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An interview with the long-shot candidate with a moonshot climate proposal
In a different world, maybe, Marianne Williamson is president.
There has been no such luck in this one — the 2020 campaign of the best-selling self-help author ended before the Iowa Democratic caucuses, her poll numbers never cresting the low single digits nationally. Though she managed to raise more money than either Washington Governor Jay Inslee or New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio during that time, most Americans likely best remember Williamson today for the memes and jokes about crystals, or the moment during one of the early, carnivalesque Democratic debates when she memorably warned Donald Trump that “I am going to harness love for political purposes and sir, love will win.”
Williamson is running again in 2024, a campaign that might seem even more quixotic than the last: After all, a primary challenger has never won a nomination against an incumbent president in modern U.S. history. During my Zoom conversation with her last week, she as much as admitted that we’re probably not living in a reality right now where the country would conceivably “elect me president.” (Williamson is facing other obstacles, too — there are reports of high turnover within her campaign as well as rumors of her alleged temper contributing to a toxic workplace culture, claims she’s pushed back on).
But if her 2020 campaign was often treated as a joke, the 2024 campaign is earning Williamson a cautious reappraisal. For one thing, she’s huge with the TikTok crowd. Though she was only polling around 9% this spring, that’s “higher than most of Donald Trump’s declared challengers in the GOP primary,” Politico noted at the time; Williamson also, by another poll’s findings, held 20% of the under-30 vote.
Some of the 2020 jokes have also started to look somewhat unfair in retrospect; Eric Adams, the mayor of New York City, is into crystals, too, but he hasn’t faced nearly the same gleeful mockery that Williamson has. Jacobin’s Liza Featherstone went as far as to write a piece earlier this year defending Williamson as a “serious” progressive candidate with a platform that is “essentially the Bernie Sanders 2016 and 2020 agenda.”
Much of the renewed attraction is related to Williamson’s climate agenda. When President Biden approved the Willow Project this spring, he alienated some of his young supporters who felt betrayed by his reneging on “no more drilling.” Williamson has been loudly critical of the Willow Project, and her campaign’s climate action statement is nearly 3,000 words long (and makes no less than three references to World War II).
Calling Williamson’s climate plan “ambitious” is an understatement: She promises everything from reaching “100 percent renewable energy” and phasing out fossil fuel vehicles by 2035; to decarbonizing all buildings by 2045; to investing half the federal funds for highways into transit. But as Williamson herself would say, “ambitious” is what we need. We spoke last week about her vision and what it would take to make it work.
Our conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.
I’m in London because my daughter had a baby.
Oh, of course I was. Yes, of course. I don’t know how nature could be any louder at this point. This is no longer about what will happen if we don’t act: This is about what is already happening. It wasn’t just the smoke on the East Coast and Canada, either. It was also all the dead fish in Texas. It’s unspeakable.
But our state of — I don’t know if it’s a state of denial. I think we have a critical mass of people who are no longer in denial. The problem is the sclerotic, paralytic nature of the political system in so many areas; the problem is not with the people.
I think the environmental movement has been successful at getting the word not just out, but in the hearts and minds of enough people. But our political system at this point does more to thwart than to facilitate. That’s why it’s so heartbreaking to see tens of thousands of people out on the street. The people are speaking but the voice of the people is not reflected in our political realities. It’s not expressed in our political policies because, obviously, the financial influence of big oil and other nefarious actors drowns out the voice of the people.
It’s going to take a certain kind of leader. There’s a book called No Ordinary Time about Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt during the Depression and World War II. And when Hitler was beginning his march to Europe, Roosevelt began to realize pretty early — particularly given conditions in England — that we had a serious problem here that would probably only be dealt with if the United States ended the war.
But there was a tremendous trend towards isolationism in that time particularly because of the experience of World War I. So Roosevelt knew that he couldn’t just decide to enter the war. He had to talk to the American people. That’s what the fireside chats were. He had to convince people. And if you have a leader who’s more concerned about following the leader, who’s more concerned about the donors than about, in this case, the survivability of the planet and the species that live on it, then you can’t blame the people for the fact that no one is doing what is necessary to harness the energy we need.
