2: We could be heroes

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Humidity can be difficult. 

Usagi Yojimbo, Stan Sakai, 1987

Someone asked me recently who some of the leaders are in the climate change field and it was hard to think off the top of my head. I was like, oh, I don’t know and named some scientists, a couple donors, and some writers I like. Then I kind of snapped out of it and remembered all these amazing people like Rhiana Gunn-Wright, Varshini Prakash at Sunrise, Angela Adrar at Climate Justice Alliance. 

But ever since that phone call, the idea of who our climate heroes are has been really bugging me. It struck me as part of a major problem in the climate movement especially pre maybe 2015?—that people were struggling to see themselves in the issue or in the people working to solve it. 

This seemed like a good topic to touch on in the week that Jay Inslee dropped out of the Democratic primary, and yet, Tom Steyer remains. I really like Jay Inslee—he’s a public servant who’s been walking the walk for years, and his campaign was a noble effort as he had little chance of winning but saw an opportunity to elevate climate in the race. 

On the other hand, when hedge fund billionaire and major climate donor Steyer joined the race, I had the similar close my eyes and exhale slowly while shaking my head response that most people did. A lot of people were pointing out all of the different ways he could use $100 million in campaign money on climate solutions instead, while having gut reactions that billionaires are basically the worst. Which both are certainly true, but I was also thinking ah shit what if it actually sort of works and he becomes this big billionaire climate guy jumping into the national spotlight. 

I tweeted something about this and someone responded, yeah but he should do this other stuff with his money instead, so I guess I didn’t do a very good job of explaining it. But the thing I’m getting at is, even if these wealthy and/or powerful dudes are coming out strong and railing against the climate crisis and even having an impact, I feel like we lose something important based on the sheer fact of billionaires taking center stage as climate heroes.

This is kind of a similar idea to what I was saying in the last newsletter about the importance of all of us having buy-in, but in this case it’s way more important because of the level of societal change needed on this issue. I’ve also written some stuff about Mike Bloomberg and how even though he’s given like a billion dollars to climate action, he’s also trashed climate activists and championed natural gas, which was it turns out surprise not such an awesome idea, all while elevating his own personal status as a climate leader. It’s not that donors or other elites for that matter don’t have an important role to play in climate change, but it has to be in service of a movement beyond them. 

Because the danger is that billionaires as climate heroes not only run the risk of undermining more ambitious and democratic climate action, they also reinforce the idea that fighting climate change is a matter for people in suits or maybe patagonia vests and khakis sitting down behind closed doors. When nothing could be further from the truth. 

All it takes to realize this is one conversation with someone fighting a pipeline on tribal land, or Latinx and Native workers in New Mexico organizing for renewable energy instead of oil drilling, or an 18-year-old getting arrested in DC, or people working on just disaster recovery in the South. Not to mention farmers, fishers, pretty much anyone feeling climate change in their daily lives. 

I think these people are finally getting the spotlight as climate heroes, and it’s overdue. Their stories are where climate change lives and breathes, and hopefully, where people can finally start to see themselves. 

Podcasts

That is actually a good segue into a podcast I wanted to recommend this week, which is called Mothers of Invention. It’s hosted by former president of Ireland Mary Robinson and writer/comedian Maeve Higgins as they talk to climate justice leaders such as Gunn-Wright, policy lead on the Green New Deal, Navajo climate activist Wahleah Johns, or Siwatu-Salama Ra, a formerly incarcerated environmental and racial justice advocate from Detroit. The show is surprisingly funny of all things and spotlights people on the frontlines of climate change in ways you rarely see. 

My dog has been pretty savage toward this lambchop toy I’m starting to feel bad for it.

Links

  • I’m making my way through the first wave of articles in the incredible 1619 Project. Aside from the fact that it covers history rarely taught in high schools and sometimes colleges, the stories are remarkable and remarkably told. You can buy a paper copy here for 6 bucks if you want to let the NYT know you like it when they do good stuff and not dumb stuff. 
  • A standout is Nikole Hannah-Jones’ powerful article about the history of black Americans fighting and often dying for the ideals of American democracy. “What if America understood, finally, in this 400th year, that we have never been the problem but the solution?”
  • A history of American Chinese food by way of the Crab Rangoon. 
  • There’s a bunch of colleges and biotech startups in Cambridge but also the factory that makes the world’s supply of Junior Mints. “A spokeswoman for the company, which rarely communicates with the media or candy industry analysts, declined comment.”
  • As days get hotter in Phoenix, people are doing more things at night. And a writer laments the loss of cool summer nights to climate change. 

