We are the Fossil Free Future: A Zine by Students for a Fossil Free Future (S4F)

Students for a Fossil Free Future (S4F)

WE ARE THE FOSSIL FREE FUTURE

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About the zine How do you deal with lies?

So many lies being told. So many lies in the sky and in the air, in the food, in the water and in my own milk I breastfeed my daughter.

Lies branded as truths.

And you know something is wrong. You're struggling with the weight of all the lies. You're angry at everyone for staying silent, for being complicit in letting the lie amplify. You try to yell and alert everyone, but no one's paying attention. Months later, someone replies. Replies to laugh at you as the crazy boy who cried wolf.

But you hold onto that gossamer thread of truth, knowing that this contains the hope that keeps you alive. With nothing but a pen, you unspool these truths, at first gingerly, then the pace quickens. The words begin to write themselves. The artworks begin to draw themselves.

What you’re holding in your hands is no ordinary collection of art and writing. This zine contains a series of artworks and writings of defiant originality, expressing rage and sadness in having to face the climate crisis every day of our lives; expressing weariness and frustration at the long list of lies. Yet, with a resistance that is both inaudible and deafening, the works also unlock an uplifting message: hope for a new world.

We proudly present to you We are the Fossil Free Future. Here, the works in this zine will always be alive. The truths are rising, and will continue to for a long time to come.

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3

Contents

PAGE

TITLE

2

-

About

5

-

Stop

6

-

Revolutionary

7

-

EXXONMOBIL

the

Zine

Financing

NATURAL

9

-

I

10

-

It’s

11

-

Dinosaur

13

-

Reclaim

15

-

I’m

16

-

Dreaming

17

-

Meltdown

19

-

my

22

-

The

39

-

Is

40

-

Oily

41

-

Fighting

47

-

Solidarity

61

-

Kindred

62

-

The

69

-

Prayer

71

-

Amihan

85

-

The

A

PROUD

Crisis

TO

SUPPORT

MUSEUM

THROUGH

EXTINCTIONS

FO$$IL

About

Climate

Leaftist

HISTORY

DONATIONS,

AM

the

FUEL

FETI$HI$T

Time:

Bones

the

Trying

to

of

fossil

Story

Commons

See

Future

Liberation

fueled

of

Another

the

dreams

Nian:

World

Possible?

End

for

a

Just

Transition

Economy

Honorable

Harvest

Cube

Remembering

and

Forgetting

of

Air

87

-

Leave

Leaves

88

-

Conclusion

89

-

Acknowledgements

4

2021 | IG @theweirdandwild

BY QIYUN WOO (she/her) 5

2021 | IG: @solidarity.econ + @roosh.art

BY RACHEL OOI

(she/her)

6

Exxonmobil proud to support natural history museum through donations, extinctions AUTHOR

|

ANONYMOUS

SINGAPORE—ExxonMobil

is

(he/him)

proud

to

Mr

Yit

also

spoke

on

ExxonMobil’s

continue supporting the Lee Kong Chian

future contributions to the museum.

Natural History Museum in various ways,

said

“By

the

oil

giant’s

public

relations

manager, Yit Soh Haut.

taking

warmer

the

lead

planet”

in

promoting

said

Mr

a

Yik,

“ExxonMobil hopes to bring some of “ExxonMobil is glad that our donations

the world’s best-known species to the

will go towards funding the museum’s

Natural History Museum, for students

programmes” said Mr Yit, adding that it

to appreciate—species like the arctic

is

fox, the wolverine, and the leatherback

important

natural

to

extract

specimens

and

from

preserve

the

rapidly

turtle.”

deteriorating environment.

In future, Mr Yit added, museums will Mr

Yit

was

speaking

at

announce

the

ExxonMobil

Endangered

a

winners

panel of

Species

to the

and

have being

the the

competitive only

advantage

place

where

of

these

species can be found.

Conservation Programme Documentary Making and Poster Design Competition

When asked how this contradicted his

2019, although said announcement had

earlier

to be delayed because the acronym had

degradation,

been

whether

printed

wrongly

on

all

the

certificates.

statement Mr

Yit

there

consensus

on

environmental

said

was

on

he a

doubted scientific

human-induced

hypocrisy.

Mr Yit said that he was “overjoyed” to see

students

“meaningfully

with

the

cause

real

degradation: behaviour.”

7

of

engaging

Mr Yit’s aide, Valdez, also generously

environmental

donated the carcass of a seabird that

irresponsible

consumer

he

had

garrotted

West Coast Park.

an

hour

earlier

at

When asked why they had not made similar contributions to natural history, representatives from British Petroleum and Shell responded that they were trying their best. They noted that, in this respect, it is hard to keep up with national firms like Saudi Aramco and Sinopec, who are making notable contributions to human rights in addition to their environmental work.

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FO$$IL FUEL FETI$HI$T

Yasmin (they/them) - 2021 | IG: @creative.fodder

a piece about the blatant disregard for the climate crisis due to the intoxication of consumption.

9

it’s about time: the shafts plunging the world’s deepest seams

for lumped aeons, scooped to surface for the burn —

its struts where cairns and roots lasted, the pipeline girds

the lake with its second, gurgling spine — dogs’ teeth

in a Lakota palm, pepper spray to an eye, and the valve

runs dark in Illinois — and nozzles cough up soft serve —

and towers crack their old black blood on Busing, bulk

massed where the kelongs and reefs once learned

that each epoch of layering clicks under the thumbs

which puddle our futures to wax in the sun.

the growth curve loves such businesslike strut.

it puckers space. folds warm wick to wick, leers.

no more palming these coins.

they scald our last bloody seconds beneath

this cone with swirled scoops but the bottom bit off.

by Jack Xi (they/he) - 2021 | jackxisg.wordpress.com

"I was meditating on the age and volume of fossil fuels, and wanted to explore the idea that they represent a (subterranean) history - one that fossil-fuel guzzling economies are burning, thus obliterating a livable future even as the history fossil fuels represent is obliterated. I also wanted to foreground the violence that fossil fuels wreak against humans and nonhumans.”

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Dinosaur Bones

by Dorcas Tang Wen Yu (she/her) When I was 5, I wondered what it would be like if dinosaurs roamed the Earth. This was not what I asked for - my teeth digging into lips drawing blood like heels digging into borrowed sand like pumping units sucking out bodies of the dead. They now spin around and somersault in air that chokes, wrestling in pretend glee and delight, tangled in abandoned strings of God the puppeteer. Long retirees of this circus act, that even its audience has long grown tired of.

When I wondered what it would be like if dinosaurs roamed the Earth, I didn’t mean breaking apart an already broken land, my future exiled in shapes of crumbling bones and sand. She walks, feet dragging, head hanging, soles kissing the ground that once grew flowers, back turned towards the people she once fed. Castaway to an asylum that floats gently like a rock of mud through space. She peers - silent, out of windows to faraway lands that appear as stark mirrors of the person she once was.

