Atticus Finch teaches me much about climate
justice.
Recently I was thumbing through new
releases at our local library, and I came across the much-heralded sequel to
Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird, entitled
Go Set A Watchman. At times endearingly
humorous, at times profoundly serious, I found the book to be a fascinating and
compelling read. For many readers of Harper’s original work, lead character
Atticus was one of those heroic figures we could rely on to do the right thing:
a white man defending a black man against false charges in the heart of a
prejudiced South. Go Set A Watchman,
however, complicates matters. The story follows Atticus’ daughter, Jean Louise,
as she returns from New York to her Alabama home, only to find her community -
and most shocking of all, her father - complicit in a climate of intensified
racism. Her moral universe implodes, and readers join with her as we struggle
to pick up the pieces again.
In many ways, the book could not have come
at a more appropriate time. As has come to light in the last months, culture
wars are being waged across the United States and beyond with echoes of the
struggles depicted within this novel. A black woman pulls down the Confederate
flag, catalyzing demonstrations and intense debate over what it actually stands
for. The Supreme Court issues a landmark decision legalizing same-sex marriage,
with some rejoicing at new strides made for equality while others vow civil
disobedience. It’s clear that the South Jean Louise re-enters into is the
not-long-distant ancestor of the one today.
Alright, you say: interesting thoughts. But what does this have
to do with the climate?
Well, directly - perhaps only a little.
But observing Jean Louise and Atticus is instructive for me as I wrestle with
what it means to work for a more sustainable, equitable relationship with the
rest of creation in the midst of a Christian church which has tended to find
“care for the earth” peripheral to its concerns at best and even heretical at worst.
The
first thing it teaches me? Things are not always as they appear. In Go Set A Watchman, Jean Louise sees her
father sitting on a citizens’ council, next to a man spewing racist slurs, yet
apparently unfazed. She is so appalled by what she sees that she’s ready to cut
ties with everyone in her life to separate herself from it. In the midst of her
heated accusations, Atticus chides Jean Louise for judging a situation based on
its appearance rather than the intentions of those involved.
How easy is it to do this? I’m reminded of
fellow Canadians who go to work in Alberta’s oil sands. Although many may be
drawn for the opportunity to make big money quick, that isn’t the case for all.
Some just want to support their families. Some can’t find work in their own
communities. Some enjoy the hard labour. A good friend of mine from the
Downtown Eastside struggled with addiction for years, finally cleaned up, then went
to work in the oil sands, where he’s found the support of a loving church community.
He’s done better over the last few years than he has the last decade. If we’re
going to fight for clean energy and a sustainable economy, we can’t afford to
alienate people like my friend. He’s not the enemy. The system is.
Which leads me to almost the reverse
point, another take-away from Go Set a
Watchman: good people do bad crap. The struggle for climate justice, or any
sort of justice, would be so much easier if all the kind, generous, thoughtful
people lined up on the side of the greater good, while all the mean-spirited,
cruel, bigoted folks lined up on the other. But reality just doesn’t work like
that. Atticus seems in many ways a respectable man, committed to upholding the
law, raising his kids to know right from wrong. Yet he also holds deeply racist
opinions about the differences between black and white. He remains blind to the
manifold systems and justifications crushing black people, blaming them for
their own poverty and lack of education. He refuses to seek understanding or
build bridges across his hometown’s widening racial gulf, feeling no
responsibility when Jean Louise relays her disturbing discovery that Calpurnia,
whom she as a child remembered fondly as housekeeper and nanny, has now moved
away and is markedly cold and distrustful of her and other whites.
As I look around today, there are many
fellow Christians who would go the distance to invest in the children in their
neighbourhood, or invite a stranger into their home, or visit a prisoner - you
know, all the stuff Jesus said to do. But when it comes to taking an active
concern for the effects of our way of life on the planet, their eyes glaze over
and they say: “Well, isn’t it all going to burn anyway?” Just because a person
may seem decent in most situations doesn’t mean that they are above justifying
the basest of actions. Think church-run residential schools in Canada’s recent
history, or political leaders who pass welfare reforms one day then order a
drone attack the next. Conversely, just because a person has a good analysis of
systems of oppression doesn’t mean they are gracious, patient, or a fun person
to be around! There are anti-capitalist environmentalists who are thoughtless,
disrespectful, and self-righteous. Observing Atticus reminds me that human
beings are complex: darkness and light often intermingle in the same soul.
Finally,
Go Set a Watchman challenges me to the need for humility and compassion. It’s
said that fish don’t know they are swimming in water; in the same way, it’s
hard for someone raised in a culture to see that culture as anything other than
right and normal. Even Jean Louise, raging against her hometown’s racism, is a
product of that culture and evidences some of its assumptions when in a debate
on interracial marriages. In the same way, it can be hard imagining more
sustainable alternatives when all you know is sprawling suburbs, gas stations
ever few blocks, and food shipped from halfway around the globe. This is true even
for us activists: I ache and work for the day when our society no longer relies
on fossil fuels, but I do so in the midst of and benefiting from that system. I
am no spotless saviour, clean of the stain of ecological sin. I too need to be
saved from my own blind spots and self-justified prejudices.
Maybe one day people will look back at our
time with incredulity and disgust, the same way we look at the Deep South in
the 1950s. How could they have justified such blind racism? How could we have
justified such soulless exploitation of the earth? History may judge none of us
guiltless, but the reverse is also true: Every one of us can have a part to
play in making history. Every one of us can make choices for a better world. We
may all be struck with partial-blindness, but together we can chart the unknown
waters of a future in which all things flourish. The land, the water, and air.
“The fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and every living creature that
moves along the ground.” The Calpurnias and the Atticuses. And yes, the secular
radical ecosocialists and the Christian gas corporation CEOs.
Yeah, maybe even them too.
