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The Shadow in the Valley

Michael Green July 26

In the June edition of Meanjin, Michael Green writes on climate change at ground-level, exploring the painful but constructive dialogue that is taking place in the Latrobe Valley between coal workers, politicians and activists. A brief extract is below, and you can read the full essay on our editions page.



In early September, a week before the protest, Taegen Edwards and her partner Pablo pedalled to Smith Street in Collingwood, not far from the centre of Melbourne. It was ten o’clock and rain had begun to fall. Taegen uncoiled a roll of posters.

They had come to spruik trespass in the name of justice. The Australian climate movement was entering new territory. In seven days, scores of protesters—fingers-crossed—would be arrested at Hazelwood Power Station in the Latrobe Valley.

The young couple began taping the red and blue bills to lampposts. The street was lined with op shops, cafés and bars; they were on sympathetic ground. Nevertheless, it was late, wet and difficult to stave off a sense of futility.

Pablo perked up as they came upon the office of a local politician. ‘Oh, we’re definitely leaving one here,’ he said, his bike helmet swinging from his backpack. An experienced campaigner, he was pleased at the thought of an office assistant tearing their poster down in the morning.

‘Happy now?’ asked Taegen, who wore a smart, charcoal jacket. She was twenty-six years old, a graduate of arts and economics at Melbourne University, with honours in management. Pablo smiled and she laughed, three crinkles lining each cheek.

In July she had found herself, a little surprised, making a speech in Melbourne’s Treasury Gardens before a large crowd carrying placards. ‘Until recently,’ she began,

I wouldn’t have imagined speaking at a rally. I come from a long line of moderate mainstream lefties—the kind that read the Age and work as teachers and social workers because they care about people. The kind that have outraged discussions over coffee about racism, war or the treatment of refugees, but would still be more likely to go to the footy on a Saturday than take to the streets. But I’m here and it’s because, like many other people who haven’t got a long history in activism, the way the climate crisis is being treated by our so-called leaders has pushed me over the edge.

Months earlier, at a summit in Canberra, representatives of 150 grassroots climate action groups, Taegen included, had voted to make September the national month of action. The summit had galvanised the disparate groups. Many people felt, for the first time, that they were part of a movement, a great global tide of truth and justice that could only swell as more scientific evidence rolled in.

Soon enough, however, plans for the month of action wavered. New South Wales would hold its climate camp in October instead, Western Australia in December. Victoria and South Australia held firm.


 

 

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