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When they say a picture is worth a thousand words, writers rebel (or they write 1,500 words). I mean, pictures are great, but they can't convey complicated concepts—except when they can.
Which would be the summer of 2015, on two separate occasions. Early in the summer, on the West Coast of the United States, "kayaktivists" in Seattle Harbor surrounded Shell Oil's giant Polar Pioneer drilling rig, trying to keep it from getting out of the harbor. They didn't succeed in that, of course--the Coast Guard cleared them out of the way--but they did succeed in reminding everyone of the scale of the destruction Shell has planned. Seeing those small, many kayaks against that one brute drilling platform brought home the existential nature of the struggle: it's all of us, the little guys, against the immense, concentrated wealth and power of the biggest companies on earth.

And then again last weekend in Germany, at the amazing #EndeGelande protests, when more than a thousand activists managed to elude authorities and congregate inside Europe's largest coal mine, in front of what are the world's single largest terrestrial machines. (One, the Bagger 288 is so big it even has its own song). They sat there for most of the day, and the great machines could do no work--and that means, since they move 240,000 tons of coal a day, that a lot of coal was not mined.
But activists can't stay there forever, and in the end, the picture will do the company and the German government more damage. The Star Wars-like image of people standing in front of the Jurassic digger makes the same point of the inhuman, absurd scale.

Pictures don't always turn the future, of course. The German images reminded me of the most famous picture of the Tiananmen saga...

... but sadly, the forces behind those tanks are still in control. His courage faced them down momentarily, but their implacable might won the day.
In the energy world, though, I'm willing to bet that these images poison the fossil fuel industry. It's not just because of their sheer, inhuman, oversized ugliness but because they manage to look somehow so antique. Or rather, so modern in a postmodern world. We're moving quickly to a planet where the small and distributed makes more sense than the centralized and gigantic--that's why you're likely getting your news from the net, not a TV channel. Even without understanding the science of climate change--the horror that the carbon from that digger and that drill rig is driving--, you have a visceral sense that they're in the wrong moment, the wrong mood.
The fight against Arctic oil and German coal will be long and hard. But we already know, once we've won, what the pictures in the textbooks will be.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
When they say a picture is worth a thousand words, writers rebel (or they write 1,500 words). I mean, pictures are great, but they can't convey complicated concepts—except when they can.
Which would be the summer of 2015, on two separate occasions. Early in the summer, on the West Coast of the United States, "kayaktivists" in Seattle Harbor surrounded Shell Oil's giant Polar Pioneer drilling rig, trying to keep it from getting out of the harbor. They didn't succeed in that, of course--the Coast Guard cleared them out of the way--but they did succeed in reminding everyone of the scale of the destruction Shell has planned. Seeing those small, many kayaks against that one brute drilling platform brought home the existential nature of the struggle: it's all of us, the little guys, against the immense, concentrated wealth and power of the biggest companies on earth.

And then again last weekend in Germany, at the amazing #EndeGelande protests, when more than a thousand activists managed to elude authorities and congregate inside Europe's largest coal mine, in front of what are the world's single largest terrestrial machines. (One, the Bagger 288 is so big it even has its own song). They sat there for most of the day, and the great machines could do no work--and that means, since they move 240,000 tons of coal a day, that a lot of coal was not mined.
But activists can't stay there forever, and in the end, the picture will do the company and the German government more damage. The Star Wars-like image of people standing in front of the Jurassic digger makes the same point of the inhuman, absurd scale.

Pictures don't always turn the future, of course. The German images reminded me of the most famous picture of the Tiananmen saga...

... but sadly, the forces behind those tanks are still in control. His courage faced them down momentarily, but their implacable might won the day.
In the energy world, though, I'm willing to bet that these images poison the fossil fuel industry. It's not just because of their sheer, inhuman, oversized ugliness but because they manage to look somehow so antique. Or rather, so modern in a postmodern world. We're moving quickly to a planet where the small and distributed makes more sense than the centralized and gigantic--that's why you're likely getting your news from the net, not a TV channel. Even without understanding the science of climate change--the horror that the carbon from that digger and that drill rig is driving--, you have a visceral sense that they're in the wrong moment, the wrong mood.
The fight against Arctic oil and German coal will be long and hard. But we already know, once we've won, what the pictures in the textbooks will be.
When they say a picture is worth a thousand words, writers rebel (or they write 1,500 words). I mean, pictures are great, but they can't convey complicated concepts—except when they can.
Which would be the summer of 2015, on two separate occasions. Early in the summer, on the West Coast of the United States, "kayaktivists" in Seattle Harbor surrounded Shell Oil's giant Polar Pioneer drilling rig, trying to keep it from getting out of the harbor. They didn't succeed in that, of course--the Coast Guard cleared them out of the way--but they did succeed in reminding everyone of the scale of the destruction Shell has planned. Seeing those small, many kayaks against that one brute drilling platform brought home the existential nature of the struggle: it's all of us, the little guys, against the immense, concentrated wealth and power of the biggest companies on earth.

And then again last weekend in Germany, at the amazing #EndeGelande protests, when more than a thousand activists managed to elude authorities and congregate inside Europe's largest coal mine, in front of what are the world's single largest terrestrial machines. (One, the Bagger 288 is so big it even has its own song). They sat there for most of the day, and the great machines could do no work--and that means, since they move 240,000 tons of coal a day, that a lot of coal was not mined.
But activists can't stay there forever, and in the end, the picture will do the company and the German government more damage. The Star Wars-like image of people standing in front of the Jurassic digger makes the same point of the inhuman, absurd scale.

Pictures don't always turn the future, of course. The German images reminded me of the most famous picture of the Tiananmen saga...

... but sadly, the forces behind those tanks are still in control. His courage faced them down momentarily, but their implacable might won the day.
In the energy world, though, I'm willing to bet that these images poison the fossil fuel industry. It's not just because of their sheer, inhuman, oversized ugliness but because they manage to look somehow so antique. Or rather, so modern in a postmodern world. We're moving quickly to a planet where the small and distributed makes more sense than the centralized and gigantic--that's why you're likely getting your news from the net, not a TV channel. Even without understanding the science of climate change--the horror that the carbon from that digger and that drill rig is driving--, you have a visceral sense that they're in the wrong moment, the wrong mood.
The fight against Arctic oil and German coal will be long and hard. But we already know, once we've won, what the pictures in the textbooks will be.