The Next Questions on the Climate Philosopher’s Agenda

When it comes to climate change, what questions, exactly, should we philosophers put our minds to answering? There is overwhelming consensus that justice requires greenhouse gas emissions reductions on a massive scale. And there is some agreement about which agents should take on the costs of those reductions: though their underlying justification differs, many principles converge on the verdict that it is presently developed and affluent countries who are primarily responsible for taking on mitigation and its attendant costs. Further, there is increasing acceptance of the idea that successfully discharging these responsibilities requires systemic change above and beyond market-based solutions and voluntary individual emissions reductions. Biking to work and implementing a carbon tax are probably good ideas, but governments need to intervene to change the way energy is produced and rethink the regulations that govern its consumption and production.

With some tenuous agreement here, I think one of the next questions philosophers should take up is this: how should the agents identified as responsible go about making the required energy transition? In other words: of the responses open to us, what ones ought we to take up and why? We can begin to answer this How question by identifying energy transition mechanisms that are largely ‘win-win’. Proponents of the Green New Deal, as well as the current Biden administration emphasize such solutions: it is possible, the story goes, to cut global emissions while also supporting rising living standards and expanding opportunities, especially for the worst off among us. For instance, insulating homes will lower energy prices for low-income and BIPOC communities, for whom energy is often a disproportionately large part of their expenses. Urban green spaces absorb carbon and also improve the physical and mental health of area residents. Family planning improvements can slow population growth while increasing women’s autonomy concerning their reproductive choices. These measures are surely a part of any reasonably just energy transition. 

Though there is certainly a lot of low-hanging policy fruit that is win-win like this, there are a number of reasons to be skeptical that these measures will be sufficient to reach anything approximating the kind of targets set out in the Paris Agreement. For instance, some argue that there is little evidence that emissions can be decoupled from economic growth in the way that much of the modern “green-growth” narrative suggests. If these theorists are correct, a mere redirection of growth from ‘dirty’ to ‘clean’ energy will not result in the imagined emissions reductions, at least at the speed presently required. Instead, we will be more likely to keep fossil fuel consumption steady while consuming more with the extra energy provided by renewables. Even the more pro-growth 2018 IPCC report is clear that with a rapidly rising population, the earth will not have enough land to support expanded production of crops, agriculture, and biofuel all while keeping land for various carbon capture schemes and preserving biodiversity.

So it looks like sweeping changes to our modern way of life–in ways that are certainly not ‘win-win’–will be required to meet current emissions targets. The answer to the How question will involve not only identifying those improvements that make everyone better off, but also engaging in the distinctly normative task of assessing tradeoffs between the differently important interests–both human and animal–at stake in the energy transition. This project requires a deeper dive into proposed emissions pathways and their consequences for those interests. Should we aim to maximize the fuel efficiency of cars? Should we replace the remaining 241 coal plants in the US? Invest in nuclear technology or carbon capture technology? Encourage citizens to have fewer children? Solar energy? Nuclear? Land use changes? 

The How question–what combination of responses to climate change should we pursue?–is made even more complex because the answer is a moving target. With each passing year meeting emissions targets requires more rapid climate action, and indeed might modify the kind of strategies that are called for. For example, all the 1.5 degree scenarios modeled in the IPCC report now include some form of carbon capture and storage. 20 years ago, 1.5 degrees was possible with standard mitigation measures.

Furthermore, it’s crucial to remember that the How question is similarly pressing at the level of more local rules, norms, and practices, from cities to our own philosophy departments. Indeed, such localized changes become all the more urgent against the realistic background assumption that national level energy transition plans will fall short. We–philosophers, I mean–should thus also ask questions like the following: Should we transition to virtual philosophy conferences in order to limit flying? Make vegan meals the standard offering at department events? Donate extra food waste from events? (If global food waste were a country, it would be the third largest emitter in the world). Integrate climate change into the very fabric of our courses? We must also remember that within these narrower domains we are well positioned not only to ask the How question, but to play a far more consequential role in implementing whatever the correct answer turns out to be. 

It’s tempting to answer the How question with, “all of the above–we need an all hands on deck approach,” or to leave the answer up to technical experts.  But some ways of transitioning away from our current energy systems might be politically or economically unfeasible, or manifestly (or invisibly) unjust. Nuclear energy and population control measures are, of course, well-known examples of policies with a sordid historical record. But many other proposed mitigation strategies come with similar downsides. Solar and wind are clean, but employing these technologies at scale requires expansive land-use changes. Furthermore, it is not yet clear how a 100% renewable grid would store enough energy to make up for long stretches without wind or sun. Carbon taxes can change the economic calculus for polluters, but likely imposes unfair burdens on the poor. We might try to cut the problem off at its base by closing coal plants, but this will cause many workers to lose their jobs, some of whom will be too old to be retrained into positions in renewables. And economically essential industries like shipping, flying, long-haul trucking, and manufacturing materials like steel and cement, which account for 30% of our emissions, are presently extremely difficult to decarbonize. To offset these emissions, we might turn to carbon capture technologies. But these, like solar and wind, require vast repurposing of land: if deployed on agricultural land food prices are likely to increase and if deployed on wild land, they may reduce biodiversity. In either case, such land use changes may infringe on property rights and traditional land use practices of indigenous groups. 

