Category: Review

Review | All In -a revolutionary theory to stop climate collapse

Portuguese ecosocialists Climaximo argue for a strategy of rupture in the face of climate collapse. Pete Cannell reviews a new book which lays out their case.

In the last few years, the Portuguese ecosocialist collective Climaximo has been one of the most dynamic and creative parts of the European climate movement.  Two years ago, the group made a sharp shift in its strategy and tactics, declaring that ‘the governments and the corporations declared war against the people and the planet’.  All In: a revolutionary theory to stop climate collapse, written by two Climaximo activists, Mariana Rodrigues and Sinan Eden, is an explanation of the Climaximo approach and a call to action. It’s an unusual book. You may find parts hard to follow. You’ll almost certainly find that it includes things you disagree with. I don’t think the authors will mind that. What they are concerned to do is to win a case for their key propositions about the problems we face and what is to be done. 

First the issue:

‘Everyone in the movement is more and more aware of two sets of information. The first is that the capitalist system is the root cause of the climate crisis and has absolutely no perspective of solving it. The logical consequence is that the task of any movement informed by climate justice is to dismantle capitalism. The second is the threat of runaway warming cascading to climate chaos. In other words: urgency.’

Mariana and Sinan argue that most people deal with one or other of these propositions but not both. They provide withering assessments of the movement as it is. They argue that existing climate campaigns generally end up becoming ‘every small decrease in emissions matters’ campaigns. Implicit in their assessment is a critique of NGOs who often talk about system change but whose practice is limited to demanding change within the existing system.  On the other hand, they see the revolutionary left as clear about capitalism’s responsibility but failing to reflect the urgency of the crisis in their organising. It’s important to note that these judgements are made by insiders and activists not by detached academic commentators.

Underpinning the book is an assumption that whether or not there was once a pathway to a zero-carbon economy through some form of highly regulated capitalism, as global temperatures break the 1.5 degree increase set by the Paris COP and carbon emissions continue to rise, that path, if it were ever possible, is foreclosed. 

The authors aim to develop a theory of change and an organisational model that can combine tackling the revolutionary overthrow of capitalism with the urgency that the climate crisis provides.  They acknowledge that embracing both objectives can be daunting. They suggest that many movement organisers avoid even confronting this by focusing on limited and short-term objectives – effectively sidelining the systemic challenge that we face. They also argue that ‘not enough new generation organisers are learning from historical experience, limiting their attention to specific interpretations of specific examples’.

Taking all of this into account, the middle section of the book examines multiple historic examples of ‘successful’ movements for change, with brief descriptors and classification into different explicit or implicit theories of change.  The overt aim is to develop a sense that contemporary movements have a rich history that should be engaged with. Mariana and Sinan encourage the reader to dig deeper.  While I understand the reason for spending time on these examples, I found this the least convincing part of the book.  In part this is down to my disagreement with the way in which some events are characterised. No distinction is made between political and social revolution. And there’s an uncritical framing of the 20th century as a period when for some decades more than half of the world was ‘socialist’. This opens serious questions. Why were these ‘socialist’ states so appalling in terms of environmental practice? If they were a new mode of production how did capitalism return?  But perhaps I’m being over-critical, the authors are clear that their aim is to get activists interrogating and learning from past struggles.

‘Look, all these people were thinking about the questions we have now, and they answered them, sometimes it even worked, and many times it worked better than whatever we have done so far. If we can spark such genuine curiosity, we shall be satisfied.’ 

In the final part of the book the authors turn to what is to be done. Essentially, they call for organisations to take the same turn as Climaximo, recognise that we are in a situation where the capitalist class are determined to hang on to a system that is trashing the planet and then act accordingly. There are two basic propositions. Firstly, the climate crisis is a global problem. 

‘Globalisation is the material process through which imperialism is integrated into a world system.’

Secondly, global capitalism has created its own gravedigger, a global working class. This is summarised as: 

‘At this moment of history, there is a global working class confronting globalised capital.’

