8. I believe in carbon credits now, but where does that leave the poor?
Systems can be implemented, but will culture change?
Hello friend,
It's been a hot July, hasn't it? And is it me, or does the bad news seem to be unrelenting? In Singapore we're back in lock-down after an unfortunate spike in COVID cases following an outbreak in KTV lounges. Dining in is no longer an option, and the hope of borders reopening has vanished overnight. In that time, I've also had to face the unfortunate rejection to a job I had been interviewing for. After nearly 2 months of tests and interviews with clean energy consulting firm, South Pole, it was hard to hide my disappointment when they decided to go with another candidate. In the time since, I've grappled with the question of what it means to matter, especially in the context of a global existential threat. Does a job in the climate space dictate whether I can have an impact — and if not, can I begin from nothing?
The answer, unfortunately, seems to be a resounding "yes." On the surface everyone's impact seems to be tied to their job. Entrepreneurs and innovators jump at the many climate opportunities; law makers shoulder the responsibility of good governance and decision making, while activists and journalists are tasked with education and agitation. The many pathways are inundating, not because they've been made available to me, but because I don't quite know where to begin. It certainly seems that impact increases exponentially with the job you hold. Yet at the same time, I can't help but wonder if everyone is motivated by the same underlining concern for the vulnerable.
As things would have it, the circle of what constitutes as "vulnerable" is expanding. I was in a similar underground train in Singapore when I first watched videos of the floods in China. The death toll now sits at 33 dead. Over 1 million people have been displaced. I do not wish to further comment on the footage; if it does not speak for itself then it is well possible that not all are moved by this tragedy. And if this does not shock the middle class, I'm not quite sure what will. What I do know is this: I do not see myself as less vulnerable than my poorer neighbors, nor any more at risk than my wealthier counterparts.
In the same month of July, of course, the talk of the web has been Jeff Bezos and Richard Branson test flying what some have since labelled "escape pods". I feel as if many of those privileged enough to do so are making private, internal calculations: "How much are we allowed to use our wealth to insulate ourselves and our families from the rest of the world? Can we afford to escape the turmoil we've created?"
The by-product of capitalism is culture that celebrates the ostentatious nature of wealth. Frankly, I'm not a fan of this culture. I do not believe it's compatible with the ethos we need to embody for the future of our planet. The wealthy capitalist is well aware his empire was built on the backs of those with less means, at the expense of the environment. Why would they be motivated by the plight of the poor and vulnerable? If anything, the poor are an afterthought. At best, a small factor in the grand scheme of things, — at worst? I daresay wholly despised.
The question arises, "why so?" For I can't but gather that they are universally despised. I believe it's for the simple reason that they fail to earn a decent living and hence don't contribute to the economy. In practice, nobody cares whether work is useful or useless, productive or parasitic — the one thing demanded is that it should be profitable. In all our current talk about clean energy, climate policy, and economic rhetoric, what other conclusion do we arrive at except "earn money, earn it legally, and make a lot of it?" Money, it seems to me, has become the grand test of virtue. By this test, the poor fail. And the more the climate changes, the more their numbers continues to grow. Perhaps it's for this exact reason Bezos and Branson continue to do what they do best.
Looking back at my archives has made me aware that my catalyst towards the climate sector has been a concern for the poor and the systems that keep them there. Not very much of a motivation when contrasted against the popular currents of capitalism here in Singapore, but it's what I have to offer. That concern has since blossomed and deepened into a curiosity on green economics. Which in turn has led me to carbon credits — in part thanks to South Pole, given it's one of the many services they provide. Carbon credits, I've come to learn, is a fairly viable solution in reducing global emissions. That is if corporations adhere to regulatory policy. The trading of these credits allows businesses to buy or sell credits as they deem necessary — as long as carbon output is capped, theory has it, we will be able to meet our carbon output goals. News in Singapore is that we're slated to launch our own carbon exchange later this year. On that front, it's looking promising.
But of course, carbon trading has it's limitations. Creating a market in something with no intrinsic value — in this case carbon dioxide — is very difficult. Governments need to promote scarcity, and they have to strictly limit the right to emit so that it can be traded. As a report from CNBC puts it:
An over supply of carbon allowances during the 2008 financial crisis saw the price of polluting fall in the EU's trading system, reducing the incentive for businesses to change their behavior. In response, the EU came up with the "market stability reserve" (MSR), which gave the European commission the ability to tighten or loosen the supply or carbon units. As a result, their price tripled from 8 Euros per tonne of C02 to around 25 tonne of C02 over a year.
This control over the pricing of carbon units saw the energy sector move output away from coal powered stations to cleaner, gas-powered electricity production that produced less C02. The result? Carbon emissions fell by 8.7% between 2018 and 2019, the largest decline in Europe since 2009.
Before I knew any better, there was a disconnect between what all these terms and numbers meant. Here's what I understand now: 30% of Singapore has a low elevation that would be subject to flooding if the sea level rises by 1m or more.
If nothing changes, we’ll become the vulnerable.
No carbon market will save us then.
Thanks for reading, til the next one!
Forever grateful,
Daniel Teyogu