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- 2021 | IG: @earthtodorcas

my future exiled in shapes of crumbling bones

and sand When I wondered what it would be like if dinosaurs roamed the Earth, I didn’t mean to open the portals to hell, I didn’t mean, to start a literal fire in the middle of the ocean, I didn’t know about the pipes, don’t take me away please, I’m not the arsonist, please, I beg you, I’m not guilty, please listen, the witness says I take the car sometimes, that I didn’t switch off the lights when I left the room and that’s true but, no wait, listen, the gas was not lit by me, it’s not my fault, please your honor, won’t you hear me out?

Please,

please.

Jail feels a lot like home. These cold walls give the best warm hugs, rusttinged air smell of home-baked bread and mothballs. I wonder what my mom is doing in the next cell, does she still believe that a row of orchids resembles a choir of kindergarteners, heads tilting up reaching towards the sun? I wonder if my dad still makes coffee for 5 in the morning, I try to memorise what it sounded like when he came home.

I wonder what my brothers are doing downstairs, and if they still pore over dinosaur books like they used to.

Cruelty is feeding lava down the rabbit hole, gaslighting the people inside that the only way to survive is to swim in it. Screams muffled, bones charred, rich stories, turned over and over and over by the tides until it washes into a version that’s finally marketable enough.

Digestible enough.

Malleable enough. How convenient, is it that we will be the only ones who get burnt -

You lucky bastard.

How convenient, is it that we will be

"Dinosaur Bones" is an imaginative prose written in response to a rupture in an undersea gas pipeline in June 2021. It narrates the author's frustrations on our continued over-reliance on fossil fuels, mirrored with the guilt of being trapped in a system that forces the participation of its usage.

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13

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I ’ M T R Y I N G T O S E E

THE FUTURE

by Reisha (she/her) - 2021 | IG: @rei.trograde

Created in a bright pop art style, I'm Trying to See the Future is about the struggle to visualise a better future when all we've known is the petroleum-based, consumption-driven society we have now. This piece is an expression of dread amid the hope, but also a call for more radical reimaginings of what we could be, lest our hope is blinded by what we are unable to see.

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D R E A M I N G O F

LIBERATION

by Rachel Cheang (she/they) - 2021

| IG: @cheangrchl

16

c A P

MMMEEELLLTTTDDDOOOW W WNNN

S M

E LT I N G A G L A C I E R I S D I F F E

R

E

NT FROM REGULAR ICE PER

M

A

FROST IS BECOMING A MIS

N

O

MER

I C E

GLASS

MAKES

GREAT

I C E

GLASS IS KILLER THE WEAP

O N

H A S M E LT E D AWAY T H E E A

rth

IS DYING IN A PUDDLE OF

W A

T E R H O W L O V E LY I T I S T O

DIE

IN WHAT GIVES YOU LIFE I

WATCH

KALEIDOSCO

W

PIC VISIONS OF SH ATTERED

GLASS

ON

MY CEILING AS I SL EEP SLEEP WE ARE ALL

SLEEPING

ARE

ALL

WE

WAITING

FOR OUR BODIES to omi

OMIT SHARDS OF GLA SS WE ARE ALL WAI TING FOR OUR EXIST E N C E S T O M E LT AWAY O N LY T O L E A V E C O R P SES OF INDUSTRIAL 17

MATTER iful

the

SO

BEAut

destruc

TION WE HAVE WRECKED UP ON

OUR

DARLING

EARTH

HOW LITTLE TIME WE HAVE under the hot sun human it

ity IS LIKE A POPSICLE SW EET STICKY NASTY AND ABO UT TO HIT THE GROUND AND M E LT AWAY I N T O A PAT H E T I C POOL OF COLORFUL SADNESS ICE ON WOOD ICE ON CONCR ETE ICE SITTING IN AN AIRC ONDITIONED CLASSROOM WH ILE WE WAIT FOR THE seas to take us over what the fuck have we done SE BY

Raphael

Chang

(he/him) - 2021 |

IG: @raphaelhugh

meltdown seeks to capture the event of a panic attack, when anxiety seems to consume your whole being. it mirrors the global climate situation, where the younger generation simply watches the world slowly melt down until it eventually crumbles into nothing.

18

my fossilfuelled dreams

by Terese

Teoh

(she/her)

2021 | IG: @tereseinatree

DESCRIPTION After a long period of self-reflection, an epiphany strikes you. You think you finally got this figured out. Then 'he' comes, and you're confused all over again. Who is telling the truth?

What if the people we love are the ones who internalised these mindsets and try to impart them to us? This piece of writing represents the difficulty of reconciling one's internal conflict with the normalised perception of "good" in our society. Indeed, often complicating this inner tussle is the difficulty of dialogue with the people closest to us.

But difficult conversations still must take place, and so here we start.

To further illustrate the diversity of backgrounds/stories, I intentionally used an ambiguous "he" in this piece to allow for the multiplicity of roles that this character can play: a husband, a brother, a father, a boyfriend.

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“It can’t be that bad. It’s not true.”

He tears the newspaper in half, flings it at my feet then storms off, his face dark like crude oil. I stare blankly at the shredded newspaper on the ground. My senses are numb from the combined attacks of quiet loneliness and roaring rage. But the words remain nonchalant and honest. Letters chipped and disjointed, they continue to write themselves boldly on the floor.

FOSSIL-FUELLED UNIVERSITIES... Singaporean universities have spent at least the past 34 years building close relationships with fossil fuel companies...

I rip off the medal around my neck that he had put on and hurl it at the ground. It bounces with a sharp clink, and as the metal glints in the sunlight I see my face embedded within, amongst the engraving BP GOLD MEDAL. My face, hollow and angry that I have assimilated into this system unknowingly. And now my face is imprinted there in that medal and I can’t take it out, can I change my face— I force my gaze to shift away and suddenly I notice my name in the newspaper under RECIPIENTS OF THE EXXONMOBIL-NUS RESEARCH FELLOWSHIP. My name, innocent and guilty; honoured and disgraced; at the same time. Why did I not pay attention before, why did I blindly listen to him, why do I always do what he tells me to do? And now my name is imprinted there in the newspaper and I can’t take it out, can I change my name—

“It can’t be that bad. It’s not true.”

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So he’s back. He tugs my arm and tries to pull me away, but I continue stoning at the floor and refuse to budge. He is angry and I am angry. Finally I let myself be pulled away by him again, whether because it’s always been that way or whether because I still love him, I don’t really know.

He brings me to his room, where his desk is flooded with other pages of the newspaper. He jabs a finger towards the headline.