Watching

Blown Away is this captivating reality show about glass blowers. Now and then someone’s sculpture in progress breaks and I like to imagine if I were on the show and that happened to me I would run around to all the other people’s sculptures and smash them and then run away.  

Listening

I was going to write about this emo band I like but I don’t feel like it now and earlier today I was listening to this other band from Belgium that I guess is kind of emo still called Brutus. Brutus is badass and fronted by a drummer who sings which is always a good time. You can watch them play this good song here. 

Reading

I read this book a couple years ago but I heard someone talking about it on a podcast yesterday and I was thinking about how good it was and wanted to recommend it. It’s called What is Populism? by Jan-Werner Müller and it’s about the wave of elected authoritarians like Trump, Berlusconi, and Marine Le Pen, who redefine “the people” in a one-sided way (not on my side, not the people) that secures their corrupt power. Short and accessible, it offers clarity on a global phenomenon that our own political hellscape is a part of.

The weather has been awful here and I told my therapist, “Yesterday I fell into a complete rage just because it was so humid and some flies got into the house.” He kind of nodded and said, “Well, humidity can be difficult,” which I appreciated. 

Whatever your own personal version of humidity is, I wish you the best in overcoming it. Remember, it usually doesn’t last forever. 

Tate

1. A sick Gilded Age burn

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Won’t you come and wash away the rain

The Invisibles, Grant Morrison

We have some really special billionaire villains these days, but our rising disdain toward wealthy donors is more of a return to form than many might realize. I love this quote from John D. Rockefeller’s first failed attempt to charter his foundation at the start of the 20th century, a response from labor leader Samuel Gompers: 

“The one thing the world would gratefully accept from Mr. Rockefeller now would be the establishment of a great endowment of research and education to help other people see in time how they can keep from being like him.”

That is a sick Gilded Age burn, and honestly kind of a good idea, but it also shows how our warm Bono feelings toward philanthropy during the late 20th are an aberration. And yet, Rockefeller eventually established his foundation, and throughout much of history some kind of philanthropy has played part in providing public good. One smart framework for how to parse this conflict comes from the same book I got that quote from, Philanthropy in Democratic Societies. In a later chapter, authors pose a split between what they call disruptive philanthropy, when wealthy donors undermine and compete with the public sector, and contributory philanthropy, which complements the public sector and ultimately enlarges the public goods provided by the state. Charter school philanthropy is one example they give of the disruptive kind which is bad fyi.

But I actually wanted to talk about black holes today. I recently interviewed Avery Broderick, a theoretical physicist who played a role in producing that metal as hell black hole picture everyone loves: 

I talked to him for an article about the Perimeter Institute, the research center he works at in Ontario. Perimeter was initially funded by the guy behind BlackBerry who just really wanted to start an independent center focused entirely on theoretical physics which is not otherwise really a thing as far as I can tell. It has all kinds of cool features that make it unique and it’s pretty famous now, but what interested me in it is the involvement of the Canadian and Ontario governments. Between half and two thirds of its funding comes from government these days, and as a result goes through all sorts of regular review and oversight, and also maintains several partnerships with universities and does a bunch of outreach with K12 schools. It strikes me as a good example of contributory philanthropy in the sense that, even though a donor with a specific interest started it up, it’s now grounded in the public sector and larger scientific community. 

My favorite part of working on this article (aside from getting to talk to Canadians, which is always a joy, they say zed instead of z) was toward the end of my conversation with Avery, who is a brilliant scientist, and got almost sentimental about funding for a minute. 

The private funding allows the flexibility that makes a place like Perimeter unique, but the public support “provides an imprimatur from our community that we are doing good things.”

He says, “It kind of prevents us from believing our own hype too much, right? You go out and you get a reality check from your peers.”

There’s also something grounding about funding coming from members of the public, who might otherwise spend that money on a movie with their kids, he says. 

“I think that realization imbues a duty to do something worthwhile, that when we receive public monies, we are beholden now to everybody to justify why that was a useful expenditure,” he says. “I do reflect on that. I hope my colleagues reflect on that. I think they do.”

Scrutiny of wealthy donors is important for many reasons, including the harms of wealth concentration, reputation laundering, and billionaire influence. But beyond that, it offers us a chance to think about the more intrinsic importance of how we pay for the things we care about.

