Unity on climate change has never been more urgent

Learning from the devastation in the Philippines

The rising death toll from Typhoon Bopha which hit Mindanao in the Southern Philippines this week highlights the vulnerability of communities around the world to the impact of climate change and serves as a timely reminder to government representatives currently at the UN Climate Change Conference in Doha of the need for urgent collective action.

I witnessed myself the devastation that such violent storms can cause during my visit with UNICEF UK to Mindanao just a year ago in the aftermath of Typhoon Washi which killed thousands of people. Seeing the devastated area and talking with the government, NGOs and survivors in the refugee shelters it was clear that despite the tragedy reconstruction was already underway. During my visit I was told that typhoons and tropical storms were less common in the south of the country but climate change means that more areas are becoming increasingly vulnerable. I can’t help but think about the people I met who had lost everything and were trying to rebuild their lives. As a result of climate change those same people may now be facing situations such as this with increasing regularity. 

It is the most vulnerable in society who are likely to be the ones who will be the most affected by these events. UNICEF estimates that there are approximately 756 million children living in the ten countries most vulnerable to climate change and at least half of all people who die in disasters are children. They experience unimaginable fear and confusion as they attempt to deal with the loss of the most stable aspects of their lives, whether that is family members, their home, regular meals or schooling.

The Philippines is listed as the sixth country in the world most vulnerable to climate change and the response to Typhoon Bopha has been a good example of how preparatory measures can save lives. The people in affected areas had been warned by phone messages, the media and the government. It is vital to ensure the most vulnerable, including children, are adequately prepared and the new global institution for finance, the Green Climate Fund, should be constructed in a way that ensures it helps to deliver protection for children in the most vulnerable countries.

As international leaders meet this week at the 18th Conference of the Parties of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (COP18) ambitious action is needed to ensure global emissions are reduced. We cannot afford not to recognise the impact of climate change on the lives and wellbeing of those in developed and developing nations alike. Governments must also ensure that they mobilise new and additional funds for 2013 and beyond to meet the global goal of $100bn a year by 2020. It is essential that the resources are available for the adaptation measures needed to ensure that children in all nations do not grow up in a world of further climate extremes. I hope that COP18 will put the needs of children at the heart of initiatives to limit the damage of climate change.

As people in the UK battle to save their homes from floods, families in America seek to repair the damage wrought by Hurricane Sandy and this latest typhoon claims further lives in the Philippines the importance of our commitment to address climate change has never been clearer. It has confirmed to me once again how we are united in our differences. The capacity of people to weather the storm must be equal no matter on what continent the storm lands and the current UN negotiations provide an important opportunity to demonstrate a united response to the global problem of climate change.

Tony Cunningham is Shadow International Development Minister, MP for Workington

Damage wrought by Typhoon Bopha in the Philippines (Getty Images)
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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue