Saturday, August 21, 2021

In Her Words: ‘You have to be a climate feminist’

Climate solutions and gender equality go together, says Katharine K. Wilkinson
Paola Saliby

"If you're going to be a feminist on a hot planet, you have to be a climate feminist."

— Katharine K. Wilkinson, a co-author of the climate anthology "All We Can Save"

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The world's leading climate scientists issued a landmark report this month with their clearest clarion call to date: The climate crisis is here, it's humanity's fault, and it's a catastrophic, planet-threatening problem that will only get worse before it gets better — if it gets better.

The United Nations report, approved by 195 governments and based on more than 14,000 studies, determined that more than a century of extractive energy use has heated the planet by roughly 1.1 degrees Celsius, or 2 degrees Fahrenheit. Because of existing emissions, additional warming over the next three decades is inevitable. But the report stressed that the coming years offered a narrow and urgent window of opportunity: the chance to fundamentally change our consumption habits and energy usage to avoid even more disastrous warming.

Katharine K. Wilkinson, a co-author of the climate anthology "All We Can Save," argues that while climate change is a collective problem, its impacts will be disproportionate — skewed in its effects on the world's most vulnerable populations, specifically women and girls.

"The climate crisis is not gender-equal or gender-neutral," she said. Men have a larger carbon footprint than women, by 16 percent, according to one study. And the top 1 percent of income earners globally, who are overwhelmingly male, are responsible for more carbon emissions than the bottom 50 percent of earners. According to the U.N., that's roughly 70 million at the top compared with 3.5 billion at the bottom. Yet it is women and girls who bear the burdens in the wake of more frequent climate disasters. Those burdens include displacement — 80 percent of people displaced by climate change are women — as well as increased homelessness, poverty, sexual violence and disease.

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In her book, Dr. Wilkinson, who has a doctorate in geography and environment from Oxford, and her co-author, Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, shine a spotlight on the many women researching, leading, campaigning and writing on climate solutions.

In Her Words spoke with Dr. Wilkinson about why the answers are inextricable from gender equality and explained the idea of climate feminism. The conversation has been condensed and lightly edited.

You say the climate crisis is having a disproportionate impact on women. What does that mean?

The Pentagon coined this term of climate as a threat multiplier, which, of course, they're thinking about national security. But I think it's such a helpful framing that the climate is a multiplier of any cracks, imbalances or injustices that are present in current society. It amplifies them.

The climate crisis is not gender-neutral in its root causes, which grow out of patriarchy, among other things. It is not gender-neutral in its impacts because women and girls are on the back foot, in various ways. Extreme weather events are being tied to early marriage, to sex trafficking, to domestic violence, all of these things that are already present in society that get turned up a notch or five.

Say more about the connection between climate change and patriarchy.

The cause of climate change is greenhouse gas emissions. But to me, the question is, well, why do we have such an abundance of these emissions, and why have they been so hard to rein in? And when we start to ask those questions, we find ourselves confronting a system that has been very focused on hierarchy, control, exploitation and, frankly, decision making that has largely sat with a relatively narrow set of folks. And, certainly, women have not been at the table anywhere near equally in shaping the status quo that we find ourselves in. And the same is true for people of color. The same is true for Indigenous peoples.

How is gender connected to climate solutions?

We talk so much in climate about solutions at scale, which we need. We need regenerative agriculture around the world. We need a 100 percent clean electricity system, we need means of mobility that don't rely on fossil fuels. We need all of that, of course. But I think sometimes we overlook the values. Because we're not just trying to build a zero-emissions future, right? We're trying to build a future also in which we can thrive together.

And to me, patriarchy is fundamentally predicated on some people thriving at the expense of other people. And of course, the same is true of white supremacy. Addressing both of those things is at the heart of climate work.

In your book, you describe the need for climate leadership that is more "characteristically feminine." Tell me more about that.

Sherri Mitchell, an Indigenous attorney, activist and author from the Penobscot Nation, talks about the feminine as heart-centered wisdom and the masculine as action in the world.

