Mass Education and the Climate Crisis: Lessons from the Pandemic

Introduction

Over the past year there has been much discussion about what we can learn from the coronavirus pandemic, and for good reason: the lessons instilled in its wake could dramatically change the course of society. Perhaps the most crucial insights are those that could help us steer away from the persistent existential threats we face. For the climate crisis in particular—which demands a societal reboot—the stakes could not be higher.

If certain lessons highlighted by our experience with the pandemic are internalized by the climate movement and much of the general public, we will be far better prepared for the fight to enact a Green New Deal. This essay identifies three of them, with each building on the previous one.

The first lesson is that money is not scarce. The federal government has created trillions of dollars for pandemic relief, dispelling myths about financial constraints that make progressive policies seem unaffordable.

The second lesson is that our society’s economic and political systems, as currently constructed, routinely cause unnecessary suffering. In particular, the pandemic illustrates how wealthy elites’ control over public policy tends to suppress government spending and produce an inadequate response to major crises. Fundamental system change is necessary.

The third lesson is that plutocracy is incompatible with addressing climate change. If the government is willing to reopen the economy in the midst of a growing plague to placate business interests, there’s little chance of reducing emissions at the steep rates that science prescribes, because doing so very likely requires the curtailment of some economic activity. We’ll need truly democratic governance to enact transformative climate policies.

The prospects for implementing a Green New Deal rest on the emergence of a new and enduring political common sense. However, the public can easily draw different conclusions about the response to the pandemic that perpetuate existing political narratives, fueling apathy or resistance to change. This essay argues that the climate movement must take on the task of mass education if the right lessons are to be learned. It concludes by outlining a broad curriculum containing these lessons and many more.

Lesson 1: Money Is Not Scarce

As the $2.2 trillion Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security Act was being prepared in March 2020, economist and Modern Monetary Theory (MMT) expert Stephanie Kelton began making her rounds in both agenda-setting and activist-oriented media outlets. She was trying to spotlight the fact that politicians had thrown out the question posed most often in discussions about public policy: how will you pay for it?

That question is perhaps the greatest intellectual weapon against progressive policies, and its power stems from everyday people not knowing the process behind government spending and what the real limits are. Most think that governments can only spend after collecting taxes, but that is only true for the ones that don’t issue their own currency (such as city, state, or certain foreign governments). The US federal government, as the issuer of the US dollar, doesn’t need to tax first before it can spend. It just creates new money out of thin air.

Kelton describes the very simple process: first, Congress passes a bill that authorizes spending on some priority issue and sends payment instructions to our central bank, the Federal Reserve. The Fed then creates new money with a few taps on a computer keyboard—“digital dollars” that are added to the bank accounts of every group paid by the bill. This happens every day as the government purchases things. That’s it.

The persistent myth has been that the federal government cannot spend on something new without raising taxes or cutting spending elsewhere. “Paying for” a new policy means combining the injection of new money into the economy with measures to remove an equal amount. Spending without simultaneously cutting back results in a budget deficit, and according to the myth, deficit spending will always lead to ever-rising prices and a collapsing economy.

However, massive deficit spending during the Great Recession did not lead to major inflation and neither has the new money created for pandemic relief, just 12 years later. Before 2008, big deficits had been run up for congressional priorities like waging war or cutting taxes for the wealthy—priorities never subject to the “how will you pay for it” question—without leading to an inflation crisis. But it’s these multi-trillion-dollar bailout events that are demonstrating as clearly as possible that increasing deficits are not inherently inflationary.

This doesn’t mean that there are no limits. The constraints on creating new money are set by the productive capacity of the economy. If so much money starts circulating through the economy that it greatly exceeds the amount of goods and services available for purchase, then inflation will occur. But if output can be increased, then new money can be absorbed without changing prices. It is after things are running at full capacity that continued increases in the money supply can generate inflation.

How close are we to that point? We don’t exactly know until we hit it. Economies emerging from a recession have plenty of unused capacity for production, with no real threat of inflation on the horizon. Also, if prices really started to rise, we know how to resolve the problem. The government can simply raise taxes or cut spending on lower priorities, like waging war, to remove money from circulation—even making these responses kick in automatically if prices were to accelerate.

The point is that government spending seems to have been kept artificially low through fearmongering about deficits and imminent inflation. We are seeing that it is possible to spend without simultaneously raising taxes or cutting spending elsewhere. It is this commitment to “paying for” all new spending that has tended to leave progressive policies dead on arrival, because few in Congress are willing to face political battles over the money-draining measures. Some new policies that serve public interests aren’t large enough to cause inflation and could simply be implemented without removing any money from circulation. And for large-scale programs needed immediately, like a Green New Deal, we could pass them first and rein in spending later if inflation becomes an issue. The real-world demonstration of increasing deficits without inflation means we should be spending more to meet public needs. Money is not scarce, and activists cannot ask for clearer evidence than what we see unfolding before our eyes.

