We Are the Weather

“That distance between awareness and feeling can make it very difficult for even thoughtful and politically engaged people—people who want to act—to act.” 

In this chapter, Foer uses the story of Claudette Colvin and Rosa Parks to discuss what makes a good story and how a good story can mobilize people into action. A good story, Foer says, is one that can incite high emotion, outrage, and a desperate need to make change. The Claudette Colvin story wasn’t as powerful as Rosa Parks’ for the simple reason that Claudette Colvin lacked the same dynamic characteristics Rosa Parks possessed. Foer argues that one of the reasons we are not mobilized about climate change is that it’s not only a bad story, but it also fails to interest us and, for that reason, fails to motivate us. While awareness is valuable, its feeling associated with that awareness that prompts action. 

“As Amitov Ghosh wrote in The Great Derangement, ‘The climate crisis is also a crisis of culture, and thus of the imagination.’ I would call it a crisis of belief.” 

Foer begins to make his argument that without belief, we are unable to make a choice about our behavior and therefore unable to band together to change the climate crisis. It is the starting point of his discussion about the anti-science movement, the big factory farming companies that contribute the most to climate change, and the average individual who can’t differentiate the weather from global climate change. Our inability to believe that our cultural impacts are having an effect on climate change has the potential to be our downfall.

“The problem with the planetary crisis is that it runs up against a number of ‘apathy biases.’” 

In connection with Foer’s theory that climate change hasn’t become a movement because it isn’t a good story, he also discusses how our emotions aren’t geared to attaching to the problem. One of the reasons he says we don’t respond with the emotional energy necessary to fight climate change is due to the lack of vividness and “sympathy biases” of suffering. We aren’t in close enough proximity to the suffering caused by climate change to feel the depth of emotion that would foster action. Although most of the outcomes of climate change, like devastating hurricanes, floods, and wildfires, are in themselves dramatic and personal to the sufferers, they don’t connect to the larger issue of climate change in a way that makes sense to people.

“If we accept a factual reality (that we are destroying the planet) but are unable to believe it, we are no better than those who deny the existence of human-human caused climate change—just as Felix Frankfurter was no better than those who denied the Holocaust.” 

There is a difference, Foer says, between knowing and believing. Knowing you have made a grave error, for instance, isn’t the same as believing it was wrong. This is the dilemma and why it is so difficult to motivate people to collectively change. It’s possible, Foer implies with this quote, to know climate change is real and yet not really believe it is happening. This is as great a fault as refusing to even acknowledge climate change, as both result in the same dire consequences. The key to effective change is not knowledge, but belief. In large part, this book is intended to help readers—and Foer himself—acquire belief. The book is not so much an exploration of the truth as it is a spiritual journey to uncover belief.

“One piece of knowledge I don’t have: how to square my own gratitude for life with behavior that suggests an indifference to it.”

Even if he can’t yet believe, Foer is not a monster. This quote expresses his vulnerability to the reader and his honesty, characteristics that may make the reader trust him. It is as if Foer needs to come clean with his readers in order to move forward. Exposing readers to his lies, his apathy, and his lack of belief is the main literary tactic of his presentation. He is simply allowing himself to be vulnerable and present evidence of his human weakness. In this quote, Foer speaks to his gratitude for life, a good quality, but he also admits that he acts as if he actually isn’t grateful. This paradox is at the center of the journey he makes in this book. His honesty is a way for the reader to check their own indifference and disbelief, even in light of their joy for living.

“The word ‘ambulance’ is written in reverse on the hoods of ambulances so that it can be read in rear-view mirrors of drivers in front of them. You could say the word is written for the future—for cars that are ahead on the road. Just as someone in an ambulance can’t read the word ‘ambulance,’ we can’t read the history we’re creating: it’s written in reverse, to be read in a rearview mirror by those who aren’t yet born.”