Well, the Inflation Reduction Act had some very nice investments in green energy. [Claps sarcastically]. Applause, applause, applause — until you see that he also approved the Willow Project. If you look at the effects of the Willow Project, that will nullify the effects of the energy investments. (Editors’ Note: The Willow Project is expected to increase annual American emissions by 9.2 million metric tons of carbon dioxide. According to the Rhodium Group, the IRA is projected to cut “439-660 million metric tons in 2030.”)
Plus you add to that the expansion of the military budget and you remember that the U.S. defense establishment, the U.S. military, is the single largest global institutional emitter of greenhouse gases. So this is how that establishment playbook works. Look at what I’m doing! Look at what I’m doing! I’m investing in green energy! I understand that the climate crisis is an existential threat, and I’m giving all this [money to] green energy, nobody’s given so much investment! And then over here, on the other hand, I’m giving more oil drilling permits even than Trump did. I’m approving the Willow Project, I’m expanding the military budget, and I’m approving the exploitation of liquefied natural gas — and we’ve been trained to just say, “oh, okay.”
My problem with nuclear energy is not that I don’t understand the technological advances that make it arguably a safe technology. I understand that. People have said to me so often, “Marianne, you’ve got to read this, Marianne you've got to read that, the technology has improved, it’s safe.” It’s not that I don’t trust the technology. It’s that I don’t trust people.
It’s not about the state of the technology; it’s about the state of our humanity and also the state of our climate. I mean, there’s no predicting weather. There are certain weather catastrophes that could and would override the safety measures of nuclear plants no matter what we did.
And I’m not convinced we need it. When World War II started, we basically had no standing army really. And England didn’t have anything. And Hitler not only had spent the last five years building up his military, but then he absorbed the industrial capacity of every country that he invaded. We had nothing, but you know what? We needed to get something. And we did — and that’s the issue here. The issue is not that we cannot technologically make this happen. The issue is harnessing the energy of the American people in such a way that enough of us want to.
If this country gets to the point where they would elect me president, it’s reasonable to assume it would also be at a place where they were ready to elect the kind of congressional and senatorial legislators who would agree with me and align with me in great enough numbers that my agenda could be effectuated.
[Laughing] Not necessarily.
There are many thousands of people in this country who make a living, pay their rent, put food on the table, and send their kids to college because they work at jobs that are at least indirectly related to the fossil fuel industry. That is not to be ignored. That is not to be underappreciated. There are people who would say, “Wait a minute, I make over $100,000 a year working for an oil company and you want me to make $15 an hour installing solar panels?” That person should not drop through the cracks.
Now, that’s gonna take a lot of mobilization right there when it comes to manufacturing, when it comes to research, when it comes to technology. We can move things laterally but we have to have the intention to do that.
The way I see it, we have a really, really, really big ship here. It’s headed for the iceberg. We’ve got to turn this thing around, but it can’t be turned around in a jackknife; it has to be turned around responsibly and wisely. And part of that, just transition, is respecting the needs of people. And the way we make that transition is very important to me. A lot of those people would not have voted for me, by the way.
I think a lot of people who would be fearful, in the short term, that they would lose out might not vote for me. But that would only be on the misperception that I underestimate their needs.
During the last campaign, I was basically living in Iowa. And I never had been that up close and personal with animals factory farming. And once you have experienced it, seen it, smelled it, you see it in a very different way. I mean, I conceptually know we should all be against cruelty to animals but then when you actually see what goes on, and then read more about slaughterhouses, et cetera, you recognize the moral imperative involved.
When you look at the history of the Western world, one of the historical phase transitions was the destruction of early pagan culture. And there was a time when women held aloft throughout the continent of Europe a sense of divine connection with the Earth, with the trees, with the waters, with the sky. And an early dispensation of Christianity was moving away from the notion of partnership with nature, to a very different paradigm in which nature was seen to have been created for mankind's utilitarian purposes.
