Aweh, My Dearly Beloved Fellow Ruminants & Groupies,
Tomorrow, I begin teaching my decarbonisation course for the third time to postgraduate students far younger, far more sleep-deprived, and far more socially enlightened than I ever was at that age. Writing today’s blog is a last-ditch attempt to clarify the swirling mess of messages and competing narratives about decarbonisation I’m about to throw at them—somewhere between data tables and existential despair.
Over the past three years, I’ve come to understand that many of our students see the world through a social justice lens. They want to research energy in ways that centre around justice, equity, and inclusion. Many could comfortably be described as social justice warriors. And why not? Justice is, presumably, a good thing.
Let me declare at the outset that I’m not a social justice warrior. I’m a technocrat. A technocrat is someone who likes to apply deep data-based analytical thinking and technical expertise to complex challenges, like decarbonisation. They assess costs, efficiencies, and outcomes to design potential solutions. However, their approach can often underplay social and ethical dimensions—such as cultural values, historical injustices, or the lived experiences of affected communities—which aren’t always captured in data or models.
Technocrats often design smart, efficient solutions—like in decarbonisation—but may lack the emotional storytelling needed to inspire public support. By focusing on data over narrative, they can miss the chance to connect with people’s values, fears, and hopes. Think Vulcan-level detachment, like Dr. Spock planning a decarbonisation policy—logical, precise, but about as stirring as a spreadsheet recital. Without a compelling “why” behind the “how,” even the best ideas can fall flat.
And sometimes, students call me out on it. One gave me this gem of feedback:
“Dr. Young delivered understandable lectures, but his slides suffer from information overload. The course needs some humanities—not everything is numbers or black and white.”
Technocrats usually hang around engineering and science departments and avoid the humanities.
So, let’s explore two differing but emotionally compelling narratives around decarbonisation first from a climate activist perspective and then with a more Vulcan level of logical detachment but with some emotional Tabasco sauce added.
The phrase “the narrative is the truth” refers to the idea that the way a story is told—the structure, emotion, perspective, and framing—can shape how people perceive reality, often more powerfully than objective facts alone. A story is more compelling than a spreadsheet (if you’re not Vulcan).
So, let’s start with the conventional climate activist narrative about decarbonisation.
Narrative #1: Net-Zero 2050 – The Hero’s Journey
This story is as familiar as it is urgent. Net-zero by 2050 isn’t just a policy target—it’s a moral imperative. It’s the reality that unchecked emissions are pushing us toward climate breakdown: rising seas, dying ecosystems, and billions of lives disrupted. The consequences aren’t abstract—they’re already here. Deadlier heatwaves, record wildfires, crop failures, water scarcity, and the displacement of communities are accelerating. Climate change threatens not just species, but systems—food, health, security, and the social fabric that holds societies together.
The “why” behind net-zero is deeply human. It’s about saving the future. Scientists warn we’re barrelling past 1.5°C, with 3°C or worse on the horizon unless we act—boldly and fast. Net-zero offers a lifeline: slash emissions, offset what we can’t eliminate, and transform how we power, move, farm, and build.
New technologies and innovations—like advanced renewables, green hydrogen, and carbon removal—are vital tools in this transformation. They must be part of a broader systemic shift.
This narrative is about collective transformation, and above all, justice. The richest nations caused the mess; the poorest are paying the price. Net-zero isn’t just a climate plan—it’s an ethical reckoning. It’s about courage over comfort. Hope over apathy. Science meets soul.
Disturbing. Inspiring. Based on real science. But also… just one story.
Narrative #2: More and More and More – The Reality Check
This alternative narrative is based on the book, More and more and more by Jean-Baptiste Fressoz published in 2024. This is a serious book, and the Financial Times described it as one of the best science books of 2024. The Economist described it as a necessary, eye-opening, and frequently gobsmacking book.
Fressoz nukes the neat tale of the energy transition. The comforting story—where we swap out coal for clean energy and live happily ever after—is, according to him, a myth.
The real story? Each new energy source hasn’t replaced the old ones—it’s stacked on top. Coal, oil, gas—they’re all still booming. Fossil fuel consumption hasn’t fallen. It’s grown. Even solar and wind, wonderful as they are, power additional demand rather than displacing carbon.
In 2024, coal demand hit an all-time high. Oil reached record production in 2024 and keeps our transport running. Gas leaks methane like a sieve—more potent than CO₂ and is growing rapidly. And the future tech we’re banking on? Carbon capture, and direct air capture—they’re mostly vapourware at scale.
Fressoz’s narrative is blunt: the system isn’t malfunctioning. It’s doing exactly what it was built to do—consume more and more and more.
The net-zero narrative, in this light, starts to look like a glossy illusion. A fairy tale that says we can save the planet without changing the way we live. It promises decarbonisation without disruption—just swap fuels, invent magic tech, and keep shopping. It’s green lipstick on a carbon-hungry pig, all while whispering, “No need to compromise.”
🤔 So, Which Story Wins?
Both stories are emotionally compelling. Both are grounded in logic, though they highlight different kinds of logic—moral versus empirical. The activist narrative is driven by a moral vision of what should be: justice, equity, and a liveable planet for all. It carries a hopeful belief that with enough willpower, collaboration, and technological innovation, we can still turn the tide—through breakthroughs in energy, storage, and carbon removal. The alternative, drawn from Fressoz’s work, is rooted not just in history, but in hard data—tracking how energy systems have actually evolved over time. It’s not a theoretical critique; it’s a confrontation with what we’ve done and continue to do. Coal, oil, and gas consumption aren’t abstract trends—they’re rising realities.
One story inspires. The other disrupts illusions.
Decarbonisation is about the future, and the future isn’t written yet. So which story will shape it? Which narrative do we choose? One is hopeful and rallying. The other is disillusioning—and possibly more honest.
I won’t tell you which I believe. But let’s just say… Spock is nervous.
So, there you have it—two grand narratives battling it out like climate-conscious gladiators in the arena of your imagination. One says we can heroically decarbonise our way to salvation with justice, wind farms, and a sprinkle of hope. The other says we’re clinging to fairy tales while guzzling more energy than ever and praying that unicorn-tech will ride in last minute. If narrative really is the truth, then maybe the real question isn’t “Which story is right?” but “Which one helps you sleep at night?” As for me—your ruminant technocrat—I’ll be over here, clinging to my spreadsheets and muttering softly about social justice.
Thanks for all the comments and input.
Bruce
Ruminant Pink Friday 