Allie Rougeot is a climate justice activist and program manager at Environmental Defence Canada where she advocates for a just energy transition. As a speaker and facilitator, Allie talks to people about the escalating climate crisis and the solutions we can use to fight the emergency. In this conversation, we discuss the path she took to doing this work. Allie says it really started with working in support of refugees and in defense of human rights. The way this influences her approach to climate action is fascinating. It has given her unique insights on the challenge of crafting popular climate policies, ensuring that they’re equitable and fair, and a powerful sense that, because “climate change will create a threat to everything that makes our lives possible,” we are called to resuscitate our struggling democracies in the interest of forcing the system to actually support social life. I resonated most with her feelings of anger as she searches for climate justice. The way Allie puts it is that she is “driven by anger, more even than hope,” and this is because of the “knowing” destruction and suffering being perpetuated by the fossil fuel industry. In her words: “mass suffering was [and is] enabled by… a handful of people that will not bear the consequences.” There’s an emphasis throughout this conversation on how we can incorporate knowledge of the way the project of colonization sought to extract resources and annex Indigenous land. We see the continuation of this plunder today with the environmental obscenity of the Alberta tar sands and the tailings ponds, which represent the largest impoundment of toxic waste on the planet. This sprawling sea of poison is unequivocally an act of environmental racism. Rather than allowing these realities to overwhelm us, though, Allie says that we need to take our feelings of anger and urgency and use them as a turning point. Unfettered energy consumption is creating planet-wrecking carbon bombs and adverse health effects. This needs to be linked, now, with a rejection of extractivism as a worldview.

Dr. Ingrid Waldron should not need an introduction. The leading voice on environmental racism in Canada and author of There’s Something in the Water, Waldron has built a reputation for being unusually skilled at working with and within community and at reading the social landscape for fluctuations in the way that power works. She is the HOPE Chair in Peace and Health in the Global Peace and Social Justice Program at McMaster University and both the founder and director of The ENRICH Project, which has been a crucial source of organizational strength, culminating now in a series of funding announcements and some serious policy changes as Environmental Justice Bill C-226 is debated in Canada’s parliament. Ingrid’s commitment to public engagement and to publicizing the fact of environmental racism has made a huge impact in Nova Scotia, but it’s also been an inspiration to people globally, in part because of the success of a 2019 Netflix adaptation of There’s Something in the Water. Waldron’s radical definition of environmental racism is, as far as I’m concerned, the most precise one: she describes it in terms of the “white supremacist use of space” and explains how the “white supremacist use of space manifests in the disproportionate placement of polluting industries in Indigenous and Black communities.” From that powerful definition, Ingrid develops an argument that leaves a mark by detailing how the fact of environmental racism is rooted in “boundary-making practices that create social hierarchies” and why environmental racism is related to “other structurally induced racial and gendered forms of state violence.” This all has a history, and that history matters because it manifests itself as a combination of ecological destruction and social violence. We talk about how “racial capitalism” influences, and in some cases even determines, the politics of places like Nova Scotia and Flint, Michigan, which have seen intergenerational struggles over how polluting industries get sighted. We also discuss Indigenous sovereignty and the wisdom of Indigenous land and water protectors for thinking more expansively about health, wellness and treatment of the body’s ills. While the language of holistic medicine has been wholly co-opted, Waldron looks to reclaim and recover the concept, reminding us that “This includes all of the medicines the land provides, as well as social relationships with family members and the wider community.”

Catherine Abreu is a world-renowned climate campaigner whose work focuses on creating coalitions to take real action on climate change. She is the founder and executive director of Destination Zero, which—to quote their website—”partners with networks and other non-profits seeking to expand their work on climate justice, with a particular focus on accelerating the global transition away from fossil fuel dependence.” Catherine was appointed as one of the advisors to Canada’s Net-Zero Advisory Body in early 2021. She also serves on the strategic advisory committee for the Global Gas and Oil Network and the steering committee of the Fossil Fuel Non-Proliferation Treaty Initiative. Destination Zero has been foundational to the creation of the important Beyond Oil and Gas Alliance, as well. In this conversation we talk about Abreu’s experience of COP28, the health of our democracies and whether they’re up to the task of accomplishing the massive and mandatory shift to clean energy. We look at the culpability of Canada in the climate crisis and the level of responsibility that culpability therefore requires as we move into a future that is likely to be environmentally very unpredictable and dangerous. How can the climate movement gain more traction? How have we kept fighting in spite of so many setbacks and blockades produced by private industry and governments? Part of it, I think, is a sense that the struggle is just and it is urgent. As some of us wait on incremental change to repair -relations to the Earth, others--like Catherine--keep pushing for an ecologically rational disruption of the system that could create a series of chain reactions and ultimately the kind of lasting change we’ve been told is absolutely necessary to protect the world from anthropogenic climate change.