There are two significant caveats here. First, there is a difference between the amount of spending that is possible with the current high-consumption economy and the one we must build. Humanity is experiencing ecological overshoot—a series of crises, including climate change, arising from overwhelming human demands on this finite planet. Addressing these issues requires wealthy nations to consume less. Making our society sustainable entails a process that would deliberately reduce the productive capacity of the economy, which would constrain the amount we can spend before experiencing inflation. Though spending doesn’t seem to face major constraints today, this may become more of an issue during and after the transition, and should figure into activists’ planning.

The second caveat, which follows from the first, is that MMT doesn’t eliminate the need for cultural change. It simply delays a reckoning with fiscal limits, as the ceiling for government spending is set according to inflation rather than arbitrary deficit figures. At some point we will likely need to remove money from circulation. Before that need arises, activists must cultivate wide recognition that it’s legitimate to cut the military budget, reduce the wealth of the superrich, and also scale back the consumption of the majority or redirect it from individual assets (like personal vehicles) to collective ones (like expanded public transit).

Lesson 2: Plutocracy’s Deadly Cruelty

Many Americans recognize that their government does not represent them. Political scientists have shown that we live in a vastly unequal society where the wealthiest individuals and large corporations control not only the economy, but the political system as well. When the policy preferences of the superrich diverge from the rest of the population, those are the policies typically implemented. Though it possesses some essential elements of a democracy, the US political system often operates as a form of plutocracy. However, discussions of politics tend to explore the surface phenomenon of Democratic and Republican politicians’ approaches to social issues like the pandemic. Seldom does the public hear serious discussion about how political decisions reflect the dynamics of a profit-maximizing economy and the priorities of the wealthy elites that control both parties.

Many crises facing society can be explained simply by reference to the economic goal of profit maximization. When greed is an economy’s central organizing principle, it means that financial self-interest is pursued even at the expense of diverse public interests. That principle alone is sufficient to cause extreme harm. Think of a pharmaceutical industry that pushes the sale of powerful drugs which produce an epidemic of addiction and broken families. Or a finance industry that peddles profitable subprime loans and inflates a housing bubble that obliterates the homes and wealth of millions when it bursts. Or a fossil fuel industry that obscures science and promotes carbon-intensive development until all life on the planet is threatened by climate breakdown. Business is a force that frequently undermines the well-being of the population and is now poised to destroy society itself.

These dynamics become entrenched because profits flow incredibly unequally, mainly to major corporate shareholders and executives. With wealth concentrated into the hands of this elite minority, they become society’s ruling class. They dominate the landscape of campaign finance and political spending in general, installing government officials who share their worldview and advance their interests. This makes it extremely difficult to create a new economy that prioritizes public well-being. The population is also forced to endure decisions arising from the ideological characteristics of the most powerful elites and those in government who serve them: different levels of inclination towards authoritarianism, hostility to government action in the public interest, aggression towards other countries, religious fanaticism, disregard for the poor, disrespect for facts, and on and on. At the least, this class will share an interest in maintaining social conditions favorable to keeping it in control. That means acting to ensure the public lacks the ability or desire to create a democratic society where decision-making reflects the will of the people.

The inevitability of unnecessary suffering

The devastation wrought by the pandemic is not just a matter of the strength of the virus but the background social conditions in which most people live. Those conditions are in large part a reflection of elite priorities. Decisions made by the wealthy minority in power to treat money like it is scarce and constrain government spending, siphon society’s wealth into their own pockets, and dismantle vital public institutions set the stage for a catastrophe.

One major background condition is our healthcare system. As for-profit institutions, health insurance corporations maximize earnings by denying people the care they need. In the 20^th century, US elites were able to fend off moves towards government-run healthcare systems that made public health a priority in Canada and many European countries by branding it as a nightmarish Communist takeover. Though such propaganda is still used, today single-payer healthcare is one of many progressive priorities deemed impossible due to “scarce money.” In the recent Democratic presidential primaries, Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren were asked again and again by debate moderators and the other candidates how universal healthcare could possibly be afforded. Efforts to make Medicare for All seem totally unworkable have succeeded to this point. The result is the continuation of a patchwork healthcare system that the poorest households pay more than one-third of their income for but often cannot use, and the development of numerous preventable health conditions in the population that increase the deadliness of coronavirus. And with health insurance tied to private employment, millions thrown out of work also lost whatever access to healthcare they had.

The state of the average household’s finances is another major background condition. The neoliberal legacy of the past 40 years is widespread financial insecurity. One key reason is a bipartisan commitment to withering union power. While Republican administrations have been enthusiastic in their attacks on worker organizations, Democrats helped into office by union support have generally left them to die thereafter. Ceaseless campaigns against unions by businesses and government since 1980 shrank their membership rate from 20% to 10%, significantly limiting the public’s means of fighting for wage gains. That’s why, despite increasing worker productivity, inflation-adjusted wages for most people are essentially the same as they were in 1980. The cost of living since then has, of course, increased dramatically. This is how we became a precarious society in which around 40% of workers struggle to afford an unexpected $400 expense and about 30% cannot even entirely cover monthly bills. The income reductions brought on by pandemic-driven economic shutdowns have caused excessive hardship for countless households already living paycheck-to-paycheck.