When we think about the things it's going to take to address the climate crisis and build a genuinely life-giving future, that's going to take a fundamental reorientation to care. It's going to take collaboration, connection, compassion, creativity, all of these things that fall within this realm of the feminine, regardless of gender identity.

Can you give an example of an area where you would like to see this reorientation manifested?

When we look at climate philanthropy, there are still really significant imbalances along the lines of race and gender. Most of the money that's being invested in the climate movement is going to work that is led by white men. And we want them on the team. They just can't be the whole team.

How would you respond to someone who says that bold climate action is inherently anticapitalist?

If capitalism is not anticlimate, the onus for proving that is on capitalists who so far have come up beyond short in showing how it can be workable within our planetary system. We have had this very bizarre, fundamental belief in infinity at the core of this economic system, and we're living on a finite planet, so if you think that there is a way to solve for infinite growth on a finite planet, I would love to see that mapped out.

How do you hope the movement for climate feminism will evolve?

I think a lot about how we welcome in people who are committed feminists but have not seen themselves as climate feminists or have felt like the climate space is not super welcoming. Like, if you don't have a Ph.D. in atmospheric science, then thanks, we don't need you. And of course, that couldn't be couldn't be further from the truth. If you're going to be a feminist on a hot planet, you have to be a climate feminist.

If someone came to you and asked what steps they could take now to address the climate emergency, what would you tell them?

I often ask people: What are your superpowers, and how can those be contributed in some way to the work that needs doing on climate? Because we are so much more than our consumer choices, we are so much more even than our voting practices and civic participation. Many of us can find ways to weave climate into our professional lives. And that, for me, is when things start to get powerful.

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In Her Words is edited by Francesca Donner. Our art director is Catherine Gilmore-Barnes, and our photo editor is Maura Foley.

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Thursday, August 19, 2021

On Politics: How partisanship affects pandemic thinking

What political scientists and pollsters say about how the Covid wave might affect public behavior.
Cars lined up at a Covid-19 testing site in Auburndale, Fla., this month.Octavio Jones for The New York Times

There were no open I.C.U. beds on Wednesday in Alabama, or in parts of Florida, Louisiana, Mississippi and Texas, as hospitals across the South buckled under the weight of a coronavirus surge that could have been mitigated. Cases, hospitalizations and deaths are increasing nationwide. Every day, on average, more than 800 Americans are dying from Covid-19.

It is a humanitarian catastrophe, and yet many Americans see it through a political lens. The South has some of the nation's lowest vaccination rates, driven partly by Republican reluctance. Some governors — including Gov. Greg Abbott of Texas, who is infected with the coronavirus himself — have forbidden local officials to impose mask requirements. Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida, who has not changed his approach to follow public health guidelines, has claimed falsely that the surge is a result of President Biden's border policies.

The divisions extend beyond policies to general attitudes about the pandemic: While nearly 60 percent of Americans overall said in a recent Quinnipiac poll that they were concerned about the Delta variant, more than 60 percent of Republicans said they weren't. And research indicates that many people are looking at Covid policies they don't like and blaming whichever party they're not part of.

It's enough to make one despair about the American public's ability to deal in a nonpartisan manner with, well, anything.

But that may not quite be right.

I talked to several political scientists and pollsters about how the current Covid wave might affect public opinion and, more important, public behavior. Here's what they said.

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The bad news: Partisanship is really hard to overcome.

Partisanship — more specifically negative partisanship, which is animosity toward the other party as opposed to, or in addition to, a positive allegiance to your own — is an extraordinarily powerful force in American politics. It has become only stronger in recent years as partisanship has become increasingly intertwined with religious and racial identities.

When people look at the pandemic or Afghanistan or any other issue, "you're doing so through this lens of the identity you have and preserving a self-esteem about that identity," said Julie Wronski, an associate professor at the University of Mississippi who studies political psychology and behavior. "You're trying to think about the people who are on 'my team': Are they good people? Are they winners? And the people on the other team are 'bad people' or 'losers.'"