SHELL SINGAPORE YOUTH SCIENCE FESTIVAL. See, he says triumphantly. It’s not so bad. They are doing all they can to transition away from Big Oil; they are doing all they can to instil

environmental consciousness in young minds. Then he points to another headline that he’s framed on the wall. THE KEPPEL-NUS CORPORATE LABORATORY... set up to meet the future challenges of the offshore industry. See, he continues, they are saving the planet; they are investing in research and development to make the world a better place. Now he puts a reassuring palm on my shoulder. I try not to flinch.

I am confused. Who do we claim to protect, who are the ones that benefit a disproportionate sum? This system is rigged. Why is someone’s suffering requisite for another’s happiness?

My love, but broken? My dreams, pure projection? My university, major manifestation?

The writing is no longer on the floor. I lift my head. The writing is on the wall.

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25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

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34

35

36

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Co-authors:

Daniel

Tan

(he/him)

Illustrator:

Rachel

About

and

Rachel

Cheang

the

Cheang

(she/they)

(she/they)

Zine

Through the use of simple stories and fables, this zine attemps to shift the conversation around the energy transition in a manner that would help our readers to make sense of potentially intimidating and complex issues rooted in our energy systems.

The ancient chinese tale of Nian was chosen in recognition of the growing sense of dread and despair in response to climate change. Through the story, we wanted to present a vision of hope and possibility that would in turn help to catalyze constructive action amongst our readers.

Beyond the hopeful and uplifting narrative it presented, we decided to feature the story of Nian because it effectively paralleled some of the complexities associated with wicked problems such as climate change mitigation and energy systems transformation. While the solution to the problem of Nian did involve the novel combination of tools and methods, it was evident that it required more than just the application of new technologies. For us to effectively address the climate crisis and transform our energy systems will undoubtedly require more than just the right set of technologies; instead, what is needed more than ever as is the civic and political courage to confront the problematic structures that have led us down this path if we are to uncover and execute truly impactful solutions.

Another key insight from the story of Nian is the need for a socio-technical perspective towards wicked problems. The success of following generations in keeping Nian away required not only the application of new technologies, but also the creation of new socio-cultural practices which embedded the strategies first adopted by the beggar and the villager into annual rites and rituals.

Shifting perceptions around the strategies from one of necessity and survival to that of celebration in turn played a vital role in ensuring their persistence across generations. If we are to mirror the success of the villagers in keeping Nian away, we will likewise have to couple our technological advancements with a cultural, political and economic shift, which are ultimately key determinants of whether the technologies are effectively diffused and adopted.

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2021 | tiktok: @sleepymoonart

is another world possible?

“I was feeling a lot of eco-anxiety, and a large part of that feeling came from the knowledge that fossil fuel companies were still extracting resources from the ground. I felt like the world was being...

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by Bev Devakishen (they/ she)

...suffocated by the agenda of big oil corporations.

And it wasn’t just about an abstract concept of nature being destroyed, but about us humans suffering along with the earth, in particular, the most vulnerable populations amongst us.”

o i ly e n d

2021 | tiktok: @sleepymoonart

by Bev Devakishen (they/ she)

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Fighting for a Just Transition

AUTHOR | Suraendher Kumarr (he/him) Suraendher Kumarr is a climate justice organiser from Singapore and member of SG Climate Rally, a coalition pushing for climate justice and a just transition to ensure a fair future for all.

This article was originally published on Code Rood.

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Could you briefly introduce yourself (and your group/collective)? What is your activism about? Where are you active?

I’m a member of SG Climate Rally, an organisation in Singapore which pushes for climate justice and a just transition to ensure a fair future for all. The organisation was first founded in 2019 when it organised the firstever climate rally in Singapore. It was attended by over 2000 members of the public and had politicians from the ruling party and opposition party attend it. This was significant as prior to the rally, climate change was not discussed substantively in parliament or any other national conversation. SGCR, along with others in the climate movement in Singapore effectively shifted the political needle and less than a year later, most political parties had policy positions on climate change.

Yet, much of climate change discourse- in Singapore especially, treats environmentalism as a separate issue from class, gender, disability, sexuality, race, imperialism, for example- very much in the vein of green capitalism. This is not a sustainable solution, as the logic of capitalism is to continuously extract for the need of profit, and as long as we produce and extract more than we need, we are still going to be polluting and depleting the earth. A system built on such a logic is fundamentally unsustainable. While SGCR has called on the state to lead on systemic climate action since day one of its existence, we have also more recently clearly articulated that we want a just society , democratically accepted by our membership. We don’t just want to mitigate emissions, we want it to be done in a way that is fair. A just transition essentially.

42

What does this mean? Our organisation, broadly, has three calls to action.

Bring power to the people by building a democratic society.

Launch a green recover based on justice and equality.

A big part of “the people” is the working class. The financialisation of capitalism has to some extent, reconfigured class and so when we say working class, we must clarify that we mean people who primarily rely on wage labour for their subsistence.

Another part of “the people” is marginalised communities who do not necessarily participate in the realm of wage labour.

Examples include unpaid caregivers, rural farmers, homeless persons or anyone else who may rely solely on mutual aid or social welfare. SGCR means both the working class and marginalised communities – two broad groups that have significant latent power but have historically been disempowered psychologically and legally.

What do I mean by latent power? For one, there is no wealth, no world without workers’ labour. Without labour, wealth remains stagnant, it cannot grow. And workers cannot go to work without care labour, usually unpaid and usually performed by caregivers who tend to be women – activities that we systemically understand as social reproduction. But workers and marginalised communities are legally disempowered through anti-union and assembly laws for example, preventing them from organising themselves and exercising their power autonomously.

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Redefine what pragmatism and growth means in the Singapore context.

They are psychologically disempowered by narratives that celebrate the capitalist logic of endless profit and consumption, where the role of the worker is reduced to an individualised unit, competing against other workers for the privilege of wages just to stay alive. It is our job as activists and organisers to resist these forms of disempowerment and channel energies towards realising their latent power.

We are not interested in a green recovery that benefits capitalists if it is at the expense of the majority of the working class and other marginalised communities. A just transition is a green transition that centres the working class and marginalised communities as active agents of this change.

Singapore is almost 100% urbanised, but SGCR also understands that a just green transition is impractical without international cooperation and solidarity. We are therefore internationalist in our outlook and have stood in solidarity with ecological struggles around the world. These include but are not limited to the struggles in Myanmar against the military coup, the Palestinian struggle against Israeli settler colonialism, the democracy movement in Thailand, and the forest fires in Chiang Mai for example.

What

are

some

current

struggles/

environmental issue. There have been increasing

problems?

cases of food delivery courier cyclists dying in

One of our most recent struggles is climate justice for app-based gig workers. Food delivery couriers and private hire car drivers who are employed by apps like Grab, Food Panda, and Deliveroo were disproportionately affected by an abrupt petrol price

increase

recently.