Darin Barney is a professor in the Department of Art History and Communication Studies at McGill University. He has written some really impactful work in communication studies, and received several awards for his academic work. He is a member of the Petrocultures Research Group, the After Oil collective and Future Energy Systems at the University of Alberta, among other groups. Jesse Goldstein is an assistant professor of sociology at Virginia Commonwealth University. He is a printmaker and has been a member of numerous art collectives, including Space 1026 in Philadelphia and more recently the Occuprint Collective. His current research focuses on the political economy of green technologies. Hannah Tollefson is a media and environmental studies scholar who works on questions of ecology, economy, and infrastructure. She studies how territory is technically mediated; the work of infrastructure in shaping relationships of place and scale; and the politics of energy transition. She is working on a project with Darin about contemporary efforts to develop oil sands bitumen for non-combustion uses and to devise formats for transporting bitumen in solid phase. Her work has appeared in a number of academic journals and anthologies. This conversation is focused on the reality that there is a surprising lack of friction between the fossiil fuel and the cleantech industries. Rather than posing a threat to the domination of everyday life by fossil fuels, we're seeing the ways in which compartmentalization of climate action and the diversification of portfolios is leading to a wholesale corporate capture of the future for energy, or, we should say, for fuels. In the case of Darin and Hannah's writing, their research has taken them into the boardrooms of companies that are vying for a place in the market for solid state bitumen products. With Jesse's work, there is a focus on how greenwashing as we know it has evolved into an ideology of only valuing innovation and imagination within narrow market terms, even when the innovation in question is devoted to cracking the climate crisis. In both instances, there is, in this critique of capitalist enclosure of clean energy or emergent forms of fuel, a sense that actually those that are involved in contemporary entrepreneurialism do want to have a positive social impact. The issue is that, as Jesse argues, the narrowing of innovation under capitalism means that these sorts of entrepreneurs are more or less obligated to concentrate their energy on doing well financially, rather than doing good socially or ecologically.

Abboud Hamayel is a Lecturer in the Department of Arabic Language and Literature at Birzeit University. In this conversation we talk about a number of his recent articles, and think through the implications of the October 7th Al-Aqsa Flood, or the attacks led by Hamas within the so-called Gaza Envelope. Abboud has written some invaluable pieces breaking down the assumptions people project onto Palestine in the West, on the complicity of the United States, in particular, in the ongoing annihilation of Palestinian society. Those essays are absolutely essential for thinking through and acting against the settler colonial violence being perpetrated in Gaza. The conversation here is relatively long, but extremely focused. There’s a concentration on what can be done that should be useful, but Abboud also offers a really rigorous theorizing of the foundations of occupation and settlement. He understands how the occupation affects life and politics in the West Bank, and that reality is something that I think we need to grasp more thoroughly.

Sherene Seikaly, an Associate Professor of History at UC Santa Barbara, delves into the chilling realities of Gaza amidst increasing violence. She discusses the dehumanization of Palestinians, particularly children, and the devastating effects of colonial narratives. The conversation highlights the humanitarian implications of a ceasefire and the urgent need for aid. Sherene also explores the intersection of resistance, historical erasure, and the ongoing struggles against colonial control, emphasizing the significance of storytelling in shaping perceptions of the conflict.