This hefty quote is an important component of the book. Foer will use the ambulance metaphor throughout the book to remind the reader about the nature of history. In unpacking the quote, it’s important to note that the ambulance itself is a metaphor for history. The people in the ambulance can’t read the word “ambulance,” just like history is actually made in the present moments of life, and yet we can’t see it being made.

History is written for people in the future—in other words, for those not yet born. We don’t see or understand history in the present moment, but when we look back, as if in a rear-view mirror, we see how the moments of our present day lives will one day be the events that constitute history.

So how does this quote relate to climate change? As we argue over belief and the factuality of science, we can’t know the outcome of our decisions, nor can we know if we will do anything about it. Only those not yet born will know what, if anything, we did about climate change. The actions we do or do not take will determine their future. In this quote, Foer is dealing with what-ifs. He can’t possibly know whether doing nothing or doing something is the better choice, only that a choice will be—has to be—made.

“It’s certainly true that a hybrid car gets better mileage than a traditional gas car. But primarily these things make us feel better. And it can be dangerous to feel better when things are not getting better.” 

Foer uses hybrid or electrical cars as a symbol of the ways in which people think they are doing something about climate change. This simple fix makes them feel good, but as he suggests above, feeling good is not the same as doing good. Foer goes on to explain that the while it seems like a conscientious choice—to drive an electric vehicle—in fact the cost to the environment that goes into making the electric vehicle outweighs the benefit of driving one. Foer worries that the good feelings associated with making a difference don’t correspond to the difference that’s made, and that those good feelings could actually be detrimental to the cause. They allow us to feel as though we’re making a difference, and therefore fail to take action that might actually make an impact.

“We don’t trek to the desert to look up at the stars because we are feeling spiritual. We feel spiritual because we are in the desert looking up at the stars.” 

Throughout the book, Foer reminds readers that we do not necessarily pursue actions for their results. Instead, we experience results as the consequence of actions. Such is the case with our actions around climate change: We should not pursue them for their emotional results, but we can appreciate those results when they occur. This quote also subtly introduces Foer’s perspective of the sacredness of Earth.

“Like you, I think of myself as many things, as if the thinking made it so. In the meantime, while I think—while you think, while we think—our actions and inactions create and destroy the world.” 

The quote above constitutes a refrain for Foer as he wends his way through his argument to convince his readers to work collectively to change the disastrous effects of climate change. It’s certainly easy enough to think and perhaps even pontificate about the crisis, but nothing happens if we spend our time thinking instead of doing. Foer is asking his readers not just to analyze the situation but to take action, and he isn’t asking for one or two readers to take action, but for everyone to do so. The quote also speaks subtly to the fact that the world will go on in one way or another, so time is of the essence.

“Sometimes a fist needs the word ‘fist’ written across it, so I’ll name it now: We cannot save the planet unless we significantly reduce our consumption of animal products.” 

Following his criticism of Gore’s movie about climate change wherein Foer argues that Gore neglected to name the most important contributor to the climate crisis, Foer finally delivers his point. The point that needs to be made categorically clear is that factory farming emits the highest levels of carbon and, as such, the only way to stop climate change is if we, collectively, change the way we eat.

The use of the word “fist” takes readers back to his earlier narrative about the way we do things and understand things automatically. The implication is that we all know climate change is happening, but we haven’t yet named it. This is the first punch with the word “fist” written on the fist. Factory farming is the biggest contributor to the crisis, and now we must work collectively to stop it. This moment reveals for the reader Foer’s successful efforts at developing an argument.

“I have a shared a version of Felix Frankfurter’s knowledge-without-belief, and that has led me to some real struggling, and at times to extreme hypocrisy.”

Since Foer has done a clever and comprehensive job setting up his argument, all the terms he earlier defined begin to reappear and will continue to do so. Thus, we already know about the story involving Karski and Frankfurter. The story becomes a metaphor for the idea that we can know something without actually believing it; when we believe, we take action. This is the moment that Foer confesses to eating burgers at the airport while on tour for his previous book about being a vegetarian. This confession is painful for him, and probably for readers of his last book. It’s an opportunity to turn our backs on him as someone who can faithfully deliver a message, but instead, the confession is so true and so heartfelt an amends that we read on, mindful of our own mistakes. It is the moment that Foer uses the classic Greek part of speech—pathos—to establish an emotional appeal for the audience.