Now even when you look at the natural order that way, humanity was instructed to be proper stewards of the world. But obviously, the way things unfolded… The hyper-capitalistic activity of big oil companies certainly does not display — and the laws that enabled that desecration to occur — do not reflect a reverence for the Earth or proper stewardship of it.
It was women who felt this natural connection to the Earth, who were the keepers of that flame and the consciousness of humanity at a particular place and a particular time. To me, feminism means not just standing for women, but standing for all feminine aspects of consciousness. And that means a greater sense of connection to nature, within ourselves, within each other, with animals, and with the Earth itself. So anything that empowers women, to me, increases our capacity to repair the Earth.
I’m an all-of-the-above type. But my natural holistic attitude towards things would be your second category. The first is transactional. Necessary, but not of themselves enough. Especially — I’m not an advocate for nuclear energy.
I don’t think of myself as an environmentalist; I think of myself as a human. You don’t have to call yourself an environmentalist to grieve what’s happening. Not that I wouldn’t call myself an environmentalist, it’s just I have enough labels, I don’t need another one.
I think we are disconnected from those things which are most important. We’ve lost over 50% of our bird species. Think how much more music there used to be in the air, how much more beauty.
I will tell you a moment that changed my life. It didn’t make me think, “Oh, I’m an environmentalist now.” But it impacted me in a way that nature never had before: When I went camping and hiking in the wilderness in Montana. That’s it.
I was one of those people — it’s almost embarrassing to admit this — but I thought, “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen pictures.” But once you go to certain places, you experience awe before nature. And destroying that mountaintop, oil drilling on that land, all the other things we do… You see the rivers, the creeks dying, the fish dying. Once again, it’s not because we were environmentalists. It’s because you’re a human with a modicum of connection to your soul.
East Palestine, Ohio, is a sacrifice zone. These things happen in the areas where people are the least able to absorb the pain. And I heard the fury, I saw the fury, I saw the decency, I saw the dignity, I saw the frustration, the bitterness, the despair, and in some cases, the hopelessness of people who had been not only neglected, abandoned, abused, and traumatized by Norfolk Southern, but had been re-traumatized by the neglect of their state and federal government.
I think we need to declare an emergency. I don’t say that lightly, by the way. And the powers of government should not be used like a bludgeon or meat cleaver. They should be used with appropriate nuance. Now, having said that, it has become clear to me that oil companies are not going to do this. The government, I believe, should act.
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Current conditions: Bosnia’s capital of Sarajevo is blanketed in a layer of toxic smog • Temperatures in Perth, in Western Australia, could hit 106 degrees Fahrenheit this weekend • It is cloudy in Washington, D.C., where lawmakers are scrambling to prevent a government shutdown.
The weather has gotten so weird that the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration is holding internal talks about how to adjust its models to produce more accurate forecasts, the Financial Timesreported. Current models are based on temperature swings observed over one part of the Pacific Ocean that have for years correlated consistently with specific weather phenomena across the globe, but climate change seems to be disrupting that cause and effect pattern, making it harder to predict things like La Niña and El Niño. Many forecasters had expected La Niña to appear by now and help cool things down, but that has yet to happen. “It’s concerning when this region we’ve studied and written all these papers on is not related to all the impacts you’d see with [La Niña],” NOAA’s Michelle L’Heureux told the FT. “That’s when you start going ‘uh-oh’ there may be an issue here we need to resolve.”
There is quite a lot of news coming out of the Department of Energy as the year (and the Biden administration) comes to an end. A few recent updates:
Walmart, the world’s largest retailer, does not expect to meet its 2025 or 2030 emissions targets, and is putting the blame on policy, infrastructure, and technology limitations. The company previously pledged to cut its emissions by 35% by next year, and 65% by the end of the decade. Emissions in 2023 were up 4% year-over-year.
