Climate Justice Fast!: a personal history
Hi. I thought I might get the ball rolling with our blog page. The following is a personal look back at my experience with Climate Justice Fast! so far. I sincerely hope that it does not give the impression that the fast was my idea alone, because nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, a number of the people involved had the same idea simultaneously, and have had the good fortune to cross paths. This is simply my own story, which is one of many.
“The golden rule is to act fearlessly upon what one believes to be right.” –Mahatma Gandhi
The idea of Climate Justice Fast! first occurred to me in December 2008, shortly after the Australian government released their climate change policy. This was an important moment, which for many of us concerned about the issue held great promise. A new left-wing Labor government had gained power, whose leader Kevin Rudd had previously declared climate change to be “the great moral issue of our time”. Many Australians, deeply ashamed at our nation’s status as one of the world’s worst polluters and our refusal to ratify the Kyoto protocol, had voted them into power in hopes of improving on this ignominious record.
Last December, however, these hopes were dashed. Instead of a policy aimed at avoiding dangerous climate change, Labor announced a capitulation to the demands of heavily-polluting industries, with almost farcically low emissions reductions targets. Avoiding the ire of those profiting from our planet’s destruction, it appeared, was more important to our leaders than playing their part in avoiding catastrophic climate change. Labor surviving the next election was more important than humanity surviving the next millennium. There is no single word to describe the way I felt over the ensuing days. Incredulity mixed with indignation. Sorrow mixed with outrage. For approximately a week, I went about my life amidst a heavy and gnawing sense that something terribly important had gone deeply and profoundly wrong.
Climate change is an injustice on so many levels. It is an injustice perpetrated by the wealthy upon the poor, by humans upon other species, and by the current generation of humanity upon our successors. It is an injustice so cold and clear that it could in fact serve as an exemplar for the term itself, with short term gains for a very few prioritised over the enormous harm they will bring to others. And it is an injustice which, if allowed to proceed unaddressed, cannot be undone. I knew I was going to do something about this, I just did not know what. After all, what course of action is appropriate when the very future of one’s planet is being put at risk by short-sightedness and greed? Gradually, I came to my answer: I would hunger strike.
I had long revered Mahatma Gandhi, whose life story had been the original impetus for me to become politically active, inspiring me to develop an educational program for young Australians about global poverty. And more than anything else, it was his hunger strikes that had truly struck a core within me. Here was a man so committed to justice for all that he was prepared to starve in order to see it done. To this day, I can think of few more noble acts a human being could possibly perform.
The decision to stage a hunger strike of my own was far from instantaneous. In fact, I first proposed it to a friend as a joke. Yet once the idea had entered my mind, it was obvious that it was not going to leave, for I soon found that I could focus on little else. Eventually, I was overcome by two realizations.
The first of these was that a hunger strike for climate justice was a good idea. The second was far more immense: that I could do it. Granted, it would involve venturing further from the comfort of my ordinary life than I had ever imagined possible, yet nonetheless, I could do it. The choice over my actions, I realized, was mine alone. For perhaps the first time in my life I became acutely aware of this most basic fact of our existence, this essential freedom, possessed by us all yet truly exercised by so few. And for perhaps the first time, I resolved to use it.
I soon raised the topic of a hunger strike with my friend again, yet by now I was no longer joking. He sent an email to some well-known and respected climate activists in Melbourne that he knew, and all at once, planning had begun. Following initial discussions, and further thought, I was convinced that I was doing the right thing. Late one night in an inner city pub a colleague, himself an experienced environmental activist, voiced his scepticism. “Don’t do it”, he advised. “Australians hate hunger strikers. They’ll just say ‘let him starve’.”
I agreed with him that many would despise me for my action, but said that this was a burden I was prepared to bear. And despite this, I still believed the act could be worthwhile. First, it would send a powerful message to people who are vaguely aware about climate change but who do not understand how large a threat it poses, or the urgency of acting upon it. Such people expect to see marches, petitions, and direct actions from environmentalists. These, after all, are the same tactics we use for virtually all issues. As a result, they lack impact. A hunger strike could communicate that climate change is not just another environmental issue, but is something of far greater consequence than many realize.
