There are numerous public services and resources that deserve nationalization. Yet, topping my list isn’t water, railways, or land development, despite my strong advocacy for their return to national or local public ownership. My foremost desire is to see my own profession nationalized: environmental persuasion. I am passionate about my work, but I must admit, I, and perhaps all of us in this field, are falling short.
We are confronting the most significant challenge humanity has ever encountered: the degradation and potential breakdown of the very systems that sustain our lives. The speed and scope of this crisis have even taken scientists aback. The potential consequences dwarf those of any recent pandemic or war. However, the crucial task of convincing the public about the urgent need for action has been largely entrusted to the private and voluntary sectors. This approach, quite simply, is not effective.
Why is this the case? Firstly, we are severely outmatched in resources. For every dollar or pound that an environmental charity or news outlet spends on advocacy, industries like oil, chemicals, automotive, livestock, and mining will expend a thousandfold. They aggressively recruit the most skilled and cunning communicators to craft their narratives, offering salaries that are beyond the reach of others. Among other tactics, they even commission the BBC’s in-house content studio to produce their promotional films. The BBC’s boast of “our century-long pedigree as the world’s most trusted storytellers” is readily available to enhance the reputations of fossil fuel and pesticide corporations they now serve.
Secondly, regardless of our efforts to be inclusive, we are invariably perceived as a partisan group. Who are we, in the eyes of many, to dictate how others should live? For a significant portion of the population, we are seen as antagonists, no matter how carefully we frame our messages. Businesses and the media often view us as enemies of progress, seeking to curtail the consumption they are actively promoting. Despite the sincere endeavors of organizations like the Conservative Environmental Network, we are generally (and often accurately) categorized as left-leaning. Our support for a cause is, for some, an immediate trigger for rejection.
Our means are also constrained. Whenever environmental advocates begin to gain traction, their most impactful methods are swiftly outlawed. A series of legislative acts, including the 1986 Public Order Act, the 1994 Criminal Justice Act, the 2000 Terrorism Act, the 2005 Serious Organised Crime Act, the 2022 Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Act and the 2023 Public Order Act, have progressively criminalized even the mildest and most time-honored attempts to capture public attention. Actions as simple as marching slowly down a street or attaching oneself to railings can now lead to legal repercussions.
When we fail to achieve significant change, we are often quick to blame ourselves or face criticism from others. However, this is akin to reprimanding ourselves for lacking the ability to make parliament float in the air. There are domains where the private sector excels, and others where it inherently falls short. As someone engaged in environmental persuasion within the private sector, I must acknowledge that my profession, when operating in isolation, is ultimately ineffective.
It’s comparable to facing an imminent invasion and tasking civilian groups with preparing the defense – urging them to manufacture weapons, construct fortifications, and enlist soldiers. Adding to the absurdity, if these groups become too persuasive, they risk arrest and imprisonment.
The most we can hope to achieve through current methods is minor, gradual change. But incremental change is not a solution to systemic problems. The accumulation of small steps, in this context, leads to failure.
Meaningful mobilization for the common good requires government leadership. History offers examples of both effective and ineffective state-led persuasion campaigns. The UK government once produced numerous public information films on road safety, some of which were remarkably successful. Other effective campaigns addressed fire safety and public health issues, such as Rabies Means Death and the Aids: Don’t Die of Ignorance campaign. Some government films now seem quaintly specific, like those advising against placing rugs on polished floors or warning that playing with old refrigerators kills. Others, such as an information reel on tenants’ rights, evoke a sense of bygone civic responsibility. Conversely, some campaigns were deeply problematic, such as the US government’s Boys Beware advert, which cautioned young men to “watch out for homosexuals”.
Currently, the UK government is conducting public information campaigns on issues like cancer, diabetes, smoking, obesity, neonatal care, vaccines and mental health. While many of these are weak and some serve as substitutes for actual spending or regulation, even conservative governments have recognized that public health awareness cannot be solely entrusted to the private and voluntary sectors.
To the best of my knowledge, the last significant government persuasion initiative focused on an environmental issue was the 2019 Love Water campaign. It was, to put it mildly, ineffective. It seemed almost intentionally designed to avoid effective messaging. Why? Perhaps because the campaign’s partners included private water companies. Revisiting the military analogy, it was as if our government had asked the German high command to assist in formulating its World War II mobilization messages.
The success of a government campaign hinges largely on two elements: a sense of moral gravity (patently absent from the water campaign) and widespread reach. When a consistent message resonates across society, appealing to a shared moral foundation, it tends to be taken seriously. If skillfully crafted, it can quickly evolve into a national undertaking. As we witnessed during the initial phase of the Covid pandemic and both World Wars, when the government delivers a universal message urging collective action for a greater purpose, most people are inclined to accept the necessity of joint effort, rising to a sense of duty and common cause. So, where are we at right now? Why does this same approach fail to galvanize public awareness and action on the environmental crisis?
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Inaction is a deliberate choice, carrying profound consequences. It significantly complicates the task of gaining public and parliamentary support for environmental legislation. It also inadvertently suggests that the issue is not truly critical. I suspect that lurking in the back of many minds is the thought: “If the environmental crisis were genuinely so dire, someone would stop me. Surely I wouldn’t be able to drive this SUV, take numerous flights each year, or consume beef or dredged scallops whenever I desire? No one I respect is telling me to stop. Therefore, the issues that environmentalists keep harping on about cannot be real.”
Climate and environmental science denial, after a period of decline between 2008 and 2017, are resurgent, fueled by corporate and political campaigns – many operating covertly – and amplified by social media. Yet, governments passively observe as we, the small advocates, struggle against the corporate behemoth. We cannot forge social consensus without the state taking a leading role. Where are we at right now? The state is conspicuously absent.
- George Monbiot is a Guardian columnist
