A movement for people and the world.

“There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others”.

-          Martha Graham quoted in Blessed Unrest by Paul Hawkin

How do I sum up my first experience of COP into a measly blog post? Does the complexity of language used, action seen, colours viewed, emails exchanged, conversations had, thoughts entertained over the past two weeks even lend itself to being described? I now sit, post-Durban, in front of my computer screen and try to envision what I want to say.

I had wanted this post to summarise nicely what happened in Durban. Did the nations agree, what was the impact of us being there? However, my experience of COP was too complex, too volatile. It can’t be described simply. At times over the last two weeks I found myself wondering, why am I doing this? Am I making an impact? Dangerous thoughts weaselled their way into my brain, challenging my dedication and impact in the world. What if I’m misguided in my struggle and could concentrate my energy more productively to making the world a better place?

Maybe I felt this way because it was almost impossible to quantify what my being there actually achieved. There are so many people. So many youth. So many vegetarians. So many loud voices. So much enthusiasm. At the same time, there is intense fragmentation. Different claims. Different solutions. Different organisations. Different approaches.

Many people who I’ve spoken to about the experience agree when I describe the paradox of COP17: it felt so fragmented, so complicated, but at the same time, the reason we were all there seemed so simple: we want to address climate change, to stop the damage we’ve already done.

On the last Friday of COP17 I took part in a demonstration. After a clash with some UN police and last minute phone calls to ensure that we had “permission” for our event: Wearing our “Green Police” overalls, we walked backwards, holding signs which asked “why are we going backwards?”. The ridiculousness of the last two weeks seemed nicely symbolised by that action. It was innocent and simple, and our message was clear. But even to do it – to walk backwards – we were caught up in a chain of bureaucracy, layers of protocol; so much so that we were confined to one area, a time limit, and what we were allowed to do.

Does COP feel like an impossible task because of the way in which environmentalists, youth, and even well-meaning politicians are restricted by bureaucracy, by the “politics of knowledge”? And if so, what does this mean for our fight: do we continue, do we fly all the way to Qatar next year? And if so, what do we achieve?

Despite these questions, which still need a lot of mulling over in my head before I attempt to answer them, I can say this: COP made me realise that I am part of something big, something fundamental. The environmentalist movement spans all levels of thought, social injustice, political ability and articulation. It spans all races, ages, occupations. There’s something profoundly human about it, some recognition that we’re not doing stuff as well as we could, and a deep desire to change that.

And if for all the fragmentation of the movement, we’re relentlessly working towards something better, then, well: I’m in.

“Then finally,
we opened the box, we couldn’t find any rules.
Our heads were reeling with the glitter of possibilities, contingencies...
but with ever increasing faith we decided to go ahead and just ignore them,
despite tremendous pressure to capitulate with fate”

-          The Books, Smells like Content

The Meaning of Activism

"This is the largest social movement in all of human history. No one knows its scope, and how it functions is more mysterious than what meets the eye. What does meet the eye is compelling: coherent, organic, self-organised congregations involving tens of millions of people dedicated to change."  - Paul Hawken in Blessed Unrest.

 I'm writing this after making a giant polar bear head. True - after googling "climate change activism", creating a wire frame, some sketches, and some fluffy white material later - I'm the owner of my own polar bear. In stitches of laughter, I ramble around the house. My sister is sceptical. "Is this what COP17 is really about?" she sighs, clearly embarrassed at my antics.

"Of course! If you're serious about protesting about climate change, you have to dress up as a polar bear!" I laugh, ironically. But it's a good question: What the hell does dressing up as a polar bear mean in protesting about climate change? How does the average African citizen relate to such an expression, if at all? 

Indeed, polar bears and melting icecaps - which have somewhat characterised the environmentalist movement in the past - have little relevance for personifying the movement in Africa. Still, there’s something special about getting ready to be part of the global “climate camaraderie” around COP17. Wearing a polar bear outfit seems something of a rite of passage into the world of environmental activism; a ritual of solidarity in a global environmental movement. 

It’s a sad thing, I think to myself, that we still seem to thinking about climate change and sustainability in such ice-cap-melting metaphors of the West. Does our dressing-up point to larger systems of hegemonic dominance? And if so, what does it mean for me to adopt this system when representing Africa at COP17 in a week’s time?

Yes, the movement in Africa is manifest in ways much more practicable and appropriate than melting ice-caps. Our “polar bear” is more: it’s blood-red sunsets, it’s gorging rivers, it’s Wangari Maathai’s muddy hands, it’s seeds, and roots, and animals. Mostly, it’s hopeful, and diverse, and fundamental. 

And yes, I’ve made a polar bear. But it’s not necessarily a subservience to the west that made me do it. It’s a sign of solidarity; a connection to the global movement, which doesn’t take away from the fact that the movement in Africa is as alive and relevant – in fact, quite the contrary. 

In a weeks time Africa’s youth will join hands for what they believe in, and if it’ll help to be dressed as a bear, then that’s how they’ll do it.