You’re out of free articles.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Sign In or Create an Account.
By continuing, you agree to the Terms of Service and acknowledge our Privacy Policy
Welcome to Heatmap
Thank you for registering with Heatmap. Climate change is one of the greatest challenges of our lives, a force reshaping our economy, our politics, and our culture. We hope to be your trusted, friendly, and insightful guide to that transformation. Please enjoy your free articles. You can check your profile here .
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Subscribe to get unlimited Access
Hey, you are out of free articles but you are only a few clicks away from full access. Subscribe below and take advantage of our introductory offer.
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Create Your Account
Please Enter Your Password
Forgot your password?
Please enter the email address you use for your account so we can send you a link to reset your password:
Investing in red states doesn’t make defying Trump any safer.

In the end, it was what the letters didn’t say.
For months — since well before the 2024 election — when asked about the future health and safety of the clean energy tax credits in the Inflation Reduction Act, advocates and industry folks would point to the 20 or so House Republicans (sometimes more, sometimes fewer) who would sign on to public statements urging their colleagues to preserve at least some of the law. Better not to pull out the rug from business investment, they argued. Especially not investment in their districts.
These letters were “reassuring to a lot of folks in clean energy and climate communities,” Chris Moyer, the founder of Echo Communications and a former staffer for longtime Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, told me.
“I never felt reassured,” Moyer added.
Plenty of people did, though. The home solar company Sunrun, for instance, told investors in a presentation earlier this month that a “growing number of Republicans in Congress — including 39 overall House members and four Senators — publicly support maintaining energy tax credits through various letters over the past few months.” The company added that “we expect a range of draft proposals to be issued, possibly including draconian scenarios, but we expect any extreme proposals will be moderated as they progress.”
Instead, the draft language got progressively worse for the residential solar industry, with the version that passed the House Thursday morning knocking billions of dollars off the sector, as tax credits were further squeezed to help make room for other priorities that truly posed an existential threat to the bill’s passage.
What Sunrun and others appear to have failed to notice — or at least publicly acknowledge — is that while these representatives wanted to see tax credits preserved, they never specified what they would do if their wishes were disregarded. Unlike the handful of Republicans who threatened to tank the bill over expanding the deduction for state and local taxes (each of whom signed one of the tax credit letters, at some point), or the Freedom Caucus, who tend to vote no on any major fiscal bill that doesn’t contain sizable spending cuts (so, until now, every budget bill), the tax credit Republicans never threatened to kill the bill entirely.
Ultimately, the only Republicans to outright oppose the bill did so because it didn’t cut the deficit enough. All of the House Republicans who signed letters or statements in support of clean energy tax credits voted yes on the legislation, with a single exception: New York’s Andrew Garbarino, who reportedly slept through the roll call. (He later said he would have voted for it had he been awake.)
“The coalition of interests effectively persuaded Republican members that tax credits were driving investment in their districts and states,” Pavan Venkatakrishnan, an infrastructure fellow at the Institute for Progress, told me in a text message. “Where advocates fell short was in convincing them that preserving energy tax credits — especially for mature technologies Republicans often view skeptically — should take precedence over preventing Medicaid cuts or addressing parochial concerns like SALT.”
The Inflation Reduction Act itself was, after all, advanced on a party-line basis, as was Biden’s 2021 American Rescue Plan. Combined, those two bills received a single Democratic no vote and no Republican yes votes.
In the end, Moyer said, Republican House members in the current Congress were under immense political pressure to support what is likely to be the sole major piece of legislation advanced this year by President Trump — one that contained a number of provisions, especially on SALT, that they agreed with.
“There are major consequences for individual house members who vote against the president’s agenda,” Moyer said. “They made a calculation. They knew they were going to take heat either way. They would rather take heat from clean energy folks and people affected by the projects.”
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
White House officials and outside analysts frequently touted job creation linked to IRA investments in Republican House districts and states as a tangible benefit of the law that would make it politically impossible to overturn, even as Congress and the White House turned over.
