Note: This is based on my understanding of the book, and any inaccuracies are mine.
I recently read the anthology All We Can Save: Truth, Courage, and Solutions for the Climate Crisis, a powerful and motivating look at climate change from 60 women climate activists.
The book is divided into eight sections:
- Root: level setting about the current crisis
- Advocate: looking at policies and hoped-for solutions
- Reframe: changing how we talk and think about climate issues
- Reshape: finding new ways to think about where we live
- Persist: looking at how we can continue fighting for change
- Feel: delving into climate grief and related emotions
- Nourish: considering how our land and water can be used for climate solutions
- Rise: a call to action
Each section had thought-provoking pieces, and it’s a lot to take in. I can’t write about all of it, so I encourage reading the book, but here were my five biggest takeaways.
1: Everything is connected
Over the past couple of years of the pandemic, we’ve been reminded over and over of how tied together we all are, and thinking about climate change amplifies that.
The most obvious example of this is that we all live on the same planet, which means we’re all connected by the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the ground that grows our food.
But the connections are also more subtle than that.
Before reading the book, I was familiar with the idea of intersectionality, which is when more than one social category or type of discrimination overlaps, such as the intersection of racism and sexism. I had also known to some extent that climate change is a focal point where a lot of these areas converge, but the book made me understand it much more fully.
As multiple authors made clear, we can’t address climate change without also addressing other issues, like poverty, healthcare, racism, classism, and more. Here are a couple of quotes reflecting that.
“I didn’t have the language back then to connect the dots, but I do today. My community, like most communities of color and Indigenous communities, was intentionally disenfranchised, poisoned, and turned into a dumping ground. Injustices intersected: violence, poverty, drugs, government neglect, and environmental racism. “ Favianna Rodriguez, p. 122
“How can we attract enough workers for a national climate mobilization if the average cost for a year of childcare ranges from $5,500 to $25,000? How can families move to better-paying jobs in the mobilization if they are dependent on employer-sponsored healthcare or, worse, cannot exceed their Medicaid asset limit lest they be disqualified? How can people reenter the labor force if they do not know where to go for training or job placement? How?…
“The [Green New Deal] must be the most just economic mobilization in U.S. history if we are going to succeed in averting the climate crisis and reversing the unraveling of our economy.” – Rhiana Gunn-Wright, p. 102
If we are to address climate change, we must address it for everyone, in an equitable and just way, and not only fix things for a privileged, wealthy few.
2: We must reframe our worldview
For too long, the United States and many other countries have been focused on competition and continual growth. The result is the exploitation of the environment and too many people who were thought of as “lesser” in some way. This includes Indigenous people who weren’t considered “civilized” because they valued the Earth and relationships over money.
Now, though, if we are to survive the coming challenges, we need to work together instead of trying to outdo each other.
As Xiye Bastida wrote: “We need to have a whole cultural shift, where it becomes our culture to take care of the Earth…. Part of this will be learning how to work by the principle of collaboration rather than competition. It’s so different from what we’ve been taught – to be individualistic and to strive for personal success.” (p. 4)
The good news is, we have examples of this. The work of Suzanne Simard, author of Finding the Mother Tree, and others highlights the fact that trees and other plants cooperate to share resources and nurture one another. This means that we can recognize how common those traits are, and that competition isn’t the only way.
We can also learn much from Indigenous populations who have always lived lightly on the Earth. Sherri Mitchell, who was born and raised on the Penobscot Reservation, wrote: “[Indigenous knowledge] simply recognizes the familial relationship and acknowledges that all life is both sovereign and interdependent, and that each element within creation (including humans) has the right and the responsibility to respectfully coexist as coequals within the larger system of life.” (p. 18)
“Therefore, the greatest contribution that Indigenous people may be able to make at this time is to continue providing the world with living models of sustainability that are rooted in ancient wisdom and that inform us how to live in balance with all our relations on Mother Earth.” (p. 20)
3: Solutions are at hand
I confess that I’ve often fallen into the trap of thinking that solutions for climate change must all come from technology. Some of this is because I’ve always been a sci-fi fan, and I’m fascinated by the idea of terraforming.
But the focus on technology is also fairly widespread in our society. We’re so reliant on technology that it makes sense for our initial thoughts to turn to more technology.
These aren’t the only options, though. As the book reminded me, we have many low-tech approaches available.