This

imposed

was

done

by

the

during

government

the

pandemic,

where workers were already suffering reduced incomes and mass lay-offs.

government justifying the petrol hike as an effort to address climate change. SGCR responded to say we are environmentalists who are against an abrupt petrol hike as it was clearly classist, and, from a policy perspective, likely to be ineffective.

After speaking to some food couriers and private hire car drivers about the petrol hike, we organised a petition with the slogan, “Workers didn’t cause climate change, they shouldn’t pay for it. Give them better rights!”, where we also called for taxing the rich to pay for climate change instead.

Singapore does not have a wealth tax. The petition had other demands as well – touching on points about rider safety, a minimum income guarantee, and social and health protections.

SGCR members went to the streets to talk to riders and drivers about a petition connecting climate

change

issues,

and

invited

them to weekly meetings about the campaign.

Several

riders

were

leaving

them

dangerous

to

resort

roads.

to

using

Moreover,

the

recent

far

more

regulations

disallow cyclist to use footpaths. In Singapore, cycling paths are not as common as countries like the Netherlands for example. Public infrastructure still upholds the supremacy of the motor vehicle.

We

argued

that

the

lack

of

a

safe

working

environment for food courier cyclists and e-bikers

actively

point on workplace safety also resonated with lowwage migrant workers in Singapore who work in the construction industry and are ferried from their dormitories to construction sites in the back of a an open roof lorry with no seatbelts. The other more direct link to climate change is that riders work outdoors, and increased temperatures cause higher chances of heat stress. Some drivers and riders have told us that they prefer working at night due to the heat, for example. Beyond the specifics

of

policy,

we

are

so

used

to

distinguishing between humans and nature that we forget that humans – and therefore workers – are also part of nature. Environmentalism that doesn’t care for workers’ well-being can only be what Nancy Fraser terms an “environmentalism of the rich”.

For the first time in our organisational history,

and

road accidents due to unsafe public infrastructure

is anti-ecological as it puts workers at risk. This

What particularly moved SGCR to act was the

labour

We also argued that public safety of riders is an

involved

in

the

campaign.

While we mostly listened to their struggles, we were also actively linking their workplace issues concerning public safety, lack of employment and social protections, petrol price increases, and low pay, to climate change. For example, we argued that the petrol hike is not environmentally friendly as the tax is likely not to result in behavioural change (given the short time-frame and lack of financial and infrastructural support to make a shift in vehicle choice), but workers absorbing the cost. We argued that since the main polluters are the capitalists and they increased their wealth during the pandemic, we should be taxing the rich instead to finance climate change.

Fundamentally

though,

the

extractive

and

exploitative logic of capitalism is not sustainable for this planet. And the gig economy is one of the latest frontiers to extract even more from labour to profit capitalists. They do so by attempting to erase

centuries

of

hard-fought

wins

for

the

international labour movement – paid leave, paid sick

leave,

paid

healthcare

for

example.

As

a

climate justice movement, SGCR believes that this must be resisted. It is workers who can decide that they wish to engage in socially useful work that doesn’t ravage the planet and people, but only if they have control of their workplaces.

We

also

hosting

released workers’

3

issues

voices

of

and

labour

bulletins

analytical

articles

about the gig workers’ struggle for fair pay and overall conditions. This served as a helpful way of connecting with riders. This was quite historic in the

Singapore

context,

where

it

is

generally

stigmatised for workers to openly organise – and for an environmental group to initiate. These riders and drivers had previously organised against an abrupt ban on e-scooters that wiped out many of their livelihoods overnight, and many saw it as novel – but it was done by the riders alone – and spontaneously.

44

What is the role of Shell specifically in the place where you are active?

The oil and gas industry and the services, equipment, and construction companies that support it account for close to 5% of Singapore’s GDP. Shell’s Singapore refinery is Shell’s largest wholly owned refinery in the world. Shell operates two oil and petrochemical sites in Singapore, namely in Pulau Bukom and on Jurong Island. As far as we are aware, Singapore does not publish the data of carbon emissions that individual companies have created. However, the oil and gas sector accounts for 45% of Singapore’s carbon emissions. Despite this, Shell paid only $49 million in taxes despite generating $2.3 billion in profits, far below the 17% tax rate on corporate profits.

That’s about 2% of its profits.

Shell’s origins in Singapore go as far back as 1960, 5 years before the country’s independence. 1960 was when then newly appointed Finance Minister Dr Goh Keng Swee grasped an axe and symbolically chopped down a Flame of the Forest tree, breaking ground on the site of Shell’s first petroleum refinery in Singapore. Shell invested $30 million in this refinery, representing the single biggest investment for Singapore at that time.

Economic growth for this young nation would go on to be inextricably tied to the growth of the fossil fuel industry. The refinery would go on to grow and become Shell’s largest in the world, and possibly, its most profitable worldwide.

War around the world has reaped Shell in Singapore enormous profits. The Vietnam war strengthened Singapore’s position as Asia’s oil supply hub. According to Louis Wesseling, president of Shell, much of the fuel for the US and South Vietnam in the Vietnam War was supplied through Singapore’s refineries. He added that some of the fuel also unintentionally slipped to the Vietcong, enabling them to successfully carry out their guerrilla warfare. Moreover, Singapore’s refining industry had its most profitable spell in the months after Iraq’s military invaded Kuwait in August 1990. As a result of these record refining margins, Shell was reported to have fully recovered its investment for a long-residue catalytic cracker in less than two years. The US-led invasion of Iraq was also another cause for cheer for Singapore’s refineries with Merrill Lynch reporting that refining margins in 2003 were at their highest levels since 1996.

45

Shell says it aims to be a net-zero emissions energy business by 2050. The scepticism around the loopholes of 2050 net zero pledges is well documented. Meanwhile, Shell Singapore outlined a 10-year plan for the company to repurpose its core business and aim to cut its own carbon dioxide emissions in the country by about one third by then.

How are people taking on Shell/fighting for a just transition? What are their strategies?

Currently I would say that the most active movement confronting big oil is the divestment movement which is largely university campusbased. The first divestment campaign launched by Yale-NUS students in 2017 calling for the university to divest the endowment fund from fossil fuels and reinvest in socially & environmentally responsible enterprises, which brought attention to the outsized role that the industry plays in Singapore, and Singapore’s significant contributions to the global proliferation of the industry.

