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Desertification is no longer a distant issue; it’s an urgent threat that directly impacts food security, economic stability, and the resilience of communities in the U.S. and beyond.
You grab the duct tape and sprint to the windows in an attempt to seal them from the wind that blows in heavy dust and dirt. But your attempts at prevention are ineffective, yet again. You smother Vaseline inside your nostrils, hoping the moisture will catch the dust particles before they irritate your lungs. As you shelter from the dust storm, you feel the ache in your stomach from the lack of food. Crops have been failing due to the ferocity of the wind, and the sky is dark black from the dust clouds that hang overhead. Not a single ray of sunshine has broken through the complete obscurity in weeks.
This description is not a dystopian imagining of a far-off future. It’s a real firsthand account from a farmer who lived in Oklahoma during the years of the 1930s Dust Bowl, one the most devastating natural disasters in U.S. history.
The Dust Bowl wasn’t just the result of drought; it was driven by unsustainable land use practices, including the removal of native grasses and over-plowing for agriculture. What followed was environmental devastation, economic collapse, and the displacement of millions. This period remains a dark reminder of what happens when land is mismanaged, and its lessons are more relevant than ever as the world faces the growing crisis of desertification.
With the incoming Trump administration looking set to block and reverse climate measures that would otherwise prevent another Dust Bowl event, America’s land, and communities, hang in the balance.
Desertification is the degradation of dry lands that receive limited rainfall (known as arid and semi-arid lands). Degradation occurs when unsustainable land use practices, such as overgrazing, deforestation, drainage of wetlands, and intensive farming, strip the land of its natural vegetation, leaving the soil exposed and vulnerable to erosion.
The world’s largest forum for addressing desertification, the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD COP16), is taking place right now in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. And while you may not have heard of it—given the competition with recent headlines—it comes at a pivotal time for the United States. With the incoming Trump administration looking set to block and reverse climate measures that would otherwise prevent another Dust Bowl event, America’s land, and communities, hang in the balance.
While the UNCCD COP16 is focusing on tackling the issue of desertification on a global scale, for the U.S., the problem hits much closer to home than many might realize.
Desertification impacts more than 30% of land in the U.S. States such as California, Arizona, and Nevada are already grappling with land degradation caused by drought and unsustainable agricultural practices. As the impacts of climate change intensify, the risks to these regions will only grow, creating the exact ingredients for another Dust Bowl to take place.
But we don’t need to merely speculate about the future consequences of land degradation—this past year, natural disasters have shown how degraded landscapes amplify the devastating effects of extreme weather in the here and now. When land degrades, it loses the ability to retain water and nutrients. This exacerbates drought conditions and increases the risk of wildfires, like those that ravage the Pacific Northwest so often that a period of the year is termed “wildfire season.” Degraded soils also worsen flooding due to their inability to retain water, leading to destructive floods like those witnessed in Florida and North Carolina in October.
On a global scale, land degradation impacts as much as 40% of the world’s land area, affecting more than 3.2 billion people. While desertification in distant regions like Spain or sub-Saharan Africa may seem unrelated to American lives, the reality is that the effects are far from remote.
Moreover, the ripple effects of global land degradation directly impact food security, economic stability, and supply chains. As disruptions to food production in one part of the world drive up prices and destabilize agricultural markets, the effects are felt across U.S. grocery stores and rural economies.
As the world struggles to address desertification, U.S. policies under President-elect Donald Trump are set to exacerbate the crisis. Trump’s environmental agenda prioritizes fossil fuel development over renewable energy, a strategy that will accelerate land degradation both in the U.S. and abroad.
Trump’s nominee for Interior Secretary, North Dakota Gov. Doug Burgum, has deep ties to fossil fuel companies and supports expanding oil and gas drilling on federally owned lands. With the federal government controlling nearly one-third of U.S. land, opening these areas to fossil fuel extraction will devastate fragile ecosystems, disrupt local water cycles, and intensify pollution.
By prioritizing sustainable land management, investing in restoration, and fostering international cooperation, the impacts of desertification can be mitigated to prevent future natural disasters.
Indigenous communities, proven to be the best stewards of land and water, have long called for expanded roles in managing natural resources. Yet, Trump’s policies sideline these voices, favoring short-term profits over sustainable practices.
