What the War in Iran Teaches Us About Climate Justice

By Cade Cannedy, Senior Director of Programs and Communication

Photo from TheGuardian.com

It is hard to imagine anything more antithetical to the world the Climate Justice movement envisions than the United States’ immoral, illegal, and criminal war of aggression in Iran. Anyone even vaguely committed to environmentalism ought to recognize the cessation of war as the most immediate mandate of their work – every piece of marshland we’ve restored has sequestered less carbon than what has been emitted by three weeks of American bombs. It demands we devote every personal and collective ounce of power we have to ending it. 

At the same time, the war has revealed important lessons that climate justice practitioners should incorporate into their worldview and theories of change. The profit motive at the heart of our economic system will continue to drive conflict just as it does our environmental collapse. War and climate change both lie firmly along a spectrum; no bright lines will tell us when it is time to act, and there will be no triggering event, no inciting act that sparks a mass movement. Finally, the maintenance of our economic and political system relies on its ability to insulate the wealthy from inconvenience – an illusion shattered by the conflict.  

While it would be an oversimplification to attribute all American foreign policy to a blind grasp for oil, it is a primary motivator, particularly when the President says so. Between the Gulf War, the invasion of Iraq, regime change in Latin America, the crushing blockade of Cuba, and the war in Iran, American fossil fuel companies have bought most of Congress and shown that no act, no matter how heinous, is out of bounds in the pursuit of oil profits. As long as oil has value, petroleum companies will do anything to possess it. Of course, this means any climate legislation will be fought to the bitter end, and any legislation that isn’t represents no real threat to these companies at all. 

Perhaps the most surprising part of the war with Iran has been just how absent it was from mainstream discourse and the minds of the broader public before it began. Unlike the Iraq War, which came after months of overt lies and propaganda aimed directly at the public, the Iran War required no civic approval and is proceeding apace without any broad popular consent. Beyond the impact on gas prices and the creeping ambient disapproval of the administration, there has been relatively little in the way of mass resistance. And how could there be? Is the bombing that has been happening over the last month all that different from the 30 years of bombing preceding it? How could the public know it is time to protest a war when we've been waist-deep in continuous war for a quarter-century? 

In Kim Stanley Robinson’s science fiction novel The Ministry for the Future, a global heatwave results in the deaths of more than 20 million people. This event precipitates massive collective action to address the climate crisis, giving rise to the international, quasi-governmental organization the book is named after. It is clear that war, like the climate crisis, lies along a spectrum. Global thresholds are exceeded daily, disasters, emergencies, and exceptions have become the new norm, and the COVID pandemic illustrated a nearly bottomless capacity for the metabolization of suffering. Global militarism and unmitigated climate change are the clearest demonstration that we’re steadily marching toward what Mark Fisher calls “the slow cancellation of the future.” We can’t rely on an external shock that wakes everyone up; the future has to be made. 

Finally, the conflict demonstrates that upholding our current exploitative economic system requires insulating the wealthy from any and all consequences. The clearest example has come by way of Dubai – a golden fortress in the middle of a desert built on the indentured servitude of migrant laborers and the foamy excess of oil profits. Dubai only exists by immunizing itself from geopolitical instability, by wrapping itself tightly in a shroud of opulence. The Trump Administration has envisioned the same – raising the walls around the United States as high as possible, isolating ourselves from the world, and building a walled garden only benefitting those white enough and wealthy enough to access it. The war with Iran has shattered both fictions – there is no wall high enough, no gold-plated Lamborghini fast enough to outrun the consequences of military and climate catastrophe. All it took was two weeks of mildly elevated gas prices to send President Trump’s approval ratings cratering to all time lows. America’s richest residents will have no trouble weathering soaring inflation, fuel, and food. But when they’re no longer able to rest on a layover in Abu Dhabi, vacation on the beaches of Tulum, have a ski holiday in Chamonix, or drink Napa wine, they’re faced with the inescapable truth: the planet is a closed system, humanity is a single race; the impacts will be felt by everyone, and it is only a matter of time. 

These lessons are sobering, not cynical. They show us the path forward and offer possibility. There will be no spontaneous groundswell of support that will help us fundamentally alter our political and economic systems. These systems must be tirelessly built, piece by piece, and encompass a broad coalition of religious organizations, community groups, labor unions, political parties, and organized groups motivated to create a more just world. Real systemic change, much like luck, comes where preparation meets opportunity. Our political and cultural institutions have been destroyed through a deliberate, decades-long campaign— it’ll take the opposite to restore the possibility of possibility. And if you’re looking for a place to start, try next door.