Atticus and the Climate

     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.