While the destruction of unions helped usher many families to edge of a financial cliff, the “threat of the deficit” ensured there would be little social safety net to catch them if they fell. History shows that both political parties have engaged in an elegant deficit dance where they repeatedly call government deficits a plague on future generations but Republicans reliably increase them and Democrats reliably cut them. This matters for everyday people because the supposed importance of the deficits themselves and the actions taken to “deal with them” helped create an extremely precarious economy for workers.

The deficits were largely generated by repeated tax cuts for the wealthy, which have helped the 400 richest Americans triple their wealth since the early 1980s, and by eye-popping spending on foreign invasions with no end in sight. The debt produced by these lost tax revenues and wars then gave politicians an excuse to not invest in vital government programs or to cut them outright, warning the public as Bill Clinton did that “Unless we have the courage to start building our future and stop borrowing from it . . . we will be condemning our children and our children’s children to a lesser life than we enjoy.” These cuts, at least for Republicans, may have been the primary goal of the deficit dance. Our social safety net, now so desperately needed, is deeply inadequate due to the actions of both parties. The public’s vulnerability was a bipartisan achievement—a natural result of plutocratic governance.

It was against this backdrop that coronavirus hit. Would the pattern of public deprivation continue in the face of a growing plague? Consider things from an elite perspective. A deadly virus seemed to be spreading out of control. A study by Imperial College London found that over two million people in the US would die if no action was taken, forcing the government to consider drastic measures. The economy needed to be shut down to have any chance of containing the outbreak, and clearly working people required some level of relief. Many were going to lose their jobs, but unemployment insurance typically replaces only 40% of a worker’s paycheck. Some senators opposed expanded unemployment relief, but letting incomes fall so dramatically in an economy reliant on consumer spending would be guaranteed to worsen the coming recession and damage profitability long into the future. Current and former Federal Reserve officials and research by JPMorgan Chase would later support this perspective.

The passage of the major coronavirus relief bill in March 2020 provided a crucial upgrade to our social safety net but was palatable to those running the economy. First, it authorized trillions in bailout funds for major industries. Second, the safety net expansion was temporary. The $1,200 payment to individuals was a one-time benefit, and the $600 weekly supplement to unemployment insurance (aiming to cover 100% of most workers’ lost paychecks) would only be available as long as the shutdown continued. Even then, the expanded relief for the unemployed came with an expiration date in late July, requiring congressional renewal. Elites needed to walk a fine line in responding to the pandemic, because their interests depend on a “Goldilocks” bailout for the public: neither too low nor too high. The main risks that this crisis presents to average citizens are the disease itself and its impact on livelihoods. But the primary threats for elites are shrinking profits and the public realizing that the government could actually afford to guarantee its well-being. With the economy brought to a standstill, elite priorities—not public interests—would of course determine the next steps.

A forced march into a plague that should not have surprised us

As the virus spread and deaths mounted, it must be emphasized how straightforward the federal government’s responsibilities were. The fundamental issue to address was the pandemic itself. The second issue was to manage the consequences of the economic shutdown to ensure it didn’t destroy the lives of working people. To reasonable observers, there seemed to be two tasks: first, set up nationwide testing, contact tracing, and targeted isolation of those affected so that the virus could eventually be contained. Second, extend the shutdown long enough to do so, providing essential workers with the personal protective equipment needed to keep them safe and all non-essential workers with the continued funding they need to stay home and survive.

As we now know, elites saw another option. It soon became clear that the Trump administration would offer no serious support for setting up the targeted testing and tracing measures needed to allow for a somewhat safe reopening of the economy. It would fall to individual states to establish them, but would those in power agree to keep businesses closed and the public well-provisioned at home until they were? Observers may have thought that a crisis of this magnitude would force elites to suspend their aversion to a strong social safety net. However, all businesses shared an interest in being able to quickly and easily call workers back to their jobs to attempt to get profits rolling again. Beyond that, from a class perspective, providing too much support for households could threaten the stability of elite rule.

The millions of people struggling with poverty, homelessness, and hunger before this crisis, now seeing that the government could always have helped them to fully meet their needs, might get dangerous ideas. The more clearly it is demonstrated to the people their deprivation is not inevitable—that it is a political choice—the greater the risk to our incredibly unequal social order. It could provoke popular demands to maintain this support. And when people have their basic needs met they have time to become informed about the causes of social ills and organize themselves politically. The preservation of plutocracy seemed to rely on an inadequate and very short-term public bailout. In the absence of a powerful social movement that could win greater relief, elites saw only one option: cut off government funds and force everyone back to work.

Those in power chose sickness and death for the population. There was never any prospect for an ongoing basic income to keep non-essential workers at home, and the $600 unemployment insurance supplement was reduced to $300 so that the threat of homelessness and food insecurity would compel the millions of unemployed to scramble for a job. All those who thought that decision-makers couldn’t possibly continue a commitment to narrow self-interest and hostility to significant government intervention in the face of a mortal crisis simply ignore a well-established pattern. Unnecessary suffering of the past gives way to unnecessary suffering now. The people must recognize that they were forced to march into a plague and it didn’t have to be this way.