Nadia Yaqub is Professor of Arabic Language and Culture and at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Her research has examined Arab medieval literature and contemporary oral poetry, as well as modern prose fiction and visual culture. I spoke to her about three of her books: Bad Girls of the Arab World, which is about women and transgression in the Arab world, Palestinian Cinema in the Days of Revolution, which is an invaluable study of Palestinian resistance through the lens of Third Cinema, and her most recent edited anthology, Gaza on Screen. I learned a lot in this conversation about humility, opacity and the limits of solidarity across distance and across gaps in exposure to vulnerability. Yaqub has a deep understanding of the politics of the so-called “humanitarian image,” which is something she is very conflicted about in her work. She asks whether humanitarian images of Palestinian suffering “are always depoliticizing or victimizing, or whether the depoliticization occurs through the inherently ideological frameworks in which such images circulate.” I ask, as my first question to Nadia, what that idea of the framework means in the current moment, where Palestinians are limited in using artistic practices to demand freedom. I think a lot of us are wondering about the political forces that exist around the overwhelmingly terrifying images we’re receiving of total war being waged on Palestine’s civilian population and infrastructure. Nadia’s insight are really helpful here. There’s this idea in her work that the visual practices of Palestinians make up what she calls an “image archive of steadfastness.” Steadfastness is a core value in Palestinian culture. Yaqub is picking it up in a unique way to say that, especially in terms of art and storytelling, steadfastness is about trying to sustain a sense of community. There’s power in this idea for thinking about the role that communication plays in providing the conditions for political sympathy with Palestinian liberation.

Jeff Karabanow is Professor and Associate Director in the School of Social Work at Dalhousie University. He has worked with homeless populations in Toronto, Montreal, Halifax and Guatemala. His research focuses primarily upon housing stability, service delivery systems, trauma, and homeless youth culture. I want to say, first, that right now we don’t even really know how many people are currently experiencing homelessness in so-called Canada. The number could be anywhere between 150,000 to 300,000, according to the Homeless Hub, a research centre at York University. That is too wide of a range. What that range says is that our system cannot see unhoused people. The tools we are using—for example, Homeless Hub is using AI now to predict that the number will swell to over half a million people by 2030—the tools we are using to measure and respond to the problem are fundamentally broken. One of the big themes in this conversation is the idea of vulnerability, or rawness. It’s clear to anyone who is paying attention that the people who are living unhoused are vulnerable. They’re vulnerable to extreme weather, to so-called “deaths of despair,” they’re vulnerable to violence, among other forms of harassment and precarity. But the other side of vulnerability has to do with those of us who are housed, and who are buffered from the serious social issues that exist right outside our door. Much of what Jeff does is about breaking down barriers. The visible and invisible barriers to radical social change that keep the solvable problem of homelessness in a state of perpetual disaster. We break down those barriers in this conversation: they include systems of policymaking that exclude first voices, academic research practices that don’t authentically include a community-based aspect, a reticence about cultivating what Jeff calls “caring, authentic spaces” in a world that sometimes punishes us for trying. Engaging with everyone is really what’s required to get answers pushed into place, but that means looking seriously at the hierarchies, the opaque strategies of exhaustion, that privilege some and punish others. It also means taking seriously the effects of our histories of colonialism and racial capitalism that are about extraction and exploitation of the land and people. I know it’s a lot, but that is where the language that Jeff uses for outlining the problem becomes so valuable. At the heart of it is just this idea that, actually, housing is the “foundation of… healthy, dignified living.” As much as he gestures to the importance of being raw and real and letting emotion be an acceptable part of political communication, Jeff is also really emphatic about the fundamental question of dignity and dignified living, which is the crux of recognizing the displacement of people onto the streets by an unfeeling system as a clear and present disaster. People shouldn’t have to show their resilience the way this system makes them. People need homes, they need subsistence, they need a proliferation of spaces where a strong culture of care exists. They do not need a system that seeks to silence and sideline them, push them aside. Maybe the most striking thing that Karabonow explains in this conversation is that the solutions are simple. What’s complicated is the matter of building the relationships necessary to influence policy. This is why he drives home the fact that political action is crucial, collective struggle is important, making sure we’re using tactics that move people is essential. Because, in his words, “homelessness has always been a disaster.” When that disaster is visible, that is the time to act with a sense of urgency, but even and especially when that disaster is invisibilized, it is still time to act with a sense of urgency.

