and imagine, and despite the complexity of modern life, people are still just bodies, capable of contracting and spreading microscopic particles that in weeks can bring our world to a halt. No single body can be separated from the vast network in which it operates, and it is our interconnection that makes us so vulnerable. Society flourishes and crumbles around the resilience of our very fallible human forms, which scientists don’t yet fully understand.

Science, ideally, is behind the policies that states adopt to combat the spread of the virus. In much of Europe, public policies informed by science prevented countless infections. In other countries, like the U.S., a denial of the scientifically proven efficacy of masks and a refusal to follow social distancing guidelines has resulted in the highest infection rate on the globe. The outcry against the dangers of COVID-19 echoes that of the climate change deniers. If nothing else, science should be valued for its ability to save lives.

Image from Edmonton Journal

The past few months have given us cause to reevaluate every part of society: our healthcare infrastructure, the way that businesses and governments, from the local to national level, function, the role of international organizations like the WHO, and our values as individuals and as one global collective. The pandemic revealed the flaws and weaknesses in a system that has been plowing forward, slowing for nothing and no one, since the Industrial Revolution. Now, we have a unique opportunity to rebuild every area of society. Sustainability must be the ideology that guides our recovery, with the science of climate justice underlying every decision as we go forward. In the blog posts that follow, I want to more closely examine the global perspectives on the future of climate progress. I hope to inspire readers to think about how sustainability and social equity are interrelated concepts that should be built into every aspect of our shared future. The atmosphere has no boundaries, and neither should our solutions, in this one, shared world. We are experiencing a moment of disruption—next comes creation.

Featured image from Diplomatist

Written by Francesca Von Krauland, Columbia University Masters Student in Global Thought and Climate Justice Now Intern.