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COP26 has begun in Glasgow with a backdrop of economic, social and environmental turmoil. The COVID-19 pandemic has caused the greatest economic disruption since the Great Depression whilst simultaneously accelerating social and economic inequality. And the climate and biodiversity emergency should no longer be spoken about in future tense. Professor Petteri Taalas from the World Meteorological Organisation notes that “extreme events are the new norm”, something we experienced with the 2019/2020 fires in Australia that blanketed the east coast in fire and smoke. Our economic model has reached a point of necessary transformation.
Some have described this moment as like standing on the edge of a cliff. But this is the wrong analogy; our choices are not to fall off the edge or walk back to where we have come from. The idea of returning to “normal” is both not possible and not desirable. “Normal” is an economic system that separates and individualises, that produces severe inequality and existential climate risk. No thank you. What we need is a rapid economic transformation; a bridge across the chasm that we face, to a future that supports human flourishing amongst an intricate and beautiful web of life.
Transformation is a process of renewal; a retirement of that which no longer serves us, leaving space for the new to emerge. This is true for personal transformation as it is for the transformation of our economic system. Transformation also involves a leap of faith; a trust that going beyond the horizon that we can see is not only desirable but absolutely necessary for our survival and our potential for flourishing.
Luckily, we have strong examples of what this type of economic transformation has historically looked like. As George Monbiot wrote recently, the US mobilisation for WW2 from 1940-1944 serves as a potent reminder of how economies can be retooled and completely transformed, and a clear goal achieved. As Monbiot writes, “There’s discomfort in environmental circles with military analogies. But the war is among the few precedents and metaphors that almost everyone can grasp. And we would be foolish not to learn from this remarkable lesson.” Closer to home, these years of war would also serve to generate the foundations of Australia’s welfare state. Then there is the classic story of the Kennedy moon-shot, with an entire economy retooled to achieve a remarkable goal. And of course our most recent experience of COVID-19 has demonstrated the potential of States to make rapid and significant changes to prioritise public health.
This is the backdrop for COP26. The whole world is looking to this forum for a commitment to a hopeful future, powered by science and ambitious policy making. As Simon Longstaff from the Ethics Centre writes, “I realise that politics is the ‘art of the possible’... However, there are times when, at their best, politicians enlarge our possibilities and in doing so, lead their electorate to a better place. This is why politics used to be considered the most noble calling of a citizen.”
While we are rightfully infuriated with Australia’s phenomenal mishandling of climate change policy and our blocking of international progress, we must maintain pressure on the current political system in order for a new one to have a chance to emerge. Whilst it is an understandable reaction to throw ones hands up in despair, we can't take our hands off the wheel now. We cannot allow our current state to create apathy or to dismiss the potential of politics to achieve fundamental change. To have a fighting chance against the challenges of our time we must stay engaged in the political arena.
But the question remains: if we can’t find hope in our politics right now, where can we turn?
Once we find our way through the polluted smog of our politics, we find climate leadership all around us. We lead with satire. We lead through purpose-led business. We lead with local government action. We lead with community networks. We lead through collaboration. We lead with activism. We lead through big business. We lead with impact investment. We lead with household action on solar. And we lead with groundbreaking research on climate solutions and accelerating to a zero-emissions Australia.
COP26 puts our politicians on a global stage, and we must continue to place pressure on them to deliver significant policy change. However, this is not where we should look for hope. Hope is taking action from where you are. As Professor of Environmental Studies David Orr says, “hope is a verb with its sleeves rolled up”. This is the same message that permeates Joanna Macy’s aptly titled “Active Hope: How to Face the Mess We’re in without Going Crazy”. Macy’s approach is deceptively simple. First we need to be clear-eyed about the challenges we face. Then we envisage the future that we’d like to see. Finally, we take steps to move in that direction. This approach doesn’t require our optimism and we can apply active hope even if we feel hopeless. Active hope is the tonic for our time.
And of course, by embracing active hope, leading from where we are, and connecting with others doing the same, we build community and we build power. Before too long this power can be turned on our political system through the ballot box. What comes next for our country is up to all of us.