Both propositions are common currency on the left. But the conclusion that Climaximo draw, and that Mariana and Sinan develop, is not simply ‘build the revolutionary party’ although they are clear that the goal is revolution. Their proposed strategy is a brutally honest attempt to chart a path forward in a context which we wouldn’t have chosen as a starting point and where older models of ‘party’ building are inadequate. It takes for granted that there are many campaigns, movements, groups, and parties too, that could form the nucleus of the mass campaign that we need. 

The core idea is the development of the ‘movement as party’. Some of the language is opaque so what follows is my interpretation. The aim is to build what Mariana and Sinan call a global movement ecosystem. What defines the parts of the ecosystem is a clear class-based focus on getting rid of capitalism.  Tactics and ways of organising will vary by, and within, different locations, but following the example of Climaximo, the components of the ‘movement as party’ will have declared a climate emergency within their organisation. They will have accepted the basic propositions and most importantly they will have adapted their practice to align with them. The authors note that:

Surely, we can have many plans, contingent on various possibilities. But we need those plans, anti-capitalist plans, actually-dismantling-capitalism-in-the-short-term kind of plans. ‘System change not climate change’ is not an agitation tool anymore, it’s a directive for our generation. 

They argue that:

‘… in a state of climate emergency, we need to take risks – a lot of them: political, strategic, organizational, tactical, personal and emotional risks. We cannot afford to lose everything without having really risked to win. We need to fail forward, we need to be intentional and attentive in our failures.’

They explain that:

‘By intentional failure we mean knowing what we are trying out and what risks we are taking. By attentive failure, we mean having specific collective processes in place to learn from the experience and share it.’ 

Climaximo’s understanding of class is based on the ecofeminist ideas of Stefania Barca which sees those involved in care work, work which contributes to social reproduction and the continuation of human life as integral to the working class. They note that:

‘Historically, marginalisation of reproductive work and metabolic work has accompanied marginalisation by gender, race and ethnicity.’ 

Critically this is a global working class which confronts the global issue of climate crisis.  Mariana and Sinan stress that building a global movement is not an optional extra but a key part of building the ‘movement as party’. They insist that it’s not just a theoretical position but a practical one and argue that organising in a climate emergency means devoting perhaps 25 per cent of an organisation’s capacity to international work. In this respect Climaximo has an exemplary record, being central to the organisation of the Global Climate Jobs Conference in Amsterdam in 2023 and the counter-COP Earth Social Conference.

‘All In’ wrestles with questions that should be on the minds of everyone who is concerned about the state of the world we live in. What it proposes may not be ‘the answer’ but it should make you think and it concludes by setting a challenge – ‘Will we dare to win?’ 

Check out the All In website and order the book.

A version of this review was also published on the rs21 website.

One of the author’s Sinan spoke at a book launch co-sponsored by ScotE3

Review | Lifehouse -taking care of ourselves in a world on fire

Adam Greenfield argues that the key battles over climate are lost and activists should focus on adapting to the results of that failure. Pete Cannell responds that the only possible choice is to keep fighting for social change.

A version of this review was first published on the rs21 website.

In October 2012 hurricane Sandy wrought havoc on the eastern seaboard of the US. The storm surge overwhelmed New York’s sea defences and destroyed the homes and livelihoods of many thousands of working-class New Yorkers. The response of the city authorities was slow and totally inadequate. In its place, networks built a year earlier through Occupy Wall Street stepped in to mount a huge programme of mutual aid which became known as Occupy Sandy. Adam Greenfield, the author of Lifehouse, was one of the volunteers.

Hurricane Sandy flooding – image by David Shankbone (Creative Commons)

2024 was the first year that global average temperatures exceeded pre-industrial levels by 1.5°. Each year since 2022, global average temperatures have increased at an unprecedented rate. Year on year, global heating is matching the most extreme end of the range of possibilities predicted by climate scientists. And, while energy generated from solar and wind power increases apace, fossil fuel use is at an all-time high and greenhouse gas emissions continue to rise. Even if there were a massive shift to a low carbon economy tomorrow, rising temperatures, extreme weather and rising sea levels are baked into the global system for decades, probably centuries, to come. 