Too many people think that the background conditions in society are not political. They take these conditions as a given and may view their own unmet needs as a purely personal failure. In reality everything is political, and we are seeing a visceral illustration that politics does matter. The intense hardship resulting from plutocracy often arises indirectly, as decision-makers cut social spending or refuse to allow sufficient spending in the first place. This indirectness obscures cause and effect for many people, and the misery and death attributable to austerity has never been broadcast on a constant feed by mainstream media. This crisis, however, is somewhat different. We are all simultaneously experiencing it. Persistent media coverage is generating widespread attention, with outcomes more clearly linked to the decisions of those in power.

Initially, the federal government’s poor response to the pandemic had set a floor of 100,000 virus deaths. With masses of people forced back to work after no serious containment effort, the death toll in January 2021 surpassed 400,000. Anti-science and anti-mask views surely contributed as well, factors that can also be traced back to elites’ longstanding campaigns to shape politics and culture in their preferred image. However, it remains clear that government inaction has directly translated into the avoidable loss of thousands upon thousands of our loved ones. A vaccine developed at a historically unprecedented pace is the only reason that the death toll may not stretch into the millions.

Some may trace the social disasters we face back to Trump, but that will not liberate us. While it’s indisputable that he made this crisis much worse than it could have been, a broader view reminds us that these deadly outcomes are ultimately the result of economic and political systems that prioritize corporate profits and concentrate power. These systems made the population vulnerable long before Trump. Before it fueled the pandemic, this vulnerability fueled his rise. He may be the cause of many avoidable deaths, but the institutions that produce a wealthy ruling class are the reason he gained power in the first place. The current order is built to cause preventable misery and respond inadequately to major crises; a serious government response to the issues we face depends on fundamental system change. That would be a crucial lesson to learn for dealing with the ongoing threats to our species’ survival.

Lesson 3: Plutocracy Is Incompatible with Addressing Climate Change

The pandemic has illuminated the brutality and inadequacy that often defines wealthy elites’ control over government, and should prompt us to consider whether we can conceivably address the climate crisis under elite rule.

We should start by recognizing the effect that the pandemic-driven economic shutdown had on carbon dioxide emissions. Daily emissions across the world in April 2020 were 17% lower than the previous year—the largest drop in recorded history. In the US, emissions dropped an incredible 32%. At the end of 2020, after scattered attempts to reopen parts of the economy, the full year’s emissions were estimated to have fallen by a record 7% globally and 12% in the US. It is valuable for us to see that rapid cuts to emissions are technically possible. But because they are not a result of conscious changes to underlying systems, the effect is temporary and causes extensive harm.

A carbon budget for keeping warming below 2 degrees Celsius prescribes an annual decarbonization rate of 10% or more for wealthy countries, beginning immediately, until emissions are eliminated around 2040. The unprecedented drop in emissions resulting from the shutdown reinforces an idea over a decade old yet too infrequently acknowledged—the need for economic contraction in addressing the climate crisis.

At least two challenges suggest that in order to keep to our carbon budget, fossil fuel use would need to fall faster than renewables are installed, which would reduce the overall energy available for economic activity. First is the possibility that renewable energy infrastructure cannot be deployed rapidly enough. The large-scale adoption of new energy sources has historically taken several decades, and these new sources piled on top of older fuels rather than replacing them. We can surely speed this up with a concerted effort, but it seems very unlikely that the new energy available from renewables can match or exceed the energy lost from simultaneously closing fossil fuel plants. Second is the reality that fossil fuels are currently relied on for the manufacture and deployment of renewable energy technologies, and speeding up the transition would increase their use at least at the beginning. This would cut into the carbon budget if other fossil-fueled economic activities weren’t simultaneously scaled back or halted. Even as renewable energy deployment is ramped up dramatically, we’ll likely need a well-planned and equitable shutdown of some economic activity to achieve those rapid carbon cuts.

Would we then return to the high-consumption lifestyles to which we’re accustomed after the transition? The answer is a resounding no. There is good reason to think that an all-renewable society will be one with less energy available than we’ve previously gotten from fossil fuels and therefore have a smaller economy anyway. But even if renewables could allow us to maintain current lifestyles, we would need to consume far less to address the other serious ecological crises beyond climate change that are driven by our overconsumption. The energy transition must be understood as part of a broader transformation towards a civilization that operates within ecological limits.

The Green New Deal (GND) is often seen as a “green stimulus,” a massive investment program that will put people back to work in the service of the energy transition. But stimulus programs have historically been used to reinstate economic growth after a recession. It’s easy to overlook the reality that a GND that aims to adhere to our carbon budget won’t generate overall growth but rather move the economy towards degrowth and, ultimately, a steady state. If most earnestly believe that a GND is a growth strategy, it’s possible to imagine many elites outside of the fossil fuel industry supporting it and the public eagerly welcoming it. But the more complicated picture described above calls this support into question and would require activists to lay the groundwork for a climate-driven economic shutdown.

