A: ‘Nooooo, don’t go there!’ B: ‘Yes, you must!’ A: ‘Noooooo I don’t want to and you can’t make me. I just want to stay inside.’ B: ‘That’s why you must.’ A: ‘But it’s sooooo complicated; I don’t want to think about it. I just want to close the curtains and wait till it’s all over.’ B: ‘And that’s precisely the point: you cannot just ignore it or ‘manifest’ it away.’ A: ‘I don’t appreciate your tone. You do you and I will do me.’ B: ‘Suit yourself, but don’t blame me when everything goes to sh*t.’
That was just an excerpt of the conversation going on in my head these past weeks; a heated argument between escapist-privileged-me (A) and armchair-climate-activist-me (B). Armchair-climate-activist-me won. You see, I had planned to write a completely different blog post this week about bad ideas. (Not to worry, it will keep; I suspect the theme ‘bad ideas’ won’t lose its’ relevancy any time soon). But as my week progressed, it became harder and harder for me to ignore the planet’s desperate histrionics. In the end, I reached my tipping point and, somewhat deflatingly, decided to give in to Mother Nature’s frantic calls for help (let’s face it; she’s having to deal with a far more critical tipping point at the moment).
This post is written against the backdrop of erratic weather both at home and abroad, a Dutch TV programme called ‘Black-Out’, the most farcical of Climate Change Conference hosting countries (on par with Qatar hosting the FIFA World Cup), storm Bert, a headline about the extinction of the Slender-billed Curlew (it’s a bird), which reminded me of arguably the most famous extinct bird in the world, etc, etc, etc.
Armchair climate activist
I will be the first to admit to being an armchair climate activist; I support the cause where possible but you won’t find me squirting ketchup on famous art works any time soon. (I might be persuaded into eating that banana taped to the wall in a blatant act of protest but I don’t think that will cause the necessary outrage true climate activists are looking for). But I do try and do my bit. My latest attempt to find a middle ground was to buy some dried flowers instead of real ones. I mean, November is dark, windy, cold, and depressing; who can blame me for trying to inject some coloured nature into my living room (I know, Greta is shaking her head in disapproval).
Note to self: dried blueish-grey thistles look great in a vase but are very difficult to arrange without hurting oneself and leaving a lot of mess on the floor. Armed with my oven gloves, I finally manage to manhandle half of the delivered flowers into a vase. The other half are scattered all over my living room floor; the thistle heads themselves have all fallen off. Never one for wasting (I told you I try to do my bit) I arrange them in a pretty bowl (rather artfully, even if I do say so myself). In hindsight I could have saved all parties concerned a lot of hassle by just drying the bloomin’ flowers myself (I am ignoring Greta’s rolling eyes).
Preparing for the inevitable?
In the meantime, I was keeping a watchful but not-very-hopeful eye on possible good news coming out of Baku. In the end I just listened to an equally not very hopeful summary of events on the Chatham House podcast ‘Has COP29 made a difference on climate change?’. It may have been my imagination but I think I heard the podcast guests breathing audible sighs of relief that the whole oil-infested ordeal in Azerbaijan was almost over. The main question left on everybody’s mind was ‘where is the f*ing (I’m paraphrasing) sense of urgency?!? All in all, the podcast provided a good if depressing summary of events. And, as one of the guests explained, for those needing a little bit of a break from all this doom and gloom, there is always a retreat that caters to despondent environmentalists. That fact made me laugh out loud. (I googled it and I think this is the retreat they were referring to: Coming Home to Mother Earth 2024).
What also cheered me up no end was the kerfuffle surrounding a TV programme aired on Dutch national television called ‘Black-Out’. Where the Swedes made headlines this week by handing out pamphlets on what to do in case of war, we Dutchies were shown a ‘live news special’ about three provinces in the Netherlands having been hit by a cyber-attack causing a three-day black-out. The programme was fiction but dealt with a very real possible future scenario: multiple-day black-out. Result! The show was so convincing (it included real electricity-grid experts and famous news reporters) that social media had a small hissy fit as to it being an act of scare-mongering. There’s just no pleasing some…
On me at least, the programme had the desired effect; how prepared was I in the event of complete black-out? I know I have enough books and candles to keep me entertained for a lifetime. I also have a generous collection of hygiene products to last me at least a couple of months (A LOT of toothpaste, even more anti-aging face cream, a few bottles of mouthwash, and a mega-pack of razor blades). So, if I’m finally rescued by that handsome fireman (stereotypes sometimes do serve a purpose), at least I’ll be well-groomed. But on the actual survival side of things, I’m not so well prepared.
By now you don’t have to guess my next steps. I googled ‘what should be in an emergency kit’, making sure I didn’t end up on some dark-web-conspiracy-theory-prepper site, and stumbled upon my own government’s preparedness website. Who knew? During the following days I bought myself a first aid kit, boat loads of batteries, and a torch. I was slightly hesitant at buying the survival whistle, but I am overly proud of the cutest 10 cm yellow (!) battery-operated radio. As Bert is now battering the Irish and UK coasts (this on the back of a year full of catastrophic flooding, wildfires, deadly hurricanes, extreme monsoon rains, heatwaves) I can’t help thinking back to all those eco-disaster movies (late 19990s – 2010s). Not sure my little yellow radio will cut it…
Raphus cucullatus (aka the Dodo)
My week concluded with yet another sad and upsetting headline: the official extinction of the Slender-billed Curlew). I refer you to the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) news article: ‘Scientists from the RSPB, BirdLife International (UK), Naturalis Biodiversity Center (The Netherlands) and Natural History Museum, London have confirmed the likely extinction of the Slender-billed Curlew, a migratory shorebird last sighted in Morocco in 1995. This is the first known global bird extinction from mainland Europe, North Africa and West Asia.’
True birdwatchers like Jonathan Franzen and my older brother, might feel the loss of the Slender-billed Curlew much more deeply than I do (I’m always meaning to educate myself on the names of garden birds), but my sadness is just as heartfelt. It reminds me of an exhibition I went to at museum Mauritshuis earlier this year: ‘Roelant Savery’s Wondrous World’. As it states on the Mauritshuis website: ‘Roelant Savery (…) drew inspiration from the vast world around him and specialized in forest and mountain landscapes, animal studies, and floral still lifes. He depicted flora and fauna in intricate detail, including new species brought from all over the world to Europe.’
And would you know that this Belgian/Dutch 16th – 17th Century painter is thought to have singlehandedly been responsible for what we, to this day, think the extinct Dodo looked like (a fat and rather clumsy bird)?! Although the clumsy part probably refers to the fact that it couldn’t fly away and was consequently hunted into extinction (yet another not-so proud moment in our Dutch VOC history). I read all this in the accompanying Wondrous World exhibition book (Waanders Publishers Zwolle, 2024). But for all you proper birdwatchers out there, a full update on the Dodo can be found on the website of the Natural History Museum, London: ‘Recreating the lost world of the dodo’ (accessed November 2024).
Ok, I’m done sensemaking for now; I’m officially declaring this week as dead as a Dodo.
Sensemaking.blog 