The (deputy) director's cut

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years working for the environment, it’s that you should never talk about global warming in the wintertime.  Either we’ve just gotten two feet of snow and people look at you like you’re crazy, or it’s 65 degrees in February and the person you’re talking to thinks it’s a good thing.  One of the problems with global warming is the term itself.  It doesn’t really capture the urgency of the problem the way, say, “nuclear meltdown” or “acid rain” tends to come across.  It might even sound good to some.  Who doesn’t like it warm?  What we’re really talking about is climate instability.  With a continuing increase in the world’s temperatures, climate and weather patterns are becoming more volatile.  A high percentage of the American public associates the destruction of Hurricane Katrina with the pattern of severe weather that scientists have been predicting for years would result from climate change.  Given that the force of the storm was due in large part to the unusually warm temperature of the water in the Gulf, it’s a reasonable assumption.  Add to that the alarming rate at which the ice cap is melting in the Arctic and consider the domino effect it could have across the globe, and you start to get the picture.

In the past three decades, over one million square miles of sea ice – an area the size of Norway, Denmark and Sweden combined – has disappeared.  Yeah, I know.  Sea ice.  Excuse me while I start thinking about baseball.  How about the fact that the melting taking place in the Arctic is posing a serious threat to the existence of polar bears?  Yep, that cute and cuddly icon (okay, so it could take your head off if you tried to actually cuddle with it) is facing the possibility of extinction as a result of global warming.  They depend on the ice to hunt, and with the melting taking place and the ice season becoming shorter and shorter, the bears can’t hunt to the level they need, and are often forced into extended periods of fasting.  As a result, they can no longer build up the fat upon which they rely to keep them healthy.  This in turn affects their ability to survive and reproduce.  In 2004, the population count for polar bears was down to 950 – a 14 percent decline from counts in 1995.

So Greenpeace is suing the federal government to protect the polar bear under the Endangered Species Act.  As a result, the US Fish and Wildlife Service has announced that it is initiating the process to list them as threatened, due to the destruction their habitat is experiencing as a result of global warming.  A listing under the ESA would grant considerable protection for the bears, and would force the US government, which has thus far stuck its head in the sand on the issue of climate change, to consider the impacts that large emissions of greenhouse gases have on the polar bear’s habitat.  It would essentially force them to play with the rest of the world in addressing this crucial issue.

So even if you’re a heartless pragmatist who could give a flip about some bear a long, long ways away from your living room and daily commute, consider this.  The polar bear is the proverbial canary in the coal mine (I thought about saying “tip of the ice berg”, but it didn’t pass the eye roll test when I tried it out on a few people).  They are just the beginning of a much larger problem.  By taking measures today to save the polar bear, we will also be taking a large step towards solving the crucial problem of climate change. Which means we will ultimately be taking critical steps towards saving ourselves.

3:00 am.  Larry and I hid in the dark shadows at the base of the tower and sorted our climbing gear in the deafening roar of the cooling water that was splashing past us only a few feet away.  The plan was for me to climb up the flimsy plastic mesh designed to keep birds and leaves out of the tower's infrastructure, to a platform 75 feet above.  Just climbing that high on an uncertain medium was unnerving enough, but even more frightening was the fact that the climb was overhanging at about a 110-degree angle.  After waiting out a security guard who ventured within 15 feet of our hiding place before heading back to his truck and continuing with his rounds, I tied into the lead end of the rope and embarked on the first leg of our ascent.  The climbing was tenuous, and I was looking at hitting the ground if I fell.  I took my time, fighting nerves and trying to ignore the almost overwhelming urge to rush.  About 10 feet from the top, the mesh on which I stood started to pull away from the side of the tower.  After pulling away a few gut-wrenching feet the mesh held, and I froze, my heart racing wildly.  The cliché about hanging by a thread suddenly gained new meaning.  After a minute or so, I got my wits together and slowly traversed a few feet to the right.  Once I had gained more stable mesh, I slowly started ascending again and kissed the platform when I arrived there a few minutes later.

That was me, Bill Richardson, on an action at the Fermi Nuclear Power Plant in Monroe, MI.  Okay, so it was ten years ago.  Now I'm the Deputy Executive Director of Greenpeace US, and my days are spent more in meeting rooms and holding down a desk than they are climbing buildings and hanging banners.  But the work I do today behind the scenes is heavily influenced by the perspective I gained as a frontline activist during my early years at Greenpeace.  The mindset and conviction one fosters by putting personal fears aside and taking action, by taking risks to further a cause you believe in, works just as well in the boardroom as it does on a cooling tower.

June of this year will mark my 18th anniversary with the organization.  I started as a door-to-door canvasser, and had the opportunity to be involved in numerous field activities over the years.  In addition to the cooling tower at Fermi, I scaled the Sears Tower with three other climbers on December 2nd, 1992.  The date marked the 50th anniversary of the first sustained nuclear reaction, which took place in Chicago and ushered in the dark cloud known as the nuclear age.  Other activities have ranged from blockades in the woods to time on our ships.  The experience that affected me most deeply was when I was on the Rainbow Warrior headed for New York Harbor – on September 11th, 2001.  We spent the day anchored offshore, staring at the wall of smoke where the twin towers had once stood.  With most of our communications to the outside world cut off, we were anxiously left to guess about everything that was happening in New York and back home in DC, while floating in nerve-racking isolation.

My field experiences went a long way to shape the person I am now.  The responsibilities I hold currently are more managerial and administrative in nature, and don’t match the images people typically conjure up when they think of Greenpeace on the job.  But behind the scenes of our more high-profile activities, I work with many talented people who diligently cross T's and dot I's, and make sure the actions we take are part of integrated strategies designed to raise awareness and achieve environmental victories.  Our administrative roles are ultimately just as important as taking on whalers and climbing smokestacks.  We feel a great sense of obligation to our donors to be fiscally responsible, and in today's political climate where the Bush administration is using the cover of Homeland Security to clandestinely take on its legitimate adversaries, we have to be on top of our administrative game.  Recently, we were subjected to an IRS audit that was initiated by an anonymous referral, probably with the assumption that we wouldn’t have our act together when it came to the books.  I am proud to say that we passed the audit with flying colors.

So now you know a little bit about me, my history with Greenpeace and what I do now.  Every day I work here is a privilege.  To be a part of an international organization that can leverage the power of individual supporters around the world to do things like take on the Japanese whaling fleet and help protect 5 million acres of old-growth in the Great Bear Rainforest is humbling.  The whole is much greater than the sum of its parts.