To date, there are three active divestment groups: FFYNC, NUS STAND and NTU Divest. These organisations have been engaging regularly with the respective campus Investment Offices and the student bodies to heighten pressures for our universities to divest. Though dialogues, they have uncovered that ] A single digit percentage of NUS’s endowment fund of $5.9 billion is invested in fossil fuels, which can mean anywhere between $40 – 360 million. NUS’s fund is the largest university endowment fund in SG; Yale-NUS shares in this same fund ] NTU has also confirmed “minimal exposure” of the fund to fossil fuels. NTU holds the second largest endowment fund in SG ] No universities have publicly disclosed the exact exposure of their endowment fund to fossil fuels despite repeated calls for transparency.

It’s also worth noting that despite Singapore’s tight assembly laws, we had our first and only climate strike by 2 students last year, in March. The strikers were 20-year-old Nguyen Nhat Minh and 18-yearold Wong J-Min who were both from the Singapore chapter of Fridays for Future. Wong posed for a series of photos before the building housing ExxonMobil’s Singapore office, holding up messages scrawled on pieces of paper that read “PLANET OVER PROFIT”, “SCHOOL STRIKE 4

CLIMATE” and “ExxonMobil KILLS KITTENS & PUPPIES” – clearly hyperbolic rhetoric meant to jolt the viewer out of complacency. Shortly after Wong posed outside the office, Nguyen held up a placard in public saying “SG IS BETTER THAN OIL”.

Given strict assembly laws, the two strikers were interrogated by the Police. SGCR helped to organise multiple environmental and civil society organisations to sign a statement in solidarity with the strikers.

Moreover, in our labour day open meeting for appbased workers (which was livestreamed), we invited another climate justice group Lepak in SG to speak. They said that the true polluters are petrochemical companies and that they are not paying their fair share of taxes. This is in stark contrast to the government’s recent move to increase the price of petrol, affecting app-based gig workers, truckers, and waged drivers, disproportionately. Emissions from petrol vehicles only contribute to 5% of total emissions in Singapore. Meanwhile, petrochemical companies contribute to 45% of emissions here. However, while workers are taxed even more on petrol, petrochemical companies receive generous tax cuts. The speaker went on to cite that BP paid 6% in taxes while Shell paid taxes amounting to 2% of its total profits. It’s not clear how much Exxon pays.

These statistics also reveal the classism rooted in the government’s environmental policy.

Meanwhile, fossil fuel companies like Shell continue to spend only minuscules fractions of their R&D budgets on renewable energy, and are hardly committing to reducing fossil fuel production, whilst inundating social media and mainstream news outlets with proclamations of their climate pledges.

In principle, what would need to happen for fossil fuel companies to acquiesce to a just transition is for pressure from workers within Shell and other big oil companies to transition out of the sector into less pollutive industries, and to fight for adequate labour protections and support in making that transition. As environmentalists, we believe workers in these sectors hold within themselves the creativity and innovation to come up with impressive solutions for a just transition.

alternative industries including offshore wind and renewables. The report also recommended that the just transition must be worker led. This is consistent with our principles, but we need to first build the capacity to do such work sustainably, which we are working on.

On a strategic point as well, the last thing we want to do is alienate the working class in our fight for climate justice. The working class in Singapore is the majority class, although they do not identify themselves as one class. But the misleading distinction has been set by state-owned media and so on – that there are climate issues that the younger demographic is passionate about, distinct from material “bread and butter” issues that older generations worry over. Our campaign for appbased gig workers affected by the petrol hike was meant to disrupt that narrative. Here we are, young environmentalists very much putting front and centre the “bread and butter” issues and linking it to climate change. It is also just incorrect to say that climate change is not a “bread and butter” or “materialist” issue.

We can’t expect the working class in fossil fuel sectors to support the cause for climate justice if we do nothing about the labour issues they will face in the green transition. Workers will see environmentalists as coming after their jobs. Not only is this anti-ecological, it’s just poor strategy if our theory of change involves changing mass public opinion about the need for a just transition.

In the absence of reach with workers due to the factors mentioned above, we have relied on online forums and word-of-mouth about what workers’ issues are in the sector. When Exxon workers were laid off en masse recently, we put out a statement with the hashtag #AxeExxon saying that SGCR stands with the workers and that they should receive more government support to transition to greener sectors. And that the government should stop pumping in more money to a failing, immoral, and environmentally destructive company like Exxon. Exxon also has a very close relationship with the Singapore government. The thenchairman and managing director of ExxonMobile Asia Pacific has a seat in a government appointed taskforce aimed at adjusting the economy to the effects of the pandemic.

One source of inspiration is Platform London’s report entitled Offshore: oil and gas workers’ views on industry conditions and the energy transition. The report surveyed over a thousand workers indicating the extent of exploitation that goes on in the industry and an appetite for

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RACHEL OOI (she/her)

IG: @solidarity.econ + @roosh.art

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“A small take on spiritual connection & queer friendships.”

2021 | IG: @drawwins

BY WIN (he/they) 61

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by Firdaus (he/him)

“For a final class assignment, I drew a short comic on overfishing and indigenous teachings entitled The Honorable Harvest. The comic was largely inspired by the storyworld of Wu Ming-Yi's The Man With the Compound Eyes and the indigenous teachings in Robin Wall Kimmerer's Braiding Sweetgrass. Making this comic, my goal is to centre non-human narratives and indigenous perspectives on climate change.”

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Qiutong (she/her) - 2021 |

IG: @qtzhai materials: dirt, incense, tea leaves, spices, wax, resin, acrylic, fluorocarbon

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Prayer Cube expresses an attempt to reconnect with the spiritual quality of the land and soil through the ritualistic action of object making and observing time.

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Amihan.

by Steven Sy (he/ him)

The city has a way of seeming endless.

Every new corner I turn into seems like a different world.

Each new street is a new explosion of color, activity, and faces.

And the city changes quicker than any could ever track. A designer brand store opening, a restaurant newly renovated, a skyscraper dominating another patch of sky. I always have to fight back the temptation to get lost in these streets. In about twenty minutes, I glimpse my destination, a tiny rectangle of green surrounded by a tall metal fence.

My phone buzzes again as I enter the park. It’s my mother again. “Have you found

anything today?” the text reads. I frown. She must know that the answer will be the same as all the other time’s she’s asked. I finally unlock my phone and type out a response. “No. I haven’t,” I write.

I put the phone away and glance around the park. When I first found it three years ago, had been desolate, nothing but bare soil and rotting grass. Now much of the soil is covered with green, and there are a few patches of flowers, though I’ve just begun working

on those. There are a few trees, though they are barely as tall as my chest, save for the huge narra tree in the center of the park. It had likely once dominated the skyline, stretching thirty meters into the sky and its branches spreading out to form a net that catches the stars, but now, it’s shriveled and gray.

I move into True Sight and follow the traces of azure energy that I see in the narra tree. True Sight makes the forms and distractions of the physical world fade away, letting me

see the life energies lying just underneath.

He’s sitting on the topmost branch today, probably smoking again and watching the skyline. I approach the base of the tree, but the branches are too thick for me to see past them.

