COPENHAGEN CLIMATE CHANGE CONFERENCE

DECEMBER 2009

Before I left for the Copenhagen Climate Change Conference, I attended a holiday sale featuring our books. Two young girls around six years of age raced around the room stacked high with titles, pressing their noses to the covers and commenting to each other how each book “smelled” like whatever was pictured on the cover of the book. “This book smells like a tree.” “This one smells like a waterfall.” Their imaginations ran wild, and I enjoyed spying.

Stopping before a stack of copies of The Last Polar Bear one girl looked soberly at a mother with cub alone upon a vast field of broken ice.
“This one. . . is such a sad story,” she told her friend. “The polar bears are all going to die because of climate change.” Before I could react—and what could I say anyway?—they skipped off to another stack of books.

When I recounted this story to a friend, I admitted feeling disturbed at my loss of words for the girls—and despaired at the thought that children so young have assimilated such bleak stories. I also admitted feeling conflicted because my life’s work revolves around bringing these issues to light, and I struggle with how to show images and tell stories, yet still foster hope. “When I was her age, I was so blissfully sheltered from anything like this.”

My friend reminded me, “When we were six, our teachers carried out drills and we’d dive under our desks when sirens sounded so we’d be protected from communists and nuclear bombs.”

True, and yet, somehow, it doesn’t feel quite the same.


“HOPENHAGEN”

The World Wildlife Fund invited Steven Kazlowski, photographer for The Last Polar Bear, to be part of the WWF programming at the “Arctic Tent,” set up in busy Nytorv square in Copenhagen during the climate change talks. We set up a base for Braided River in the tent, and became part of the public outreach efforts. Scientists, artists, Natives, youth groups, adventurers, and other photographers and film makers presented a rich program of Arctic-related topics over the next week.

The amazing programming was put together by Clive Desire-Tesar, head of communications for WWF. He was joined by Sian Owen, and WWF author and scientist Martin Sommerkorn. As a reminder of how small the world truly is, Martin and Steve met each other over ten years ago up in the Arctic while both were doing their respective work as scientist and photographer.

Throughout the week we watched the ebb and flow of the crowds, and talked with people from around the world—a mixture of locals, young and old as well as tourists and delegates to the conference. A truly unexpected performance was from the circus group Artcirq from Igloolik, Nunavut, in northern Canada—providing the Inuit perspective on climate change combined with acrobatics, clowning, theater and the exquisite, enchanting throat singing that continues to visit my dreams.

Outside the tent was an outdoor gallery of photographs, including three from Steven Kazlowski as the representative from Alaska. The centerpiece was a life-sized ice sculpture of a polar bear created by sculptor Mark Coreth and his team. “The Copenhagen Ice Bear” was easily the most visited, most photographed, most touched piece of public art in the city. As the ice melted, it revealed the bronze skeleton of a polar bear. Most people passing stopped mid stride—it was captivating.
And it was melting before our eyes.

We were a short walk from “Hopenhagen” set up outside Tivoli Gardens. This energized outdoor environment of interactive exhibits and displays about climate change was packed with thousands of people throughout the conference. The driving theme was that technologies exist today to offer us a different result, and that power rests with people to make change.

We were encouraged to begin thinking of ourselves as part of a global, interconnected community. In “Hopenhagen”—there was a resurgence of “yes we can,” complete with crowd chants, albeit tempered with pragmatism. Graffiti on a sign displayed morning after clarity: “We like green. . . but we like profit more.”


CLIMATE CHANGE ON THE STREETS

Public art created for the conference was everywhere. So were less formal dada-esque street theater and impromptu demonstrations, signs, and musical outbursts. The streets pulsed with energy. I averaged three hours of sleep a night—jet lag plus excitement.

Back at home people e-mailed and asked me “What about the riots,” “Have you seen the violence?” The media loves to report on conflict—but it was such a small part of what was going on, and no, I saw none of it, although the sirens and police presence did intensify with each day. If 100,000 really was the total number of people demonstrating on Saturday—and about 900 were arrested—this represents a mere one percent of the demonstrators. The consensus on the streets was that that the rioters had planned ahead to use Copenhagen as yet another world stage, promoting the usual anarchistic agendas.