Will corporate elites allow this to take place? Those in power did initiate a closing of most businesses during the pandemic, which may lead some to think they would support another shutdown to preserve a livable climate. But there are unique reasons for the virus-driven shutdown. As coronavirus first began to spread, the costs of shutting down initially seemed greater than keeping businesses open. But when infections started to surge it became clear that there would be no regular economic activity anyway. It was recognized that the country faced an immediate mortal risk which threatened to overwhelm the healthcare system and cause panic—a major threat to business. It began to make more sense to temporarily shut down the economy and prevent the worst outcomes, which would allow profits to return sooner. And when the nation went into quarantine, the industries with the greatest political influence were able to use the need for immediate public relief to win a large bailout.

The shutdown wasn’t a suspension of the economic goal of profit maximization or elites’ pursuit of their self-interest. It just seemed to be the least costly path forward. A survey of prominent economists found that 88% believed we would need to tolerate “a very large contraction in economic activity” to contain the outbreak, and 80% said that prematurely ending the shutdown would lead to greater economic damage than maintaining it. A large number of executives and major shareholders were still not comfortable with closing business, however, and many began pushing almost immediately to end the shutdown. Given the fact that elites reopened the economy in the middle of a surging pandemic, there is no serious prospect that they’ll consider a much longer shutdown around a slower-moving issue like climate change. And because it would effectively entail a transition to an economy that prioritizes ecological health over profit, those in power will have no reason to even consider the transition. There is no need to contemplate the journey if you can’t stand the destination.

If plutocracy is incompatible with adhering to our carbon budget, then only by wresting control of government from the wealthy can we maintain a livable climate. That means electing a majority of representatives willing to enshrine our carbon budget in policy with all the challenges that entails, which will only be possible if activists build sufficient public support for a climate-driven economic shutdown.

At the beginning of the quarantine, the public recognized the deadly threat posed by the virus and accepted that closing business was necessary. After a few weeks some began to protest the shutdown, but polls found persistent majority support for maintaining it. To pursue a climate-driven shutdown, public support must instead be based on a deep understanding of the climate problem and its solutions, undergirded by sufficient funding to meet all basic needs. It must be understood and accepted that certain aspects of the transition, like lower-consumption lifestyles, would be permanent changes in how society operates. But this climate preservation plan would prioritize economic security for all, and it would avoid the other major challenge faced by individuals during the pandemic—isolation. On the contrary, community would be emphasized as we work to reduce fossil fuel use and create a sustainable society.

The shutdown reminds us that though corporate elites can seem all-powerful, ultimately the government determines whether businesses are allowed to operate or not. Corporations are creations of state law. No questions of ownership needed to be resolved; businesses simply had to comply with the government’s closure orders. It just so happened that the orders came from officials primarily representing businesses interests. A social movement in control of state governorships could initiate climate-driven shutdowns across the country, though control of the federal government would be critical for creating the funding needed to maintain them. A democratic wave must sweep the nation, sustained by a public thoroughly prepared for the challenges ahead.

Lessons Are Lost If Movements Don’t Teach Them

If most people realized that the federal government can spend without taxing or cutting or worrying about deficits, that wealthy elites’ control over government policy tends to produce extensive and unnecessary suffering, and that plutocracy is at odds with our ability to address climate change, it would represent a new political common sense that could advance the fight for a Green New Deal. However, it’s easy for many to overlook these lessons or interpret events in ways that perpetuate political disengagement and resistance to change.

In the first place, many citizens don’t devote themselves to sharpening their mental model of political reality and therefore aren’t actively searching for new perspectives. One reason is that from a young age we are taught that by voting in periodic elections, we are in control of the political system. We don’t learn that elections alone give average citizens “little or no independent influence” on public policy, or that corporations and wealthy individuals actually dominate. With little sense of the immense struggle we must engage in to get government to prioritize public interests, many don’t develop the habit of looking for lessons relevant to that struggle.

Fatalism and high information costs are also significant obstacles to a new political consciousness. As we grow up, the democratic power we are taught we have quickly proves to be overstated; voters repeatedly see elected officials disregard their interests. We then enter the workforce, which consumes most of our energy. Developing in-depth knowledge demands that we read widely and gather enough context to think for ourselves, a major time investment. Between feelings of powerlessness and the demands of work, many find little reason and insufficient time to scour the political landscape for new insight.

Those who do venture into the world of political analysis will encounter an information ecosystem that systematically underinforms and misleads them. Political elites and mainstream media maintain political common sense within narrow limits. As Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky wrote in Manufacturing Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media: “the ‘societal purpose’ of the media is to inculcate and defend the economic, social, and political agenda of privileged groups that dominate the domestic society and the state. The media serve this purpose in many ways: through selection of topics, distribution of concerns, framing of issues, filtering of information, emphasis and tone, and by keeping debate within the bounds of acceptable premises.” Individuals who form their picture of the world from these sources are unlikely to come across ideas that threaten elite interests.

Consider some ways that the lessons discussed in the previous three parts of this essay can be overlooked or distorted:

Government spending must be reined in

It is a neat trick for a Federal Reserve official to type $2,200,000,000,000 onto a computer screen and suddenly Congress has the money to pay for (short-term) pandemic relief. The bigger trick is how to maintain the politics of austerity after the public sees the government create trillions of dollars in an instant. It might seem impossible, but we saw this story during the Great Recession. 