“President’s Biden’s policies are leading to more than 330,000 new clean energy jobs already created, more than half of which are in Republican-held districts,” White House communications director Ben LaBolt told reporters last year, previewing a speech President Biden would give on climate change.
Even after Biden had been defeated, White House climate advisor Ali Zaidi told Bloomberg that “we have grown the political consensus around the Inflation Reduction Act through its execution,” citing one of the House Republican letters in support of the clean energy tax credits.
One former Biden White House climate official told me that having projects in Republican districts was thought by the IRA’s crafters to make the bill more politically sustainable — but only so much.
“A [freaking] battery factory is not going to save democracy,” the official told me, referencing more ambitious claims that the tax credits could lead to more Democratic electoral victories. (The official asked to remain anonymous in order not to jeopardize their current professional prospects.) Instead, “it was supposed to make it slightly harder for Republicans to overturn the subsidies.”
Congresspeople worried about jobs weren’t supposed to be the only things that would preserve the bill, either, the official added. Clean energy and energy-dependent sectors, they thought, should be able to effectively advocate for themselves.
To the extent that business interests were able to win a hearing with House Republicans, they were older, more traditionally conservative industries such as nuclear, manufacturing, agriculture, and oil and gas.The biofuels industry (i.e. liquid Big Agriculture) won an extension of its tax credit, 45Z. The oil and gas industry’s favored measure, the 45Q tax credit for carbon sequestration, was minimally fettered. Nuclear power was the one sector whose treatment notably improved between the initial draft from the House’s tax-writing committee and the version voted on Thursday. Advanced nuclear facilities can still claim tax credits if they start construction by 2029, while other clean energy projects have to start construction within 60 days of the bill’s passage and be in service by the end of 2028.
“I think these outcomes are unsurprising. In places where folks consistently engaged, things were protected,” a Republican lobbyist told me, referring to manufacturing, biofuels, and nuclear power, requesting anonymity because they weren’t authorized to speak publicly. “But assuming a project in a district would guarantee a no vote on a large package was always a mistake.”
“The relative success of nuclear is a testament to the importance of having strong champions — predictable but notable show of political might,” a second Republican lobbyist told me, who was also not allowed to speak publicly about the bill.
But all hope isn’t lost yet. The Senate still has to pass something that the House will agree with. Some senators had made noises about how nuclear, hydropower, and geothermal were treated in the initial language.
“Budget reconciliation is, first and foremost, a fiscal exercise,” Venkatakrishnan told me. “Energy tax credits offer a path of least resistance for hitting lawmakers’ fiscal targets. As the Senate takes up this bill, the case must be made that the marginal $100 billion to $200 billion in cuts seriously jeopardizes grid reliability and energy innovation.” Whether that will be enough to generate meaningful opposition in the Senate, however, is the $600 billion question.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
On simplified oil and gas leases, lawsuits over plastic and coal, and a new climate research database
Current conditions: The U.K.’s Met Office issued its second-ever Red Extreme Heat Warning for Wednesday and Thursday • A wildfire near Eureka, Utah forced the town’s evacuation • Flash flood warnings are in effect today for Southern Massachusetts.
Lucid Motors is downsizing, again. The electric vehicle maker is laying off 18% of its staff just a few months after a 12% reduction in force in February, according to Electrek. The company also eliminated a second production shift at its factory in Casa Grande, Arizona. EV sales plummeted in the U.S. after the federal EV tax credit expired in September. While many automakers are canceling new electric vehicle lines in the U.S., Lucid hasn’t axed any plans yet, and will be releasing its first lower-cost EV, the Lucid Cosmos SUV, later this year with a price tag under $50,000. It’s also preparing to launch a robotaxi service later this year in partnership with Uber and the autonomous driving technology company Nuro. According to Lucid’s new CEO, Silvio Napoli, the staff cuts will help “simplify the company, sharpen execution, and position Lucid to become more competitive over time.”