Yes there’s the danger of tainted funding, like Epstein and Sackler money. But we also gain something kind of beautiful when we all have a stake, even in work like astrophysics. As an international project, lots of people all over the world paid to get that picture of a black hole, including you probably. And to the scientists behind it, it matters that people, not just a person, are invested in their work. 

Links

Reading

I’ve been on a 1980s black and white indie comics kick lately, and I’ve cracked the Bacchus omnibus, volume one, by Eddie Campbell. Bacchus is the long-running pet project of the writer and artist probably best known for drawing From Hell.  

This is you when you get this newsletter.

Watching

Westworld Season 2. I read someone call this show HBO’s Lost and that is a good way of putting it. They really make you work for it but there are some good payoffs, like a brutal scene featuring this feudal Japan version of Wu-Tang’s C.R.E.A.M. 

Last night, Jamie (borat voice my wife) and some friends organized a fundraiser and night of action for immigrant justice. Turnout was great and Jamie presented a moving overview of the abuses happening at the southern border. It’s totally fine that you couldn’t make it don’t sweat it but if this is something you are concerned about, consider giving to the following groups that benefitted from the event.

Boston Immigrant Justice Accompaniment Network (BIJAN/Beyond)

Border Kindness/Bondad Frontera

National Immigration Law Center (NILC)

And that’s all for this week good luck out there. Take care of your loved ones. Go for a nice walk maybe with a dog. Be kind to yourself.

Tate

0: Welcome to Crisis Palace

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I am the last person in the world to start a newsletter and now we all have them, congratulations we did it.

So the short version of why I decided to start a newsletter goes like this. I missed having a direct, unbranded platform, twitter is very bad, and nobody really reads blogs anymore. I wanted to start something up that would allow me to pull together the different threads of my work and thoughts, while providing folks with similar interests some information and hopefully enjoyment.

The long version is best summed up by two freelance writers’ newsletters that I have found inspiring. 

First, I’ve been reading the Ann Friedman Weekly since 2014 (!) and I’ve always loved the way that Ann uses it to connect what she’s working on, what she’s taken an interest in, and some mildly personal stuff, all into one coherent package. All this, despite the fact that she doesn’t have what you might think of as clearly defined beat or brand. It’s just Ann’s unique perspective written in her voice, and there’s something very rewarding about organically engaging with news and ideas presented in that way. I also read once that she started it as kind of a check-in on what she’s done every week, which I find appealing—to mark and process the passage of time in an outward-facing way. 

Second, there’s Welcome to Hell World by Luke O’Neil, the long-suffering punk journalist who’s been shitcanned from various publications, burned bridges with others, and clearly has to tone down his um intense writing style for most outlets. So he started Hell World, and it’s one of the best examples of honest, unflinching prose you’ll come across. It’s entirely on his terms and is just the best. This newsletter won’t be very much like his, but I was inspired by his approach to it, and came to think all freelance journalists ought to have some kind of conduit where we can write fully on our own terms, an unfiltered channel. That might have been blogging in another era, but now I think it’s a newsletter. 

Concrete by Paul Chadwick, 1988

So what might subscribers expect in Crisis Palace? 

I plan to write about and link to what I’m working on, what I’ve published, what I’m reading or watching, some stuff happening in my life, and various things going on in the world that are on my mind. Maybe I’ll ask other people to contribute sometimes. 

One thing I can promise you—these will never be very long and I won’t send very many. That’s the Crisis Palace guarantee.

What topics are you going to write about? 

The things I write about and the things I am interested in, which are roughly the same, include: 

Climate Change. Especially cities, transportation, and climate justice.  

Philanthropy and nonprofits. I worked in progressive nonprofits and fundraising for years and I’m interested in the influence this weird sector has on the world, and whether it can actually shift power.

Activism. As above, this is about the different levers we use to advance change and their outcomes and consequences.

Media. Comic books, television, books, genre fiction, other comic books. 

And I guess that’s pretty much it. We’ll see though. Sometimes I write about bugs or dead people or water. 

What does Crisis Palace mean? 

Crisis Palace means actually nothing. It was the result from a twitter meme where the letters in my name determined what my Sonic the Hedgehog world would be called. I have a hard time naming things. 

Hang on who even are you? 

I’m a freelance writer, my work has appeared in a bunch of places but I write regularly for Inside Philanthropy, where I cover climate change and the weird realm of people influencing the world with tax-deductible allocations of wealth. But I’m interested in all kinds of stuff and have had bylines in the Atlantic, Curbed, Boston Magazine, and more. 

Can I go now? 

Sure. Future emails will have more stuff but you know I’m just working this out right now so get off my back.