(Yes We Can) Change the Story

A pond collects soil and water residue from oil-sands mining near Fort McMurray, Alberta. The oil sands account for 60 percent of Canada’s oil output.Credit…Ian Willms for The New York Times

This Changes Everything, Naomi Klein’s 2015 documentary based on her book subtitled “Capitalism vs. The Climate,” did not—yet.  But it has had important impact.  Klein’s overarching message hits home especially now given the world-changing pandemic disruption and activism for social justice as we face endemic racism and inequality.  The documentary does feel current as though today’s moment is our “Best chance to build a better world.”

Klein’s message is revolutionary, based on the timeless truth that humans are inveterate storytellers, are compelled to tell stories to make sense of our world.  The problem is that for the last four hundred years, the dominant cultures of the West have been telling a story based on the idea that the Earth is a machine, and humans are its master.  Through the course of the documentary, Klein shows that the economy is a machine, too, capable of being manipulated to feed perpetual growth.

Klein intimately narrates the journey from a Royal Society gathering, where an energized scientist sunnily proposes we have the ability to solve climate change by essentially putting a hose to the sky and spreading tiny particles to block a bit of the sun and therefore the heat.  Switch to a clip of Stephen Colbert interviewing this surely brilliant man, “You’ve buried the lede:  it’s sulphuric acid!”  A touch of levity, but it offers enough of a glimpse of the hubris behind the exercise.  By beginning with the Royal Society, the film places Enlightenment thinkers at its outset.  Locke and property ownership–the use of the land–forefronts the displacement and removal of indigenous peoples in North America.  The film is about the abuse of the land.

Deftly directed by Avi Lewis, the cinematography is breathtaking:  boreal forest in Alberta, prairies stretching to the horizon, and verdant tropical landscapes contrast with the savage rape of the earth and the flight of its native communities.  The scenes of Fort McMurray in Alberta, Canada, are akin to barren moon shots.  ‘No one would ever have a reason to come here if we weren’t extracting the bitumen (thick, tar-like oil)’ one company manager says, without a trace of irony.  The tar sands site produces 60% of Canada’s oil, itself the 4th largest oil producer in the world. 

The documentary explores seven areas around the world, including Canada, the US, Greece, India, and China, where fossil fuel extraction and gold mining is a blight on the land and in communities mostly powerless to fight the exploitation.  The film’s strength is in the human narratives elicited:  a grandmother and granddaughter switching naturally to their native Cree Nation language (think about the forced assimilation schooling and denial of native languages), even if it’s to call a white bureaucrat a Moniyaw for blocking their access to see their ancestral lands.  “The land owns us,’’ says the Cree activist, not the other way around.

“Sacrifice zones” are offered as a source of profit; it’ll grow back to the way it was, they say, thirty years after the extraction, while releasing toxins to the communities downstream.  There’s a gross but real scene of a brash young oil worker—making 150k for 6 months’ work—excusing himself to blow his nose on some cash, gleeful over the scads of money he’s making.

In Beijing, a small boy is asked whether he’s ever seen a star, a blue sky, or a cloud.  No, he answers to each, though allows for ‘a little blue’ in the sky, due to the horrible air pollution. 

“Sustainability is a Marxist concept” masquerading as the redistribution of wealth, shouts one capitalist.

There’s good news:  China has since closed its last coal mine and is heavily invested in producing solar panels.  The Alberta tar sands expansion proposal collapsed in 2019 under pressure from environmentalists and indigenous groups https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/24/business/energy-environment/frontier-oil-sands-canada.html.

We can take care of the Earth and each other, creating a path to a different future where we can improve quality of life, create meaningful work, greater equality, and an end to ‘sacrifice zones.’  There’s a beautiful transition of Cree Nation singing segueing into Greek, the ethereal nature of the intonations being universal.  It is the less powerful who are compromised by unregulated capitalism and who suffer effects not of their making.  As we protest that Black Lives Matter in our unjust society, we also know the relationship of climate change is one of exploitation.  They are tied together and an epic Best Chance to make a better world is upon us.

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/environment/2019/04/alberta-canadas-tar-sands-is-growing-but-indigenous-people-fight-back/

3 thoughts on “(Yes We Can) Change the Story

  1. Vincent Gragnani

    Great review. I, too, appreciated Klein’s storytelling abilities here, and reading your review makes me think of Moser’s piece on communicating climate change. Klein’s documentary is both informative and frightening, but she doesn’t bombard us with information or fear. She weaves a multinational, multicultural narrative that shows us a viable way forward and inspires us with real illustrations of the power of grassroots activism.

  2. Mo Muzammal

    Great post and analysis of the theme of storytelling in Klein’s documentary. One of the most central themes this semester has been the pedagogy of climate change and I think the documentary genre, with its filmic qualities wrests a sense of control upon viewers, directing their thoughts through visuals and sound while attempting to educate them through montage.

    As you mentioned, the cinematography works well to serve Klein’s purpose and with that, this film’s visuals reminded me of Before the Flood and Charles Ferguson’s Time to Choose, with the former’s soundtrack becoming one of my favorites. Due to its multifaceted nature (film is theater, music, set design, photography all at once), cinema has a strong chance of affecting its audience, leaving them with enough meat to chew on for days and this lingering effect can be a potent, pedagogical tool.

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