The Mysterious Case of the Invisible Crisis

Or, wake me up when something happens to me

I have been writing sporadically about climate change for almost exactly one decade (happy anniversary to me!). I have been reading and tweeting about it for the same decade (with more frequency, alas, than I have been blogging).

In those years, it has been increasingly borne in on me that most people simply do not/can not/will not engage with a topic that is not actively knocking on their personal front door.

Allow me to quote myself, from back in those halcyon days of thinking that changes could be made, and my little words could help:

Why, I suddenly wondered, is anyone talking about ANYTHING ELSE?

The economy? Very important, but irrelevant if we are sloshing around in toxic bilge water.

Women’s rights? Yep, I'm a feminist, but women's issues also include food security - of which there will be less and less if there are widespread drought and crop disruptions.

Right to work legislation? I've been practically a Wobbly since Da taught me to be Union Forever when I was in grade school - but that issue pales in comparison to the possibility that, if we don't do something NOW, the American West is going to be uninhabitable: 114 degrees in the shade with raging, unquenchable wildfires.

Poverty? Poverty now isn't a patch on what we'll see if we don't stop or reverse climate change now.

Minimum wage? I'm 100% for a $15/hour minimum wage - and we're going to need it if folks are shelling out to re-re-re-re-build after the latest Super Storm or Horrific Wildfire.

I meant that. I was genuinely gobsmacked that so few people online or IRL were feeling a sense of danger or urgency. Why were so many folks talking about everything BUT the climate? I felt like freaking out.

Others did not. Even when Donald Trump was elected the first time, and it was apparent that the resistance had work to do, I still had trouble wrapping my head around folks who did not prioritize, or even seem to acknowledge, the climate crisis. Why did it seem to be - not a hoax, not fake science, not a liberal delusion - but just… invisible?

On reflection, with a decade of hindsight, it’s not difficult to understand at all.

Forget blaming the shamelessly poor media coverage. It’s dire, yes, but not a standalone reason for apathy and inaction. Plenty of liberals and progressives know that they need to seek alternative news sources to balance to both-siderism and pandering (or worse) from CNN, the New York Times, and their compatriots in corporate media. Seeking out better information on the climate, however, seemed not to be a priority to many on the left.

And forget that both Trump administrations embody the phrase “incendiary shitshow performed by lunatics and imbeciles.” Of course they do - and they also embody a monumental threat to any chance we might have left of doing even a tiny little bit of something to help regular folks deal with the worst of what is coming. But it isn’t just Trump and his merry band of eugenicists and buffoons - Democrats and progressives have been less than fully engaged on the climate in years when Mango Mussolini was not in power. A decently large group of Democratic politicians learned to add “and climate!” to their stump speeches - but real action? Not so much.

The foundational issue, I think, is that the changing climate hasn’t affected a majority of us - yet - that we know. Even if it has, it’s almost never acknowledged as a culprit in any single disaster. In fact, that lead-in, “while scientists cannot attribute any one weather event to global warming,” is now a cliche - an emblem and stark manifestation of why legacy media is failing us on this topic.

And so attention is not being paid. All over the world - not just in the privileged global north - people are not paying attention to the climate emergency because they think it does not affect them. And they’re living. Doing their thing. Not thinking at all about the climate.

People are planting flowers in the borders under their kitchen windows -

sitting at the table counting their medications into a tidy little plastic organizer -

hauling the kids to practice in a light drizzle -

buying cheese curls and a Fanta at the bodega -

waiting in the chilly dark for the bus to work their early shift -

enjoying a bottle of beer as they tube down a river through their fine historic city -

dancing in the starlight at a backyard drinks party -

waiting anxiously for a call they’re desperate not to miss -

buying shoes at a funky little thrift shop -

clocking in as a greeter at Walmart, because their Social Security doesn’t cover rent -

watching an old detective show to keep their mind from circling endlessly -

paying their bills with nearly-maxed-out credit cards -

writing postcards about the economy to their deeply disappointing Senator -

hiking along the old railroad cut to a sun-drenched fishing hole -

giving birth -

attending to the dying -

mindlessly doom scrolling -

changing a diaper -

filming themselves gaming on TikTok -

choosing from a mad plethora of toothsome options on UberEats, even though they know that no matter how prettily presented on the app, the food that arrives will be a partially steamed bag of lukewarm sadness and regret.

This is what we do.

We live our lives.

We forget - or don’t pay any attention to - what happened in the news. We order from UberEats again. We memory-hole the out-of-kilter, scary, “once a century” weather anomaly we saw last year, because it didn’t happen to us, so it isn’t reality.

