COP27 wrapped last week and I’ve got to be honest with you — I don’t entirely understand what happened there.
I understand the takeaways, sure. I understand that weak promises were made, that oil and gas lobbyists had more seats at the table than developing nations did, that despite the ease with which it rolls off our tongues in conversation, we could not say no to fossil fuels in any kind of formal way. Oil and gas lobbyists left once again with well-lined pockets and a bounce in their step.
I watched from afar, from a laptop, from a Twitter feed, scanning headlines and hot takes, not sure what difference it made. I felt very far away from the world.
Earth has warmed 1.3˚C since the late 1800s. We are expected to cross 1.5˚C within a decade. World leaders recognized this in the final COP27 report — that we must do everything we can to avoid crossing this threshold. Then made no moves to avoid crossing this threshold.
I know diplomacy is difficult. And I know nothing of it personally because I am brash and stubborn and regularly unwilling to abandon my beliefs (welcome to the Enneagram 6 club, my friends). But still, I’m not sure if it’s diplomacy or just plain bad faith to be unable to add “phase down fossil fuels” to a climate report during a time of climate crisis.
At 1.5˚C of warming, coral reefs face a complete die-off. Those “unheard of” storms become regular. Melting ice floods cities. Sea level rises by 30 inches. Heat waves expose 14% of the world’s population to extreme heat once every five years. Grasslands turn to deserts. Tundra turns to forest. Permafrost melts and whole towns sink right into the ocean. But you already know this, don’t you?
Six inches of snow fell in the foothills this week. The wind whipped the trees into a frenzy, the clouds came in low and thick, stinking of offal from the Greeley slaughterhouses. Inches on inches of light fluffy powder covered the landscape by morning. Now everything is dizzyingly white and sparkly. Which is to say everything is exactly as it’s supposed to be. Nothing is out of place. It should be impossible and yet the magpies are still out there, digging through the snow and the black cattle are wearing a path into the grassland and the golden eagle is still hunting from the same tree on the same property where signs are posted for $500 rewards for dead coyotes.
The Biden administration is paying $75 million to move three Native tribes away from coastal areas and rivers that are washing away because of climate change, two in Alaska, one in Washington. Meanwhile, the same administration is contemplating approving an oil and gas project from ConocoPhillips on Alaska’s North Slope that would emit 287 million metric tons of greenhouse gas pollution into our atmosphere over the next 30 years. Sometimes I hate that two things can be true simultaneously.
When I brush the snow off the Jeep in the 5:30 pm darkness and the powder flies down my sleeves and into my boots, I don’t mind. I know it’s not long until I’ll be brushing forest fire ash off my windshield. Or digging the tires out of a flooded dirt road. I’ve been at the heart of a climate-fueled disaster each year for the last four years. Sometimes multiple times a year. Endurance in disaster is something of a meditation for me now, a prayer bead I run through my fingers again and again waiting for the danger to pass.
When we slip from 1.3˚C to 1.5˚C in the next couple of years you likely won’t even notice. It will be just like any other day. There’s something incredibly comforting and incredibly disturbing about that. Two things are true, simultaneously. Extinction is whispering a song on the horizon so sweetly, you barely notice anyone’s singing at all.
Stuff I’m Reading:
Confluence by Zak Podmore — An excellent meditation on desert rivers, uranium mining, and personal history. (Also featuring cover artwork from my artist friend and former roommate Julia Klema).
Virga and Bone — Another desert book (I was on a kick in Moab’s Back of Beyond bookstore) written as a collection of essay-like meditations on those sweet desert landscapes.
Stuff I Like About Where I’m Staying (still Boulder, Colorado edition):
Andrew Barker — Local Boulder artist (and the first friend I made when I moved to Boulder!). He ships!
Coven & Sage — Loose leaf tea blends handcrafted by the most badass lady I know. She also ships!
Dakota Ridge — I tried this mountain biking trail my first year on the bike, got approximately 200 feet in and said NOPE NOT FOR ME! I just went back for the first time last week with the greatest of friends and conquered many of my fears (though icy conditions meant there were many more fears to be conquered later).