Those at the top will follow, because the world has changed around them
Autumn, Helmer Osslund, 1907
Well, we seem to really be in the shit now folks, hold on tight. We did a lot of election talk last week and there is some a little further down there don’t worry, but I have been told that it is important for our mental health to think about best-case scenarios in addition to worst case scenarios. So in that spirit, I thought we might gaze longingly toward a future world in which the United States could enact meaningful climate legislation. I am definitely not making any kind of optimistic prediction here about the state of the federal government, but I have been thinking about how at some point down the line, hopefully before everything is literally on fire, all of this bottom-up movement building I am always going on about needs to make the jump to some kind of giant, top-down federal legislation. And I’m honestly not sure what that looks like, or how movement demands don’t get discarded in the process.
I have written a lot about this tension between bottom-up and top-down strategy in the course of covering climate philanthropy, in particular, because one conclusion I have drawn over the years is that the past failure of foundations, and the large NGOs they favor, to successfully pass climate policy on a national scale can be largely attributed to their attempts to sidestep grassroots support and leadership from the communities impacted the most. You can read more at those links, but the basic case is that, by keeping the issue of climate change firmly in the realm of the top-down and technocratic—meaning policy, legal, STEM, and industry elites—they have not been able to ground the issue in people’s lives, and therefore, have never built the kind of broad, cross-demographic political power needed to yield durable results. (As opposed to executive actions that can be reversed every other presidency.)
That approach ignores a moral argument for environmental justice, that the needs of low-income and communities of color disproportionately harmed by climate change must be prioritized, and that those closest to the problem should be driving the solutions. But also, with an issue that demands profound transformation, starting at the top just doesn’t work—only a huge social movement has the firepower to create that kind of sweeping change at the speed necessary, and environmental justice communities are a core source of knowledge and power in such a movement.
Sometimes people hear this theory of change and they are like fuck yeah, and other times, they are like, yeah that’s a good point but this is also way too big of a problem for the grassroots. Climate solutions require huge national policy and the president and congress and industry leaders and diplomats, etc. The latter has been sort of the default response from climate philanthropy, although that is changing to some extent. But it’s also what a lot of people, even just friends of mine will say when we talk about it, because I am clearly a super fun and upbeat friend to talk to. And they are somewhat correct. Climate change is a massive, systemic problem that can’t be solved without, at least, federal policy. So it can understandably sound kind of naive to make the hard sell for grassroots climate action, like it is just way too small or slow (although lots of evidence on social movements argues otherwise).
But a bottom-up strategy describes a direction, not a location. It doesn’t exist strictly in communities, rather, it builds up to different levels—enacting local solutions that contribute to reducing emissions, getting large numbers of people engaged and bought into climate solutions in ways that impact their own lives, so you have a strong base of power. And then linking up local efforts to build toward large-scale systems change. One analog is the same-sex marriage fight. While some will argue against the prioritization of that particular goal, it was a highly effective campaign that won hearts and minds locally, enacted state policy, and then, eventually, the national law of the land had no choice but to follow, because the world had changed around it.
Crossing that bridge to national climate policy is difficult and complicated, and it’s hard to say what it looks like in execution. The Green New Deal is an attempt at it, building support for broadly shared intentions and then working toward specifics. But even that is a delicate balance, with environmental justice groups and networks holding back their full support, objecting to some of its main principles like allowing net zero emissions.
There is another really important way in which the bottom up and the top down strategies need to be bridged, and one that I’ve heard come up lately as people are guardedly and in hushed tones talking about the possibility of a U.S. federal government that is once again open to climate action. And that is, how you would implement big federal climate legislation once it’s passed.
Political Scientist Leah Stokes recently published a book called Shortcircuiting Policy: Interest Groups and the Battle Over Clean Energy and Climate Policy in the American States, in which she argues that the failure of climate policy at the state level can be explained by powerful special interests that have managed to overshadow public will (she is a strong proponent of organizing to overcome this influence). Stokes also explores a problem she calls the “fog of enactment,” which describes “the gap between actors’ expectations and the policy’s actual outcome.” Sometimes that is because elected officials don’t fully understand the policy, which is informed by interest groups, but also, a lot of meddling can happen after legislation passes when most people aren’t paying attention. Either because of sneaky gaps worked into the bill, or ambiguities that allow great latitude after its passage, the impacts are often less than expected.
Implementation is also an important window in which stated intentions to meet the demands of the grassroots and the needs of impacted communities can fail to land. This is why, as exciting as ambitious climate plans like the Green New Deal and even Biden’s climate platform may be, serious concerns remain over what will make it from paper to reality, including whether much-touted environmental justice principles survive.