“As I imagine the case is for most people, aging has proliferated my identities. Time softens ethical binaries and fosters a greater appreciation for what might be called the messiness of life.” 

Not for the first time, readers are aware that the main audience Foer is appealing to are Generation X and Boomers. To that end, Foer continues to make his connection to the audience by discussing the wisdom that comes with age. But instead of patting himself on the back for being wiser, he explains the notion of wisdom coming with age as humbly as possible, admitting to the messes we make in our lives and the complexity of our humanity. This is a quote that attempts to explain his lie about being a vegetarian.

“Climate change is not a jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table, which can be returned to when the schedule allows, and the feeling inspires.” 

As Foer has demonstrated frequently, while the outcomes of climate change—the flooding, the fires, the draught—are emotional, climate change itself as a concept fails to excite emotions in the same way World War II did. The threat then felt more immediate, dangerous, and morally loaded, so people collectively helped where they could. For climate change, we have to keep up our efforts even when we don’t feel inspired or called to. This is asking a lot, Foer admits, but it’s the only way. This quote implies that we can’t be complacent just because we aren’t feeling deep emotion about the cause. It also communicates the urgency of his plea; the problem of climate change is not a matter of convenience but immediate action. 

“We do not have the luxury of living in our time. We cannot go about our lives as if they were only ours. In a way that was not true for our ancestors, the lives we live will create a future that cannot be undone.”

Foer alludes to the permanence of climate change as well as the ways in which things have changed. He argues that our ancestors lived at a time in the world when they could live in the present tense, but climate change forces us to look at the future and protect the generations to come. What we do now will determine the lives—or even existence—of our children. Our responsibility today is more complex than that of our ancestors, but just as his grandmother’s decision to immigrate created Foer’s life, so will our decision to act on climate change create the lives of our descendants. 

“When speaking about moral progress, Obama often quoted Martin Luther King’s statement that ‘the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.’ In this unprecedented moment, the arc could irreparably snap.” 

Foer introduces, not for the first time but for the first time in the context of his major theme, the idea that we must do something because it’s the morally right thing to do. He also claims his liberal credentials by quoting Obama, a symbol of liberal politics. By quoting two influential figures of history, Obama and Martin Luther King, Foer deploys ethos, the Greek term for a style of writing that establishes one’s authority. Also in this quote is the word “justice,” which means that making a choice for saving the planet is both the moral and just thing to do. But he offers a warning: By calling this “unprecedented,” he implies the magnitude of the climate crisis has never been like this before in known history. The word “irreparable” reminds us that if we don’t do something, we will not be able to fix the damages. Finally, he calls this a “moment,” suggesting the expanse of geologic time and how, in that context, this is a tiny blip of time that might create perpetual damage.

“Clearly an omniscient God knows where his creations are. His questions are not about the location of a body in space but the location of a self in a person.” 

In this quote, keeping with the language of justice and morality, Foer mentions God and the self. The implication, of course, is that making a choice about what to do for the climate crises, or even considering doing something for the crisis, is part of the spiritual realm. We are no longer talking about regular, non-secular, earthly ideas; we have entered the domain of God, and the moral and just reasons for trying to save the planet for future generations. In keeping with Foer’s, up to now, non-religious approach, he isn’t thrusting readers into a religious paradigm. If anything, the mention of God is soft pedaled and lingers around the edges of morality and justice more than strict religion. Nevertheless, he uses this previously mentioned moment to ask readers to locate themselves morally—to ask where they stand on issues of justice like climate change. 

“Awareness of Nazi atrocities didn’t shake Felix Frankfurter’s conscience, but without that awareness, he would have no reason to be asked, or to ask himself, ‘Where are you?’ Knowing is the difference between a grave error and an unforgiveable crime.” 