Consider soil and microbes. Many of our high-tech practices in agriculture have resulted in significant loss of soil and the microbial life that healthy soil needs. This is significant because: “Though invisible to the naked eye, microbes collectively hold more carbon than all animals combined. Billions of tons of carbon sit underground, three times more than in the atmosphere…. Microbes are the movers and shakers of carbon sequestration. They transform organic matter from plants and animals into soil organic carbon (SOC) and other nutrients, a process that builds soil fertility and draws down carbon from the atmosphere and locks it away.” (Jane Zelikova, p. 289)
So instead of fancy technology to sequester carbon, we could focus on regenerative agriculture and changing the way we think about soil. Instead of seeing it as something for us to use, we can regard it as a gift and something we need to preserve.
Similarly, problems of drought and flood do not always need technological solutions. Better soil management would help on both fronts, and so would having more vegetation. More plants not only help absorb water when it rains but also provide cooler temperatures through the process of transpiration. This is essential the plant’s way of “sweating” and it can cool the air.
As Judith D. Schwartz wrote: “The beautiful thing is that there is nothing we have to ‘engineer.’ Nature does this for us. Basically, what we need is life: life to transport water and, by extension, to regulate heat; life to seed the rain; life to slow down moving water so that it has a chance to infiltrate.” (p. 318)
4: Climate grief is real
Most of us in the U.S. aren’t very good at talking about grief, so it’s not too surprising that we don’t have open discussions about climate grief. But that’s slowly starting to change as more people are experiencing this and related emotions.
And it’s not just a few people. “A report released in 2012 by the National Wildlife Federation warned that climate change is creating a mental health crisis. The climate scientists, psychologists, and policy experts who authored the study estimated that 200 million Americans will suffer from mental illness as a result of natural disasters, droughts, heatwaves, and economic downturn.” (Ash Sanders, p. 235)
Among the mental illness impacts are what Lisa Van Susteren calls pre-traumatic stress disorder. This is when you have a reaction to trauma that hasn’t yet happened, such as more extinctions, flooded coastal cities, and unbearable heat.
Still others experience the difficulty of witnessing the beauty and wonder in the world while knowing how much damage it has suffered, and how much more is coming. Emily N. Johnston described it this way: “It’s a constant question for me every time I’m entranced by the beauty of this world: What does it mean to love this place? What does it mean to love anyone or anything in a world whose vanishing is accelerating, perhaps beyond our capacity to save the things that we love most?” (p. 256)
These aren’t easy things to talk about, but they’re so important. I felt a sense of relief when I read this section, to have some of what I feel named and acknowledged, to know I’m not the only one feeling this way.
And yet while it’s important to acknowledge these emotions, it’s also important not to give in to despair. “It is absolutely possible to prepare for the disasters already, terrifyingly, upon us while also doing our damnedest to quit baking more in. We can acknowledge the storm of emotions that comes with watching our world burn. We can process those emotions and pick ourselves up to put the blaze out as best we can. Because it’s worth it. Because we’re worth it.” (Mary Annaise Heglar, p. 282)
5: We don’t know the ending
That brings me to the last and perhaps most important point.
We don’t know how this is going to end.
It’s easy to feel like we can predict the future, especially when it comes to something as monumental and seemingly insurmountable as climate change. But the truth is, we don’t know what will happen.
I do know, though, that if we fall into despair and think we’re doomed, we’ll stop trying and it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
But if we act? If each of us does what we can? Then all bets are off.
The trick is to get out of the feeling of futility and act. It’s true that those actions may not succeed, or not succeed as well as you’d like, but they might start some momentum. And taking action itself can lessen the feelings of depression and doom.
If you need a nudge, consider this tip from Emily Johnston. “Despair is an accurate reflection of the peril we face, but it isn’t a predictor of the future; it’s devastatingly nearsighted. To see beyond what despair sees — to move from the feeling toward the possibility—calls for things we have in abundance: love, imagination, and a willingness to simply tend the world as best we can, without guarantee of success. Any one of these can get us started.” (p. 259)
Or take these words from teenager Alexandria Villasenor: “To me, the responsibility to save and protect our planet for ourselves and future generations is not a burden. I think it’s a blessing, and I believe we were chosen for this job because we are the ones who can make it happen. In this unique moment in history, we must come together to save our future.” (p. 326)
If we can all be moved to act as these women are, then perhaps we can write an ending that we can be proud of, that will give coming generations – for humans and other animals – a viable future.
Have you read All We Can Save? If so, I’d love to hear what you thought of it – I invite you to leave a comment.