A few months ago, I woke up with a “berning” need to join the Bernie Sanders campaign. I had followed the evolution of the revolution because of Bernie’s outstanding climate platform, and I wanted to do more. I canvased in New Hampshire ahead of the primary and interned with the campaign, immersing myself in the “Feel the Bern” movement’s theory of change.
As Bernie’s campaign marched into my life, I could not help but compare its strategies to those of the other cause that dominates my world: the climate movement. Climate organizers have worked for decades to build a mass movement, an effort that produced the largest climate event in US history when 400,000 people marched in 2014 in New York City. Yet within six months of launching his campaign, Bernie had drawn that many people to his rallies. As the climate movement struggles to build electoral power, Bernie has inspired more people than ever to vote and engage with the political process. Up close and personal, I learned that America’s new political uprising and its leader offer invaluable lessons for climate activists.
In contrast, the climate movement does not have a unified vision for the future other than a general imperative to avoid climate catastrophe. This makes it confusing for outsiders and even those within the movement to understand exactly what we are fighting for. Some organizations, including a few of the “Big Greens,” support natural gas as a bridge fuel. Yet more and more groups reject natural gas, citing health and environmental risks. Each approach represents different values and futures. Can the climate movement create clarity by rallying around a common vision?
Many climate organizations stand with Bernie’s strong positions. Others are willing to compromise and settle for weaker action. The reaction to COP21 shows the range of opinion. Both the heads of the Sierra Club and Avaaz hailed the Paris agreement as a “turning point.” The head of Greenpeace said, “The wheel of climate action turns slowly, but in Paris it has turned.” Yet many young climate activists consider the agreement profoundly unjust, condemning youth and front-line communities to a future of climate chaos. One of the major climate-justice delegations to COP21, It Takes Roots, wrote after the talks concluded: “The COP21 agreement is a failure, condemning humanity to a slow and painful death.” How can these perspectives be reconciled?
The climate movement can learn from Bernie’s steadfast and consistent commitment to engaging our better angels. Too much of our messaging reflects what we are against: the fossil-fuel industry, political capture, coal, oil, natural gas… We don’t tend to emphasize what we stand for. As Cam Fenton, a Canadian climate activist, wrote earlier this year: “We have too often based our vision on opposition to our opponents, and that’s left us unbalanced.” Why? Perhaps because we lack that unified vision. As a result, the climate movement is more a reaction against what we fear than it is a movement for a better future.
How does someone “join” the climate movement? There is no movement-wide infrastructure for action or a map with all the climate organizations and actions in your area (as far as I know). Most generic ways to participate, like changing lightbulbs joining a march or writing your congressmembers seem futile in the face of implacable climate upheaval. Groups like 350.org are working at it, but the climate movement has not yet figured out how to engage masses of people.
Long-term mobilization is a profound problem for many climate campaigns. Take the movement to stop the Keystone XL pipeline. Organizations devoted enormous resources to block its construction. There were huge marches in DC. Over 750 communities across America organized actions against the pipeline. As a result, Keystone XL was rejected. But what happened to all those folks who sat on a bus for 10 hours to march against the pipeline? Where was the post-campaign plan to help these activists pivot and engage with local contests over fossil fuel infrastructure? We must look beyond what’s right in front of us if we want to build and maintain power,
I am 23 years old and have lived in Maine all my life. I can already see that the Maine that raised me is different from the one I live in today. Winters are warmer. Ice melts sooner. Buds bloom earlier. The local economy reverberates with the impacts of an unstable planet. My heart breaks to see all that I love most fall prey to climate change. That is why I work towards a climate movement that can truly protect all that we love. The Bernie Sanders revolution holds lessons that we can learn from right now. Learning from the Bern can help us avoid a future of burn.
Chloe MaxminTwitterChloe Maxmin, hailing from rural Maine, is the Co-Director of Dirtroad Organizing alongside Canyon Woodward. She is also the co-author, with Canyon, of Dirt Road Revival: How to Rebuild Rural Politics and Why Our Future Depends On It. She is the youngest woman ever to serve in the Maine State Senate after unseating a two-term Republican incumbent and Senate leader in 2020. She lives and works in rural Maine, where she co-runs Begin Again Farm with her partner.