Likewise, even departmental-level initiatives have trade-offs. Integrating climate change into our courses requires revisioning tried and true syllabi. This requires work to do well, and all too often such work is taken up by non-tenured and minority faculty. Although they often greatly reduce emissions, costs, and travel time and increase accessibility in many ways, virtual conferences also limit interpersonal interaction and can disadvantage those living in certain time zones or with limited access to technology. And norm changes can be downright uncomfortable: I still remember feeling shady and improper the first time I saved trays of leftover finger sandwiches from the trash to take home to my roommates.

I don’t mean to suggest that these downsides are inevitable consequences of various policies and practices, and I definitely don’t mean to suggest that these downsides are a decisive reason for inaction. Many of the regressive effects mentioned above can be largely or entirely mitigated. The dividends from a carbon tax, for instance, can be directed to subsidize energy costs in low-income communities. But some policies do have inevitable downsides. Even more importantly, it is an unfortunate fact that some mitigation policies will be more likely to be implemented only if some of the downsides are not mitigated. For instance, perhaps closing coal plants and mines is economically viable only without job retraining measures or programs to reduce energy costs for those that previously relied on the cheap energy. There will be times, I think, when we are faced with a hard choice: Implement a policy that will reduce emissions and harm the poor or impose the consequences of unabated climate change on the young and not yet born? Dedicate less time to research in order to advocate for departmental change, or allow the status quo to persist? The right answer to the How question might be far from the policies we would pursue under the philosophers’ ‘ideal’ conditions, where everyone is motivated to act as they should. 

What I hope the above reflections make clear is that the How question should not be left to technical experts or so-called ‘policy wonks.’ On the contrary, I believe this question is one that philosophers should dedicate more time and attention to, for the energy transition pathway we adopt will have meaningful effects on the set of things that people now and in the future are rightly entitled to be and to do. There are a number of pathways remaining that will keep us under 1.5 or 2 degrees. These pathways require meaningfully different changes to the set of freedoms and entitlements available to each citizen, and the risks imposed on them. Real philosophical work must be done to assess different versions of the energy transition, especially from perspectives other than standard economic-utilitarian cost benefit analysis.

Engaging with the details of the energy transition also pays philosophical dividends. One place it presses us, I think, is to consider how–on some level of specification–the duties and entitlements of individuals might be subject to change over time. Here’s an example of what I mean. It is very likely that we will not have a carbon-free alternative to long-haul air travel until after mid-century. If that’s right, we will need to determine whether we could reduce our emissions sufficiently in other sectors to make up for the emissions air travel requires, or whether there will need to be restrictions on the number of commercial flights each person is at liberty to take. And even if we can reduce our emissions in other sectors enough to allow for continued commercial flights, it is a further question whether it is permissible to do so given the interests that would be threatened if activity is constrained in those other domains. The same thought goes for beef consumption, certain land-use practices, and many other aspects of the energy intensive lifestyles that we have thus far assumed are just part of the set of things that we take individuals to be entitled to do. When Amelia Earhart flew across the Atlantic in 1928, she was rightfully free to do so. But today, we have reason to question whether long-haul luxury flights are indeed a part of what the system of rules and regulations we live under should permit. 

Indeed, it is not only climate change that has urged me to think like this: COVID-19 has had a similar structure. Prior to the takeover of the virus, each individual was free to walk into a store without a mask, travel internationally, go on walks with friends, and kiss strangers with their consent. Further, children were entitled to in-person learning, women were entitled to have family at their childbirth, and dying people were entitled to have loved ones at their bedside. But, given the risks imposed by such practices, there came a point in time when claiming such entitlements became impermissible and (at least in some places) the system of rules was updated to reflect that fact. The point is that, when it comes to both climate and COVID, what we are rightfully entitled to might not be as inalienable and static as we may have previously thought. 

Like with climate change, there were and are many pathways to societal risk reduction in this pandemic, each with distinct implications for the freedoms and entitlements of individuals. In many cases, I believe we chose wrongly: we opened bars and gyms, but closed schools. We chose, that is, to leave individuals free to enhance their abdominals, but students with no right to in-person learning. I hope that when it comes to the energy transition pathway we pursue, we will not make the same sort of mistake. And I am optimistic that philosophers can play an important role in this project. Not only can we contribute with our careful theoretical interventions, but we also can–and should–push our departments and universities to reflect and embody the conclusions we draw. 

Britta Clark

Britta Clark is a third-year PhD student at Harvard University. She received a BA in Environmental Studies and Philosophy from Bates College in Maine, and an MA in Philosophy from the University of Otago in New Zealand. She works primarily on intergenerational justice and climate change ethics. When not doing philosophy she can usually be found running, skiing, or biking.