‘Our house is on fire’ is no longer a metaphor. What are we willing to do to put it out?

It’s the summer of climate change — the summer when denial and delay finally became impossible to justify.

That’s not to say that denial and delay have been justifiable for the past 30 years or more. Climate change has not been a secret understood only by scientists. Even Greta Thunberg, a 16-year-old Swedish girl, understood quite clearly what was going on.

In 2019, at the Davos World Economic Forum, she famously said, “We must change almost everything in our current societies. The bigger your carbon footprint, the bigger your moral duty. The bigger your platform, the bigger your responsibility.”

“Adults keep saying: ‘We owe it to the young people to give them hope.’ But I don’t want your hope. I don’t want you to be hopeful. I want you to panic. I want you to feel the fear I feel every day. And then I want you to act.

“I want you to act as you would in a crisis. I want you to act as if our house is on fire. Because it is.”

But two years later, the world’s leaders hadn’t panicked, and she was back at Davos, saying this:

“I wonder, what will you tell your children was the reason to fail and leave them facing the climate chaos you knowingly brought upon them? The 1.5-degree target? That it seemed so bad for the economy that we decided to resign the idea of securing future living conditions without even trying?

“Our house is still on fire. Your inaction is fueling the flames by the hour. We are telling you to act as if you loved your children above all else.”

This year, more people’s houses have been reduced to ashes, and Thunberg’s metaphorical house on fire is no longer metaphorical.

Yet Washington, D.C., fiddles while the West burns. Progress towards meaningful legislation, which ought to move as fast as the wildfires and floodwaters, ambles like a turtle. After all, what’s the hurry? This crisis will still be here next month, next year, and for decades — possibly centuries — to come.

Here in Thurston County, this summer’s deadly heat waves have made us sweat about what comes next. And the news about what’s coming is not comforting:

As the New York Times reports, “The (new United Nations) report concludes that humans have put so much carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases into the atmosphere that this warming will continue at least until the middle of the century, even if nations take immediate steps today to sharply cut emissions.

“That means some of the noticeable effects the world is seeing now — like extreme droughts, severe heat waves and catastrophic downpours and flooding — will continue to worsen for at least the next 30 years.

“Some other impacts will continue for far longer. The enormous ice sheets in Greenland and West Antarctica will continue to melt at least through the end of the century. Global sea level will continue to rise for at least 2,000 years.”

So how much do we love our children and our grandchildren? What are we willing to sacrifice to shield them from the catastrophes already baked in the climate cake and those we can still forestall?

The local choices won’t be easy. For instance, it’s going to be a necessity to have air conditioning in housing built for elders, who are most at risk of dying from extreme heat. But changing building codes to require it will drive up the cost of that housing. What will that mean for low-income elders? Who will pay what they cannot? Should building codes require AC in all housing? Will we have enough green energy to run it?

Another local consequence is likely to be immigration of climate refugees. We can’t predict how many will come, or how soon. But in spite of our heat waves, our area west of the Cascades will be paradise compared to parts of the parched Southwest. What will this influx of people do to our housing costs?

Then there is sea level rise, which will only be manageable near local shorelines for the next few decades if — and these are very big ifs — the world succeeds in aggressively reducing carbon emissions, and if the ice sheets of Greenland and West Antarctica don’t fall off sooner than predicted. Neither is certain. But even in the best case, there is a glaring long-term problem. How far ahead should we think?

Every bit of this is immeasurably alarming. But we shouldn’t panic — not because it’s not a panic-worthy emergency, but because panic is not a productive state of mind. Instead, we should plan and prepare to sacrifice: to radically reduce our carbon footprints, to invest more time in insisting on action from our leaders, and to adapt to the ever-changing climate extremes of the next three decades.