Calm emergencies

Much of the work around seeking to engage people on climate change has been trying to inject a sense of urgency. Creating a catalysing moment to break through the incrementalism. 100 months until x. This is the crucial decade for climate. The doomsday clock is now at one minute to midnight.

Everything, everywhere all at once is understandable and true, but it’s not sustainable for people to deal with, or live like that, on a day by day basis. Most people, even those who agree that climate change is a massive priority, struggle to find enough time in their days and weeks to engage with the issue even briefly.

Reading ‘Fire Weather’ by John Vaillant I was struck by the little moments of relative calm in amongst the terror and carnage. I can’t think of a book I’ve read where I spent as much time clutching at my face, putting my hand to my mouth in shock, shaking my head or willing people to get out. Reading descriptions of people taking their clothes to the dry cleaner and arranging the date when it would be collected next week as they watch the fire advancing outside; people running backwards and forwards from their home to their car to get some last things that seemed somehow vital in that moment; or just standing watching the fire at the end of their road. People comparing stories at the emergency shelters they had escaped to of things they had brought with them that they couldn’t fathom. Even in the midst of that raging fire, the like of which that town had never seen before, nor had most of the firefighters, people still couldn’t grapple with the immediacy of the emergency.

In ‘Scarcity’, Eldar Shafir talks about how it’s difficult to make decisions when you’re in a situation of scarcity. Whatever the source of scarcity, whether it’s financial, time or food, the brain gets frazzled and finds it hard to make any decisions. It’s so distracted by trying to deal with the impact of the scarce situation it can’t justify providing lots of brainpower to address issues, even ones which are seemingly related to the source of scarcity.

Thinking about it now, I wonder whether those moments of seeming relative calm in the book were actually that. Perhaps they were more moments of panic that looked like calm. That people just couldn’t make sense of what was happening or work out what needed to be done, what their options were. The situation had moved from one they could understand and navigate – for the people with their dry cleaning, they could think through what they already knew of their plans and availability, how they could fit their day together to find space to collect their laundry at particular points. Those kinds of situation are ones that are everyday for many, and so the range of options is easily accessible. Even the fact it was a wildfire in that context, it wasn’t the first time they had them in that scenario – just not at that level of ferocity.

For those kinds of situation which are outside our imaginings or the day to day, even in the moment, it’s hard to make sense of them. We can overlay our reactions from the everyday on to them but they don’t fit well – responses that had seemed fine, now seem incongruous, ridiculous. Why arrange to collect the dry cleaning next week when the fire looks like it could engulf the building in the next 10 minutes? But that can be all we’ve got in those kinds of situations. The habitual response. Responding to the social cues – everyone else in the shop is talking about drop-offs and collections and pointing out a particular part of some clothing that needs special attention – so to be the one freaking out would be weird and uncomfortable, even if it might make more sense in that moment.

At a collective level, Vaillant shows how the local firefighters found it hard to understand they were in a different world. They started fighting the fire in the ways they had done with previous smaller, less intense fires and found it hard to adjust. There were indicators around the speed it was moving at, the heat and intensity of it which could have shown them they needed to recalibrate. The structures they were operating in, from the different organisations with overlapping responsibility but no clear way to agree on decisions, mitigated against other perspectives or approaches finding a way through.

And then for situations with less immediacy – the wildfire isn’t rampaging at the bottom of your street – what looks like calm on the outside, or maybe even on the inside too, if we don’t look or think too deeply, can instead be another kind of panic. Wandering along with the same responses that just don’t fit now. Organisational structures which can’t recalibrate for emergencies but keep on with the busy business as usual in the meantime.

A sense of fragility underneath all of that calm and structure and order and process. Just with less reason to sense the fragility or understand the need for change…

A manageable tragedy

When the tree at Sycamore Gap was felled there was a huge outcry. Investigations and art work. Trying to understand why and how. Anger and shock, sadness and disgust.