Walmart
“While we continue to work toward our aspirational target of zero operational emissions by 2040, progress will not be linear … and depends not only on our own initiatives but also on factors beyond our control,” Walmart’s statement said. “These factors include energy policy and infrastructure in Walmart markets around the world, availability of more cost-effective low-GWP refrigeration and HVAC solutions, and timely emergence of cost-effective technologies for low-carbon heavy tractor transportation (which does not appear likely until the 2030s).”
BlackRock yesterday said it is writing down the value of its Global Renewable Power Fund III following the failure of Northvolt and SolarZero, two companies the fund had invested in. Its net internal rate of return was -0.3% at the end of the third quarter, way down from 11.5% in the second quarter, according toBloomberg. Sectors like EV charging, transmission, and renewable energy generation and storage have been “particularly challenged,” executives said, and some other renewables companies in the portfolio have yet to get in the black, meaning their valuations may be “more subjective and sensitive to evolving dynamics in the industry.”
Flies may be more vulnerable to climate change than bees are, according to a new study published in the Journal of Melittology. The fly haters among us might shrug at the finding, but the researchers insist flies are essential pollinators that help bolster ecosystem biodiversity and agriculture. “It’s time we gave flies some more recognition for their role as pollinators,” said lead author Margarita López-Uribe, who is the Lorenzo Langstroth Early Career Associate Professor of Entomology at Penn State. The study found bees can tolerate higher temperatures than flies, so flies are at greater risk of decline as global temperatures rise. “In alpine and subarctic environments, flies are the primary pollinator,” López-Uribe said. “This study shows us that we have entire regions that could lose their primary pollinator as the climate warms, which could be catastrophic for those ecosystems.”
“No one goes to the movies because they want to be scolded.” –Heatmap’s Jeva Lange writes about the challenges facing climate cinema, and why 2024 might be the year the climate movie grew up.
Whether you agree probably depends on how you define “climate movie” to begin with.
Climate change is the greatest story of our time — but our time doesn’t seem to invent many great stories about climate change. Maybe it’s due to the enormity and urgency of the subject matter: Climate is “important,” and therefore conscripted to the humorless realms of journalism and documentary. Or maybe it’s because of a misunderstanding on the part of producers and storytellers, rooted in an outdated belief that climate change still needs to be explained to an audience, when in reality they don’t need convincing. Maybe there’s just not a great way to have a character mention climate change and not have it feel super cringe.
Whatever the reason, between 2016 and 2020, less than 3% of film and TV scripts used climate-related keywords during their runtime, according to an analysis by media researchers at the University of Southern California. (The situation isn’t as bad in literature, where cli-fi has been going strong since at least 2013.) At least on the surface, this on-screen avoidance of climate change continued in 2024. One of the biggest movies of the summer, Twisters, had an extreme weather angle sitting right there, but its director, Lee Isaac Chung, went out of his way to ensure the film didn’t have a climate change “message.”
I have a slightly different take on the situation, though — that 2024 was actuallyfull of climate movies, and, I’d argue, that they’re getting much closer to the kinds of stories a climate-concerned individual should want on screen.
That’s because for the most part, when movies and TV shows have tackled the topic of climate change in the past, it’s been with the sort of “simplistic anger-stoking and pathos-wringing” that The New Yorker’s Richard Brody identified in 2022’s Don’t Look Up, the Adam McKay satire that became the primary touchpoint for scripted climate stories. At least it was kind of funny: More overt climate stories like last year’s Foe, starring Saoirse Ronan and Paul Mescal, and Extrapolations, the Apple TV+ show in which Meryl Streep voices a whale, are so self-righteous as to be unwatchable (not to mention, no fun).
But what if we widened our lens and weren’t so prescriptive? Then maybe Furiosa, this spring’s Mad Max prequel, becomes a climate change movie. The film is set during a “near future” ecological collapse, and it certainly makes you think about water scarcity and our overreliance on a finite extracted resource — but it also makes you think about how badass the Octoboss’ kite is. The same goes for Dune: Part Two, which made over $82 million in its opening weekend and is also a recognizable environmental allegory featuring some cool worms. Even Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire, a flop that most people have already memory-holed, revisitedThe Day After Tomorrow’s question of, “What if New York City got really, really, really cold?”
