Written by: Hillary Bernhardt, Video Coordinator, Team New Hampshire
This is the second installment to our teams three-part documentary regarding the subsidies surrounding fossil fuels. In this video, I took the approach of addressing head-on exactly where this money is coming from. A good chunk of government money is actually given to these corporations in the form of tax breaks. After farther researching these tax breaks, I noticed just how completely ridiculous they were. Fossil fuel corporations are given tax breaks for doing everything from using a “non-conventional” fuel (which could mean anything from coal to tar sands) to using hydro-fracking (a technology proven to poison water supplies). On a more positive note, I chose to highlight the Day of Action efforts of our other Climate Summer teams as well as the governmental actions of elected officials in terms of getting rid of these subsidies and moving forward to a mores sustainable world. Enjoy!
Written by Sara Mitsinikos, Media Co-Coordinator, Team Maine
On Tuesday we had a potluck dinner, on the top of a mountain. I shouldn’t be complaining, it wasn’t our worst day. That would be the dreaded Pinnacle Drive: miles of hills in ninety-five degree heat on the way to Belfast and probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. We have learned what road names like “Pinnacle” and “Grand View” usually entail.
I thought I would never forgive Mount Agamenticus for being so long and steep. But once we got to the top I could see it was worth the work. There was the most amazing view: trees and mountains for miles. I could have just sat staring for hours. But there was food to eat and people to meet.
On top of Mt Agamenticus!
As is custom, we were again faced with the questions, “Where are you from?” and “Why are you doing this?” I thought back nine weeks from now to when I was on my beloved Long Island. I thought of the unnecessary drop-offs and pick-ups by car to destinations in walking distance. I thought of the Smartboards installed in my high school (basically a computerized chalkboard or what I like to call a way to use more electricity when all you need is a chalkboard and a projector). I thought of how the bay is not suitable for swimming, although on a couple occasions I’ve gone in holding my nose and squeezing my eyes shut pretending that it is.
Then I relived in my mind what I’ve experienced in Maine: community gardens, composting, tidal energy, passive solar energy and so much more, not to mention plenty of clean lakes and ponds that we have taken to our full advantage. I thought of our work with the York Land Trust and their aim to keep as much land undeveloped as possible. As I walked the trails comparing the miles of forest in York to the miles of pavement in New York I wondered where I could go to get my nature fix on Long Island. The place that came to mind was Christopher Morley Park, where I’d spent many a Columbus Day with my family “exploring.” But even those trails seemed developed compared to York in that the pathways are so wide and cleared that by walking on them you don’t feel you are in nature but rather separated from it and just observing it, like at a zoo.
But back to the potluck: My abbreviated reply to the aforementioned questions was, “I’m from Long Island and I’m here because I don’t want the rest of the world to turn into that.” Each day I’m finding new reasons to be doing what I’m doing. And I have that horrible, beautiful mountain to thank for inspiring me and keeping me motivated to continue doing it, even past my time at Climate Summer, which is quickly dwindling down.
Maine is known as “vacationland.” But I don’t want what Maine represents to me, respect for nature and the corresponding need to preserve it, to be a getaway from normal life of disregard for the environment. I want it to be everywhere; I want it to be home, wherever that is.
Written by Jayson Castillo, Video Coordinator, Team RICONN
According to the League of American Bicyclists, 40% of all trips in the U.S. are made within two miles of the home. This means that simply by trading our car keys for a bike once in a while we could reduce our dependency on foreign oil while lowering our carbon footprint and promoting good health.
Now, when I signed up to travel exclusively by bike this summer I knew that if I was doing nothing at all other than simply biking around in a group of people, that I would be promoting sustainability. This is because; whether for better or for worse, riding a bike has become somewhat of a political decision. Just like buying a Hummer and cruising it around town reflects a certain kind of outlook and attitude towards policy and idealism, so too does choosing to commute by bike reflect a certain type of ideological vantage point. Committing to ride exclusively by bike for two months reflects a certain type of conviction in the belief that we could potentially as a community, a country, take individual action and simply in changing our behavior and the way we do things, we could effect real change; change to counteract and challenge the cultural norm, the American impulse that says buy, waste, consume.
I think most of my teammates and I grew up in an economy that valued buying commercial goods as a representation of social status. We all went to school being taught that if you had the latest in shoes or in mp3 player that you were not only worthwhile but that you were better than your peers. At the age of 23 I find myself observing that many of us never grew outside of that behavior, we are still running the same rat races that we so desperately clung too all throughout our adolescent-hood. Adults and children alike are racing to the bottom to consume the latest and greatest in this years production models all the while recklessly trashing our planet and consuming more irresponsibly than ever.