His withdrawal from international climate agreements, such as the Paris climate accord, weakened global efforts to address environmental crises, reducing momentum for collaborative action. This retreat disrupted progress on tackling interconnected issues like desertification, which is exacerbated by rising temperatures and extreme weather. A repeat of such actions would further undermine international cooperation and stall critical progress in combating land degradation.
Despite these huge barriers to action, the fight against desertification would offer immense opportunities to the U.S.. Restoring degraded land provides economic, environmental, and societal benefits that far outweigh the costs of implementation.
Economically, restoring an area a little bigger than India could contribute up to $9 trillion in ecosystem services, providing economic gains nine times the initial investment. For every dollar invested in restoration, there is a return of up to $30, making it one of the most cost-effective strategies for combating climate change and land degradation. Restoration efforts could also create up to 395 million jobs globally by 2030.
Restoring degraded landscapes plays a critical role in mitigating climate change, with the potential to reduce global emissions by 26 gigatons by 2030. In the U.S., where recent disasters have caused billions of dollars in damages, restoration can also enhance disaster resilience. Every dollar spent on restoration yields tenfold benefits in terms of food security, disaster risk reduction, and economic growth.
Integrated landscape restoration projects demonstrate how collaboration between communities, governments, and businesses can create sustainable and scalable solutions. They unlock the possibility to reverse land degradation and build a foundation for long-term environmental and economic stability.
The Dust Bowl taught us a harrowing lesson: When we fail to protect and manage our land responsibly, the consequences can be catastrophic. Today, the stakes are even higher as climate change and unsustainable practices converge to create a global crisis of land degradation. Desertification is no longer a distant issue; it’s an urgent threat that directly impacts food security, economic stability, and the resilience of communities in the U.S. and beyond.
The ongoing UNCCD COP16 in Riyadh offers a crucial opportunity for nations to unite against desertification, but it is clear that the U.S. must step up as a leader in this fight. By prioritizing sustainable land management, investing in restoration, and fostering international cooperation, the impacts of desertification can be mitigated to prevent future natural disasters.
History has shown that inaction is far more costly than action. Restoration offers a path to resilience, providing economic benefits, creating jobs, and protecting ecosystems. The question is no longer whether we can afford to act—it’s whether we can afford not to.
The introduction to this article pieces together quotes and paraphrases sections of Caroline A. Henderson’s letters, which were originally published in The Atlantic.
Why there is no viable techno-fix to climate change, and why trees, soil, and biodiversity are our real lifelines.
Climate change is a huge, complicated problem. Therefore, many people have an understandable tendency to mentally simplify it by focusing on just one cause (carbon emissions) and just one solution (alternative energy). Sustainability scholar Jan Konietzko has called this “carbon tunnel vision.” Oversimplifying the problem this way leads to techno-fixes that actually fix nothing. Despite trillions of dollars already spent on low-carbon technologies, carbon emissions are still increasing, and the climate is being destabilized faster than ever.
Understanding climate change requires us to embrace complexity: not only are greenhouse gases trapping heat, but we are undermining natural systems that cool the planet’s surface and sequester atmospheric carbon—systems of ice, soil, forest, and ocean. Grasping this complexity leads to new ways of thinking about climate change and viable responses to it.
Almost everything we’re doing to cause climate change involves technology—from cars to cement kilns to chainsaws. We humans love technology: it yields profits, jobs, comfort, and convenience (for some, anyway; it also tends to worsen overall economic inequality). So, predictably, we’re looking to alternative technologies to solve what is arguably the biggest dilemma humanity has ever created for itself. But what if that’s the wrong approach? What if more technology will actually worsen the problem in the long run?
Unlike technology, nature constantly repairs itself. It tends to clean up pollution, rather than spreading toxins.
In this article, we will see why there is no viable techno-fix to climate change, and why trees, soil, and biodiversity are our real lifelines.
Before discussing natural solutions, let’s explore whether technology has a role to play. What machines are touted as our main climate solutions, and what are their strengths and drawbacks? There are four broad categories.
The first climate-tech category consists of low-carbon energy generating machines, including solar panels, wind turbines, and nuclear power plants. These energy sources produce electrical power with minimal carbon emissions. However, they are not problem-free or risk-free. Wind and solar power are intermittent, requiring energy storage (e.g., batteries) and a major grid overhaul. Building these energy sources at sufficient scale to replace our current energy usage from fossil fuels would require enormous amounts of materials, some of them rare, and mining those materials destroys habitat and pollutes the environment. Recycling could eventually minimize materials requirements, but recycling has limits. Nuclear power likewise suffers from the dilemma of scale (to make a significant difference, we’d need to build an enormous number of nuclear plants, and quickly), but adds problems associated with fuel scarcity, waste containment and disposal, and the risks of accidents and nuclear weapons proliferation.