Two 2024 animated films with climate themes could even compete against each other at the Academy Awards next year. Dreamworks Animation’s The Wild Robot, one of the centerpiece films at this fall’s inaugural Climate Film Festival, is set in a world where sea levels have risen to submerge the Golden Gate Bridge, and it impresses on its audience the importance of protecting the natural world. And in Gints Zilbalodis’ Flow, one of my favorite films of the year, a cat must band together with other animals to survive a flood.
Flow also raises the question of whether a project can unintentionally be a climate movie. Zilbalodis told me that making a point about environmental catastrophe wasn’t his intention — “I can’t really start with the message, I have to start with the character,” he said — and to him, the water is a visual metaphor in an allegory about overcoming your fears.
But watching the movie in a year when more than a thousand people worldwide have died in floods, and with images of inundated towns in North Carolina still fresh in mind, it’s actually climate change itself that makes one watch Flow as a movie about climate change. (I’m not the only one with this interpretation, either: Zilbalodis told me he’d been asked by one young audience member if the flood depicted in his film is “the future.”)
Perhaps this is how we should also consider Chung’s comments about Twisters. While nobody in the film says the words “climate change” or “global warming,” the characters note that storms are becoming exceptional — “we've never seen tornadoes like this before,” one says. Despite the director’s stated intention not to make the movie “about” climate change, it becomes a climate movie by virtue of what its audiences have experienced in their own lives.
Still, there’s that niggling question: Do movies like these, which approach climate themes slant-wise, really count? To help me decide, I turned to Sam Read, the executive director of the Sustainable Entertainment Alliance, an advocacy consortium that encourages environmental awareness both on set and on screen. He told me that to qualify something as a “climate” movie or TV show, some research groups look to see if climate change exists in the world of the story or whether the characters acknowledge it. Other groups consider climate in tiers, such as whether a project has a climate premise, theme, or simply a moment.
The Sustainable Entertainment Alliance, however, has no hard rules. “We want to make sure that we support creatives in integrating these stories in whatever way works for them,” Read told me.
Read also confirmed my belief that there seemed to be an uptick in movies this year that were “not about climate change but still deal with things that feel very climate-related, like resource extraction.” There was even more progress on this front in television, he pointed out: True Detective: Night Country wove in themes of environmentalism, pollution, mining, and Indigenous stewardship; the Max comedy Hacks featured an episode about climate change this season; and Industry involved a storyline about taking a clean energy company public, with some of the characters even attending COP. Even Doctor Odyssey, a cruise ship medical drama that airs on USA, worked climate change into its script, albeit in ridiculous ways. (Also worth mentioning: The Netflix dating show Love is Blind cast Taylor Krause, who works on decarbonizing heavy industry at RMI.)
We can certainly do more. As many critics before me have written, it’s still important to draw a connection between things like environmental catastrophes and the real-world human causes of global warming. But the difference between something being “a climate movie” and propaganda — however true its message, or however well-intentioned — is thin. Besides, no one goes to the movies because they want to be scolded; we want to be moved and distracted and entertained.
I’ve done my fair share of complaining over the past few years about how climate storytelling needs to grow up. But lately I’ve been coming around to the idea that it’s not the words “climate change” appearing in a script that we need to be so focused on. As 2024’s slate of films has proven to me — or, perhaps, as this year’s extreme weather events have thrown into relief — there are climate movies everywhere.
Keep ‘em coming.
They might not be worried now, but Democrats made the same mistake earlier this year.
Permitting reform is dead in the 118th Congress.
It died earlier this week, although you could be forgiven for missing it. On Tuesday, bipartisan talks among lawmakers fell apart over a bid to rewrite parts of the National Environmental Policy Act. The changes — pushed for by Representative Bruce Westerman, chairman of the House Natural Resources Committee — would have made it harder for outside groups to sue to block energy projects under NEPA, a 1970 law that governs the country’s process for environmental decisionmaking.
