A final rambling disquisition on Nordhaus and Shellenberger

For many days now I’ve been sitting on my planned review of Breath Through, the much-discussed book by Ted Nordhaus and Michael Shellenberger that lays out a vision of a new environmentalism rooted in an vision of human advancement. Possibly my foot-dragging is because I’d rather talk about the controversy that preceded the book’s release, which in some ways is more illuminating than the book itself.

Break Through is an elaboration of N&S’ 2004 essay, The Death of Environmentalism, which took the environmental movement to task for being mired in a “politics of limits” inadequate to addressing the problem of global warming. To attain the sort of global economic transformation required to deal with carbon emissions, N&S argued, environmentalists would have to root their project in an aspirational vision that reached across traditional divisions in the activist community.

The essay was provocative and, to my mind, largely effective. Despite some overreaching, it succeeded as polemic, raising useful questions and pointing in the direction of some possible answers.

N&S were clearly hoping to repeat this trick prior to the launch of their new book. In a series of magazine articles and blog posts, they once again laid out a critique of environmentalism and proposed a new paradigm to replace it. Only this time, rather than provoking a wave of soul-searching, they succeeded mostly in raising hackles.

There are a couple of reasons for the tepid response. The first is that it’s no longer 2004. Although the conversation over means and ends in the environmental community is by no stretch over, it has to a certain degree moved on.

The second is that N&S decided to wrap their arguments around a program of somewhat vaguely articulated policy proposals. In the past, the authors have been critical of the environmental community’s “policy literalism,” meaning their tendency to smother every problem with a raft of technocratic policy proposals, rather than to build winning coalitions. There’s merit to this criticism, but it also follows that environmentalists tend to be pretty damned good at policy analysis. When N&S arrived with a set of questionable-sounding proposals, greens had their knives ready.

Finally, the harsh tone of the criticism coming out of N&S was a bit discordant, given that environmentalists are actually feeling pretty good about themselves these days. Sure, the planet is still going to hell, but at least the country finally seems ready to have a sane conversation about climate change. Global warming is on everyone’s lips, from the Nobel committee to the Academy Award judges. Credible presidential candidates are putting forward exciting green policy proposals. In short, it’s a great time for a book that lays out an inspiring vision for a green agenda. It’s a terrible time to be pushing the message: “environmentalists suck.”

So, fine, the book struck a nerve, and environmentalists circled the wagons. Why should anyone care? Here’s why: a significant chunk of N&S’ message is quite good, and despite over-loud protestations to the contrary, it’s a message that a lot of environmentalists still refuse to hear.

The reaction from the environmental community has at times been dismayingly defensive. For example, Joe Romm devoted many thousands of words to debunking N&S. And although Romm’s policy analysis is impeccable, the whole project of “debunking” a book whose primary thesis is that we need to think broadly about climate change and develop a vision for the future that inspires people to sign on seems a bit, well, self-defeating.

Yes, the delivery of the message was badly botched, which is particularly odd given N&S’ general emphasis on framing. The authors seem to feel that the rest of the world needs a spoonful of sugar, but environmentalists need a boot to the head. Nevertheless, this may just be a case where it’s better to grit your teeth and take it.