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The most important climate gathering next week will not be happening at the UN, but in the streets: thousands upon thousands of us will be sounding the climate alarm, literally, at the historic People's Climate March on September 21. While the decision was made not to have speeches during the march, at 12:58pm there will be two minutes of silence followed by the unleashing of a chorus of magnificent sound--part of what organizers are describing as a global call for climate justice--complete with church bells and some 32 marching bands.
The most important climate gathering next week will not be happening at the UN, but in the streets: thousands upon thousands of us will be sounding the climate alarm, literally, at the historic People's Climate March on September 21. While the decision was made not to have speeches during the march, at 12:58pm there will be two minutes of silence followed by the unleashing of a chorus of magnificent sound--part of what organizers are describing as a global call for climate justice--complete with church bells and some 32 marching bands. (Bring your noisemakers!)
The sounding of the climate alarm is an important metaphor: it reminds us, as I write in my book, that "politicians aren't the only ones with the power to declare a crisis. Mass movements of regular people can declare one too."
"We need everyone in the climate fight--the labour movement, health care workers, teachers, farmers, everyone defending the public sector and community values and solidarity where they live."
And many of the people making the noise are already showing us the path forward, the real exits from the crisis. They are, for example, the daring activists saying "No!" to new carbon frontiers around the world--heroic denizens of a global, roving conflict zone known as Blockadia, waging nonviolent resistance to fossil fuel expansion plans and putting their bodies on the line from East Texas to the Niger Delta, to Northern Greece.
And they are the frontline communities most directly impacted by extraction and climate change, who are also pioneering some of the most exciting models for making a "just transition" away from fossil fuels. (Like solar co-ops in Richmond, California, where workers have been living under the shadow of the local, notoriously dirty Chevron oil refinery; or a Navajo proposal to convert abandoned mining land on their reservation into solar arrays that could power their communities and urban centers beyond; or the idea that we could compensate Indigenous groups for protecting the carbon buried under their ancestral forests or sequestered in the trees, instead of kicking them out in order to safely market forest "offsets" to polluting corporations.)
They are also the dogged young campaigners of the fossil fuel divestment movement, which has swept across hundreds of campuses, cities, states, charitable foundations, and religious institutions with startling speed. This is just the first stage of a growing effort to delegitimize the profits of the fossil fuel industry, and - most excitingly - to figure out how to redirect those resources in the service of real climate solutions.
"To change everything, we need everyone," goes one of the slogans of the People's Climate March, and that is absolutely right: our movements and solutions must be as varied and numerous as the depth and scope that this crisis demands. We need everyone in the climate fight--the labour movement, health care workers, teachers, farmers, everyone defending the public sector and community values and solidarity where they live. We're not there yet, but powerful glimpses of the kind of deep and diverse movement we need are starting to appear.
That is what this march is about for me: it is an expression of how profoundly the climate movement has changed since the days of elite summit hopping and the inside-game of beltway cap-and-trade fights. Indeed the People's March is the physical convergence of many new and resurgent climate movements, united in their firm belief that the time to confront the climate criminals in now.
And these movements are ready for a fight. On the day after the family-friendly march, many will be back on the streets, engaging in civil disobedience at centers of financial power around the world--including, of course, Wall Street.
Two years ago, the force of Superstorm Sandy literally flooded New York's financial district. Who can forget the image of Goldman Sachs surrounded with sand bags. Or the cover of Bloomberg Businessweek, with the headline, "It's Global Warming, Stupid."
The thing is: capitalism is kind of stupid. The big brains on Wall Street all know climate change is real. They go on about "stranded assets" and "carbon bubbles" and climate change creating an atmosphere of "risky business." But even knowing all these medium and long term risks to their very survival, they still can't resist the short term profits that flow from cooking the planet. As I explore in my book, former NY mayor Michael Bloomberg himself - perhaps the most climate conscious billionaire going -- invests his personal fortune in a fund specializing in oil and gas assets.
Clearly, Wall Street needs some help. Which is why we are going to flood them again. With our bodies this time. Wearing blue. If you are in the neighbourhood, come too.
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 |
The most important climate gathering next week will not be happening at the UN, but in the streets: thousands upon thousands of us will be sounding the climate alarm, literally, at the historic People's Climate March on September 21. While the decision was made not to have speeches during the march, at 12:58pm there will be two minutes of silence followed by the unleashing of a chorus of magnificent sound--part of what organizers are describing as a global call for climate justice--complete with church bells and some 32 marching bands. (Bring your noisemakers!)
The sounding of the climate alarm is an important metaphor: it reminds us, as I write in my book, that "politicians aren't the only ones with the power to declare a crisis. Mass movements of regular people can declare one too."
"We need everyone in the climate fight--the labour movement, health care workers, teachers, farmers, everyone defending the public sector and community values and solidarity where they live."
And many of the people making the noise are already showing us the path forward, the real exits from the crisis. They are, for example, the daring activists saying "No!" to new carbon frontiers around the world--heroic denizens of a global, roving conflict zone known as Blockadia, waging nonviolent resistance to fossil fuel expansion plans and putting their bodies on the line from East Texas to the Niger Delta, to Northern Greece.
And they are the frontline communities most directly impacted by extraction and climate change, who are also pioneering some of the most exciting models for making a "just transition" away from fossil fuels. (Like solar co-ops in Richmond, California, where workers have been living under the shadow of the local, notoriously dirty Chevron oil refinery; or a Navajo proposal to convert abandoned mining land on their reservation into solar arrays that could power their communities and urban centers beyond; or the idea that we could compensate Indigenous groups for protecting the carbon buried under their ancestral forests or sequestered in the trees, instead of kicking them out in order to safely market forest "offsets" to polluting corporations.)