In his new book Lifehouse: Taking Care of Ourselves in a World on Fire Greenfield responds to this scenario by arguing that attempts to mitigate climate change have failed.  He makes three assumptions:

that a so-called ‘green energy transition’ will not take place in time to prevent the most consequential drivers of change from happening; that reparative ’geoengineering’  will not be attempted at the necessary scale or, if attempted, will not work as intended; and that in the time available to us, we will not invent some other technology capable of siphoning carbon from the atmosphere at the necessary scale, and rescuing ourselves that way.

Considering this, he calls on activists to redirect their efforts to adapting to the inevitable consequences of that failure. The core of the book draws on his experience of Occupy Sandy, the ideas of social theorist Murray Bookchin and other examples of collective social organisation including the Black Panthers and Rojava. 

Providing our own commons

The climate movement has always included activists who have argued for a return to nature, a retreat to a rural life that would involve rejecting all aspects of modernity. Greenfield’s position is different.  He recognises that most of the world’s population live in big urban centres and will likely continue to do so.  Building on his Occupy Sandy experience he suggests that every area needs to develop a Lifehouse, a building or complex of buildings that would form a focus for mutual aid, care and support for the local community – a place to meet and organise, find and share skills, grow food, provide medical services and much more. In any given urban area there would be many such sites. 

Greenfield expects that the deepening impact of the climate crisis will have a disrupting effect on the operation of the complex interconnected system that is 21st century capitalism.  This is certainly true. He also assumes that the retreat from state provision of public services that has developed in the neo-liberal era will continue.  He argues that:

if the state withdraws from [the provision of public goods] then there is only one possible response, which is for populations to self-organize to provide their own commons.

Accepting this, Greenfield then pays little attention to the state as he develops the Lifehouse concept.  I think this a profound mistake for reasons which I will attempt to address in the rest of this review. 

Greenfield’s articulation of Bookchin’s ideas recognises real problems with the Lighthouse model.  He notes that local systems of mutual aid may well be predicated on exclusivity, racist or misogynist ideas. Clearly the survivalist movement in the US is an example of this.  And in response to the cost-of-living crisis in Britain the far right was, and remains, proactive in setting up food banks and spaces where people could seek support.  His response is to suggest that the Lifehouse model should include an assumption of connectedness or confederation with other Lifehouses. He also notes that Lifehouses are likely to attract hostile responses from the state or from non-state reactionary forces. Again, I think this is right. While states welcome some forms of substitution for welfare services – typically charity run food banks and other services – they are much less keen on initiatives that involve collective working-class organisation.

The repressive state

The Lifehouse model assumes explicitly that it is possible to organise outside the state and alongside the state.  Greenfield argues that we should start building Lifehouses now. But almost everywhere that brings you up against a state that is increasingly repressive and intolerant of dissent, in a context of militarism, racism, misogyny and transphobia and the growth of the far right.  If we forswear mitigation and throw all our energies into adaptation it seems to me that we are in effect surrendering the ground to reaction. Greenfield notes at one point that a dystopian future might yet include small, favoured patches of relative normality, refuges for the rich. We can be sure that such enclaves would be armed to the teeth. On the other hand, if we focus on adaptation and turn to building Lifehouses our small patches of mutual aid and cooperation would have no such defence.

I want to argue that the alternative is to take system change seriously. That means breaking and replacing the capitalist system.  I’m conscious that here and now that might seem as utopian as the idea that we can remodel the world as a connected web of confederated Lifehouses.  I’m open to the idea that a sustainable world might look something like Adam Greenfield’s vision.  But the key challenge is surely how we can turn the world upside down and end the system which is driving us to disaster?  And here socialists have a historic responsibility.  

It’s clear that the climate crisis is systemic. The capitalist system has driven huge increases in material wealth through the exploitation of human labour and through commodification of the environment and material world. The system depends on continual growth and is incompatible with sustainable existence on a finite world. Revolutionary socialists have always argued that if those who labour seize the means of production, the fruits of human labour could be shared equally.  We talk about a world to win that could provide comfort, leisure and security for all. Today, however, the world we inherit is one where, as a result of the environmental damage caused by two centuries of industrial capitalism, the conditions of human existence are far more inhospitable than was the case previously.  The socialist revolution would necessarily apply the emergency brake to runaway climate change, but it can’t stop the damage that has already been done. The conditions for human existence in a world without capitalism will present a challenge for survival. Many of the world’s major cities will be underwater, there will be mass migration as some areas become too hot for human habitation and food production will be under huge strain in a world where extreme weather events are far more frequent. 