The second tech category includes energy-using technologies for running the modern industrial world—machines for manufacturing, heating, mining, farming, shipping, and transportation. In many cases, low-emissions versions of these machines are not yet marketed, and many may not work as cheaply as current technologies (cement making and aviation are two industries that will be hard to decarbonize). And again, there is the dilemma of scale, and the requirement for more materials. We have built our current industrial infrastructure over a period of decades; replacing huge portions of it quickly in order to minimize climate change will require an unprecedented burst of resource extraction and energy usage.
A third category of technologies for fighting climate change consists of machines for capturing carbon from the atmosphere so it can be safely stored for long periods. “Direct air capture” (or DAC) technologies have been developed, and are starting to be installed. However, a recent meta-study concluded that these machines suffer from problems of scale, cost, materials requirements, and high energy usage. The study’s authors say that policy makers’ prioritization of mechanical carbon capture has so far yielded a “track record of failure.”
Climate change reduces biodiversity by making environments inhospitable to some of the species that inhabit them.
If none of our other mechanical methods for tackling climate change work, there is one last resort: technologies for cooling the planet via solar radiation management. This “solar geoengineering” solution would entail dispersing large quantities of tiny reflective particles in Earth’s atmosphere (this is known as stratospheric aerosol injection), or building a space parasol to shade the planet. Critics point out that these technologies might have unintended consequences as bad as, or worse than the problem they are trying to solve.
It’s hard to argue against implementing at least some of these technologies at a modest scale. Humanity has become systemically dependent on energy from coal, oil, and gas to meet basic needs—including housing, food, and health care. Eliminating fossil fuels quickly and entirely, without having deployed alternative sources of energy, would result in immiseration for millions or billions of people. A similar argument could be made regarding low-carbon manufacturing, agricultural, and transport machines: we need alternative ways to make things, produce food, and get around. But our need for such machines does not erase their inherent environmental costs, including resource depletion, pollution, and habitat loss.
A review of available techno-fixes leads to two unavoidable conclusions. First, our problem is not just carbon emissions per se; it’s also how we humans inhabit our planet (too many of us using too much stuff too fast). And second, we need non-technological ways of addressing the climate crisis.
Throughout hundreds of millions of years, nature has developed cooling cycles that keep the planet’s surface temperature within certain bounds (though Earth’s climate does oscillate significantly). Chief among these is the water cycle, which operates on both a large and a small scale. On the large scale, ocean currents move enormous amounts of water around the planet, shifting more water onto land via precipitation than evaporates from it. On the small scale, water falls as rain or other forms of precipitation, is absorbed by soil, is drawn up into plants, and transpires or evaporates back into the atmosphere. This dual water cycle has a net cooling effect.
We industrial humans have been destabilizing the planetary water cycle. Industrial agriculture degrades soil, so that it holds less water. Expanding cities cover soil and channel rainwater via storm drains out to sea, rather than keeping water on the land. Pavement and buildings create the well-known urban “heat island” effect, which can raise temperatures by many degrees compared to natural landscapes. Industrial agriculture, urbanization, and destructive forestry practices reduce overall vegetation, and therefore also reduce evapotranspiration. Result: even if we weren’t loading the atmosphere with excess carbon dioxide, we’d still be warming the planet. Combine a diminished water cycle with land heating from urban sprawl, a couple of hundred billion square meters of pavement, and degraded soil; then add those ingredients to the main dish of overabundant emissions, and you have a recipe for hell on Earth.
The obvious solution: restore nature’s cooling cycles. Re-vegetate the planet, thereby increasing evapotranspiration. Restore soils so they hold more water. And get rid of pavement wherever possible.
There are depaving advocates in nearly every community. Unfortunately, their voices are drowned out by powerful road-building and construction interests, and by motorists who want to drive in comfort anywhere and everywhere. Permeable pavement options exist; but most municipalities, when faced with complaints from motorists about crumbling roads, opt simply to cover old streets with a fresh coat of black asphalt (made from oil) that heats the environment, prevents water from reaching the soil underneath, and gives off toxic fumes. If humanity is serious about halting climate change, then it should put the depavers in charge.
