This is a transcript of the keynote speech that Head of Urban Alliance, Russell Galt, delivered at the 16th Annual Session of the Global Forum on Human Settlements on 29 September 2021.
Almost 2 decades ago, I was studying climate science. Our professor displayed a series of harrowing slides: graphs and graphics, storylines and scenarios, melting ice, rising seas, violent storms, soaring heat, floods, fire, chaos and confusion.
I was shocked! How could this be true? When I ventured outside the lecture theatre, nobody was panicking, nobody was waving a banner or placard, or blocking roads. Everyone seemed to be going about their business as usual.
Perhaps they, like me, deep down thought that climate change was really a problem for someone else, somewhere else at some other time. Besides, if it really were such a threat, then surely our governments, in whom we had vested our votes and trust, surely, they who were dutybound to uphold the public interest would come together and muster the resolve to make a plan and solve it. Surely, they wouldn’t sacrifice our collective future at the altar of short-term economic growth and political expediency.
I was wrong. That’s exactly what they did. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not apportioning blame from some moral high horse – I’ve worked for government – but when Greta Thunberg mocked the world with “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…”, did any of you doubt her? Did any of you question the veracity of her message?
I was also wrong about it being a problem for someone else, somewhere else, at some other time. It’s already here, it’s happening now, and it’s becoming increasingly personal. I remember living in Cape Town when the city came within a hair’s breadth of running out of water. Now, I live on the east coast of Scotland, only a metre above sea level. On a blustery day, the currents scoop up seaweed and hurl it at my window. How long until I’m inundated? And yet I worry from a point of privilege.
You often hear “We’re all in this together, we’re all in the same boat.” We’re not in the same boat. Some people are in luxury ocean liners capable of navigating the Northwest Passage. Others risk life and limb, crammed into dinghies, cheek by jowl, coursing rough seas, praying to reach the other side.
And the science was wrong. It was too conservative; it was overly optimistic. Despite a ‘lockdown lull’ over the past year, global greenhouse gas emissions have resumed their dizzying ascent. Capping a decade of scorching temperatures, last year was by some accounts, the hottest on record. Ice sheets are thinning, glaciers are retreating, and permafrost is thawing. Methane is fizzing skyward. You know the story. Bonfires larger than countries are laying sacred forests to ruin. Oceans loaded with toxins and junk, are acidifying, and advancing inland. Extreme weather events, like those recently experienced on mainland Europe, are seeming less and less extraordinary. The evidence is crystal clear: our planet, our only planet, is in trouble and therefore we are too.
Climate change must rank among the most spectacular communications failures of all time. We know that people hear what they want to hear. That’s how echo chambers form. We know that human values are malleable and tend to align with self-interest. That’s how oil and gas executives sleep at night. And we know that fear is not always conducive to action. As someone who suffers from pangs of eco-anxiety, I can vouch for that.
The Swiss-French architect, Le Corbusier said, “You do not start a revolution by fighting the state, but by presenting the solutions.” I think we all know it. If you’re a proselytising environmentalist like me, then I’m sure a friend or family member has at some stage called you a killjoy, a party pooper, a negatron, a guilt tripper, or worst of all, a flagrant hypocrite. That’s perfectly understandable. It’s to be expected. If you go around telling people that they can’t do this and shouldn’t do that, if you question why they need 200 horses to pick up a pint of milk from the local grocery store, if you tell them that their favourite meal is laced with animal tears, that slavery is stitched into the fabric of their clothes, that their town’s entire economy is built on the backs of the poor, what reactions would you expect? There may be some who choose to change their ways, but for most, it’s apathy or denial. The same is true for governments and companies.
However, if you change tack and say, hey do you want to come wild swimming? Let’s go beachcombing. Shall we walk in the woods, then sit in dappled light listening to the melodies of nature? Shall we picnic on fresh nutritious locally sourced food? Shall we lie on our backs counting shooting stars in a dark sky? Shall we then go bat spotting, in a creepy cave? Now that’s a proposition, that’s a great day out! Then you’re no longer the party pooper, you’re the party starter, the roisterer who know how to have a rollicking good time.
That’s how you start a revolution: by presenting a positive compelling vision of a brighter world. A world in which we breathe clean air, drink clean water, eat healthy sustainable food, commute along greenways, feel safe in the eye of a storm, and feel belonging in the heart of a community. A world in which kids choose to spend 7-hours-a-day outdoors exploring spectacular nature, not 7-hours-a-day staring at a screen. It’s a world characterised less by artificial scarcity than by natural abundance.
That’s the secret of success for nature-based solutions. They are attractive propositions. Sure, they offer economic and functional utility; sure, planting street trees can mop up air pollutants, dampen noise, and cool the air; sure, restoring marshes and mangroves can shield coastal communities against storm surges; sure, protecting catchments and creating rain gardens can absorb storm flow and reduce flood risk. But they do so much more than that. They tap into our innate desire for more freedom, more love, more joy, more wonder, more connection, more beauty and more adventure.
In an empire of consumption, why do so many feel abject emptiness? In an era of hyper-connectivity, why do so many succumb to loneliness and depression? In an age of information, how are so many misinformed, so ignorant of the natural world? My goodness, don’t we need it? Don’t we need more nature in our cities and in our lives?
Former British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill once said, “We shape our buildings, thereafter they shape us.” Syrian architect, Marwa Al-Sibouni, put it more concisely: “We are what we build.”
Think about that. Every brick, every wall, every house, tower block, community centre, park, greenway, school, hospital, waste facility and motorway – they mould us. So, if you are a city shaper – an architect or engineer, planner or designer, investor or developer – how will you mould society? What values will you impart? How will your decisions help to deliver an ecological civilisation?