I share the frustration already expressed in Jen Grey Eagle’s blog and Melody Arteaga’s interview with Ethan Vue about this morning’s youth engagement session hosted by NOAA.
As an educator born and raised on a family farm in Iowa and as a first generation college student, I am acutely aware of how access to particular types of power requires access to particular types of language. By this, I mean that participating in communities with decision making abilities — e.g. roundtable discussions at COP29 — requires the ability to bullshit. Or, as Jen put it, the reliance on the “rhetorical woke”, which in turn “takes up so much space,” as Ethan said. This morning was a case in point.
The majority of “conversations” I have heard at COP have been dominated by what I’m beginning to think of as “politik-speak”: extended monologues loaded with policy jargon, references only group insiders would know, acronyms without explanation, repetition, prefaces, summaries, statement after statement, an absence of questions, an air self-importance, an obvious affluence, self-assurance, abstractions, an unwillingness to say I don’t know. These are not conversations as I understand the term. For me, “conversation” suggests a back-and-forth: a curiosity, desire to learn and hear from others, a want to understand the perspectives of those different from yourself. Or, more frankly: a willingness to share.
When I listen to “conversations” like the one I heard this morning, I think about the farmers I knew growing up back home.
They are rough-speaking people — folks that academics and politicians might call “crass” or “vulgar” or “uneducated” or “simple.” They do not speak in abstractions. They speak about the concrete reality of their lives: the weather, the markets, troubleshooting the broken innards of iron machines, corporate greed, their aches and pains and ailments. There is no ego in their talk. There is only the comradery of shared work and experience. In this sharing, I believe, is empathy. But if the folks from back home were to be sitting where I was in that windowless meeting room this morning, the cultural power of politik-speak would’ve forced them into silence without even acknowledging their presence, and that is a shame.
I once had a mentor tell me that — while an overgeneralization — working-class folks tend to only say as much as what needs to be said in order to convey the idea at hand. I believe the same is true for young people working for climate justice in communities. The young folks with whom I have had the privilege of working — and from whom I have had the great fortune to learn — communicate about the climate crisis in similar ways. They know the stakes of our time. They feel the urgency in their bones. They know there’s neither need nor time to self-promote or grandstand. “As young as we are,” Georgina Masega, a ten year old activist, said during her youth panel yesterday, “we still understand the Paris Agreement.” Young folks on the ground understand, yet they refuse to reproduce the platitudes and empty promises of politik-speak. Instead, they demand—directly, angrily, fully articulating the already ongoing impacts of the climate emergency on their homes and communities—”the right to be heard.” I relish this frankness. And yet, in Baku, so far, with few exceptions, this has come only from the margins.
Before I left for COP, I asked my students (undergraduates at the University of Minnesota) to tell me what questions they want me to think about while I am here. I wrote their responses down. My students would like climate leaders — the affluent old and young — to answer the following pointed questions:
- What are political leaders actually doing to give young people a chance to work toward a greener world?
- What are governments actually doing at local and national levels? Why are individuals and communities left with so much of the burden?
- What’s preventing larger action? How can we educate to engage?
- How are teachers working inside and outside of formal education to support climate action?
- How can we advocate for education as a worthwhile profession worthy of collective respect?
- How are educators involving families in and out of the classroom?
- What coalitions have been helpful in a local or global context?
- How are global educators talking about the crisis in today’s sociopolitical climate? How do educators spark curiosity and engagement, rather than fear?
These are excellent, necessary questions. I will continue to ask them though I am not confident I will find answers. Still, as frustrated and deflated as I felt this morning, I am buoyed by two things.
First: I have the great fortune to share my COP29 experience with a group of incredibly kind, intelligent, funny, and motivated community organizers who understand the importance of working together, with communities, for a just transition. Their work involves advocating for concrete policies to advance racial equity, Indigenous sovereignty, the redistribution of wealth, accessible and stigma-free healthcare, language revitalization, culturally sustaining education, and more. I am grateful to them.
Second: even as my fellow delegates — my friends, now — are diligent in their labor, they are also acutely aware of the importance of renewing the heart. Despite this morning’s frustration and fatigue, by evening we found ourselves commiserating over dinner. In that stone restaurant nestled in Baku’s Old Town, surrounded by paintings of oil rigs and pomegranates, I was reminded of all that I admire about my community back home. Straight talk, ample laughter, and a want to take care of one another. Again, I am grateful to those young folks.
In the remaining days of COP, I am not confident I will get the answers to the questions my students pose. But I can and will respond to them with an intention: to ensure that they — the young folks committed to communities and justice — have the space to speak and lead. I second Ethan’s call to recognize the youth already engaged in climate justice and “give them the platform to not only help their communities but other communities.” I second Jen’s call “to remind ourselves that we are never the most important in the room and that collective and authentic voices being equally heard is not only vital but lifesaving.” I am grateful for these insights. These lessons, I believe, will be the method for keeping the real work going and hope alive.
Nick is a Climate Generation Window Into COP delegate for COP29. To learn more, we encourage you to meet the full delegation, support our delegates, and subscribe to the Window Into COP digest.
Nick Kleese is an Iowa farm kid turned literacy educator. Nick serves as the Associate Director of Community Engagement at the Center for Climate Literacy at the University of Minnesota, Managing Editor for Climate Literacy in Education, and Editor at Climate Lit. He is also Co-Founder of KidLitLab! He has taught middle school and high school English, undergraduate children’s literature courses, and outdoor immersion experiences for kindergarteners. His current research explores the role young people’s literature and media could play in advancing an interspecies democracy.