Re-vegetating the planet is a huge project that can only be undertaken in bite-sized chunks at the local scale. The biggest contributors to the small water cycle are intact forests; therefore, our first order of business should be to protect existing old-growth forests (you can plant a tree in a few minutes, but an old-growth forest requires centuries to mature). At the same time, we can plant millions more trees—but they must be the right kinds of trees in the right places. We must anticipate climate change and assist forests to migrate to suitable climate zones.
If humanity is serious about halting climate change, then it should put the depavers in charge.
Soil can be restored by covering it with leaf litter, mulch, and vegetation, by keeping living roots in it as long as possible (mainly by planting more perennial crops and fewer annuals), and by adding compost and biochar to aerate soil and boost biological activity. First, however, we have to stop doing all the things we’re currently doing that harm soils—including annual tillage and application of herbicides and pesticides. Permaculture practitioners and organic farmers have been fighting this battle for decades, and they’ve developed many effective techniques for maximizing food production while building healthy soil.
Climate change reduces biodiversity by making environments inhospitable to some of the species that inhabit them. Moreover, everything we’re doing to cause climate change (industrial agriculture, urbanization, cattle ranching, and road building) is also directly contributing to biodiversity loss. But restoring biodiversity can mitigate climate change. For example, restoring soils requires making them more biologically diverse (in terms of fungi, bacteria, nematodes, and worms). And restored soils support other organisms (more vegetation and hence more wildlife, all the way up to buffalo and elephants) that also help maintain nature’s cooling cycles. In effect, virtually all nature conservation efforts are also climate change mitigation efforts.
If solar, wind, and nuclear electricity generators won’t solve the climate problem, and fossil fuels have to be quickly phased out, where will we get our energy? That’s a tough question, and addressing it requires, first and foremost, a discussion of demand.
The scale of energy usage in industrialized countries today is simply unsustainable. Regardless which energy sources we choose (including fanciful ones such as fusion power), using this much energy results in environmental harms such as resource depletion and toxic pollution. If we want our species to be around for the long haul, we must reduce energy demand. The best ways to do that are to encourage a smaller population and to establish economies that aim for increased human happiness rather than growth of resource extraction, manufacturing, and transport.
As energy demand recedes, humanity will have better supply options. Before we started using fossil fuels in enormous quantities, we got much of our energy from burning wood. We can’t do that now, at a time when we use far more energy and also need to increase the planet’s tree cover. Instead, we can use energy from sunlight, wind, and flowing water, not just in high-tech ways—via photovoltaics, wind turbines, and hydroelectric dams—but in low-tech ways that entail less usage of mined materials. Low-Tech Magazine explores these options, including human-powered air compressors, sailing ships, practical household bike generators, and low-tech solar panels, among many others.
If we need to conserve energy, the same is true of materials (which require energy for mining, smelting, and manufacturing). Currently many of the materials we use are toxic plastics made from fossil fuels.
Can we get all of the materials we need from nature, without depleting and polluting? In an absolute sense, the answer is probably no, unless we eventually return to hunting and gathering as a way of life. But we can dramatically reduce depletion and toxicity, first by applying the familiar ecologists’ mantra of “reduce, reuse, and recycle,” and then by substituting plant-based materials for plastics and metals wherever possible.
By partially combusting plant wastes, it is possible to produce versatile materials for buildings, roads, and manufactured goods. Thousands of small, regional pyrolysis plants, using a range of feedstocks, most now considered waste, could make both biochar (to increase soil fertility) and “parolysates” (carbon-based materials that could be incorporated into products). In many instances added carbon would improve the performance of materials, making this shift in manufacturing methods profitable.
Suppose we do all these things. Still, we’ve already emitted an enormous surplus of carbon into the atmosphere—about 1,000 billion tons of it. As a result, even with nature’s cooling cycles restored, there will continue to be a dangerous warming effect. To minimize that, we will have to remove and sequester a lot of atmospheric carbon, and fast. As we’ve seen, DAC machines aren’t working. What will?