When those talks died, they also killed a separate deal over permitting struck earlier this year between Senator Joe Manchin of West Virginia and Senator John Barrasso of Wyoming. That deal, as I detailed last week, would have loosened some federal rules around oil and gas drilling in exchange for a new, quasi-mandatory scheme to build huge amounts of long-distance transmission.
Rest in peace, I suppose. Even if lawmakers could not agree on NEPA changes, I think Republicans made a mistake by not moving forward with the Manchin-Barrasso deal. (I still believe that the standalone deal could have passed the Senate and the House if put to a vote.) At this point, I do not think we will see another shot at bipartisan permitting reform until at least late 2026, when the federal highway law will need fresh funding.
But it is difficult to get too upset about this failure because larger mistakes have since compounded the initial one. On Wednesday, Republican Speaker Mike Johnson’s bipartisan deal to fund the government — which is, after all, a much more fundamental task of governance than rewriting some federal permitting laws — fell apart, seemingly because Donald Trump and Elon Musk decided they didn’t like it. If I can indulge in the subjunctive for a moment: That breakdown might have likely killed any potential permitting deal, too. So even in a world where lawmakers somehow did strike a deal earlier this week, it might already be dead. (As I write this, the House GOP has reportedly reached a new deal to fund the government through March, which has weakened or removed provisions governing pharmacy benefit managers and limiting American investments in China.)
The facile reading of this situation is that Republicans now hold the advantage. The Trump administration will soon be able to implement some of the fossil fuel provisions in the Manchin-Barrasso deal through the administrative state. Trump will likely expand onshore and offshore drilling, will lease the government’s best acreage to oil and gas companies, and will approve as many liquified natural gas export terminals as possible. His administration will do so, however, without the enhanced legal protection that the deal would have provided — and while those protections are not a must-have, especially with a friendly Supreme Court, their absence will still allow environmental groups to try to run down the clock on some of Trump’s more ambitious initiatives.
Republicans believe that they will be able to get parts of permitting reform done in a partisan reconciliation bill next year. These efforts seem quite likely to run aground, at least as long as something like the current rules governing reconciliation bills hold. I have heard some crazy proposals on this topic — what if skipping a permitting fight somehow became a revenue-raiser for the federal government? — but even they do not touch the deep structure of NEPA in the way a bipartisan compromise could. As Westerman toldPolitico’s Josh Siegel: “We need 60 votes in the Senate to get real permitting reform … People are just going to have to come to an agreement on what permitting reform is.” In any case, Manchin and the Democrats already tried to reform the permitting system via a partisan reconciliation bill and found it essentially impossible.
Even if reconciliation fails, Republicans say, they will still be in a better negotiating position next year than this year because the party will control a few more Senate votes. But will they? The GOP will just have come off a difficult fight over tax reform. Twelve or 24 months from now, demands on the country’s electricity grid are likely to be higher than they are today, and the risk of blackouts will be higher than before. The lack of a robust transmission network will hinder the ability to build a massive new AI infrastructure, as some of Trump’s tech industry backers hope. But 12 or 24 months from now, too, Democrats — furious at Trump — are not going to be in a dealmaking mood, and Republicans have relatively few ways to bring them to the table.
In any case, savvy Republicans should have realized that it is important to get supply-side economic reforms done as early in a president’s four-year term as possible. Such changes take time to filter through the system and turn into real projects and real economic activity; passing the law as early as possible means that the president’s party can enjoy them and campaign on them.
All of it starts to seem more and more familiar. When Manchin and Barrasso unveiled their compromise earlier this year, Democrats didn’t act quickly on it. They felt confident that the window for a deal wouldn’t close — and they looked forward to a potential trifecta, when they would be able to get even more done (and reject some of Manchin’s fossil fuel-friendly compromises).
Democrats, I think, wound up regretting the cavalier attitude that they brought to permitting reform before Trump’s win. But now the GOP is acting the same way: It is rejecting compromises, believing that it will be able to strike a better deal on permitting issues during its forthcoming trifecta. That was a mistake when Democrats did it. I think it will be a mistake for Republicans, too.