While it might sound naïve or idealistic or even slightly self-inflating, to say that commuting by bike could change the world, every bike shop that we have stepped into along our journey has adopted this new strategy, “Be healthier, happier, and reduce your carbon footprint, buy a bike.” Whether the incentive is monetary or political, the bike shops we have visited have promoted a simple message, more biking, less carbon output. The biking communities supporting these bike shops also seem to resonate with an idealism which says, “Get people out of their cars and onto their bikes.” With oil, coal, and gas being 80% of our nation’s energy output, with 55% of Connecticut’s notorious gas emissions coming from cars, and with 40% of all urban trips made in the U.S. being within 2 miles, the bike shops might be onto something more than just a slogan or an advertisement campaign. According to Clif bars (as part of their cycling promoting 2 Mile Challenge), 25% of carbon dioxide emissions in the U.S. are emitted by cars. Furthermore, if one million people replaced a 2 mile car ride once a week with a bike ride, emissions could be reduced by 50,000 Tons per year.
Along our route, team RiConn has both met with bicycle advocators and activist, as well as participated in events which promote cycling. From participating in bike shop hosted weekly community rides of dozens of participants with four levels of circuit, to Critical Mass, one of the strongest and most successful attempts to organize cyclist and raise awareness as to their presence on the road.
If the slogans hanging on the walls of every bike shop I have visited this summer indicate anything, it’s that the biking communities sprouting up in urban and sub-urban areas around the country have been increasingly vocal in validating their presence on the road. Validation achieved by taking an active role in addressing and challenging the very culture in which we live. Promotion of biking and weekly to monthly organized bike rides might be one of the many ways in which we as individual people can empower ourselves while influencing and challenging the car-centric, consumption obsessed culture around us.
Returning home from our day of action, we had the pleasure of turning on the TV to channel 13 and seeing ourselves on the news! Check out the link below to see the short segment.
Written by Trevor Culhane, Media Co-Coordinator, Team Maine
For all the planning that we had done, the morning of August 4th was surprisingly quiet. We woke up slowly, eating the morning’s oatmeal and checking email with little excitement. Of all the calls to media outlets I had made, none had committed to the event; I had a small list of people who might show up. But when I called that morning, a news station said they would be at our event. I was thrilled; a TV station would mean a lot of people would get to see our event.
But when I went back inside, nothing changed; our calm daily oatmeal breakfast persisted through the news. I think the experience of doing something different every day, from biking 50 miles through the heat to harvesting garlic for 8 hours, has made our oatmeal breakfast unique and sacred, an untouchable ritual. When we got to Monument Square, our mood persisted; we calmly set up our stuff without much fanfare. We quietly covered the fence around the monument with our banners, including our 20 foot banner that read “TAR SANDS KILL”. We tied our deadly energy tags to the fence, propped up our large cardboard foot, and waited for people to talk to us. Had we been doing a different kind of protest, say one at a coal plant, our demeanor might not have worked. But here, next to a busy street with heavy foot traffic, we were able to get people to start talking without getting in their face about it.
Our banner at the pipeline
Our banners may not have been particularly informative, reading that “tar sands = climate change” didn’t give anyone an informed opinion on the issue, but as long as some people look up tar sands and the pipeline, or ask their friends, we’ve made the impact we needed to make. There are not legions of people calling for tar sands in Portland, some do, which is a different issue, but most people we talked to had never heard of tar sands, let alone the Trailbreaker Pipeline. And as long as people know about tar sands, they will be much easier to oppose. It’s not as if we are the experts on the substance, there were many times when we were discussing the event when we had to stop look up exactly tar sands are and what the pipeline is. But we were able to help spark that conversation that needs to happen, to create the basic knowledge base that allows people to make informed decisions.
One of my favorite moments from the event was when we overheard someone walking by telling his friends about tar sands, and how they require more energy to extract than they produce. None of them had stopped, but Lilyanna yelled her approval to him anyways. it’s one thing for us to explain to someone what tar sands are, but it’s much more authentic and meaningful for a trusted friend to explain it. He must have learned about tar sands before, but had never talked about them with his friends until we gave him that excuse, with our banners and bright orange shirts, to share something. Not everyone we talked to made a deadly energy tag, some didn’t want to take the time while others weren’t sure about tar sands, but at least they had learned about them, and knew there were people working to oppose them.