Second, the act could inspire others who are already aware of the importance of climate change to do more. Just as I draw strength and motivation from the countless and courageous activists fighting for justice all over the world, so too could this act become a source of inspiration for the climate movement -– a much-needed resource for a group of people desperately under-manned and under-resourced for the massive task with which they are faced.
Third, it could send a powerful message to our leaders that they have seriously underestimated the depth of feeling possessed by those of us within the community who understand the full implications of climate policy. Climate change really is, as the Kevin Rudd observed, “the great moral issue of our time”, and is unlikely to fade away anytime soon. Enough well-publicised moral outrage and political strategists will be forced to contemplate deeply which side of the issue’s history they wish their party to sit on. Just as many of us worry what we will tell our children we did about climate change, so too should any politician aiming for a long career be wary of what we will tell our children their party did while they had the chance.
This was enough for my colleague, who was now wide-eyed. “Fuck,” he said.” I think you’re right.” He went on to tell me about the more or less constant ill health he suffers as a result of having been exposed to dangerous levels of radiation during a protest against nuclear waste dumping years ago, removing the dentures I had always assumed to be his teeth for effect. He has, he said, never regretted it for a second.
The original plan was to hunger strike alone, in February, in an immediate response to the government’s policy. Wiser heads prevailed, however, and convinced me to wait until later in the year in order to prepare more fully. And shortly after, a number of other people raised the possibility that they would join the strike as well.
I had always realized that the action would be more effective with others involved, but was unsure if they could be found. Yet now here they were, appearing through no effort of my own. A young couple from Melbourne, an NGO director from northern New South Wales, a retiree from Sydney. My vision began to grow. Alone, I could easily be ignored, but twenty, thirty, or fifty people hunger striking for climate justice -– that could be international news.
I thus found myself in the strange and not altogether comfortable position of organising and promoting a hunger strike. There are few guidebooks on how this is done, so I have improvised, and one thing has lead to another. A short speech at a climate summit outside Melbourne in March captured the attention of a like-minded student activist by the name of Clare Easton, and I gained a co-organiser. She sent an email through her network of activists, and more potential participants appeared. One of these emails reached Europe, where we found another kindred spirit in Anna Keenan, an Australian climate activist and youth delegate to the 2008 climate negotiations in Poznan now living and working in Amsterdam. I was preparing to break a six-day practice fast when she emailed, detailing her and her friends’ intention to participate in the strike and to promote it internationally. Again, my vision expanded.
The idea that we could engineer an international hunger strike seemed scarcely credible, but it was happening. We produced a website, and Anna sent an email out to all corners of the globe. The inspiring Deepa Gupta, who heads the Indian Youth Climate Coalition, flagged her interest, as well as activists from Canada, the USA, and South Africa. Suddenly, we were international.
Needless to say, this has been an incredibly exciting time. And while it is impossible to predict how big Climate Justice Fast! will become, as it is somewhat unique, and is occurring at an equally unique moment in history, we have seen that the concept resonates with many people in many different places. If this progress continues, it could become something truly extraordinary. But we shall see.
There are a number of questions I am often asked about the fast. The most common is whether or not I and others involved are willing to starve to death. This is not an easy question to answer. Of course, none of us want to die. What we want is to protest against the injustice of climate change, and wake the world up to its vital importance. The way we will do this, however, will not be completely safe, and we certainly cannot guarantee that no one will come to harm.
Personally, I like to think about my grandfathers, both of whom fought for Australia in the Second World War. As they shipped out from our shores, I know that neither of them wished to die. Yet they were willing to put themselves into a dangerous situation for a cause they believed in, which is just how I and many others involved in Climate Justice Fast! feel now. We do not want to wait and watch climate change take its toll upon our planet knowing that we could have done more about it when we had the chance.
Only time will tell whether or not the worst predictions of climate change can be avoided. I pray they can, though nothing is certain. Honestly, I am scared. By all indications, our planet is heading towards disruptions that billions of our most vulnerable people and species are simply not equipped to handle. And our leaders are allowing it to happen. For me, Climate Justice Fast! represents doing about as much as I can about this. And feeling that I’m doing about as much as I can about it gives me a great deal of peace. Whether we are wildly successful or completely ignored, I can at least know that I am following Gandhi’s golden rule, ‘acting fearlessly upon what I believe to be right’. In times like these, I feel, there’s not a whole lot else that makes much sense.
Paul Connor, July, 2009.