Trump’s environmental deregulation crusade continues. The Interior Department proposed several changes to the rules governing oil and gas leasing on federal lands Monday that would limit public input and cut costs for companies. Under existing rules, which were updated during the Biden administration, companies must maintain a minimum bond of $500,000 for each state where they hold leases to cover the cost of capping oil and gas wells when they are done drilling. Trump’s proposal would reduce the requirement to $25,000, shifting the financial risk of remediation to state taxpayers. The new rules would also shorten public participation periods from 90 days to 10, and get rid of a requirement that companies include plans to minimize methane emissions when they apply for drilling permits.
Red states are going after California, this time for its nation-leading plastic regulations. In 2022, the Golden State passed a law setting plastic waste reduction targets and requiring companies to cover the cost of recycling of their own products. The state aims to cut single-use plastic packaging on products by 25% by 2032. Now, 17 attorneys general from red states have teamed up with the National Association of Wholesaler-Distributors, a trade group, to sue California, arguing that the rules represent an “unprecedented overreach” that will increase the cost of goods throughout the country.
Sign up to receive Heatmap AM in your inbox every morning:
In the first case of its kind, 10 Australians are suing the government for violating their human rights by failing to limit fossil fuel production. The claimants, each of whom has been personally affected by climate change-fueled extreme weather, brought the case to the United Nations’ Human Rights Committee on Monday. Some of them have lost their homes to wildfires and floods, while others have experienced health impacts from heat waves. The case follows a 2025 ruling by the International Court of Justice that all governments have an obligation to protect people from climate change, citing support for fossil fuel production and consumption as a potential violation of this obligation. While that ruling didn’t have any enforcement power, it teed up the potential for country-level claims like this one in Australia. The country is the second largest exporter of coal in the world and the third largest exporter of liquified natural gas.
The rumors were true. The Trump administration has appointed Travis Kavulla, a former utility regulator and power company executive, to lead the Bonneville Power Administration, a federal agency that sells electricity from the government’s hydroelectric dams in the Pacific Northwest. Kavulla arrives as the agency prepares for a controversial exit from California’s real-time electricity trading market to join a new day-ahead market overseen by the Southwest Power Pool, a regional transmission organization. Environmental groups are urging Kavulla reconsider the decision, arguing that it risks raising energy costs for Northwest ratepayers.
The climate change research and news site Carbon Brief debuted Project Cosmos on Monday, the world’s largest database of research on the warming planet. It includes more than 1.8 million publications and “captures the vast body of human knowledge about climate change that has accumulated over more than a century of academic study.” The architects created a stunning “star” map that visualizes the collection by clustering of fields of study, such as medicine, chemistry, or agriculture. They also identified the 500 most-cited studies and scientists, with French carbon cycle modeler Philippe Ciais earning the top spot.
It sidesteps the questions that doomed the Green New Deal.
Socialists are rising in American cities.
It’s not just Mayor Zohran Mamdani in New York City — though he is the most popular and charismatic example. Janeese Lewis George, a member of the Democratic Socialists of America, just won the Democratic mayoral nomination in Washington, D.C. Nithya Raman, another DSA member, will take on the incumbent Karen Bass in Los Angeles’ mayoral race. And on Tuesday, Democratic primary voters across New York will vote on a handful of Mamdani-backed socialists running for Congress.
What’s driving the popularity of urban socialism? The answer matters for climate policy and, of course, much else. You could argue the trend is downstream of demographics: As liberals have flocked to cities, they have pushed the political climate to the left, and sometimes that can erupt in outliers; New York elects socialists, in this model, for the same reason Tennessee picks libertarians. Or you could claim it’s part of the broader and more global shift of voters turning away from a seemingly dead center to political extremes.