We made it on TV!
At 2:00, our team and some community members biked a few miles to the pipeline’s source in South Portland, to attach the deadly energy tags to the pipe’s fence. Our group was small, but our work here wasn’t to bring huge numbers to the pipeline; rather it was to make the message as clear as possible, to show what the pipeline would take from us. We quickly tied the tags to the fence, scrambled for the duct tape, and attached our banner to the pipeline fence. The event seemed at odds with the pipeline itself, an unobtrusive green structure quietly pumping the oil that was causing droughts and wildfires. Once everything was ready, the television station and Occupy Maine TV captured the moment, and our action was over. A few quick goodbyes and we were off, “back on the hard pack,” as Sara would say.
Written by Andrew Nguyen, Video Coordinator, Team Massachusetts
Working in Holyoke was a change of pace. Petitioning day after day to shut down the Mount Tom Coal Plant afforded me the opportunity to interact with many of the locals. No longer was I dealing with (mostly) upper/middle-class people but a much wider range of people, including low-income and minority.
It was my first chance to interact and explore a community affected by environmental racism. I constantly heard about the prevalence of asthma in the community. Holyoke’s asthma rate is 24%, compared to MA’s average of 10%. What tore at me was talking to parents of small children with asthma who were not even aware of the coal plant. Mt. Tom is not visible from the city; it quietly ravages the community like a parasite slowly eats away the body.
So, while I was frustrated that there was no immense action on Aug.4th, no blockade or sit-in, I understand the reasoning. The glory is always reserved for the climax. But the gritty, behind-the-scenes work is necessary to first build a movement before it can then be mobilized. The people of Holyoke need to know the suffering caused by the coal plant. Then there needs to be an outlet (Action for a Healthy Holyoke) to harness the potential. Once the people know and realize they can do something about Mt. Tom, about pollution, about climate change, they will act.
They have to. We have to. There is no alternative.
We are running out of time—as my friend and fellow Climate Rider, Shea Riester, talks about in his blog post—we aren’t doing enough. Climate change is “sucker-punching” all of us.
But don’t panic, don’t let paralysis grip you.
Instead, think of that person you hold dear, that you cherish, love, and would do anything for. Who comforts, laughs, cries, smiles—the one whose emotion and presence sustains you and is a beacon that life is good, life is worth living.
Close your eyes. Truly think of them, hold them in your heart. Recall the moments of beauty suspended in memory…
Now breathe. Slowly, deeply—feel life rushing through…Take that energy, that boundless love. Remind yourself, “is this not worth preserving?” Hold precious the wonder of life, let it envelope and sustain.
And go forth. Fight the good fight.
I’ll be there with you.
“if it’s true your life flashes past your eyes before you die, then it is also the truth that your life rushes forth when you are ready to start to truly be alive.”
-Amy Hempel
My team with Nuestras Raices, friends of our team, and other people who showed up for our action.
Written by Shea Riester, Video Coordinator, Team Vermont
The canary in the coal mine is long dead. It’s time to wake up. The climate change future scientists have long predicted is now. UN climate scientist Christopher Field testified before congress last week: “It is critical to understand that the link between climate change and the kinds of extremes that lead to disaster is clear…the US experienced 14 billion-dollar disasters in 2011, a record that surpasses the previous maximum of 9,” he said. “In 2012, we have already experienced horrifying wildfires, a powerful windstorm that hit Washington DC, heat waves in much of the country, and a massive drought.” The last mentioned disaster, the record drought that is turning the Midwest back into a dust-bowl, begins to show us how climate change will hit the world’s poor first and hardest with rising food prices. But rest assured, no one will be immune as sea levels rise, forests burn and the world heats up.
So how are our representatives responding? With deafening silence. While the mainstream media finally seems to be covering the climate crisis with a slew of articles, Obama has said nothing to link the current drought, heat waves and wildfires with climate change. What does he need to break the silence? Yesterday, New York Times coverage of a new paper by NASA climate scientist James E. Hansen made it clear as ever: “The percentage of the earth’s land surface covered by extreme heat in the summer has soared in recent decades, from less than 1 percent in the years before 1980 to as much as 13 percent in recent years…” Does Obama need another week of out-of-control wildfires burning Oklahoma towns to the ground for it to sink in? Perhaps another fatal Chicago heat wave will do it.