“Kanag,” I “Come down, damned kapre. got something should see.”

say. you I’ve you

I hear a sound coming from high up in the branches of the narra tree.

The sound is faint, but it’s high-pitched and whimsical, sounding like the clink of a spoon against glass. It’s a laugh. The kapre leaps down onto a branch next to me, and I finally get to see him in full.

Kanag is almost invisible save for his

thick hide, mane of

bushy hair framing a thin face, and the

film by Nathalio Murillo

smoking cigar in its hands. The kapre himself is probably no taller than waistheight, pathetic when compared to some of the kapre I knew growing up.

“What you got for me today?” Kanag says.

“Something special, Kanag,” I say. “A little thank you present for the past three years.”

almost glow.

seems

to

“Is that what I think it is?” Kanag asks, swiping the leaf out of my hands.

“Yup. Straight from a narra tree near my village,” I say.

“How in the world did you find it?”

I wink at him. “I have my ways.”

Kanag grins. “And here I was thinking ya stayed for the scenery.”

He looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. I laugh. “All right, I got it in the mail this morning.”

“Come on, you know I had to get the hell away from my parents. Compared to my village, this place is paradise.”

The kapre laughs.

“It’s fine, kid. This is a damn good find.

Now, I’m guessing you’d want to do the honors?”

I reach into the bag slung over my shoulder and pull out a single, green leaf.

It seems unimpressive at first glance, but surrounded by the wilted foliage, it

He hands the leaf back to me and I kneel on the ground, pressing it to the roots at the narra tree’s base. I move into True Sight and draw out the bright green energy from the

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leaf. Both the kapre’s blue and the tree’s green energies are flaring, looking like tiny candles in the dead of night.

Suddenly, the narra tree isn’t the only one standing in the park. Instead, it’s surrounded by hundreds of its cousins, a forest of blooming trees, animals scurrying through their branches. Kanag grows to stand nearly two meters, his muscles bulging. I look around me and there are about a dozen other kapre surrounding us. The sounds of the forest erupt around me, and it’s an orchestra of life.

I reach out to touch one of the trees, but my hand goes right through it. I have to remind myself that it’s merely an illusion, a daydream, and even as I look at the beautiful expanse around me, it begins to decay, colors becoming less sharp, sounds fading into the background.

But Kanag stands tall in front of me, looking down at me with tears in his eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the kapre cry before. The illusion around us fades as Kanag’s tears water the ground beneath his feet. And slowly, the plants disappear, Kanag shrinks, and the great narra tree returns to its wilted state. Finally, all that remains is the green leaf in the kapre’s small hands, which fades into dust, as does its energy.

Kanag whispers a silent prayer of thanks then turns back to me.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I…I forgot what it was like. Back in the day.”

“It’s the least I could do,” I say, and when I look around the park, the grass looks a little greener and

film by Nathalio Murillo

new patches of flowers have sprouted. And on the narra tree itself, there are a few leaves on its branches, and when I brush my hand against the bark, it feels stronger now. It no longer crumbles at my touch. I take a deep breath, and the air tastes a little fresher, like a little sliver of the forest came here to rest.

I turn back to Kanag, who is scanning the changes to the park with tears in his eyes. “Come on, Kanag. You can’t be that shaken up by it,” I say.

“It’s not…” the kapre says, shaking his head. Then he steadies himself, meeting my eyes. “Kid, there’s something I gotta tell you.”

“What is it?”

“There were a few kapre through here last week. I tried to get them to stay, but they wouldn’t. Said they were heading up north. They can’t stand the city, I think.”

I frown. “That’s unfortunate. But why couldn’t you tell me that from the start?”

“That’s not all. They also passed along news about…about him.

Gawigawen.”

I freeze. The name sends shivers down my spine. For a long time, I had only thought the name was used to scare small children who wandered too far into the mountains. The legendary giant who guards the prize so many heroes had died for.

“And you kept it from me for this long?” I ask. As I do, I feel my good mood evaporating. And without my willing it, my mind drifts back to the last time I saw my grandmother. She is lying in bed, a half-eaten meal of fruits beside her bed. My mother sits next to her, clasping her hands, red light coursing

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from her hands and entering my grandmother’s body. We aren’t sure how much longer she has. According to my mother, there is only one cure for her illness.

“Kid, I’m not sure if…” Kanag says.

“Tell me,” I say.

Kanag sighs. “Their elder had a vision from Dalikamata, right as their forest was destroyed. She told them to seek Gawigawen in the highest point of the city, where steel meets the sky.”

I look up, past the buildings surrounding the park to the highest one in the distance, a skyscraper so tall that it seems to scrape the clouds.

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“That’s where I’ll go, then,” I say. I start to leave the park, but then Kanag catches me on the arm.

much for the place.

Another month and more kapre might actually start to come back.”

“Wait, kid, are you “What does that sure you need to go have to do with it?” I now?” Kanag asks. ask.

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“We need that I look at him sharply, orange, kid. We could shrugging off his use that orange’s hand from mine. energy to save this “Haven’t I had entire park. Think enough of your lies about it. This park today? You told me could be a haven, an that the orange oasis.”

doesn’t exist.”

I pause for a moment “Two weeks ago, I and look around me, would’ve told ya the considering the park. same. We always Despite all the work thought Gawigawen we’ve done, if I left was a myth. I just tomorrow, it won’t needed to wrap my last another month.

head around it.”

“I’m sorry, Kanag. You I scoff. “You and I know why I’m here. both know that that’s I’ve got…I’ve got a lie.”

people depending on me. My family would “All right, all right, never forgive me.”

you want the truth, kid?” the kapre says, “You really wanna go getting on his knees. back to that boring I’ve never seen him village so much? I’ve like this before. heard the way you “These past three talk about it. You years…we’ve done so couldn’t wait to get

outta there. Face it, kid, this place, this city, it’s where you belong.”

Suddenly, I can’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kanag. We always knew that this would end someday. I can’t be the one to save you.”

“Then who will?” the kapre says as I remove a beak from my necklace and let its green aura flare.

Within a few seconds, I’ve transformed into an eagle and taken to the skies, but I’m still near enough to hear when Kanag calls after me. “You’re leaving us to die. Do you understand? There’s nobody left for us.”

I can barely keep my own thoughts present as the eagle’s attempt to overpower them. I allow it to soar through the skies, its instincts taking over as the energy delights in one final flight. But I

nudge month and it towards where I need 76

to go, and I am taken north, gliding along the draft.

I dart past the buildings, quickly enough that I can’t see anything in the rooms they contain. Instead, all I see are a million tiny flashes of light, each of them like a star pulled so close to the earth that I can reach out and touch them. Then I’m soaring above them, higher than the rooftops, the gray spires themselves falling away as I speed towards the tallest building, a lonesome giant in the distance.