In the two years following the 2008 crash of the global financial system, the Federal Reserve created around $1.5 trillion to finance the government’s bank bailout and economic stimulus. The inflation long warned of by deficit hawks did not ensue. One might think that the federal government’s ability to generate funds for public priorities would have become apparent to everyone. But in the following year, when more money creation was clearly needed, the Obama administration acquiesced to Republican calls for deficit reduction. “Families across the country are tightening their belts and making tough decisions. The federal government should do the same,” Obama declared in his 2010 State of the Union speech. “Like any cash-strapped family, we will work within a budget to invest in what we need and sacrifice what we don’t.” Treating the new money like a debt that had to be repaid, the administration imposed austerity, and as a result the economic recovery turned out to be historically slow.

The 2008 bailout and stimulus didn’t spark widespread insight into money creation. Moderators in political debates continue to ask how we can possibly afford progressive policies. During Joe Biden’s presidential campaign last fall, a top advisor claimed that if Biden were to win the election his administration would “be limited” in its ability to spend because of “what Trump’s done to the deficit”—“the pantry is going to be bare.” With the Fed’s high-profile response to the current economic crisis far exceeding its actions after the Great Recession, we can expect eventual calls for a return to austerity. Without a credible threat of inflation, the Fed’s capacity for money creation will be limited by elites’ assertion that it is debt we must repay. Falling back on such myths helps to keep the public in the dark even in a moment of historic clarity.

Trump Was the Only Problem

It is also easy for people to draw conclusions only about the unique incompetence and deadly narcissism of the Trump administration in the midst of the coronavirus crisis rather than a lesson about the cruel nature of plutocracy. That’s because Trump’s response was exceptionally bad. He resisted calls to mass-produce protective equipment for health workers and ventilators for the sickest or deploy the testing, tracing, and quarantine measures needed nationwide to contain the virus. He touted treatments without evidence and encouraged protests against basic life-saving measures. He repeatedly boasted of his television ratings and lavished himself with praise. With cases rapidly rising and state economies repeatedly closing, he took to pretending that the pandemic was no longer an issue. He later hosted several super-spreader events and then claimed that the death toll was exaggerated as it stretched beyond 350,000.

One cannot argue that a president musing about injecting household disinfectant is about as unfit as they come. Against such a backdrop, no serious observer questions that if a Democratic administration had been in charge, the government’s approach to the pandemic would have been more appropriate. But as explained above, the tight restrictions on government spending that maintained an utterly inadequate social safety net and made the pandemic truly devastating were a bipartisan achievement. The spectacle of an exceptionally bad response to the latest crisis distracts from that reality.

A Democratic administration facing coronavirus from the beginning would very likely have mirrored Republicans in forcing people back to work rather than creating enough money to keep them at home until the outbreak was contained. That would have more clearly illustrated the cruelty of plutocratic governance. Recall that Democrats had full control of the government in 2009 as the Great Recession unfolded, but they produced an insufficient stimulus that left millions homeless and jobless. Obama then pivoted to spending cuts in 2010 when the unemployment rate was still nearly 10 percent. Could we expect different today? The 2019 effort by congressional Democratic leadership to enact a pay-as-you-go budgeting rule (PAYGO) suggests not. The PAYGO rule mandates that increases in spending be matched by budget cuts or tax increases to avoid federal deficit increases, dashing any chance of passing large-scale progressive policies. A Democratic administration might have emulated the pandemic response of New York Governor Andrew Cuomo—providing frequent reassurances to the public while pushing billions in cuts to Medicaid. The words of one of Biden’s top advisors about the spending limits imposed by Trump’s deficits suggest more of the same. Trump’s unique incompetence can easily overshadow the fact that deprivation has been and often continues to be a commitment of both parties.

Electing Democrats Is Enough to Solve Our Crises

The same dynamics can lead the public to think that serious climate action becomes possible simply by electing Democrats, when what’s needed is a revolutionary effort to replace plutocracy with authentic democracy. The Republican Party has long ignored, mocked, and misrepresented scientists and scientific evidence, a trait Trump took to the extreme during the pandemic. In comparison, any Democrat can seem very responsible. But one party’s radical anti-science pedigree and obvious allegiance to the fossil fuel industry doesn’t mean the other party is adequate: the country’s reliance on fossil fuels has remained firm through both Democratic and Republican administrations. Continuing that trend won’t allow us to maintain a habitable planet.

Joe Biden has a $2 trillion climate plan that currently aims to make the country carbon neutral “no later than 2050,” the most ambitious proposal ever put forward by a US president. It envisions the climate crisis as “an opportunity to revitalize the US energy sector and boost growth economy-wide.” Unless the public understands just how fast things must change and the implications for the economy, Biden’s plan may seem like more than adequate. However, research shows that wealthy nations must aim to eliminate emissions between 2035 and 2040 to limit warming to 2 degrees Celsius, and reducing fossil fuel use that quickly very likely requires the curtailment of some economic activity. With no mainstream Democrat expressing support for a degrowth approach to climate action—or even acknowledging the need for it—we cannot expect a commitment to the much faster decarbonization timeline that science prescribes. The Democratic Party is not yet offering a path to a stable climate, but it’s not difficult for many to assume otherwise.