Socialists can’t promise a future of what has been called ‘fully automated luxury communism’. But we can expose the lies and deceptions of mainstream bourgeois governments and the far-right populists who are jockeying to replace them with the promise of a return to some earlier and mythical time of comfort and security. No such promise is possible in a world on fire.  Of course, exposing the lies is only possible if there are demonstrably possible alternatives and that’s our task to develop and popularise. 

The global working class

The wealth of the capitalist ruling class is built on the labour of generations of workers around the world and the blood and bones of the untold millions who were murdered through war and colonisation as capitalism spread around the globe. It is a system of great power and sometimes open, sometimes concealed, brutality. However, it depends for its existence on a global working class. Moreover, in this era of late capitalism it depends critically on complex systems and long global supply chains that can break if key workers withdraw their labour or under the impact of extreme weather events.  It’s brittle and vulnerable. That’s why Adam Greenfield’s argument for giving up on mitigation is so wrong.

Winning political arguments about who’s to blame for the crisis and how to ensure a secure future for all is not easy. In hard times it’s necessary for the left to articulate ‘freedom dreams’. Part of the argument has to be about a new economy that provides that security. But it also needs explicit recognition that the system that puts profit before the lives of people and trashes the life chances of future generations has to end. Achieving that goal requires a compelling vision and building collective power in workplaces and communities around the world. Along the way some states may be forced to make concessions and take mitigating action – but the only sustainable end game is the overthrow of those states.

This critique of Lifehouse is not an attack on mutual aid.  Practices of mutual aid are a vital and necessary part of working-class resistance – most notably in the urban centres of the global south. At times they may be essential to sustain class struggle and community survival but always against the state. To build sustainable centres for collective support and organisation requires the development of networks of resistance built through class struggle.  And if we do that then we can aspire to so much more.

Lifehouse: Taking Care of Ourselves in a World on Fire
Adam Greenfield

Oil’s history: dissecting the many-headed hydra

Simon Pirani reviews Crude Capitalism: oil, corporate power and the making of the world market by Adam Hanieh

Review by SIMON PIRANI of Crude Capitalism: oil, corporate power and the making of the world market by Adam Hanieh (Verso 2024)
Witnessing genocide can be paralysing. The horror of Israel’s onslaught on the civilian population of Gaza seeps in to the spaces in our heads, interrupting and disrupting attempts to think.
My memory keeps connecting Gaza to the Vietnam war, news about which filtered through to me as a young teenager. My sheltered world was shattered by the cruelty with which innocent people were slaughtered and tortured, on the orders of governments I had vaguely assumed should protect people. I see teenagers going through analogous thought processes now. 

This post was originally published on the People and Nature blog.

How can it be that, half a century on, the grotesque “civilisation” that stalked Vietnamese villages has evolved, to produce the monstrous Netanyahu regime? What does this tell us about the many-headed hydra we are fighting, and humanity’s attempts to resist it?

Adam Hanieh’s book Crude Capitalism dissects one of the hydra’s heads – oil, and the corporations and states that use it to reinforce their wealth and power – and offers us a view on the part it plays in the whole organism. Reading it helped me to think of the horror of Gaza not as an aberration, but as a logical outcome of capital’s dominance in the twenty-first century.

Crude Capitalism tackles its big, difficult themes with precision and attention to detail. It is beautifully presented and organised.

The first part of the story Hanieh tells, of oil’s initial growth, plays out in the early twentieth century, in the US, and to a lesser extent in Iran, Azerbaijan and in Latin America. In the second part, from the mid twentieth century onwards, Middle Eastern oil resources and the battles for control of them loom large. And this is part of the background to the deluge of war crimes now being committed against Palestinians.