There was some concern over security one morning when we heard that demonstrations were going to be held against Coca Cola (one of the sponsors of “Hopenhagen” as well as for the World Wildlife Fund tent where free Coke was available). Coke uses a lot of water in its processing, and is not exactly a healthy, sustainable food choice in a world where people go hungry for a lot of ugly preventable reasons. Extra security was called, but the demonstrations did not appear to materialize. I opted for the mint tea anyway.


THE SPECTACLE OF CLIMATE CHANGE

Another major town square housed a series of six-foot globes with various artistic representations of global climate change expressing beauty and futility, as well as humor and solutions.

In this same square was one of many open-air photographic exhibits in the city—this one called “100 Places to Remember Before They Disappear” (alternately referred to as “200 million people to remember before they disappear”). An adjoining “Climate Maze” included a tent with canvas walls configured as a maze, with signatures gathered from around the world. The signature campaign was launched by UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon to broaden the chances of reaching an agreement in Copenhagen, and “Seal the Deal.”

Local museums and galleries were filled with exhibits based on the conference. A few to note include an exhibit of transparent globes created by Argentinean artist Tomas Saraceno at the National Gallery of Denmark. His creations explored our sense of habitat, and brought home how our planet truly is a natural biosphere like no other. One huge suspended transparent globe had a gangplank of sorts allowing people (mostly children) to enter the inside of the globe and bounce, walk or lie down on a clear “floor” at the circumference.

An exhibit I looked for but missed was “Safety Gear for Small Animals” by Canadian artist Bill Burns—a selection of gear designed for protection of animals (small birds, mice, frogs. . .) including safety vests, helmets, and protective goggles—all evoking the fragility and vulnerability of these creatures facing a changing climate.

Perhaps he could envision a “gear solution” for polar bears. Questions we fielded at the Arctic Tent were often from people hoping for an easy solution: “Can we move them to Antarctica?” “Can they live on land—can’t they live on berries, roots and small animals like other bears?” “Can’t we save some of them in zoos and wait for the ice to return?” No, and no, and no—the only solution is to cap CO2 emissions at 350 parts per million maximum, and the only way to do that is to dramatically refocus to green technologies, and provide significant financial support to developing nations to do the same. Not impossible—it only takes political will.


OLD FRIENDS

I met up with Subhankar Banerjee, photographer for our book Arctic National Wildlife Refuge: Seasons of Life and Land. Along with Gwich’in elder Sarah James, he participated in a group gallery exhibition based on the theme of gender and climate change addressing the wisdom and resilience of women.

Florian Schulz also came to town for the conference, in particular to advance our partnership with Rick Ridgeway regarding our “Freedom to Roam” work on wildlife corridors. In addition to his award-winning published work of photography on the Yellowstone to Yukon corridor, we are working on a project with Florian and his wife Emil Herrera-Schulz to create a book, film, and exhibit for the western coastline of North America from Baja to the Beaufort Sea —a particularly ambitious Braided River project.


PEOPLE AND CLIMATE CHANGE

There were times I felt out on the fringes, and wondered where the center of energy was at the conference—and how public demonstrations might impact the conference. At the Danish National Museum reception for young Native Arctic photographers—an exhibit called “Many Strong Voices: Portraits of Resilience” pulled together by photographer Christine Germano—I was moved by the images and stories, but worried that so far away from the mainstream diplomatic action at the Bella Center, their concerns would never be heard.

Shy and nervous—many in native dress—young teens from the circumpolar Arctic countries struggled to express their emotions and tell how their communities, cultures and way of life were under siege as permafrost melted, ice disappeared, and shorelines were eroded. They spoke of how their “country food”—the caribou, reindeer, the whale—were threatened. “Everything is changing—hunting, weather, birds.” They are living the impacts of climate change and pollution that originate from the “outside” and harm their way of life.