Some of what we're seeing now in response to the pandemic was baked in very early on, as soon as elected officials — most prominently President Donald J. Trump — began to politicize basic public health measures, leading people to see support for masks or vaccines as partisan.

"That didn't necessarily have to happen, but once it did, you're not necessarily talking about the science," Professor Wronski said. "It's about who they are and who they consider themselves to be."

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One group of researchers had an unusual opportunity to study how partisan identity shaped people's views on Covid, because in 2019, they surveyed more than 3,300 people about their political predispositions for an unrelated project. Once the pandemic began, they went back to the same people, and about 2,500 responded to follow-up questions.

They found, in research published in peer-reviewed journals in August and November 2020, that highly partisan Republicans took their initial cues from leaders like Trump and then stuck to them no matter what — even if Covid cases and deaths surged in their state, even if people around them got sick, said one of the five researchers, Yanna Krupnikov, a professor of political science at Stony Brook University.

Another of the five, Samara Klar, an associate professor at the University of Arizona's School of Government and Public Policy, said the crucial element appeared to be not party affiliation alone, but active animosity toward the opposite side.

"We're seeing the gap mostly among those people who personally dislike the other party, and that's weird," Professor Klar said. "It's weird for your views on a public health crisis to be guided by your personal feelings toward members of the other party, but that is in fact what we're finding."

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The good news: Not everyone is rigidly partisan.

Most people aren't the sort of intense partisans described above. The exact percentage varies depending on the questions you ask, but generally, Professor Krupnikov said, only 25 to 30 percent of people fall into the "hyperpolarized" category.

And as the pandemic hit closer to home, she said, less-partisan Republicans "actually started to look very much like Democrats" in their personal precautions and the Covid-related policies they supported.

In other words, Democrats tended to take the pandemic seriously from the start, but once case counts spiked in the home counties of Republicans who weren't extremely partisan, they began to take it seriously, too.

This reaffirms a longstanding belief of political science, Professor Klar said: "When an issue becomes really threatening and really important to you, then partisanship weakens its grip on your decision making."

It is, at least, a moderately reassuring thought.

"There's often so much focus on people whose partisanship seems to surpass their care even for their own health, or care for others," Professor Krupnikov said. "But I do think it's important to highlight that there are, at least in our data, a lot of people for whom politics was in fact tremendously secondary to the health crisis happening around them."

So what's next?

What this means practically for the future of the pandemic is less clear, especially because we don't have much reliable polling conducted since the Delta surge spun out of control.

The limited polling we do have shows that a majority of Americans are worried about the Delta variant and support the C.D.C. recommendation that people wear masks indoors regardless of their vaccination status — and that pattern holds across regions, including the South, said Mary Snow, a polling analyst at Quinnipiac University. But there are still deep partisan divides in that data.

President Biden's approval rating also seems to have taken some damage, but that may not be because of the surge itself. Rather, it may be "because we were told that we were out of the woods at the beginning of the summer, and that hasn't happened," said Patrick Murray, the director of the Monmouth University Polling Institute. "And that's a reflection of messaging as much as anything else: 'Why did you tell us you had this under control when you didn't?'"

Ultimately, especially in the face of such a contagious variant, it takes only a small minority of Americans to derail epidemiological progress — and the most partisan Republicans are taking their cues from leaders who have no political incentive to give different ones.

In a state like Mississippi, the governor has more to fear politically from a far-right primary challenger than from a Democrat in a general election, Professor Wronski noted.

And while even partisans' opinions could change if people they were close to started dying, she said, it would be a psychologically difficult shift.

"For the past couple years, your identity has been built upon a certain perception of what you think Covid is, who you think the good guys are, your lack of trust in political elites," she said. "And now, if you're starting to see death at your doorstep, that's a cognitive dissonance that you have to reconcile.

"How many deaths is it going to take? I don't have that answer."

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