The connections are not direct. Regimes centred on vicious ethnic cleansing, like Netanyahu’s, are produced by capitalism; capitalism thrives on oil. But there are multiple mediations. Hanieh’s approach to these is an antidote to the simplifications that all too often circulate in radical political circles.

Physical control over oil production was crucial in the early twentieth century, but that has long ceased to be the case, Hanieh argues.

In the 1960s and 70s, against the background of powerful anti-colonialist movements, control over oil production shifted substantially from the powerful US- and European-based multinationals to state-controlled national oil companies, in the Middle East above all.

But capital and its state machines adapted. The US, which during the 1950s and 60s had superceded Britain and France as the dominant imperial power in the Middle East, established strategic and military relationships with the Gulf states and the Shah’s regime in Iran (at least, until the latter was overthrown in 1979). In the 1970s, the Saudi and Iranian monarchies were one pillar of US power in the region; Israel was the other.

Brute military force was only one aspect of imperial domination. Crucial, too, Hanieh argues, were changes in economic relationships, and in the financial system, through which control was maintained over oil revenues.

In the 1960s, oil producer countries’ governments, led by Venezuela, had forced through changes in oil pricing that disadvantaged the powerful US companies that had stakes in their oil fields. The Saudi monarchy, too, demanded a bigger slice of the cake. The US responded by changing its own tax rules so that, while more oil money flowed to Riyadh, the largest oil companies continued to earn record profits.

In the 1970s, price shocks shattered the monopolistic pricing system that had served the biggest companies. Action by the producer nations, coordinated through the Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC), took control of prices out of the multinationals’ hands. Crude oil prices quadrupled in 1973-74, and doubled again in 1979.

In the 1980s, there was further momentous change: oil increasingly became a traded commodity; wealth and power poured into intermediary trading firms. The oil profits that had once flowed mostly to rich-country corporations were now pouring into the Gulf states especially.

Oil refining in Saudoi Arabia

These “petro dollars”, flowing to countries outside the circle of imperialist powers in unprecedented quantities, became a big factor in financialisation (the expansion of international money markets, supercharged by computerised trading) and globalisation (the minimisation of capital controls and other trade barriers associated with neo-liberal economics).

(Forty years later, the flow is greater than ever. The Gulf states accumulated an estimated two-thirds of a trillion dollars in current account surplus in 2022, when, after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, oil prices shot up.)

“Petro dollars” became “euro dollars”, funding that gathered in markets outside the US, denominated in its currency. The dollar, the status of which as a reserve currency had been endangered when it was unhooked from the gold standard in 1971, was reinforced.

Forms of money and the rise of the euromarkets, the dollar’s position as international reserve currency, the dominance of Anglo-American financial institutions, the chains of debt and the rise of neoliberal orthodoxy – these were not the automatic outcomes of dry economic processes centred in north America and Europe, but inextricably linked to the geopolitics of oil and the US presence in the Middle East. 

By focusing on these “subterranean global roots” of the new financial system, Hanieh writes, “it is possible to shift the ways that we usually think about the control of oil”.

This is not simply reducible to territorial power and the ownership of foreign oil fields – it is also a question of the control of oil’s wealth. 

To understand the killing fields of Gaza, we need to think, on one hand, about US military supplies to the Gulf states and Israel and the deranged ideologies that propel Israeli soldiers to massacre – and, on the other, about these “subterranean roots” that run through the banks, financial centres, trading houses and the City of London.

We are dealing with a many-headed hydra that combines wealth, power and terror in complex ways.

These relationships belie myths, such as the idea that our enemies fight repeated wars for oil. Actually, they rarely do.

The devastating 2003 US- and UK-led invasion of Iraq, Hanieh reminds us in a footnote, was “not so much about the seizure of Iraq’s oil as about the protection of the Gulf monarchies”.

He quotes another historian of the Middle East, Toby Craig Jones, who pointed out that capturing oil and oil fields has not been part of the US’s strategic logic for war, “but protecting oil, oil producers, and the flow of oil, has been”.