Finally, just as I think I’m about to run out of air, I land on the building’s highest point. I let the eagle’s essence evaporate, the bright green energy dissipating into the air around me. I feel my body expand and the detail in my eyesight begins to fade away. Then suddenly, I’m back in my own body, the energy flowing around me returning to a bright red. My fingers immediately go to my necklace and I feel the eagle’s beak dissolve, the last remnants of the creature finally set to rest. I close my eyes and mutter a silent prayer of thanks. When I open my eyes, the green essence has faded away entirely.

The roof is a restricted area, so it’s deserted save for a few air vents and a tiny shed with a set of stairs leading downwards. When I glance off the side, the entire city spreads out before me, a mass of changing lights. But otherwise, it seems like a normal rooftop, until I move into True Sight.

When I open my eyes, I see a faint blue mist in the air, subtle enough that I wouldn’t have seen it if I wasn’t looking for it. But it’s there—the same signs my mother told me to look for three years ago. I release myself from True Sight and rummage in my pack, taking out a small golden coin. My mother had dug it out of the ground the week before I left home. She told me that she had prayed that we would never need it.

I place the coin on the ground, pressing it to the floor, muttering only a single word: “Gawigawen”. The moment I do, the scene around me changes.

The empty rooftop changes into a mountain top, the concrete underneath my feet becoming brown soil and the scenery changing from the city to the rolling hills of the countryside. A strong wind blows through the mountain top, and it smells like fresh-grown crops and wild grass. I kneel down and touch a small bush growing at the peak’s edges, but when I do, my hand goes right through it.

“An illusion,” comes a voice like an earthquake.

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Gawigawen towers over the peak, the orange light from a small cooking fire casting an eerie shadow over him like he’s just been birthed from flame. He’s larger than any house in my village, and his six heads all fix their gaze on me.

He sweeps his hand through a tree beside him, which is as large as the park’s narra tree, but only comes up to his waist. His hand goes right through it.

“None of it is real,” he says, all six of his heads speaking at once.

“What energy does it draw from?” I ask.

“My own,” Gawigawen says, and I move to True Sight, and I see swathes of azure leaving the giant’s body and dissipating into the illusion around him. “I built this illusion for myself five hundred years ago, ever since I was cast out of my home. This is as close as I can come to returning.”

As he speaks, I reach into my backpack and take out a small metal rod, barely as long as my forearm. I slam its tip into the ground, and it expands into a gleaming spear, polished wood and fine silver tip.

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Gawigawen doesn’t even flinch at the spear. “Ah, you’ve come to kill me. I apologize for droning on. I do have that tendency, especially when I only have one conversation every century.”

“What?” I say, leveling the spear at him. The look and stance I take are fierce as a cobra, but inside, I’m trembling. “I’ve no quarrel with you, giant. I’m here for the orange.”

“Of course. The heroes always are,” the giant says. “But I can’t just give it to you. The orange is lodged deep inside my ribcage.”

“Then I’ll cut you open and take it,” I say.

o “G

n we a wig a ,” G d a ahe

no mo ve to

and ge spear u h A s. say

head-ax r est next t o h is f ire ,b ut he ma ke s

e?” m t igh f o gt ret n i o riev ug o e y t en’ them. “ r A “ I won’t s I say.

top you .” “What?”

“No need,” the giant says. “Do you know how many heroes have died fighting me? Do you know how many times I’ve failed to die? I’m tired of it all. Come and kill me, hero, and prove yourself.”

I take a closer look at the giant that stands before me, and the slump in his shoulders tells a deeper story than I had initially expected. He wears nothing but a torn loincloth, and his hair is unkempt and messy, growing in uncertain waves around his face. The creature’s story is told through his eyes—there is nothing left for him in this world.

“What happened to your home?” I say.

“Time and darkness. Even I, old as the world, could not save them,” the giant says, then he stops himself. His voice booms again. “What happened to your grand quest, hero? You have a loved one, don’t you? Someone you want to save?”

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He’s right. I don’t have the time to feel sympathy for this giant. There are people depending on me to do what needs to be done.

I level my spear at him again and prepare to charge. His eyes aren’t on me, but on the sky.

Then I hear a crack

evaporates. trees, grass, and soil melting away and suddenly, I’m back on the empty rooftop, the city blaring around me again. Behind him, Kanag stands at the edge of the rooftop, a rifle in his hands. The kapre drops the

sure you finished the job.

Thanks for distracting him for me,” the kapre says, digging his knife into the giant’s flesh and opening his ribcage.

He reaches inside and pulls out a glowing orange. I can’t help but marvel

from behind Gawigawen like a thunderclap.

The giant’s six heads look downwards, each of their eyes staring wide-eyed at the hole in his chest. There are a few more bangs, opening new holes in the giant’s chest, then he collapses to the floor, blood seeping in a pool around him. The illusion arounds us

rifle and takes out a large knife from his belt. He approaches the giant’s body.

at how beautiful the fruit looks, like a sliver of the noontime sun.

“Kanag…you…why?” I say, unable to say anything more. I kneel down and try to sense Gawigawen’s energy again, but even I know that it’s futile. His spirit is already lost.

“Just came to make

I begin walking over to Kanag, extending my hand for the orange, but he raises a hand to stop me.

“Hold on a second,” he says, raising his knife.

“Kanag, what are you doing?” I say.

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“Kid, with this orange, we could do twenty years’ work in twenty days.

Not just the park, but an entire forest. Kapre from all over the city would come.”

“My grandmother needs that orange,” I say. “Give it to me.”

The kapre takes a few steps back and shakes his head. “You’re all I’ve got left. This place is all I’ve got. Are you really going to take that from me?”

I take another step forward, raising my spear again. Kanag backs up until he reaches the guardrail.

“Don’t make me do this, Kanag,” I say.

Kanag drops his knife. “Fine,” he says. “I won’t fight ya.”

I sigh in relief and begin to approach him, but he clutches the orange tighter to his chest.

“I won’t fight ya,” he repeats. “But I won’t let ya have it, either. If you want the orange, you’ll have to kill me for it.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Kanag? I’m not going to kill you.

Just give it to me.”

“Like I said, the park is all I’ve got left. If I can’t have it, then you might as well leave me to die. Can you really make that choice?”

I stare straight into the kapre’s face and can tell that he’s serious. My breathing becomes unsteady, and I fall to my knees. My spear clatters to the floor next to me and my face is in my hands. I see my grandmother again, sickness threatening to destroy her, but her eyes still full of love.

Then I get to my feet again, my posture firmer now and eyes forward. I leave my spear on the ground and approach Kanag. He grips the orange tighter. I kneel before him and read the story told by his eyes.