If our leaders are unwilling to act, let alone even speak out on climate change, it is the moral obligation of those who know the science to take action.
Perhaps this is not news to you. Perhaps, reading that, you began to think about your own personal lifestyle activism. Maybe the last bottle you recycled, the last light you turned off, the last local blueberry or peach you ate. I recently saw a picture posted on a fellow climate rider’s facebook wall: “You control climate change. Turn down. Switch off. Recycle. Walk. Change.”
“Action” means different things to different people. I respect all forms of non-violent climate action, from the minute to the grand. However, I think the time is now–or overdue–to ask ourselves what kinds of actions we need if we want to have any effect in the 11th hour of global warming. We must ask ourselves: as absolutely necessary as consumer lifestyle changes are for all of us, are they enough? And further: is “information” organizing–most of the outreach work we’ve been doing on Climate Summer, enough right now?
Just buying local food, or greener cleaning products, or even electric cars isn’t going to save our planet. The matter of fact is, in our current system there is still only a small privileged minority who can make these changes. It’s not low-income folks’ fault that they can’t afford to buy locally, or buy a hybrid/electric, or install a solar panel. The consumers aren’t to blame. And in that purely economic sense of how most of the world lives and makes choices, we don’t control climate change. Our political and economic system that allows big oil to reap inane profits while keeping us addicted to the deadly energy that is heating our earth does. The system gives the majority of Americans no choice as to where we get our energy; that if we want to turn on our lights, or boil water, we must use the deadly energy that contributes to the slow boiling of our planet.
This leads me to my second question: is “info-activism” enough in these dire times? By “info-activism,” I mean spreading the issue around, hoping that when people get informed they will act. I know this kind of activism well; I spent most of my four years of college doing it. This is primarily what climate summer has been about. And as wonderful as Climate Summer has been, as fantastic as it has been to live my beliefs every day, engage communities on climate issues and continue to advocate for safe and renewable energy, I don’t think it’s enough. If, in the civil rights movement, activists stuck to info-activism, to talking to local people about racism and unequal laws, or promoting a local business that had integrated, it could have taken many, many more years to turn the tide of legislation towards equality, at least on paper.
And now, in the face of the biggest threat to life on earth in human history, we don’t have the luxury of time. Bill Mckibbin writes, in his recent viral article Global Warming’s Terrifying New Math: “To make a real difference – to keep us under a temperature increase of two degrees – you’d need to change carbon pricing in Washington, and then use that victory to leverage similar shifts around the world.” So, the truth is, if we want to save our planet, we need to start getting Washington and the oil industry’s attention in a BIG way. We’ve got to show them that we won’t stand for anything less than keeping the oil in the ground. In the deep trouble our planet is in, I’m afraid that holding info-potlucks, petition signings and spreading the word about a local solar company isn’t going to do it. Again, I believe those actions are necessary for movement building. But I fear they are not enough.
So what kind of action is “enough”? Right now, in the trouble we’re in, there is no “enough” in sight. On Sunday, July 29th, my team participated in organizing the Human Oil Spill action and march at the New England Governors conference in Burlington, VT. Over 600 people, hailing from many diverse factions of the 99%, the mass-movement to put people before profits, showed up to demand a “Tar Sands Free Northeast.” The protest was moving and inventive; after a giant march through the Burlington streets, 600 or more of us laid down on the street in front of the Hilton hotel where the Governors and Canadian premiers were staying. We wore all black, simulating what a tar sands oil spill would look like in Vermont’s back yard.
Yet, the most powerful part of that day, indeed, the most powerful part of this whole summer for me, came later. About an hour after the huge crowd disbanded, as the NE governors and Canadian premiers pulled out of the hotel in their buses to go dine and discuss our futures behind closed doors, they were stopped in their tracks: twenty or so brave souls linked arms and blocked the exit to the Hilton. While myself and my teammates could not risk arrest, we stood on the side of the exit, holding our “Tar Sands Free Northeast” banner. It took ten minutes for the police to clear the protesters out of the way; in those ten minutes, the governors and premiers were forced to pay attention. And they did. Many whipped out their cell-phone cameras, taking pictures of the crowd. Some mouthed and hand signaled us. It was a dialogue of sorts.
I don’t believe the earlier tar sands protest alone was enough. We needed this non-violent direct action to ensure that those in power knew who they were responsible to. Because we can’t buy lobbyists or take them out to dinner, our bodies and powerful non-violent presence are sometimes the only way to make our voices heard above the moneyed interests. It was ten minutes out of their day, held up in their government buses. For those ten minutes, our concerns about our collective future could not be ignored.
