Climate change and the past

Are we hostage to the environmental crimes of our grandparents?

Finding your way into the ethics of climate change isn’t easy. Our values; human values, grew up in little, local, tribal worlds of plenty. But climate change requires thinking on a much different scale. It’s easy to see that someone shoplifting a bottle of tequila does wrong. There’s a thief, standing red-handed right in front of you. But who does wrong in the case of climate change? Is overfilling the kettle wrong? Is a long, hot shower a sin? Is a long-haul flight for a well-deserved weekend break a kind of evil? We can make a start by thinking about climate change and the past, present, and future. We’ll begin with historical thoughts on responsibility, with reflection on the history of emissions.

Sometimes the history of the present distribution of resources matters. Suppose each day we all take an equal share of the limited amount of water which bubbles up from a common well. It turns out that I’ve been sneaking a bit more for my Jacuzzi. You might reflect on compensatory or corrective justice issues, in the thought that I should now take less water, to make up for my past excesses. Think now about the developed world’s historical use of a scarce resource, namely the carbon-absorbing properties of our planet, the Earth’s carbon sinks. The UN’s Food and Agriculture Organization categorizes countries as developed or developing. If we follow these groupings, then since 1850 the developed world is responsible for 76 per cent of carbon dioxide emissions. It has therefore used up a vastly disproportionate share of the planet’s carbon sinks. It doesn’t take much thinking about corrective justice to come to the conclusion that the developed world has a responsibility to take serious action on climate change. It was easy enough to see it in the case of the well.

Several thoughts get in the way of seeing this conclusion clearly. Maybe the most common one goes like this. Perhaps the past sometimes matters when we think about divvying up a scarce resource, but we are talking about the actions of people long dead. Maybe the activities of my parents and grandparents and so on conspired together to bring about climate change, but I didn’t do it. Saying now that I must tighten my belt because of a past injustice is nothing less than holding me responsible for the sins of my father.

We might be able to get away with that thought if it were true that our lives were entirely disconnected from the industrial activities of our forebears. However, as the philosopher Henry Shue points out, we owe the comfy lives we’ve got to all that past industrial activity. We in the west – with comparatively excellent health care and education, with nations bolstered by a sturdy infrastructure and healthy economies – are enjoying lives of plenty partly because of our histories. We’ve benefited from industrialization, and others will suffer for it as our climate changes. Do we not owe those who will suffer a few sea walls and the promise to reign in our emissions as quickly as we possibly can?

James Garvey has a PhD in philosophy from University College London and is Secretary of the Royal Institute of Philosophy. He is author of some books and articles, most recently, The Ethics of Climate Change (Continuum 2008)
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After the “Tatler Tory” bullying scandal, we must ask: what is the point of party youth wings?

A zealous desire for ideological purity, the influence of TV shows like House of Cards and a gossip mill ever-hungry for content means that the youth wings of political parties can be extremely toxic places.

If you wander around Westminster these days, it feels like you’re stepping into a particularly well-informed crèche. Everyone looks about 13; no one has ever had a job outside the party they are working for. Most of them are working for an absolute pittance, affordable only because Mummy and Daddy are happy to indulge junior’s political ambitions.

It’s this weird world of parliament being dominated by under 25s that means the Tory youth wing bullying scandal is more than just a tragic tale. If you haven’t followed it, it’s one of the most depressing stories I’ve ever read; a tale of thirty-something, emotionally-stunted nonentities throwing their weight around at kids – and a promising, bright young man has died as a result of it.

One of the most depressing things was that the stakes were so incredibly low. People inside RoadTrip 2015 (the campaigning organisation at the centre of the scandal) cultivated the idea that they were powerbrokers, that jumping on a RoadTrip bus was a vital precondition to getting a job at central office and eventually a safe seat, yet the truth was nothing of the sort.

While it’s an extreme example, I’m sure it happens in every political party all around the world – I’ve certainly seen similar spectacles in both the campus wings of the Democrats and Republicans in the US, and if Twitter is anything to go by, young Labour supporters are currently locked in a brutal battle over who is loyal to the party, and who is a crypto-Blairite who can “fuck off and join the Tories”. 

If you spend much time around these young politicians, you’ll often hear truly outrageous views, expressed with all the absolute certainty of someone who knows nothing and wants to show off how ideologically pure they are. This vein of idiocy is exactly where nightmarish incidents like the notorious “Hang Mandela” T-shirts of the 1980s come from.

When these views have the backing of an official party organisation, it becomes easy for them to become an embarrassment. Even though the shameful Mandela episode was 30 years ago and perpetrated by a tiny splinter group, it’s still waved as a bloody shirt at Tory candidates even now.

There’s also a level of weirdness and unreality around people who get obsessed with politics at about 16, where they start to view everything through an ideological lens. I remember going to a young LGBT Republican film screening of Billy Elliot, which began with an introduction about how the film was a tribute to Reagan and Thatcher’s economics, because without the mines closing, young gay men would never found themselves through dance. Well, I suppose it’s one interpretation, but it’s not what I took away from the film.

The inexperience of youth also leads to people in politics making decisions based on things they’ve watched on TV, rather than any life experience. Ask any young politician their favourite TV show, and I guarantee they’ll come back with House of Cards or The Thick of It. Like young traders who are obsessed with Wolf of Wall Street, they don’t see that all the characters in these shows are horrific grotesques, and the tactics of these shows get deployed in real life – especially when you stir in a healthy dose of immature high school social climbing.

In this democratised world of everyone having the ear of the political gossip sites that can make or break reputations, some get their taste for mudslinging early. I was shocked when a young Tory staffer told me “it’s always so upsetting when you find out it’s one of your friends who has briefed against you”. 

Anecdotes aside, the fact that the youth wings of our political parties are overrun with oddballs genuinely worries me. The RoadTrip scandal shows us where this brutal, bitchy cannibalistic atmosphere ends up.

Willard Foxton is a card-carrying Tory, and in his spare time a freelance television producer, who makes current affairs films for the BBC and Channel 4. Find him on Twitter as @WillardFoxton.