Just as people on the ground need to inform policy before it’s drafted, they should also be guiding its implementation, says Roger Kim, executive director of the Climate + Clean Energy Equity Fund. Earlier this week, I was catching up with Roger, who runs a pooled climate fund that supports multiracial, multi-issue coalitions that are organizing around climate action in some key states. He brought up the issue of implementation, noting that, even if a big federal spending package were to pass, it would likely be carried out through the states, as in the case of 2009’s stimulus bill. That’s likely where the rubber meets the road in terms of whether environmental justice principles and local needs are actually served, he says. When negotiations get tough, the priorities of people of color and low-income communities are the first things to go.
Right now, all of this is totally hypothetical, but Roger and the Equity Fund’s grantees are thinking a lot about what that implementation process might look like. One model for forming that kind of bridge between grassroots and top-down action could be exactly the kind of coalitions they are funding—representing environmental, but also labor, faith, seniors, Indigenous, racial and immigrant justice groups, and more—steering federal policy implementation, if they can build up enough power.
Of course, that also raises the specter of state elections, and how state governments can either undermine or support progress at the federal level. Which is to say that, even in our best case scenario of federal climate policy, there are so many other, smaller best and worst cases that will determine what happens next. That could be seen as reason to lose hope, or it could be a reminder to never invest too much into any race happening on the big stage. Connect with enough people on the ground, win hearts and minds, build power, and those at the top will follow, because the world has changed around them.
Dune content. Update: still reading Dune.
Links
- The editors of the New England Journal of Medicine wrote a devastating, non-partisan case for voting out the Trump administration, pointing to lives lost as a result of its failure, “at least in the tens of thousands.” “When it comes to the response to the largest public health crisis of our time, our current political leaders have demonstrated that they are dangerously incompetent. We should not abet them and enable the deaths of thousands more Americans by allowing them to keep their jobs.”
- How worried is one Amherst law professor about the election? “I’d say I’m very worried.”
- The wealth of the world’s 2,189 billionaires grew to $10.2 trillion during the pandemic, a record high. The super-rich now hold the greatest concentration of wealth since the first Gilded Age at the turn of the 20th century.
- Facebook tied hundreds of fake accounts spreading disinformation about the election to conservative group Turning Point USA. But they only banned the marketing agency the group hired.
- Climate denial groups spread disinformation to millions of people on Facebook in the lead up to the 2020 election.
- And yet, the disinformation campaign that successfully tarnished voting by mail was led by Republican leaders and mostly amplified by mainstream news outlets—not social media or bots.
- Eric Holthaus started a climate newsletter. Should be good.
- A study found taking walks and looking at ordinary things with a sense of awe made people feel better.
- The freedom and sustainability of having a tailor.
- “You can’t live on vodka and anxiety. You can try, but eventually, I’m here to tell you, you will need to eat something.”
I endorse
Saved By The bell hooks. I think I first came across this on my friend Michel’s account he is also a very good follow.
Reading
I loved Mongrels, and Stephen Graham Jones’s The Only Good Indians is another doozy ooh boy.
Watching
Spooky season is upon us again, and my horror movie track record this month so far is about 50/50, hits and misses. I recently enjoyed these two back to back: The Ritual (Netflix) and Scare Me (Shudder). Scare Me is half comedy and Aya Cash is so funny in it. The Ritual is yet another death cult movie that does not reflect well on the people of Sweden.
If you are going on vacation to Sweden any time soon make sure you do some very careful location research.
And that’s what I got for you today. How we doing, bad? Yeah. I always try to tell a funny story in this closing section, but I just asked Jamie if anything funny happened this week and she said, “Absolutely nothing. Except maybe when you asked me what if we started calling toilet paper T-Pain.” So there you go.
I did want to follow up on all of those election recommendations in last week’s issue and say what we actually decided to do. So in the general election, so far our household which is me and Jamie and three small animals who contribute nothing has donated to Biden, Mark Kelly’s Senate campaign in Arizona, M4BL’s election fund, a GOTV coalition in Arizona called miAZ, and Mijente. Will probably give one or two more, maybe just reupping some of these when things get gnarly. I’m going to phone/text bank a few hours on Saturdays. Still not sure yet on election day.
I was also thinking that was kind of a lot of stuff to throw out there last week, and how not everyone has the stomach for calling up strangers or signing up for online trainings or watching polling stations or what have you and who can blame you. So I also wanted to offer this sincere sentiment as we head into the next few challenging weeks: Just do whatever you can do and take care of yourself.
If you vote, talk to friends and family, and kick in even a small amount to a candidate or group you like, that is really, really good. Go for walks and look at ordinary things with a sense of awe. Envision the worst case, but also the best case scenario. Yip yip.
Tate