Climate Breakdown

These pictures are from a demonstration at London's British Broadcasting Corporation headquarters organized by Extinction Rebellion which I attended. XR is a grassroots group with two million members globally and growing. XR 'gets' climate change, unafraid to confront the harsh truth that the Earth is perilously close to uninhabitablity.

The UN's Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) gives us 12 years to make the drastic turn-arounds needed if we are not to suffer even more catastrophic social disruptions (like migration as in California's recent wildfires and war as in Syria where non-arable land displacement has driven conflict (cartoon here). Most sobering: the possibility of species extinction is real; humankind has been on this old Earth for a fraction of a second in the scheme of things.  Our very continuity is an open question.

See the New York Times article on what it might mean for us to go extinct.

Emerging Voices wants to start a conversation around our species threatening climate conditions. We invite you to be in touch with your ideas.

editors@emergingvoices.co.uk

Rose Levinson, December 2018

End of a troubling year

The advent of a new year, once seasonal festivities are over, always makes us ponder the future. It creates an urge in us to look at the world around and wonder about the direction of our journey ahead. We reflect, we predict, we plan - and these days, it seems, we fear. There hasn’t been a lot to celebrate in recent times but, conversely, much to worry about: the rise of right-wing populism, the dreadful war in Yemen, the abuse of the environment, the plight of refugees across the world, and increasing impoverishment in sections of otherwise wealthy societies……..and Brexit. They are all grounds for shame and concern.

So this year, my usual, hopeful curiosity about the future is low on the dial and I don’t really want to look ahead into 2019. I just know it’s going to be grim. Another year of bluster and bombast, lies and licence, suffering and silence, pain and poverty: the matched pairs are endless. With good cause, I find I am eschewing attempts at good-humoured, festive bonhomie. When friends tell me I look miserable, I simply smile wanly and say “Yes, I am”. For once, I really don’t think I’m going to be able to say “Happy New Year”.

Gillian Dalley

The Days of Our Years

I've gone through life implicitly believing in key notions of the Enlightenment: reason, knowledge, freedom, skepticism. Sure there were ongoing  --but solvable-- problems of racism, sexism, homophobia, unequal resource distribution, war. Still, I assumed things would inexorably get better. Progress was slow, and many tried to stop it. But I believed in the struggle for justice, certain of the triumph of the good. All would be well, if we just kept working to make it so. The 'we' is those enlightened folks, like me, who know how things ought to be.

Then, BOOM. Explosions rock my foundations. Trump is elected. Brexit is approved. Far right leaders take power in Hungary, the Philippines, Brazil, Turkey, Italy. Israel tightens its grip on the Occupied Territories and moves closer to  theocracy. Putin re-starts the Russia dominance dance. All this is the result of free democratic elections, leaders chosen by the popular will, not through coups. The people spoke, and what they said, to persons of my ilk, is unspeakably retrograde.

It's impossible to predict what the world will be like even twenty-five years from now. For along with straightforward choices by the vox populi, the horrors of global climate breakdown imperil the very existence of the earth. It is undeniably the case that we are in danger of making our planet uninhabitable. Whether you believe this or not is irrelevant; it's true.

So this is where I, a woman in my seventies, find myself: a US citizen who can barely contain my rage at Trump's psychopathic daily cruelties; an inhabitant of London where Brexit's impending arrival threatens the stability of a fragile, small, pleasing but not very significant country; a Jew anguished by what's done in the name of insuring that never again are Jews victims; a climate activist who can barely comprehend what I can do to make things better; an urban, Jewish,  educated cosmopolitan stranded in an increasingly populist world.

Futility is not an option, so I continue to engage. The realization that much of my personal narrative has played out raises the questions: how can my diminishing narrative space allow for room to make a positive impact on the crazy stories which define this time? What is the point of my Third Age journey as I work above all to survive, and next to make meaning.

Rose Levinson