One young man from a small village in northern Canada stood up and said “I am not shy like the others. I have one thing to say to all of you—fuck the money. It will destroy my home.” As his chaperone launched out of her chair to stifle him, the audience clapped loudly and she stopped. The young man continued talking about how much he loves the beautiful land he is from, and how special it is to learn to take care of it under the guidance of his elders, as it has been for his people for generations.

At the same presentation a representative from the Seychelles spoke about the relationship between the Arctic and “SIDS”—small-island developing states—that stand to be erased and displaced with rising sea levels. The speaker was moved when the kids from the Arctic halfway around the globe asked what they could do to help save his island nation. He said “Take care of yourselves—if you do, you will take care of us.”

And from Sheila Watt-Cloutier, Former Chair of the Inuit Circumpolar Conference and 2007 Nobel Peace Prize Nominee: “Climate change in the Arctic is a human issue, a family issue, a community issue, and an issue of cultural survival. The joining of circumpolar peoples with Pacific Island and Caribbean States is surely part of the answer in addressing these issues. Many small voices can make a loud noise. . . . ”

It turned out the young people were scheduled to present at the Bella Center, and I felt better for their Copenhagen trip. In addition, through the work of a number of journalists—including Bill McKibben of 350.org and the folks at Grist.org in particular—many stories about the island nations did see the light of day, and became part of a growing public awareness. Tuvalu and the Maldives were propelled into the international spotlight.


“NOPENHAGEN”

“I don’t think that you believe you are on the winning side.”
Archbishop Desmond Tutu

This was Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s prophetic challenge to us all. Certainly, a highlight of the trip for me was standing twenty feet from the Archbishop as he encouraged the open-air crowd of thousands to persist and ask for what was reasonable, just and right. He emphasized that the will of the people can change the world, and mentioned ending apartheid—something that government and politicians would never have accomplished on their own steam. And so, he says, it will be with Climate Change.

There was so much hope for results at the conference. And after the conference, there is anguish and disappointment that an articulate, enforceable, meaningful contract with the countries of the world—particularly the United States and China— was not achieved. We made a start, but there is so much work to do, and so little time.


WHAT COMES NEXT

As I walked back to my hotel, the encouragement from Desmond Tutu oddly turned to a feeling of inadequacy. I felt powerless, and wondered if there was a point to my presence in Copenhagen. Blocks later my thoughts turned darker, into a solid case of self pity.

I was thirsty, and stopped at a corner store for some water. I couldn’t tell if the clear liquids in the bottles on the shelves were filled with water or with alcohol, and then wondered if it mattered.

The man behind the counter asked where I was from.

“I’m from Seattle, how about you?”

“I’m from Santa Barbara, but it’s been a long time.”

Then, small talk about the weather, and “Why are you here?”

“I’m here for the climate change conference.”

“Ah yes, you are one of those who likes to talk, talk, talk, but then nothing ever comes of it.”

I took a breath, and paused a bit, and then said “Yes, I think I am.”

He took my measure, and then asked, “Well, what will you have?”

Thinking back on the day, I thought, oh hell: “I’ll have a Coke.”

As I counted out the coins, he asked me a bit more about what I did, and we chatted for a while. I talked with him about using stories and photography to take people to places they might never experience on their own, and show what is beautiful about the last remaining wild places on the planet, as well as the incessant, irrevocable threats.

At our core, all of us want to make a difference with our lives, and every individual action weaves together with others, gaining strength and volume. This is the only way anything of great social consequence ever gets done, and the only way the ongoing work after Copenhagen stands a chance. As I turned to leave, and reached the door, he said, “Hey—don’t give up.”

No, there is actually no chance of that.

_____

With appreciation to all of you who made our work possible in 2009. Heartfelt thanks from all of us at Braided River as we continue to draw attention to the most critical conservation issues of our time, and work to preserve the last remaining wild places in western North America.

Due to the generosity of foundations and individual donors, in 2009 we introduced two new books and campaigns, continued on with work launched in previous years to protect the Arctic, preserve wildlife corridors and the threatened species within these ecosystems. Three new ambitious and exciting projects are in the works for the years ahead. More information is at our website www.BraidedRiver.org.