Veronica Post is a furniture maker, teacher and an award-winning graphic novelist based in Nova Scotia. She’s written two graphic novels so far, published by Conundrum Press; the books are part of a planned trilogy focused on the trials and tribulations of their title character Langosh and his trusty dog Peppi. The first two titles, Fugitive Days and Hot to Trot, are journalistic explorations of Veronica’s experiences that think through the realities of war, history, migration and trauma. In this conversation we talk about Langosh, Peppi and Yeva: Hot to Trot, an adventurous, ponderous romp that takes the reader across the United States on a tour not only of different spaces and cities, but also the characters’ emotional lives. The book is a thoughtful study of how relationships evolve often through friction. I thought the friction that came out of differences people had about specific social issues was really relatable. People argue about religion, about capitalism, about the crisis of unhoused people that has spread like wildfire since the outbreak of COVID. There are triumphant moments, too, where splash pages take us into heroic moments of women leading with care, people connecting over their shared outrage, and linking up in spite of significant differences to be there for each other. It’s a great book. It’s also beautifully drawn. Veronica has a real eye for landscapes, and because Hot to Trot is taking you on this big adventure, she has an opportunity to capture all kinds of different sunsets, spaces and methods of movement. People don’t stay in one place very long, and the characters in the book have a pretty restless attitude toward time. Especially Langosh. Langosh doesn’t want to think about the future, but the future has him. He can’t avoid it. But this isn’t his fatal flaw. Veronica reveals what that is, from her perspective, in this conversation. If you read the book, though, you’ll pick up on it. It’s a lot of fun, but it’s also really full of sympathy, speculation on how people work (or don’t work) as social beings, and some of the ways that time takes us through a meandering path toward something like realization and connection.

Gideon Levy is an Israeli journalist and author. Levy writes opinion pieces and a weekly column for the newspaper Haaretz that often focuses on the Israeli occupation of the Palestinian territories. He’s won numerous awards for his writing on human rights abuses in the occupied territories. Levy is known for insisting that being an Israeli patriot requires one to be critical of the occupation. When he said recently that he has never been more ashamed of his country, he was defending his country against what he sees as an increasing tendency toward fascism. It must be unbelievably difficult to stay the course and speak from his conscience about the scale of the violence Israel is perpetrating in Palestine. In fact, Levy says it feels “exasperating to write from this perspective and not have the impact he would like. He still maintains that “words are on the front line” of this struggle. How the violence is understood and what can be said has a significant impact on what sort of violence is permitted. So, too, does the form of resistance. Levy maintains that “If the Gazans were sitting quietly, as Israel expects them to do, their case would disappear… from the agenda.” This is a people that are waged war against within an occupied territory enclosed by a wall. Why is there a boycott against the occupied rather than the occupier? His writing is incredibly useful for people that want to understand the strategies of the Israeli leadership, which often uses provocation and assassination, a kind of brinksmanship designed, he suggests, to renew the license for widespread destruction and pacification of the Palestinian people. In this sense, Levy says that Israel “the peace objector.” Israel has imprisoned Gaza for many years, blocked them off from the sea, the air and the land. It regularly uses “violence and force” to subjugate Gaza, rather than coordinating a just withdrawal. Israel should not be “amazed,” Gideon says, “by the violence and hatred that [it has] sowed with [its] own hands.” The response has not been an attempt to understand the root causes or to reflect critically on its complicity. Instead, the IDF is waging a war on the civilian population, showing “contempt for the lives of Palestinian children” in its pursuit of “vengeance.” This collective punishment is forbidden by international law, and at the current moment, and likely for several years, Israel will be on trial for genocide at the International Court of Justice. Increasingly, the world is opposed to the Zionist regime in Israel and knows that there can be no military solution. Forcing an understanding of that into Israeli consciousness is extremely difficult, though, Levy says. In his experience, people in Israel are not bothered by the “moral aspects of the war.” This is why he has shifted toward focusing on the security and pragmatic reasons why this genocidal bombardment, this fascist fixation on punishing Gaza, is a failing strategy. He says that October 7th has created a bloodbath by opening the floodgates to a collective, vindictive military campaign that must be stopped. Given his family history, the fact that his grandparents were killed in the Holocaust, and the fact that he understands the specific forms that fascism has taken historically, it’s significant that he has said that Israel is slipping further into fascism. It will continue if the US, Canada, Europe all keep averting their eyes. If the blindness continues, Israel will keep killing, destroying and settling in the region. This wretched situation will be addressed by aggressive action by the peace movement, by all of us raising our voices in opposition, and given the inaction, by those in Palestine rising up where necessary to defend their lives. This is because critics like Levy have the disturbing sense that “if Israel wiped Gaza off the face of the earth… one can assume that there would be no protest” within the settler colonial Zionist state.