Yet none of these frameworks quite suffices. For one, as New York Times columnist David Wallace-Wells observed recently, New York was actually trending to the GOP before it elected Mamdani. (It had the biggest Republican swing of any state in the 2024 election.) And the rise of urban socialism is now too widespread to be a mere aberration attributable only to local factors. So Wallace-Wells offered his own theory: “It is in cities that voters most routinely encounter, and thereby come to value, public goods,” he wrote.
I want to offer another explanation for why socialism has taken root in local government — and it has to do with the recent history of climate policy in the United States, and what that history revealed. Perhaps it’s my curse to understand all politics through the lens of emissions and energy, but I think it is relevant here: While recent city elections have not been about climate per se, many of today’s rising socialists initially came to their beliefs because of the urgency of decarbonization. Mamdani himself once identified as an “ecosocialist,” and Raman was first elected promising to get L.A. to carbon neutrality. And it was in the era that they made these claims — the era of insurgent left-wing climate politics — that one of the movement’s biggest challenges was revealed.
The story begins in November 2018. After securing her unlikely primary victory against an incumbent Democrat, Representative-elect Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez cemented her national profile by joining an activist group called the Sunrise Movement for a sit-in in Nancy Pelosi’s office and demanding something called a Green New Deal.
What a Green New Deal might entail, exactly, nobody seemed to know. Even the Green New Deal’s supporters called for little more than a select committee to develop a “detailed national, industrial, economic mobilization plan” to phase the country off fossil fuels. But a think tank called New Consensus, led and funded in part by Ocasio-Cortez’s then-chief of staff Saikat Chakrabati, declared that it would flesh out the proposal.
Soon a vision congealed. The phrase “Green New Deal” had long referred to the journalist Thomas Friedman’s broad, patriotic, and vague plan to “revitalize America.” New Consensus’ website made it clear that their scheme, too, aimed for national rejuvenation: A Green New Deal would be a galvanizing industrial strategy that would decarbonize the economy, put young people back to work, and ensure American greatness for another century. It was all about “industrial policy, industrial policy, industrial policy,” one of the group’s researchers told me.
That moment soon collapsed. Political ineptitude was partly to blame. In early 2019, Ocasio-Cortez published a document that jocularly implied the Green New Deal aimed to eliminate “cow farts and airplanes,” cratering its wider popularity. But the proposal faced internal critics, too, because its inherent patriotism was not palatable to the movement itself. American rejuvenation, it turned out, was not an acceptable or desirable goal to the left’s anti-imperial flank, which on its own had the power to discredit and destroy any Green New Deal coalition.
And so over time, the left’s climate vision — and the state-building “Green New Deal” that groups like Sunrise once clamored for — instead became anti-imperial. Instead of revitalizing the country’s industrial might, it sought to pacify and dismantle the military industrial complex. Instead of putting young men to work building batteries and electric vehicles, it aimed to create a new socialized economy centered around “care work” — care for children, care for the elderly, care for the natural world.
This transition was partly rooted in objective economic analysis — manufacturing really is becoming less labor-intensive, while healthcare and child care are gobbling up Americans’ incomes — but partly in a more ideological revulsion at the idea of American power itself. If you see the United States not as a flawed, fraught, but fixable actor in global politics, and instead as a failing empire upholding a disastrous and criminal global order, then any policy that strengthens the country’s economic base is impermissible and evil.
Why do I bring all of this up now? Because that episode revealed challenges the modern socialist movement has never figured out how to resolve at the national level. Take Darializa Avila Chevalier, for instance, a Mamdani-backed DSA candidate running in New York’s 13th congressional district. Chevalier seems to oppose the modern system of states in any recognizable sense. In a (since deleted) 2019 post, she tweeted that a “world without borders” is “necessary” and “the only moral way forward.” Even in a recent interview, she was so uncomfortable with the state’s power of coercion and incarceration that she declined to affirm murderers should go to jail. Yet she still wants what only a state can provide; her big issues include universal health care and a $15 minimum wage.