They are also the dogged young campaigners of the fossil fuel divestment movement, which has swept across hundreds of campuses, cities, states, charitable foundations, and religious institutions with startling speed. This is just the first stage of a growing effort to delegitimize the profits of the fossil fuel industry, and - most excitingly - to figure out how to redirect those resources in the service of real climate solutions.
"To change everything, we need everyone," goes one of the slogans of the People's Climate March, and that is absolutely right: our movements and solutions must be as varied and numerous as the depth and scope that this crisis demands. We need everyone in the climate fight--the labour movement, health care workers, teachers, farmers, everyone defending the public sector and community values and solidarity where they live. We're not there yet, but powerful glimpses of the kind of deep and diverse movement we need are starting to appear.
That is what this march is about for me: it is an expression of how profoundly the climate movement has changed since the days of elite summit hopping and the inside-game of beltway cap-and-trade fights. Indeed the People's March is the physical convergence of many new and resurgent climate movements, united in their firm belief that the time to confront the climate criminals in now.
And these movements are ready for a fight. On the day after the family-friendly march, many will be back on the streets, engaging in civil disobedience at centers of financial power around the world--including, of course, Wall Street.
Two years ago, the force of Superstorm Sandy literally flooded New York's financial district. Who can forget the image of Goldman Sachs surrounded with sand bags. Or the cover of Bloomberg Businessweek, with the headline, "It's Global Warming, Stupid."
The thing is: capitalism is kind of stupid. The big brains on Wall Street all know climate change is real. They go on about "stranded assets" and "carbon bubbles" and climate change creating an atmosphere of "risky business." But even knowing all these medium and long term risks to their very survival, they still can't resist the short term profits that flow from cooking the planet. As I explore in my book, former NY mayor Michael Bloomberg himself - perhaps the most climate conscious billionaire going -- invests his personal fortune in a fund specializing in oil and gas assets.
Clearly, Wall Street needs some help. Which is why we are going to flood them again. With our bodies this time. Wearing blue. If you are in the neighbourhood, come too.
The most important climate gathering next week will not be happening at the UN, but in the streets: thousands upon thousands of us will be sounding the climate alarm, literally, at the historic People's Climate March on September 21. While the decision was made not to have speeches during the march, at 12:58pm there will be two minutes of silence followed by the unleashing of a chorus of magnificent sound--part of what organizers are describing as a global call for climate justice--complete with church bells and some 32 marching bands. (Bring your noisemakers!)
The sounding of the climate alarm is an important metaphor: it reminds us, as I write in my book, that "politicians aren't the only ones with the power to declare a crisis. Mass movements of regular people can declare one too."
"We need everyone in the climate fight--the labour movement, health care workers, teachers, farmers, everyone defending the public sector and community values and solidarity where they live."
And many of the people making the noise are already showing us the path forward, the real exits from the crisis. They are, for example, the daring activists saying "No!" to new carbon frontiers around the world--heroic denizens of a global, roving conflict zone known as Blockadia, waging nonviolent resistance to fossil fuel expansion plans and putting their bodies on the line from East Texas to the Niger Delta, to Northern Greece.
And they are the frontline communities most directly impacted by extraction and climate change, who are also pioneering some of the most exciting models for making a "just transition" away from fossil fuels. (Like solar co-ops in Richmond, California, where workers have been living under the shadow of the local, notoriously dirty Chevron oil refinery; or a Navajo proposal to convert abandoned mining land on their reservation into solar arrays that could power their communities and urban centers beyond; or the idea that we could compensate Indigenous groups for protecting the carbon buried under their ancestral forests or sequestered in the trees, instead of kicking them out in order to safely market forest "offsets" to polluting corporations.)
They are also the dogged young campaigners of the fossil fuel divestment movement, which has swept across hundreds of campuses, cities, states, charitable foundations, and religious institutions with startling speed. This is just the first stage of a growing effort to delegitimize the profits of the fossil fuel industry, and - most excitingly - to figure out how to redirect those resources in the service of real climate solutions.
"To change everything, we need everyone," goes one of the slogans of the People's Climate March, and that is absolutely right: our movements and solutions must be as varied and numerous as the depth and scope that this crisis demands. We need everyone in the climate fight--the labour movement, health care workers, teachers, farmers, everyone defending the public sector and community values and solidarity where they live. We're not there yet, but powerful glimpses of the kind of deep and diverse movement we need are starting to appear.
That is what this march is about for me: it is an expression of how profoundly the climate movement has changed since the days of elite summit hopping and the inside-game of beltway cap-and-trade fights. Indeed the People's March is the physical convergence of many new and resurgent climate movements, united in their firm belief that the time to confront the climate criminals in now.
And these movements are ready for a fight. On the day after the family-friendly march, many will be back on the streets, engaging in civil disobedience at centers of financial power around the world--including, of course, Wall Street.
Two years ago, the force of Superstorm Sandy literally flooded New York's financial district. Who can forget the image of Goldman Sachs surrounded with sand bags. Or the cover of Bloomberg Businessweek, with the headline, "It's Global Warming, Stupid."
The thing is: capitalism is kind of stupid. The big brains on Wall Street all know climate change is real. They go on about "stranded assets" and "carbon bubbles" and climate change creating an atmosphere of "risky business." But even knowing all these medium and long term risks to their very survival, they still can't resist the short term profits that flow from cooking the planet. As I explore in my book, former NY mayor Michael Bloomberg himself - perhaps the most climate conscious billionaire going -- invests his personal fortune in a fund specializing in oil and gas assets.
Clearly, Wall Street needs some help. Which is why we are going to flood them again. With our bodies this time. Wearing blue. If you are in the neighbourhood, come too.