This quote harkens back to some of Foer’s earlier arguments when he discussed the difference between being aware and believing. Knowing better, he said during that discussion, means acknowledging an error. But when you believe in something and make no effort to decide how to act in accordance with what is morally right, then you’ve committed a crime. When analyzed this way, it seems Foer is making a harsh assessment, but in his mind, the devastating impact of climate change and the future of the planet know no bounds. It becomes a question of protecting the living—humans and the planet itself. Foer is saying that we have the awareness, so we need to ask ourselves now, today, “Where are you?” If the answer is that you are idle, then, Foer argues, you must decide between doing something or committing a crime, since doing nothing means people will die.

“Every decision requires loss, not only of what we might have done otherwise, but of the world to which our alternative action would have contributed.” 

Foer acknowledges in this quote that we will lose something regardless of whether or not we do anything. There is a truism in the idea that every decision we make means something is lost, but also, something is gained. We can’t know what the parameters of these losses and gains are, but if we do nothing and make no decision, we will regret our inaction. Even if we feel defeated before deciding to take action, we must take it because, as the subtext of this quote implies, it is better to do something and avoid regret than to do nothing. In some ways, deciding to do something, then doing it, will lead to some contribution, no matter how small.

“‘By most accounts, deforestation in tropical rainforests adds more carbon dioxide to the atmosphere than the sum total of cars and trucks on the world’s roads.’ About 80 percent of deforestation occurs to clear land for crops for livestock and grazing.”

It would not be possible to include every statistic and fact that Foer has gathered for this section. However, the above quote contains two facts that stand back-to-back, each of which delivers readers to the crux of factory farming’s contribution to climate change. Foer builds his facts in this section to support his argument that if we change our eating habits, reserving only one meal to contain meat, we can make a dent in the growth of factory farming, which constitutes the main reason for our continued loss of forests and wild lands. Without these lands to offset emissions we place in the atmosphere, we don’t stand a chance.

“We believe that climate change is caused by large outside forces and therefore can be solved only by large outside forces. But recognizing we are responsible for the problem is the beginning of taking responsibility for the solution.”

Foer makes this point in several different ways throughout the narrative. Shell Oil and factory farming are “large outside forces,” but we are the problem when we don’t make our voices heard. For so long we’ve said nothing and purchased our gas from Shell and our turkeys from a factory farmer. We are part of the problem, but part of the solution comes from the collective desire to help and do our part. Foer suggests we can either be with these large outside forces or be part of the solution.

“For most people, home is the most familiar, least threatening place. Because of that it is also the place we are least capable of accurately perceiving.”

Foer reminds us that the things we are closest to are also the things we can least see or comprehend with clarity. He speaks to this because it’s so easy to miss climate change if we are not looking for it. And even if we are looking for it, can we really see it? We become accustomed to our homes—both the ones we live in and the one we live on—and that makes it hard to see any problems. Foer asks, without actually saying it, that each of us opens our eyes wider to take in the truth and see the planet, our home, as precious and worth protecting.

“We should be terrified of ourselves. We are the ones we have to defy. Self-recognition does not always indicate self-awareness […] I am the person endangering my children.” 

By this point in his narrative, Foer has shown clearly how future generations are endangered because of the choices this generation has made and continues to make. It is an indictment of ourselves and a reminder that just because we know doesn’t mean we believe. Foer goes one step further by blaming himself in the first person. This is a powerful moment, made so by his humility, his passion, and his willingness to take the blame where, perhaps, others haven’t or won’t.

“But with greenhouse gas emissions, the notion of mortgaging doesn’t make sense: No one—no institution, no god—would give us a loan so wildly out of proportion with our means.” 

Foer uses the idea of mortgaging our children’s future—an oft-used phrase—and worked it into the planet crisis. But this is the moment that Foer drives home his point about the metaphorical mortgage of the very real future for our children. Here he makes a simple and truthful statement: No one would accept the terms of this mortgage. The quote brings the dire situation home for readers.