Government is inherently corrupt

In the face of an utterly disastrous response to the pandemic, another common interpretation is that the government is inherently corrupt and incapable of adequately responding to any crisis, a view stoked by decades of elites’ anti-government propaganda. We can expect people with this perspective to react in two ways. For those who have learned to fear or hate the government, a large-scale mobilization to address the climate crisis will seem like something to fight against. Others with a less emotionally charged view may simply ignore politics altogether, believing that nothing can ever change.

Around 100 million eligible voters (nearly half of the total) generally do not vote, in large part because they believe elections will never produce a government that represents them. This poses a major obstacle to progressive policy, as a fatalist attitude towards politics and repeated non-participation may lead to disengagement from all political work. Outside of election time, most people remain inactive even though their participation in social movements could elevate authentic champions of public interests and produce meaningful choices for the next election. Mistaking excessive corporate representation in government for inherent government corruption helps to keep elites in control.

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Any of the perspectives above may be the lesson learned by millions of people. At best, they will remain political spectators, voting for a Democrat but uninvolved in movement-building or active support of pathbreaking candidates. At worst, they will be primed to resist the Green New Deal over a reinforced hostility towards deficit spending and government-led economic mobilization.

We need to turn the public’s notion of fiscal responsibility on its head. Political elites’ commitment to treating money like it is scarce is not just accepted but respected by too many people. Widespread understanding of the basic principles of modern monetary theory is the remedy. Without dispelling the years of propaganda we’ve received about “living within our means,” voters will continue to elect politicians who will gladly place needless limits on government spending. The power of monetarily sovereign governments to create vast sums of money has been demonstrated. The public’s well-being is much more affordable than we have been allowed to think. Federal deficits are not a barrier, and inflation is not currently a significant threat. We just need enough people to learn the lesson. And we must only elect representatives knowledgeable about and committed to fiscal reality.

A new perspective on money must be accompanied by a new perspective on debt. Economist James Galbraith pointed out that the economic shutdowns are poised to trigger a reckoning over private debt, because mounting debts can’t be paid even as workers return to their jobs. Will they be forgiven, as they should be, or will elites launch a massive campaign to seize homes and other assets? Any cancellation of household debt would reinforce the lesson illustrated by massive deficit spending: that the economic system is far more malleable than we’ve been allowed to think. It offers a vital teaching opportunity for activists working to transform the economy. Alternatively, if elites attempt to collect on this debt by robbing the public en masse, it may trigger an uprising that activists could help to channel in a productive direction. Economist Michael Hudson’s research shows that nearly all ancient societies recognized a periodic cancellation of private debt was absolutely necessary. Without it, unpayable debts would grow until creditors had totally impoverished or enslaved the public, and societies would collapse as a result. We will increasingly hear pundits say that all debts are legitimate and must be repaid. Learning about the history of debt empowers us to reject these assertions.

Citizens must also be able to put American democracy in context. Most adults have the right to vote (though that right is constantly being taken away for many), but because political campaigning is dependent on money, viable candidates are typically the ones who will reliably meet the demands of the wealthiest investors in politics. Both parties have maintained a society that needlessly deprives millions of people of their basic needs. Existential issues facing humanity are either met with an insufficient response or none at all. We need the public to look beyond the differences between Republican and Democratic politicians to see the political system’s general deference towards business interests. The state’s deadly negligence towards major crises is a result of this deference, not an inherent feature of government. We can address the issues we face if we build enough people power to replace plutocracy with truly democratic governance. As more people recognize that, political apathy and anti-government sentiment should recede. We’ll then be better positioned to organize a powerful mass movement and launch a Green New Deal.

We also need the public to understand what serious climate action looks like. That means learning about the carbon budget concept and the factors that shape it, as well as ways that society may change when transitioning from fossil fuels to renewable energy. To take the central example covered earlier: adhering to a small carbon budget to maintain a habitable climate seems to require a contraction of some economic activity. The pandemic revealed that we can quickly hit the brakes on the economy, but opponents of the transition will paint a threatening picture by linking it to the worst aspects of the virus-driven shutdowns. The success of the energy transition depends on extensive awareness of why it is necessary and how it would prioritize public well-being.

Knowledge is an essential component of democratic self-governance. It is key to appropriate outrage as elites limit government spending by claiming that money is scarce. It allows us to see through the falsehood that simply electing Democrats will open the door to serious climate action. It combats the fatalism inherent in thinking that public interests aren’t affordable or that politics doesn’t matter. If the public doesn’t internalize the right lessons, elites remain in control. If we’re to create a sustainable and democratic society, we need the climate movement to recognize that mass education is one of its core responsibilities.

Movement-Run Education Systems

The poor policy response to the pandemic reflects the lack of faithful representatives of public interests in government. Coronavirus relief bills provide some critical support for households but it is temporary and deeply insufficient, while the majority of funding is aimed at protecting corporate investors. Millions lose their jobs and their health insurance. Food banks are overwhelmed with requests. Then, before the virus is contained, people are forced back to work. Countless lives are directly imperiled by the government’s inadequate handling of this emergency.