Many contemporary leftists find themselves in her position: They want the fruits of a strong state while remaining fundamentally suspicious of states themselves. That can make them skittish and unreliable partners in any national progressive coalition — many self-identified socialists simply don’t trust that even extremely progressive policy will redound to their benefit. (This centripetal mistrust is part of what tore apart the Biden coalition, even before October 7.)
Cities, however, don’t have this problem. They are powerful governments that are not sovereign states: They lack a military, a currency, a central bank, and a foreign policy. From the anti-imperialist’s perspective, there is little risk in making city governments stronger. In this way, many of the tensions inherent in the Green New Deal and other late 2010s progressive proposals are eased in urban government. Cities are a much more natural home for the new left, and its contradictions, than the federal government.
After all, many ecosocialists never quite knew how to feel about patriotism or the future of the United States. (Many might profess doubts about whether the United States should exist at all.) But they know what they want Brooklyn, or Los Angeles, or Oakland to be, and their vision — of a high-tax polity with abundant public leisure, mass transit, and zero-carbon electricity — is much closer to reality in cities, anyway.
It helps, too, that in an era where negative news predominates, cities are small enough for people to feel some pride in them. Nobody experiences “the United States” as anything other than a quasi-mediated phenomenon. Our vast, beautiful, and complicated country of 345 million people is simply too big to keep in our heads. But New Yorkers experience New York City every day — we shop, work, ride the subway, walk in the park, go to parades, and meet strangers often enough to identify with the reality of this 8 million person city. As a longtime veteran of city politics pointed out to me in private after the mayor’s win, Mamdani ran an extremely patriotic campaign — but the patriotism was for New York itself. He evinced a joy and confidence in the virtue of the New York City experiment that few leftists would extend to the American experiment. You could even argue that the flush of adoration for the patrie that the French felt in the 1780s, as they read a newly liberated press, might not be so different from what New Yorkers feel when they watch an Instagram reel celebrating Knicks in five.
In any case, socialists might soon have to confront more of these contradictions: As mayor, Mamdani has adopted an essentially status quo approach to the NYPD; if his chosen candidates win in congressional primaries on Tuesday, then they will discover their own willingness to compromise. But even that will be, in a sense, a luxury. Chakrabati, after leaving Ocasio-Cortez’s camp, ran his own campaign for Pelosi’s old San Francisco seat this year. He came in third place with 18% of the vote.
Director Josh Fox on his latest film, The Welcome Table, plus Shakespearean comedy and the New York Knicks.
After images of oil-slicked waterfowl and marching protesters, there is perhaps no visual more representative of the fossil fuel crisis than the flaming faucet in Josh Fox’s 2010 documentary GasLand. The film, which investigated how the fracking boom pollutes local communities, memorably included a scene of a man lighting his kitchen tap water on fire as methane spewed out through the contaminated water line. As one reporter wrote several years after its initial release, GasLand was the film that made “fracking” a household word in the United States.
Over 16 years and about a quarter of a million more American oil and gas wells later, the climate crisis caused by human use of fossil fuels has grown ever more acute. The emissions from burning those hydrocarbons have made the weather more extreme and unpredictable, of course, but they’re also reshaping the human landscape. In 2021, a team of international scientists published a report warning that a third of the world’s population, some 3.5 billion people, may be forced to leave their homes over the next 50 years due to the increasingly hot and unstable climate.
Even as it’s become more critical to make room for these new climate refugees, anti-immigrant politics have gone mainstream around the world. Studies have shown that both Republicans and Democrats become more xenophobic after learning about climate migration, while the annual refugee admission cap is now just 7,500 in the U.S., down 85% from its peak of 50,000 during the first Trump administration.
This week, Fox returns with a new documentary, The Welcome Table. In the film, which will be released on HBO, he travels around the globe, visiting communities in decline — places where the physical catastrophes and political climates have converged to make it impossible to continue living. But as he and I discussed in our conversation below, this story is not a tragedy; rather, Fox aims to answer how we can set the table and embrace neighbors who’ve lost their homes. And here’s the good news: It involves a lot of fun.
