Let’s be honest, hardly anyone is thinking about climate change right now, even though today is the 50th anniversary of the first Earth Day.
What should environmentalists do as the world focuses on a pandemic that is killing people, crashing the economy and upending daily life? Lay the foundation for a broader, deeper climate movement. This requires two things: engaging people who don’t see themselves as environmentalists and deepening the commitment of people who already recognize that climate change is a problem but who aren’t yet acting with any urgency.
In that effort, the first Earth Day can be a model. The 1970 event made protecting the environment a national priority. It involved millions of Americans in an unprecedented public debate about “the environmental crisis.” It empowered a generation of do-it-yourself activists who made change in almost every part of society for decades to follow. Though Earth Day 1970 can’t be repeated, its history offers important lessons about movement building.
Learning those lessons requires debunking a persistent misconception of Earth Day as just a mass demonstration designed to generate attention. Images of the protest that day have become iconic: In one often reprinted Earth Day photograph, a crowd surrounds a huge banner that shows the Earth shouting “Help!!” Another classic Earth Day image is a close-up of a young man in a gas mask trying to smell the buds on a tree.
Earth Day’s media moment soon passed. A week after the 1970 event made the environmental crisis a page-one story, the U.S. invaded Cambodia, and protests broke out across the nation. Four students were killed at Kent State. The environment quickly disappeared from the headlines.
But Earth Day’s success was measured not in the demonstration itself. Rather it created a movement with staying power, including the ability to grow stronger despite the waxing and waning of media attention.
By the end of 1970, the U.S. had an Environmental Protection Agency and a Clean Air Act. The next few years brought landmark legislation to clean up rivers and lakes, regulate waste disposal and protect drinking water. The early 1970s also saw the creation of a lasting eco-infrastructure outside of government. Activists formed organizations to keep the Earth Day spirit alive. Colleges and universities established environmental-studies programs, newspapers made the environment a full-time beat and publishers brought out so many eco-books that bookstores created “environment” sections.
Sen. Gaylord Nelson (D) of Wisconsin deserves much of the credit for Earth Day’s movement-building power. In September 1969, Nelson vowed to organize a nationwide environmental teach-in in spring 1970, and his teach-in became a truly grass-roots phenomenon. The first Earth Day was not a single event, but more than 12,000 across the nation. By some estimates, 20 million people participated.
Its success exceeded even Nelson’s expectations, but it hinged on two key decisions he made to give Earth Day transformative power. The first decision was implicit in the teach-in idea. Inspired by the antiwar teach-ins on dozens of college campuses in the mid-1960s, Nelson envisioned a politically charged, extracurricular debate about the degradation of the environment. He believed that if Americans stopped to think about pollution, they’d be moved to act. He was right.
Nelson’s second key decision was not to be a micromanager. Nelson understood his call to action would be more effective if he allowed non-politicians to take ownership of Earth Day — to make it their event, not his. Accordingly, he decided anyone could organize a teach-in, and organizers could do anything they wanted. As a result, the 12,000-plus Earth Day events had tens of thousands of organizers, and many decided afterward to devote their lives to the environmental cause. Many had never shown any interest in the environment before, but Earth Day gave them a new sense of mission.
Because the first Earth Day had no precedent, the grass-roots organizers had to do everything from scratch, and in the process gained the confidence, skills and contacts they needed to continue to advance environmental issues. A planning committee had to decide what kind of event to organize. To imagine the possibilities required a crash course on the environment. It also required strategizing about tone, audience and inclusivity. Because most Earth Day events involved many activities, coordinating everything took organizational ability and political savvy to overcome bureaucratic roadblocks or defuse potential opposition.
The organizers also needed to network, especially to find speakers: In 1970, few schools or communities had a ready roster of environmental experts. By my conservative estimate, at least 35,000 people spoke on Earth Day 1970, and that was a stunning achievement. Students and professors did most of the speaking, but a host of others joined the conversation: Union officials, doctors, bureaucrats, poets, business executives, lawyers, civil rights activists, artists, ministers, feminists and politicians.
Most, like the Rev. John Claypool of Crescent Hills Baptist Church in Louisville had never spoken about the environment. “Two years ago I am not even sure I had heard the word ‘ecology,’ ” Claypool began, “and I certainly did not realize the gigantic proportion of the problems this word stands for. Since then, however, we have all been inundated about what may happen very shortly to this planet Earth; and whether we like it or not, we have to make some kind of response.”
The New York Times called the discussion at one teach-in “soul searching,” and that adjective deserves emphasis. Earth Day 1970 prompted many participants to ask deeply personal questions. How much do I care about pollution? What am I willing to sacrifice to protect the environment? What might I find fulfilling and even exciting to do for this cause? Pondering those questions often led people to change their lives — to rethink daily habits, to fight environmental battles, even to switch careers.
As a senator, Gaylord Nelson understood the need for far-reaching legislation to protect the environment, but he did not insist Earth Day events have a legislative agenda. He understood that his path wasn’t the only way forward. He also knew that he didn’t have all the answers. He led by enabling others to lead.
Of course, the political situation is very different now than in 1970. Though a few far-right ideologues and politicians argued Earth Day 1970 was a communist plot, Republicans as well as Democrats accepted the need to do more to protect the environment. Pollution, which was then many times worse than it is today, was obvious: People might disagree about how to solve the problem, but no one denied its reality. The opposition to action in 1970 also was not as powerful or implacable. Though business leaders complained about the cost of cleaning up pollution, no industry then had as much at stake as the fossil-fuel industry does now.
The obstacles to reform today only underscore the need to make wise use of the pandemic pause. Even before covid-19 changed everything, the climate movement wasn’t strong enough. Business as usual isn’t likely to change that. To broaden and deepen the movement requires new thinking. How can environmentalists create space for people on the sidelines to ask what a changing climate means for their hopes and dreams? And how can they encourage everyone on the field to do more, in whatever way best suits their talent and temperament?