Oil does not just produce cash wealth. Once out of the ground, it is transported long distances, usually by ship (itself a hellishly oil-intensive business). It is refined into products: tarmac and bitumen; fuels from petrol to aviation fuel, the supply of which has shaped military, industrial and agricultural practices, and consumer markets, for a century; and ethylene and other raw materials for petrochemical plants.

Hanieh, in contrast to other big-picture historians of oil, foregrounds this “downstream”. He shows that, from the start, the US and European oil giants’ strategy was vertical integration, i.e. control of the whole process, down to the petrol stations.

Motor cars, the ultimate consumer good that consumes so much oil, loom large in this story. So does the burning of oil in power stations. Hanieh picks out for more detailed treatment the petrochemical industry, where oil is used not as an energy carrier that can be converted into mechanical motion, heat or electricity, but as a raw material.

He traces the origins of petrochemical processing in Germany; its development (if that is the right word) during the second world war as an arm of the Nazi military machine; and the US’s post-war acquisition of German technologies by theft and expropriation. Petrochemicals, while US- and European-dominated through the late twentieth century, are expanding rapidly in the Middle East and China in the twenty-first.

Fossil-fuel-based plastics and other synthetic materials, Hanieh argues, have displaced natural materials such as wood, cotton and rubber. “By decoupling commodity production from nature, there was a radical reduction in the time taken to produce commodities, and an end to any limits on the quantity and diversity of goods produced.”

This was a qualitative transformation: petrochemicals helped capital to achieve revolutions in productivity, labour-saving technologies and mass consumption; “birthed in war and militarism, they helped constitute a US-centred world order”. Our social being is bound up with a seemingly unlimited supply of cheap and disposable petrochemicals.

I hope Hanieh’s arguments on petrochemicals are brought to the centre of discussions about the transition away from oil, and what that implies for the socialist project of confronting and defeating capitalism.

First, the flow of oil as a raw material through the petrochemical industry needs to be put in the wider context of the colossal flow through the capitalist economy of extracted materials, including metals, minerals, concrete, asphalts, and living matter such as biomass and farm animals.

A team led by Fridolin Krausmann recently estimated that the aggregate of these material flows swelled 12 times over between 1900 and 2015. Eric Pineault has attempted to draw on this work, and that of ecological economists, to develop a Marxist view of this aspect of capital’s earth-shattering drive to expand.

Second, an issue of interpretation. I do not think the petrochemical industry “decouples” production from nature: it is another way of processing, and reprocessing, materials accessed from nature. Hanieh has, though, pointed to something hugely important, and dangerous, in the way that synthetic materials corrupt and deform humanity’s relationship with nature. Pinning down exactly what should be a concern to us all.

In the final chapter of Crude Capitalism, Hanieh surveys oil companies’ response to the threat of climate change. Having spent decades funding climate science denial, they have in the last decade reversed their public stance, accepted global heating as a fact … and become “enthusiastic converts” to the concept of “net zero”, as warped by politicians, that displaces genuine greenhouse gas emissions reductions with chimerical techno-fixes, above all carbon capture.

“By appearing to transform themselves into part of the solution”, the oil companies “not only hide their ongoing centrality to the fossil economy, but aim to frame and determine the societal response to climate change”, Hanieh warns.

The companies embrace technical false solutions – biomass, electric vehicles and hydrogen – that have moved to the centre of establishment climate policy. They are betting on expansion of the synthetic consumerist dystopia underpinned by petrochemicals. And their Orwellian grip on politics, hand in hand with producing-nation dictators, is on display at the international climate talks – last year (Abu Dhabi) and this (Azerbaijan) more than ever.

Ecosocialists, who endeavour to bring together the fight to overcome humanity’s disastrous rupture with nature with the fight for social justice, must first confront the fact that energy production and infrastructure “remain solidly in the hands of the largest oil conglomerates”, Hanieh argues.

Secondly, though, we need to acknowledge that while these firms are a “major obstacle” to moving away from oil, “they are a manifestation, not a cause, of the underlying problem” of capitalist social relations.

Let’s not only recoil in horror at the genocide: let’s also dissect and better understand the many-headed hydra. This book helps.