Our conversation has been lightly edited and condensed.
Reportage on climate migration almost always focuses on the people who are migrating. What struck me about your documentary was its emphasis on the other subject in this relationship — the people and communities who either receive or exclude the refugees. Can you tell me how you arrived at that starting point?
Well, I’ll tell you a funny story. I first started working on this in 2019 because I was so outraged at the policy of child separation. I went down to El Paso — which you see in part of the movie — to investigate issues of the border. I originally thought of the movie as The Border Table, where we were going to put a table on the border for people to come to from both sides, and we were looking for a section of the border that didn’t have a wall.
I quickly realized that the issues around the border were not my wheelhouse — it is its own subject — and I wanted to focus more broadly on the climate. I was doing an event for Bernie Sanders’ 2020 campaign where I was called to go to Columbia, South Carolina, with Nina Turner, Dr. Cornel West, and Bernie to talk about water issues. My flight came in, then Dr. West’s, and it was like 10 at night. We got in a rental car with Heather Gautney, who’s also an amazing activist. There was no place to eat — everything was closed — so we’re sitting in the back of a rental car, myself and Dr. West, and eating McDonald’s, and he’s like, “What are you working on?” And I said, “Well, we’re working on this film called The Border Table.” He goes, “Oh, well, you know, James Baldwin’s last book was called The Welcome Table, but nobody’s ever read it. He never finished it.” And I thought: The Welcome Table, The Welcome Table… That’s interesting, it’s a better title.
Then I was down in New Orleans, and I went to one of my favorite clubs and saw John Boutté. John and I immediately hit it off. He knew my work. He signed one of his records, and lo and behold, I look on the record, and there’s the song: “The Welcome Table.” Immediately I thought, Well, this movie has to start with John Boutté. From the moment I met him, I felt that there was this weird destiny that was happening.
I said, “John, I want you to sing this song to an empty table on the top of the levee, and at the end of the movie, you’re going to sing the song with 1,000 people at a 1,000-foot-long table, and we’re going to show the Welcome Table as this symbol of togetherness and generosity.” Because my question was, What’s the opposite of a wall? What’s stronger than this xenophobia, this racism, this hate, this militarization? Is there anything stronger than that fascist ideology? And I realized that a wall on its side can be a table. The wall is just a metaphor.
So The Welcome Table is essentially a movie about a song. It’s a movie about imagining a future where we can sing and not get tired, where we’re in a beautiful city and have a place at the table.
In a 2023 interview, you described The Welcome Table as a Shakespearian comedy. I’m curious if you still feel that way and can explain it?
All climate movies are tragedies. They’re about the tragic flaw of this civilization, how we’re all doing ourselves in. A comedy is where everybody gets married at the end. That’s what happens at the end of As You Like It, Twelfth Night, The Two Gentlemen of Verona. At the end of Hamlet, there’s just bodies all over the floor.
To me, that table with 1,000 New Orleanians celebrating, waving handkerchiefs, second lining, having the band — it is a sort of marriage, right? I mean, at every wedding in New Orleans, you have one of those bands. To me, it’s a marriage of true minds; it’s a marriage of our communities; and it’s a question of finding our solidarity and our togetherness. The idea is that we have to be bound to each other.
It’s also a hell of a lot more fun.
You note that climate migration would be the greatest mass migration in human history, with a third of the world projected to move in the next 50 years. But the Welcome Table is already pretty crowded at the end of the movie. How do you navigate that tension in climate storytelling — saying both “this is urgent and happening now” but also “it will also get worse”?
My last film on HBO was How to Let Go of the World and Love All the Things Climate Can’t Change [in 2016], in which we trace the path to 2 degrees Celsius and how dangerously close we were at that time. Now things have gotten worse. We include a climate science update midway through The Welcome Table, which is very dire.