It’s the same one I read in Gawigawen’s. I place my hands on the orange and feel its bright green energy. I let some of it escape and enter Kanag’s body. His eyes suddenly become glossy, and though he stares straight forward, I can tell that his gaze is with the forest.

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I let some of the orange’s energy into my own body, and suddenly, I’m back in my grandmother’s hut on the day that I left her. She wears a smile on her face. The same smile she wore when I graduated from high school at the top of my class. She wore it when I brought my first girlfriend home to meet her.

She wore it when my family sat on the hills outside the village watching the stars, not knowing that it was the last night we would spend with my grandfather.

I can tell that sitting up and smiling is the most she can do with her remaining strength, so I ask no questions. I kneel down next to her bed so that my face is level with hers and she pulls me into a hug. I can feel the strain in her arms as she does. I return it as best I can and wish that I don’t have to let go. But I do.

The vision leaves me as quickly as it came. Then I take the orange from the kapre’s hands and throw it off the rooftop.

“No!” Kanag yells, snapping back to reality and looking over the edge, watching as the orange falls into the street below.

“It’s too late,” I say, and when I move into True Sight, I see the last vestiges of the orange’s energy fade into dust as a car grinds it into the street.

“You’ve doomed us all,” Kanag says, releasing himself from my grasp. He curls into a ball, tears flowing freely down his face. “Why would ya do such a thing?”

“The orange would only have bought us time, but the rest of the world won’t wait for us, Kanag,” I say, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“That orange was the only thing that could’ve saved us.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “Just like you said, we’re family. We’ll get through it together.”

Kanag’s sobs start to slow, but he stays curled up in a ball, refusing to speak any longer. I leave him and move to the side, taking out my phone.

“Lola’s gone, isn’t she?” I write, my hands shaking. Send.

My mother’s reply comes within seconds. “Yes. Two years ago.”

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I close my eyes and try to grasp my final memory of my grandmother. I get a sinking feeling in my chest, like my body is making space for the memory, moving parts of me aside so that I can take it with me. But just as quickly, it departs, like when a dream leaves a mind after waking. I exhale and allow the memory to depart. I can’t let it shackle me any longer.

2020 | twitter: @stevenjustintsy

Amihan is my first attempt at a Filipino fantasy story, featuring creatures from our mythology such as the kapre, a tree giant, and Gawigawen, a six-headed giant. I merge these mythologies with an urban setting reminiscent of Metro Manila, the urban metropolis I grew up in, to ask the question: what is lost when so many people are forced to move to the city? What is gained?

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accompanying films

2021 | IG: @filmemesto Taken with: Olympus Stylus Epic, Fujifilm and Kodak disposable cameras

by Nathalia Murillo

(she/her)

“I started taking pictures with a film camera out of fear - I was scared of forgetting the world around me. Shot after shot, that fear turned into something beautiful - into a ritual of appreciation of the world around me.”

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The Remembering and Forgetting of Air

by Ariel Dong

(she/her)

2021 | IG: @fishwithnotail

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2021 | IG: @uprooted.jy leave leaves

splish, splash, pitter, patter, I humbly take shelter under your large warm leaves,

that are all touching, touching, touching,

foreground blending into background.

the forest doesn’t need protecting who are we kidding?

the forest protects us.

to the untrained eye, my eyes,

i merely see a sea of green.

only when one places a leaf between their fingers,

puts their nose to it,

takes a closer peek,

oh, they’re all different. unique. special.

how is it possible that all this beauty exists?

leave

leaves

by Jing (she/ Ying they)

“This work came to me one day while I was in the forest, and suddenly heard the pitter patter of rain, yet couldn’t feel any drops of water hit my skin. Upon looking up, the realisation hit that multiple interconnected trees had literally sheltered me, and that gave me pause to notice how beautiful the forest is, in simply existing. In that rare moment of spirituality, I was hit by the desire to call attention to how beautiful nature is; a plea for more to look up and feel, through this visual piece and its accompanying poem.”

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acknowledgements

artists & writers

other

contributors

Anonymous

Ariel

Shawn Ang

Bev Devakishen

Ivy Li

Dorcas Tang Wen Yu

Joshua Choo

Edwin Chen

Firdaus

Jack Xi

Jing Ying

Kanksha Chawla

Meghan Poh

content editors

Nathalia Murillo

Qiutong

Hanae Gomez

Qiyun Woo

Sun Woo Yoon

Rachel Ooi

Terese Teoh

Rachel Cheang

Raphael Chang

Reisha

Steven Sy

Suraendher Kumarr

Terese Teoh

Win

Yasmin

design editors

Goh Pei Xuan Gracia

Rachel Cheang

Reisha

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film by Nathalio Murillo

Conclusion During the opening ceremony of this year’s COP26 summit, Kenyan activist Elizabeth Wathuti spoke to an audience of like-minded activists, scientists, and politicians, as well as not-so-climate concerned representatives from Big Oil companies. She pleaded, “Please open your hearts… If you allow yourself to feel it, the heartbreak and the injustice, is hard to bear.” The climate crisis, often visualized through IPCC graphs and numbers, goes a thousand times beyond these sometimes abstract lines and figures. It is a question of humanity. And not so much of a humanity that is exceptional, but rather of a humanity that acknowledges the wreckage we have made of our planet and attempts to take responsibility to change, to regenerate, and fight. Not only for ourselves, but the millions of other species we share our planet with. The loss we have seen, as Wathuti says, is painful. The loss we will continue to see will be no different. The violence of the climate crisis is difficult to bear.

The stories, art, articles, reflections, and expressions in this zine deal with the complex emotions of our generation—the heirs of a planet badly hurt.

There are questions, ideas, solutions, poetry, love, anger, sadness, grief, and determination. Given the difficulty of the movement we are fighting for— one that starts with divestment but ultimately is concerned with achieving a just transition to a better world—we must be attuned to these emotions and take

care

of

one

another.

Regeneration

includes

plants,

habitats,

ecosystems, but also communities, and cultures of care. It is the only way forward.

There is always that question: So what’s next? What can I do? We sometimes find ourselves stumped on that very question. Will this really create palpable change? When my head gets flooded with these thoughts, I find myself returning to this quote by Jacob August Riis: “Look at a stone cutter hammering away at his rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred-and-first blow it will split in two, and I know it was not the last blow that did it, but all that had gone before.”

Perhaps the answer is just to keep doing, keep going, keep fighting. Until, eventually and hopefully, that stone breaks. Let’s keep going!

Thank you for reading our zine. To continue support for our movement, keep up with us on social media! We’re in it for the long run.

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a zine by the Students for a Fossil Free Future campaign

find out more about our campaign at

https://www.studentsforafossilfreefuture.org/

@s4f.fossilfree

Students for a Fossil Free Future

Students for a Fossil Free Future (S4F)

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