Right now, where so many of us live our lives, nothing is being smashed to splinters by bellowing hurricane-force winds. That’s not happening right now, where we are, where we live.

And the sky is not on fire. And the river is placid, and winter’s back is broken, and there are birds at the feeder.

The choking roil of filthy wildfire smoke is so last summer.

Flooding? Hell, we need a little rain RN, amirite?

For so many of us, food is still on the table - not as cheap, perhaps, but still there.

For those who struggle with food insecurity? Now is REALLY not the time to think about a climate crisis that hasn’t seemed to happen yet, and has had little to nothing to do with how we go about our precarious, precious days.

So I suppose it falls upon a minority of us to think about the situation, and then do something to help others, even if they don’t care, don’t know they might need help, and think we’re being panicky and over-the-top.

It’s an uneasy position to be in. Hell - it might be a terrifying position. If Just Stop Oil took their dubious “win” and hung up their hats, and if Extinction Rebellion is slowing their roll and radically changing tactics - and if public protest is everywhere being increasingly criminalized - being in the forefront of any sort of climate action (or “Climate Revolution,” as I naively used to style it) is probably a dicey proposition.

Unless, that is, that action takes the form of local community building, local disaster preparation, local education, and local outreach. Can that be criminalized? Will it be?

Whether or not it will - and it might - for the moment, in this year of our hopefully pretty cool new American Pope 2025, burrowing down into local work beckons as a way to take some concrete action that will help people affected by disasters they have not foreseen and for which they may otherwise be woefully unprepared.

So, what might this look like? Anyone who wants to do something can:

• Form a local organization to tackle climate issues. Find and develop relationships with other such groups, to spread their impact if, say, this year’s 500 year flood hits two towns over, and not in theirs.

• Involve residents in the planning process to ensure that plans are tailored to local needs and priorities.

• Create a community center to serve as an information hubs, and compile text trees, phone lists, and other disaster communications plans.

• Ensure individuals and households have emergency kits with essential supplies like water, food, first-aid, and a radio.

• Research issues that will be vital to their particular community when the waste hits the blades of the rotating cooling device. In California, think wildfire preparation and drought planning. In the midwest, communities in a flood plain or along a river system need education on what insurance they need, ways to mitigate flood damage, and more.

• Find their town or county have a current evacuation plan and discover if local agencies - police and fire - are looped into the climate resilience initiative.

• Organize food drives and donation barrels at the local Piggly Wiggly, designated for “weather disaster relief.” Establish a secure storage pantry, protocols for distribution, and a communications plan.

• Petition their city council members, county commissioners, aldermen, assessor, and mayor to influence and establish climate-friendly or disaster-related policies.

• Support farmers' markets and community gardens to reduce reliance on long-distance food transportation and build local food security. Grow their own gardens - pool resources, seeds, and storage of potatoes, cabbages, and beans.

• Work with the local burghers to implement schemes for more walking, biking, and public transportation to build a more resilient and community-focused transportation system.

• Develop contingency plans for when food supplies dwindle, supply chains are disrupted, and hunger looms.

• And, of course, more. Much, much more. As always, there is more work than there are hands to do it or time to get it done.

Does this idea dump sound like a bunch of hot twaddle about distant eventualities? Maybe. Will plans like these ever prove useful to anyone, or provide essential value? Maybe. Even probably! This is the sort of work we do while hoping that none of it is ever needed. But do it, we must. Someone must.

There’s a pretty good chance that rewards, if any, won’t be immediate. You’ll likely be scoffed at. Words of appreciation may be few and far between.

That doesn’t mean that these labors are not worth undertaking. It means that they aren’t glamorous. They won’t result in an immediate pay-off. Unlike a “Like” or a “Share,” doing this work won’t juice you with an immediate dopamine rush.

It will feel like a bit of a slog. A small beans palaver with no payoff in sight. A drop in the bucket. A hedge against something that you’re not even sure is ever coming. A stream of warm piss in a thundering gale.

But if we bear down and do this, we might very well be instrumental in creating essential communities of workers, institutions, plans, and relationships that are there solely for the common good.

It won’t be a glorious mad dash to the barricades. It won’t be a romantic revolution. It certainly won’t be televised.

It will be small, and local, and granular, and often tedious. But it will be essential, and the rewards will come. And the lives we save might be our own.

Addendum: while we work locally, how do we stay in touch globally? How do we swap stories, share ideas, and get advice when we’re stuck? The internet is the obvious place, I know. But is there a single clearing house for local actions to collaborate broadly? The online landscape seems fractured to me, but I’m one ill-informed person. Let me know!