The callous disregard of public well-being that defined this response must change if we are to address the climate crisis at this late stage. The climate movement must become powerful enough to seat a majority of public champions in government and open space for a rapid energy transition to occur. Formal efforts to instill the political lessons illustrated by the pandemic, as well as many others, are a crucial part of that process.

An informed citizenry is the foundation of the movement’s power, and building it starts with activists themselves. It’s important to establish robust internal discussion groups and formal education systems to ensure that each participant develops habits of intellectual activity and deepens their understanding of how society works. Through this process, the movement becomes more capable of meeting challenges both expected and unforeseen, and each participant becomes an educator capable of teaching the right lessons to others.

During quarantine, the Sunrise Movement began offering virtual teach-ins where activists could learn about the Green New Deal concept and various movement-building skills. This could be a step towards a much broader vision. We could develop a comprehensive curriculum that conveys the deep knowledge needed for self-governance in this time of converging existential crises. We need to understand the major forces that shape our society, from ecological systems and energy sources to economic institutions, power structures, and culture.

Developing ecological and energy literacy allows us to see the many existential crises facing humanity, which are all rooted in overwhelming human demands on our finite planet and require us to adjust our lifestyles. These parts of the curriculum would examine the details of a climate mobilization and explore how an all-renewable world may be different than the fossil-fueled one to which we’re accustomed.

Economic literacy tears down the myth that the economy is a “natural” entity arising from immutable economic laws only intelligible to business leaders and economists. Such myths encourage everyday people to accept a subordinate role rather than fight for their rightful place as equal participants in shaping a new, sustainable and democratic economy. The reality is that within the limits of ecology and energy, the economy is what we make it.

It is also crucial to develop a detailed understanding the power structures that determine how decisions are made in our society and the forces working against change. Studying these systems allows us to anticipate the forms of elite opposition that a full-scale Green New Deal will face and plan in advance to overcome them.

Finally, we should explore the immense role of culture in making the transition possible. Our understanding of modern life and our expectations about the future have been shaped by corporate propaganda and the energy surplus afforded by fossil fuels. We’ll need to break free from a conservative, consumerist culture that blocks the path to a sustainable society and cultivate an ecological and democratic culture in its place.

After activists establish a broad curriculum for internal use, we must bring it to the public to open space for a new society to emerge. This effort will help to build a durable political base for serious climate action: a constituency unencumbered by economic myths and conservative cultural norms, prepared for the challenges posed by the energy transition, and focused on electing a government full of authentic movement representatives—conditions under which a Green New Deal can be implemented.

The major question is how to build the means of informing the public at scale. Attempting to influence curricula at the K-12 school and higher education levels is important, and we should continue pursuing coverage in mainstream media outlets because of their massive audience. But there may be significant limits to these strategies, so activists must also develop independent means of communicating with the public. We need movement-run education and media systems that offer regular programming to communities across the country. Between on-the-ground efforts and online offerings, activists should aim to eventually reach millions of people each week. Independent outlets like Free Speech TV or Pacifica Radio could perhaps be early venues for these movement programs, but activists should also hold recurrent teach-ins in communities where they live. Those who aren’t already tuned into independent media, which is the majority, would never otherwise know about these opportunities. Non-activists must be offered programming where they are—it’s our responsibility to find them and bring them in.

The course on power structures would include instruction in media literacy. It would critically analyze how media outlets’ funding sources and other institutional factors shape their content, explore the information listeners are likely to hear or not hear, and introduce participants to the independent media ecosystem. Connecting the public to the many activist-oriented outlets that already work to teach people about the plutocratic and anti-ecological nature of our society could, on its own, significantly shift information streams around the country.

It is impossible to imagine creating a new society without fundamentally changing the picture of reality that the public regularly receives. In the past, climate activists viewed the organization of demonstrative actions like sit-ins and marches as their main work, and over the past few years organizing around elections has gained increasing focus. Now, direct education must also grow into a large, permanent movement activity. We have yet to see what is possible when a public deeply knowledgeable about its own interests organizes itself to elect a government authentically committed to those interests.

Conclusion

In order to create a society capable of a serious response to the existential threat of climate breakdown, we must learn certain lessons. Money is not scarce; we can afford to meet everyone’s basic needs. The government’s inadequate response to major crises is a natural result of elites’ control over it. Without truly democratic governance, made possible only by the active participation of an informed citizenry, there will be no rapid reduction in fossil fuel use. The education of large numbers of people is therefore a matter of life or death.

Activists cannot let the lessons highlighted by the coronavirus crisis disappear in the fog of mainstream media’s induced amnesia. If movements don’t develop the means to communicate them to millions of people, then we cannot expect a democratic awakening in the wake of this crisis. The body politic was sick long before the virus arrived, already at risk of collapse under the weight of its elite hierarchies. When its fever breaks, we must learn the right lessons about how to overcome the underlying issues that threaten its very existence.