Watermelons and apolitical politics

Politics and the climate debate

James Randerson’s recent Guardian article discussed the public suspicion of ‘watermelon’ environmentalists – people who are ‘green on the outside but red on the inside’, ie who use climate change as an excuse to advance a socialist political agenda. 

During the debate that followed, some commenters accused leftists such as George Monbiot of being ‘watermelons’, whilst others, including Bob Ward, conversely accused right-wingers of doing the same thing.  (Conveniently for conservatives, no one has yet identified a fruit that’s green on the outside and blue on the inside.  Except maybe a mouldy blueberry, but that doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.)

Randerson himself argues that climate change has been seized on by people from all across the political spectrum to suit their own, pre-existing, ideological standpoints.  To address this problem, he urges that “the political poison be drawn from the debate”, adding, “the reality is that atmospheric physics does not care which party you vote for.” 

Not all carbon is born equal

This appeal to an incontrovertible ‘reality’ is appealing, and at first glance seems straightforward.  If the problem is too much CO₂ in the atmosphere, all we need to do is get rid of the CO₂, right?  However, framing the issue in this way masks an important debate about whose interests are being prioritised by different policy options to manage climate change. 

Larry Lohmann argues that by focusing our discussions too heavily on carbon itself – an inanimate molecule – we run the risk of imagining that all policies to reduce carbon are equivalent to each other, and that their success can be measured purely by how effective they are at minimising atmospheric carbon – regardless of their social and economic implications. 

Can we really equate petrol consumption by American SUVs with, say, planting eucalyptus monocultures in Indonesia that will (temporarily) absorb CO₂ but which may have undesirable impacts on the way local people can use their land?  Is funding a windfarm in Kent the same as funding biofuel crop production in developing countries, which may restrict local food production?  Is (fossil-fuelled) economic development in Britain equivalent to that of developing countries whose own development has been harmed by Britain’s own history of colonial domination? 

I’m not disputing that CO₂ is indeed causing climate change, and I agree that the atmosphere doesn’t care which political party we vote for.  But I also think we need to pay close attention to whose interests are served by particular policies, and the processes that shape those policies. 

Whose interests get heard?

For example, Private Eye reported in August 2013 that a group set up to advise the government on fracking – the ‘All-Party Group on Unconventional Oil and Gas’ – was funded by a number of fracking companies, and receives admin support from Edelman, a lobbying firm that represents frackers. 

The Group does include a range of (non-paying) stakeholders including environmental NGOs – as was clarified in the following edition of Private Eye (#1348), following (tellingly) a joint complaint made to the Eye by MPs and Edelman.  But do these stakeholders have as much influence over policy makers as the companies that are funding the Group?  Indeed, why would Cuadrilla et al fund the Group if they didn’t think it would buy them influence?  And whilst the fracking companies undoubtedly have a wealth of valuable technical expertise to contribute, with the best will in the world it’s hard to imagine them as neutral, unbiased observers.

Apolitical politics

However, Randerson’s injunction to ‘draw out the political poison’ suggests to me a desire to make decisions that are somehow the logical result of rationally evaluating evidence of a range of social, political, economic and environmental factors, and then agreeing on an objectively optimal course of action.  This implies that political disagreements have the potential for a ‘correct’ or ‘neutral’ solution, as long as we have an honest debate about the issues at play. 

My own feeling is that politics is messier than that.  The very essence of political debate is that different individuals and social groups have directly conflicting interests, and people have vastly differing opinions, and yes, ideologies.  Although we try to debate, compromise, agree on solutions to problems, these underlying tensions will never go away.  For every policy decision – whether it relates to housing, transport, or chicken-farming – some people will think it’s too right-wing, and the other half will say it’s too left-wing.  The climate change debate is no different – and we should embrace that diversity of opinion, not try to ignore it. 

I admire the consensus-building impulse implicit in ‘removing the poison’, and share the wish to honestly debate politics, and dispassionately weigh up evidence.  But I think that this will only be done by openly acknowledging and discussing the intersections between science and politics, and negotiating ways to make them work together – not by trying to separate them.