Nature already removes and sequesters about half the carbon emitted by humanity’s burning of fossil fuels. You can see that effect in graphs of the annual atmospheric greenhouse gas concentration: during summer months in the northern hemisphere, when plants are flourishing on Earth’s largest land masses, the atmospheric CO2 concentration declines significantly. Then, in the winter, it rebounds and rises even further due to continually increasing emissions. Oceans absorb far more CO2 than land. We need to assist nature in absorbing a lot more than it already is (while, of course, reducing emissions dramatically and fast, rather than continuing to increase them)
Globally, soils contain about 1,500 billion metric tons of carbon; they’re the the second largest active store of carbon after the oceans (40,000 billion tons). Currently, humanity is forcing soils to give up their carbon to the atmosphere through annual tillage, erosion, and salinization. However, by adopting different practices, we could restore soils and thereby significantly increase their carbon content. The practices that would help most go by the names regenerative agriculture and carbon farming. Estimating how much carbon soil could capture if we adopted these practices at scale is difficult, but some experts suggest the quantity could exceed 20 billion tons by 2050 (of course, that assumes dramatic, coordinated efforts supported by governments and farmers).
The widespread use of biochar and parolysate materials could also capture significant amounts of carbon. In their book Burn: Igniting a New Carbon Drawdown Economy to End the Climate Crisis, authors Albert Bates and Kathleen Draper suggest that the amount of carbon that could theoretically be sequestered in buildings, roads, and consumer products is in the range of hundreds of billions of tons.
Trees and other types of vegetation already store a great deal of carbon, but current agricultural and forestry practices are reducing that amount annually. By some estimates, forests alone could capture and store over 200 billion tons of atmospheric carbon if we started adding trees in an ecologically sensitive way, rather than subtracting trees on a net basis.
The sheer scale of the ocean and its existing carbon content means that the theoretical potential for ocean-based carbon capture exceeds that of other options. However, tapping that potential at scale (for example, by microalgal cultivation or ocean alkalinity enhancement) would require massive technological interventions. Some researchers suggest that encouraging the growth of kelp, a straightforward intervention, could capture and store up to 200 million tons of carbon per year. Wetlands such as marshes and swamps cover only 3 per cent of the world’s land, but contain twice as much carbon as all forests; if restored, they could capture and store a significant amount of carbon (though estimates vary widely). Overfishing, shipping, fertilizer runoff, destruction of coastal wetlands, and plastics pollution are currently devastating ocean ecosystems, causing them to lose much of their carbon capturing capacity. Mining the ocean floor for minerals to build large-scale renewable energy systems would only worsen an already grim situation. It seems that, in the case of the ocean, the most important thing we could do is just to stop the ongoing damage.
If we did these things, could we eliminate all the excess carbon in the atmosphere and thereby stop climate change? Halting global warming altogether is likely not possible, because there is already more heating on the way due to the momentum of feedbacks that have already been set in motion—including the melting of glaciers and sea ice. Further, actually doing all of these things rapidly (say, in the next two or three decades) would require an unprecedented level of international coordination and effort. Nevertheless, the numbers add up: it is possible to draw down excess atmospheric carbon on a scale commensurate with the problem using nature-restoring methods rather than machines. Which is hopeful, because doing it with machines simply isn’t working.
Unlike technology, nature constantly repairs itself. It tends to clean up pollution, rather than spreading toxins. It creates resources rather than depleting them. But to meet all human needs and solve problems using nature’s way, we will have to think entirely differently. It’s not just a matter of gradually setting aside harmful, overly complex technologies, but of shifting subtle societal incentives and disincentives that cause us to turn first to machines, even when unintended consequences are easy to spot.
A more nature-based society will feature fewer people living closer to the land, with a throughput of energy and materials far smaller than is the case in industrialized nations today. We will be less urbanized, more rural. We will rely less on money, and more on community-based cooperation.
This is how Indigenous people have lived for millennia, and so it should be no surprise that some of the most successful nature-based climate mitigation efforts are being led by Indigenous communities.
Fortunately, it is possible for individuals and households to make a difference by promoting biodiversity in their homes, gardens and communities, and to reduce energy and materials usage through their daily choices of what to purchase (or not purchase), what to eat, and how (and how much) to travel.
Unfortunately, circumstances require us to make a decisive shift in how we think and live at a time when as we also face an enormous threat. Since more warming is now inevitable, it is almost certain that the remainder of this century will see mass migrations and political instability. These social challenges will make it harder for nations and communities to mount large-scale, coherent efforts to restore ecosystems.
Nevertheless, whatever we do to try slowing or halting climate change will be most effective if it is aimed at helping nature do more of what it already does. Restoring nature isn’t just our best climate solution, it’s our only solution.