Written by Aaron Morales, New Media Coordinator, Team Massachusetts
While at the 350MA.org kick-off in Cambridge, MA, someone was applauded for his organizing a concert dedicated to the planet every year as well as for all of the letters to the editors he wrote. Warren Senders writes a letter to the editor, on the topic of climate change, everyday for about two years. Warren made it his New Years resolution in 2010 to write to the editor everyday.
Upon hearing of this man’s amazing and industrious feat, I felt inspired to become a better activist.
I feel as if it were fate that allowed Andrew and I to meet Warren Senders and record an interview with him.
From the interview, Warren gave me a new way of viewing fossil fuels. No longer do I have a distasteful view on coal, oil, or gas. After listening to Warren, I look at those three with honor. Honor because I am looking at the sun from another period of the Earth’s history.
By Lily Gutterman, New Media Coordinator, Team Vermont
On Sunday morning, I went to my last church service of the summer… admittedly, probably my last ever. Before Climate Summer, I had never been to church. I was raised Jewish, and the idea of attending services made me nervous when I first started this program. It wasn’t a rational anxiety, but some unsettling emotion lingered when I learned we were staying primarily in houses of worship.
At every church we’ve stayed at, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. The church is a cornerstone of local charity, whether its mission groups passing through or food banks that run year round. I didn’t realize how important these institutions are to the community, to churchgoers and non-churchgoers alike.
Most Sundays, to support these churches, we attend worship service. Although we don’t necessarily sing along, or take communion, I like to think that a few new young faces in the pews is appreciated.
After a week in every church, I’ve found myself looking forward to some services. It is the moment where the church shines, the reverend or pastor is in their element, and you get a sense of the congregation. Sometimes, it surprises you that the church you’ve lived in all week feels so different during worship time.
Usually, the pastor or reverend will take a moment to tell the congregation about our group, to explain the bicycles in the hallway and sleeping bags in the fellowship halls. Sometimes one of us will stand up and tell a bit about what we do in the community. Always, the pastor or reverend invites people to speak with us after services during coffee hour. It is a great opportunity to get individuals thinking about climate issues, and generally they are very supportive and kind.
This past Sunday, my last service, we were at the Grace Congregational Church in Rutland. The sanctuary is beautiful, with an ornate wrap-around balcony, organ, and choir space. I was looking forward to services because the reverend, John Weatherhogg, had told us earlier in the week that the sermon was going to be about environmental issues. I expected it to be interesting, but was completely blown away once he began. The reverend did not shy away from terms like “global warming”. He urged people to look into 350.org to learn about grassroots organizing in their communities, and he quoted Bill McKibben. He outlined for the congregation why big corporations want them to think global warming isn’t real. He spoke openly about corporate greed, why it needs to be stopped, and our collective responsibility to future generations.
I was deeply moved. To hear all of the things we have been talking about for the past few months contextualized in this church setting was inspirational. In an earlier blog post, I touched upon how crazy it is that climate change can be such a “taboo” subject, because it’s not always pleasant to hear (let alone experience). The reverend at Grace Congregational took that risk, in front of a congregation of people who may not necessarily agree with him.
To me, this 15 minute sermon was a clear example of the climate movement taking shape. It brought the faith community aspect of this trip and our Climate Summer mission together. It was the best last church service I could have asked for, and leaves me hopeful about the power of faith communities in this movement.
The solar wave is building fast in Vermont. It’s not a “major” power source yet, but the excitement is in the air everywhere you go. Solar is no longer just for environmentalists, or the few who have enough cash to afford the steep investment. We spoke with the co-president of SunCommon, a new Burlington start-up that is making solar truly affordable for Vermonters. Many folks who previously may not have had the saved capital to go solar now have a real opportunity to ditch deadly energy for good. And it saves them money! Check out how SunCommon is changing the game:
On the other side of town, Gary, the Solar Bus guy, has made it his mission to travel around and show folks that solar is ready to power our world. When we showed up at the Essex Junction farmer’s market, a local high-school punk band was playing seriously epic tunes for the farmers and customers. Amazingly, the whole gig was powered by Gary’s Solar Bus, which was parked directly behind the band. The best part: the bus doesn’t even drive on fossil fuels–it’s powered by vegetable grease!