But I think this is probably one of the first movies to deal with climate change as it’s happening now. It’s not saying, in the future this will happen, like An Inconvenient Truth. No, this is a fire right now. We’ve never had conditions that are this hot or this dry. This is a giant mega-storm, back-to-back Category 5s flattening the Virgin Islands. This is a famine that’s been going on for seven years because it hasn’t rained in northern Kenya. This is landslides where you have a whole year’s worth of rain drop in 12 hours and the mud buries whole neighborhoods alive.
This is climate change happening to us right now. It’s not predicting a dire future; it’s showing the one that we predicted 10 years ago.
A recurring pattern in the film is that climate migration doesn’t necessarily mean leaving one’s country, but could mean moving a town or neighborhood or two over. Can you talk a little more about how this was still a traumatic upheaval for your subjects, and why you include those stories alongside the more traditional images of refugees on boats or at the southern border?
If you think about New Orleans after Katrina, they lost half their population to elsewhere. And there is no place like New Orleans anywhere on earth. So you are losing something really fundamental to who you are. And, you know, it’s not as if when Paradise, California, burns down, they’re like, “You can set up your place in Chico! We have tons of empty houses and buildings and money and love for you!” No, it’s: Go [expletive] live in your car. So the idea that you’re a climate refugee doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ve had to cross borders. It just means you’ve lost everything.
I wanted to make the point that the Convention on Refugees defines refugees as people who are oppressed because of politics or because of identity or economic hardship or political violence, but it doesn’t include climate change. And it really should. Climate change should be a reason you can declare asylum, because climate change also makes all of those problems way worse.
I was extremely moved by the fact that many of the people extending their hands to refugees in this movie have faced their own forms of rejection and exile, like the members of the queer mutual aid network that comes together organically in Brazil. But how do we get through to the people who are comfortable in their lives? Yes, there are many empathetic, good people, but I also worry there are many scared, small-minded people, too.
I don’t know how to answer that question in general, but I do know from experience that when we were working on fracking issues, it was the moms who were terrified that their children were going to be poisoned by the chemicals in the water and in the air. Those moms were the backbone of our organizing and our audience, and they were fierce in defending their children’s futures. I think what has to be gotten across is that same generational obligation.
One of the things that we cut out of the film, for time, that I’m sad about is: In Paradise, California, and in Boulder, Colorado, where we covered those fires, the rent goes up 300% after the fire. So your $800 apartment is now a $2,400 apartment. But also, nobody should move to those places. They’re going to be contaminated for decades. Everything you have in your house is basically toxic because of the oil industry, and it becomes 10 times more so if you light it on fire, then pour fire retardant sprays on top of it, which are also carcinogens. Then it rains, and all that’s in the water table. There will be cancer clusters in those fire neighborhoods if people move back into them. It’s so serious that I won’t go to one of those places for more than a couple of hours, and I’m wearing a respirator mask.
And we’re not being upfront about that. Get parents involved and understanding that the legacy of their children means that they have to stop using fossil fuels, and we have to dismantle this system of fascism to do it. They are interrelated. Oil is the blood of climate change, but it’s also the blood of this extractive capitalist system.
Do you have any final thoughts you want to leave with our readers?
I would like to see this 1,000-foot-long Welcome Table brought to cities across America and around the world. It’s not just a scene for the movie; it’s a template for our activism. We’ve got to get really good at welcoming people, because either we’re going to be on the move ourselves because we’ve lost our homes due to climate, or we’ll be welcoming those who’ve lost their homes. One way to do this is to practice singing together, hanging out together, and having a good time.
If there’s anything this week in New York City, and my beloved New York Knicks, have gone to show, it’s that collective joy is possible. We don’t need to win a basketball game to have that, though, and that’s what The Welcome Table shows: Collective joy for the sake of collective joy. Coming together to celebrate migration, to celebrate the crisis, to celebrate how, as human beings, we have this ability to sing, dance, and move — boy, that’s a fun time. Our side is more fun. A wall on its side can be a table, and it’s time to envision a different future.