VICE magazine recently ran an article entitled “Four Ways the Climate Crisis Could Trigger a 2008-Style Economic Crash.” The four ways are:
1. “A devastating Florida hurricane bankrupts a major insurer,” which would have major ripple effects in the banking and financial sectors 2. “Insurers flee California wildfire zones and mortgages crater”: no property insurance = no new mortgages = banks cratering, too – not to mention reduced property values (& taxes) 3. “Massive declines in oil demand make investors panic,” which would be a paradoxical effect of the rush to zero emissions 4. “The housing market goes literally and figuratively underwater” – self-explanatory, but worth noting that “$100 billion in coastal mortgages are issued every year” Needless to say, these are not the only four ways. 5.) Water shortages, heat waves, and increased pest populations send food prices soaring; 6.) A hurricane ploughs right into lower Manhattan. And so on. Nor are they mutually exclusive: had hurricane Harvey made landfall a few miles to the northeast, it would have made a direct hit on the Houston ship channel, home to the second-largest petrochemical complex in the world. That scenario would have panicked at least a few oil investors and probably driven more than one major insurer into bankruptcy — and the rise in oil prices would have a significant negative economic effect. A lot of the paper money in the financial system would turn to ash overnight. Multiply this disaster by two in one year . . . well, you can see where this is going. And given the science, it’s hard to believe it won’t go there – probably sooner than we think (just ask the Australians). But what does it have to do with creative writing? Well, insofar as books are commodities, they are part of the capitalist system – a rather volatile, vulnerable part, whose role in the economy is less secure than that of oil. When there are major shocks to the system, publishing feels it hard. People have to pay rent; they don’t have to buy books. Commercial houses will publish fewer titles; independent presses will go under. There will be even more good books that go unpublished. Moreover, writers in the academy will face a double whammy. First, it will become harder for them to get their books published. Will the published book remain the status symbol it is now – the sine qua non for getting an interview, let alone tenure? “Why, I had six published books before I got tenure! We can’t tenure somebody with just four!” the old folks will intone; but of course, that will be because they could get books published at all. Secondly, such a severe downturn to the economy means a severe downturn in tax revenues. To the extent that most academics are employed by institutions dependent on public funds, that will mean hiring freezes, furloughs, financial exigency, layoffs. The slow-down of the creative-writing industry will become a free-fall, as programs shrink or close. So: what is to be done? Well, first, as I’ve argued on more than one occasion, our conception of publishing – esp. book publishing – has to change. Publishing means “making-public,” and that can happen on any scale. I would expect more books published in micro quantities, perhaps by hand press methods. A return of the Mimeograph Revolution. Circulation of manuscripts by hand. And a de-emphasis on the book as the primary vehicle for literature: more one-off stories and poems; serialized novels; orature and performance. Second, to the extent that there are any academic writers left, their colleagues should not obsess about the quantity of their work, but should evaluate the quality of their work — rather than shunt that task off to an editor or publisher by making publication a proxy for value. Perhaps publication should be one of the rewards of tenure and promotion, rather than a prerequisite – that is, maybe tenure and promotion should function like contests do today. Invitations to job interviews could be based on blind MS submissions – colleges could just tack on a surcharge for applying for CW jobs, just like presses do now with entry fees. Finally, and most importantly: PRODUCE LESS. Nobody is reading most of the books produced today because nobody can possibly read them all – there’s a market glut. Produce fewer of them. Or de-commodify them by making them by hand and giving them away; or memorizing them and performing them. This will take a lot more time; that’s a good thing. This is what Dale Smith refers to as “Slow Poetry.” I’d also argue for the flip side: slow reading & re-reading. Why burn through 20 books a month & forget what you’ve read? Why not spend a month on really getting to know one book? Or even one poem? All of this will mean that there will be fewer professional writers, in or out of the academy. But if things get bad enough (which they probably will, later if not sooner), there will be fewer professional anything, because there will be less of an official cash economy. So, if you’re a writer, you won’t be able to write as much as you might today. You’ll be improving your community’s resilience to climate buffeting; turning your lawn into a food garden with hardy crops; rigging up a solar array to run whatever appliances you have left; or forming a barter system or cooperative work-groups with your neighbors. Counter-intuitively, writing and reading (perhaps out loud?) might seem more integral to life than it does now — more (dare I say it?) life-affirming. Pro-social. Anti-bullshit. In other words, it’s about time, it’s about place. Place, in this context, means finding one where you can stay for an extended period of time. Getting to know it, which means getting to know the people in it. But that takes time. Everything takes time. And time is money. Being in a hurry = speed-up = commodification = “productivity.” [To be continued . . .]
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June 2021
Kristin Prevallet Author/Editor
I'm a writer & teacher in Lawrence, Kansas who actually believes the scientists. I wrote a book of poems called Of Some Sky that seems to have something to do with all this. |