Then people collected seeds from the tree and have been growing them. There were 49 saplings which have been grown from seeds of the felled tree that organisations could bid for. One tree for each foot in height that the tree was at the time it was felled. Over 500 applications received.

What remains of the tree has been protected and there are signs that the tree is regrowing. I saw it a couple of weeks ago myself when I walked the Hadrian’s Wall Path from coast to coast – Bowness to Wallsend. Along the way places I stayed often had pictures up of the Sycamore Gap tree showing one of the recognisable sights of the walk. When we got there it was being guarded and filmed by people in hi-vis with clipboards.

Should the shoots be left to regrow, which will lead to a more messy outline than what was there before? Or should it be properly felled and a new one put in place that will have the same look as the previous one? If the former, is it the same tree or not and does it matter?

What is it we are trying to do with all of this? Are we trying to protect the tree and help it recover, or are we trying to recapture the way it looked before? Making a wrong right or just trying to make sense of something that, even after the trial, seems mystifying?

The scale of interest in one tree feels high. It’s a recognisable tree given it’s location. Caught on film lots of times. Voted best tree. Boundary between countries and a marker along the way for those walking Hadrian’s Wall

The fact it’s just one tree, one recognisable tree, seems to be at a scale that people can engage with. Unlike the much larger scale environmental issues of climate change and biodiversity loss, the felling of the Sycamore Gap tree feels manageable. It was there and now it isn’t. There isn’t a faceless organisation who did it, or some weather event. Instead it’s two people. Manageable. Trying to understand their motivations. Wondering about the relationship and dynamics. National outcry. Shock and rage. Front page news and long reads about the tree and the trial – the comedy defences put forward, grainy footage of the moment the tree came down filmed by people claiming not to have done it.

The Global Forest Watch estimated that between 2001 to 2024, the UK lost 585 kha of tree cover. That’s equivalent to a 16% decrease in tree cover since 2000. Much more than one tree lost and yet hardly any coverage or action…

We forget ourselves

‘They’ get mentioned at work a lot. I work on environmental issues, in a team of people doing the same. I’m not a lone environmentalist, I’m surrounded by people who are all aware, or should be aware, of the same things as me.

I hear lots about the fact ‘they’ need to get their homes retrofitted, ‘they’ aren’t recycling or lobbying their politicians at local or national level, ‘they’ can’t be bothered to even do the easy things. ‘They’ are hard to reach or won’t engage or only want to talk about other aspects of their home or go on about double glazing.

At work I’m constantly surprised at how people working on environmental issues forget how they themselves act. How few people are vegetarian let alone vegan – and how defensive many people can be in discussing making a change, even just for some meals or at environmental events. Most people still fly for pleasure, and do so frequently – and how little people want to engage in the impacts of that choice or do anything differently as a result. I thought I’d be an outlier having not retrofitted my home. Yet most people will do home improvements which involve spending lots of money but don’t include energy in the scope of the works.

Living lives on a day to day basis which don’t look much different to those who aren’t spending their working lives on climate and environmental issues. Not having the justification that they don’t have much of the detail or an understanding of what needs to be done – in some areas at least, even if not all of them.

Despite the subject matter we’re working on, it feels quite culturally normal to not live in a particularly environmentally friendly way. Challenging that feels very uncomfortable and mostly doesn’t happen. Some of that is understandable – if you’ve got to work with people day in, day out then most wouldn’t choose to be confrontational about things when you don’t need to be. Part of why, for me at least, I often don’t ask is because I find it so depressing when I do. It’s the same arguments as I hear elsewhere from people who don’t have anywhere near as much knowledge, interest or motivation than those I’m working with. What I’d expected to be a source of motivation can often exacerbate my concern about how much inaction there can is.

There’s also a lack of curiosity in so many people about the factors which limit their own environmental activity outside work. They are able to live with the cognitive dissonance and prefer that to trying to make changes in how they live. Giving explanations which excuse their behaviour – joking that planting a tree or two will offset the flights they are taking later in the month. A knowing joke but still ‘they’ make it and take the flight…