After years of struggle to conceive, plus tortured introspection about the effect her baby might have on future storms, Sophie Lewis, climate scientist, announces conception in the most convoluted way:
And then, just as senselessly as our grief began, it ended. For no particular reason, the expected bad baby news never arrived and now the complexity of having an imagined child will become a concrete ethical entanglement.
Exactly. And many a climate model operates with all the same clarity and insight.
But sincere congratulations to Sophie Lewis. We hope her good news brings her years of joy.
We also pray she escapes the climate bubble soon. Because by golly, she’s in deep.
Lewis reveals the paroxysms of irreconcilable guilt — where the evolutionary drive conflicts with the climate religion:
Older climate scientists speak widely about their worries for their grandchildren and the world they have provided them. While such concerns must weigh on older minds, younger climate scientists’ future concerns require active deliberation. Should we have children? And if we do, how do we raise them in a world of change and inequity? Can I reconcile my care and concern for the future with such an active and deliberate pursuit of a child?
Put simply, I can’t. Nowadays, the pitter-patter of tiny feet is inevitably the pitter-patter of giant carbon footprints. Reusable nappies, a bike trailer and secondhand jumpsuits might make me feel like I’m taking individual action but they will achieve little. A child born today is inevitably a consumer and, most significantly, is a consumer of greenhouse gases.
Warning. Pure climate-princess material coming — The climate battle is like World War II:
Living in and starting a family in volatile and uncertain times are not unique experiences. My grandmother fled Europe in the early 1950s for a better life in Australia. A German Jew, her family had been scattered, with herself interned in Britain, her sister lost in Auschwitz and her family’s desperate flight rebuffed by an indifferent world. Years of horror, combined with strict rations and economic uncertainty drove her to strike out bravely for a new life in Australia with her young babies.
But there was icing on the cake of the abject horror then — No such luck now:
Climate change is a critically different problem. In my grandmother’s time of abject horror, good people were empowered – to varying degrees – to do good. After the war ended, the actions of just a few were recognised as having salvaged the honour of all our humanity. Nowadays, the very act of living in Australia, regardless of concern for our climate future, is detrimental.
Now there are no heroes, just climate prophets (who can’t seem to predict anything useful) and whose bodily existence, like everyone else, including babies “is detrimental”
Indeed, to paraphase her baby announcement:
And then, just as senselessly as our grief began, it ended. For no particular reason, the expected bad climate news never arrived and now the complexity of having an imagined climate has become a concrete ethical entanglement.
Those warmists who fear that a child,
Could leave our green planet defiled,
Or that one baby primate,
Could change Earth’s whole climate,
Are by climate-change hot air beguiled.