Thanks to Bio4Climate and Christopher Haines for inspiration and help with this article.
Please join us on July 2 for an online Deep Dive panel discussion on climate change, featuring Timothy Lenton, Chair in Climate Change and Earth System Science at the University of Exeter, and Isabel Cavelier Adarve, former climate negotiator and winner of the prestigious Climate Breakthrough Award.
This push to end the reign of fossil fuels has allowed the climate movement to act as one giant machine in a burst of collective action.
The following is part of a series of opinion pieces Common Dreams is publishing in the lead-up to the March to End Fossil Fuels on Sunday, September 17 in New York City. Read the rest of the series and our complete coverage here.
It had never struck me until recently how many environmental activist groups there are. Within the U.S. alone, there are around 28,000 different environmental groups currently operating, from small grassroots organizations to giants of the climate movement like 350.org, Greenpeace, and Sunrise. Among these groups, there is also a huge array of sometimes conflicting opinions that reflect the sense of uncertainty that often goes hand in hand with the fight against climate change.
As someone who would consider himself an environmentalist, the sheer amount of people, groups, and perspectives that circulate around the matter of climate change can make it feel like I am not part of a movement with a coherent goal, but rather a highly competitive sector of an “activism industry.” As climate change bears down upon us, the environmental movement needs to fight as one. People uniting as one to drive world leaders forward is essential to stopping climate change; it is also what makes the March to End Fossil Fuels special.
Anybody who follows a climate-related Instagram account probably knows that today, September 17, the March to End Fossil Fuels is taking place in the middle of New York City in order to persuade the Biden Administration and the U.N. to initiate phaseout plans for fossil fuels. This is for good reason; the event is the biggest climate protest that has occurred since the pandemic, with a turnout goal of over 50,000 people.
When the decision-making power required to save the planet from climate change lies in the hands of very few people, the only way forward is with the strength of overwhelming numbers.
The protest is an impressive display of unity within the climate movement when taken in a vacuum. It was organized as a joint effort by a variety of New York grassroots organizations as well as larger U.S.-based coalitions such as People vs. Fossil Fuels. The planning team for the march spans generations and regions, drawing in all manner of people. What is perhaps more impressive is that the actions taking place during the week of the march are not limited to New York alone. There will be over 400 different actions taking place around the same few days across the world. This push to end the reign of fossil fuels has allowed the climate movement to act as one giant machine in a burst of collective action.
I became involved in environmental causes because I wanted to be a part of something greater than myself. Frightened by the future that might come to pass if climate change ran its course, I started joining climate lobbying groups when I started high school in the hopes that I would be helping bring a larger movement forward. In the time since then, I haven’t necessarily found this to be the case. In fact, I have noticed that there is a surprising amount of discord between climate advocacy groups, to the extent that people often refuse potentially advantageous collaboration on the basis of minor differences in opinion or specialization. I find that the refusal of many environmentalists to work with people who do not share their exact beliefs to run contrary to the need for collaboration that is so necessary to stop the climate crisis. As such, I am overjoyed to see people coming together on a scale like that of the march in order to fight the fossil fuel industry.
The climate movement has been shaped by the sluggishness and weakness of world leaders in responding to its concerns. When the decision-making power required to save the planet from climate change lies in the hands of very few people, the only way forward is with the strength of overwhelming numbers. This is not something that the climate movement can achieve as a group of independent actors; to stop climate change, everyone must move together as they are doing now.
The necessity of collective action in relation to climate change does not stop when the March to End Fossil Fuels and its companion actions end. In the aftermath of the event, there will inevitably be considerable momentum left over; people will be angrier than ever at how world leaders and global capitalism aid and abet the destruction of the planet. My hope for the activist community surrounding climate change is that this momentum is used to keep people together to push for newer, bolder action. Coalitions like the one that planned the March to End Fossil Fuels are powerful political tools that could potentially be used to even greater effect in relation to specific issues such as climate education, regenerative agriculture, or corporate accountability.
Climate change has many facets, all of which need to be brought into the light for the crisis to be solved. The climate movement has proven on many occasions that it has the ability to unify around a cause, and, as the climate crisis gets worse and worse, it must continue to do so. The March to End Fossil Fuels is a call for people to unite against the biggest threat to our planet that we as a species have faced, and it is one that I suggest we all answer.