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describe the devastation. A moonscape. A humanmade Grand Canyon. A giant’s sandbox. The opencast mine, the largest of its kind in the world, reaches 500 metres into the earth and covers 85km². Before mining began here in 1978, the forest stretched over 4,000 hectares. Now just 200 hectares remain. A few protesters are perched at the drop-off. Directly in front of them an enormous circular shovel is suspended in the air. The shovel is attached to a monstrous machine. These “bucket-wheel excavators” are 80–90 metres tall and capable of chewing away thousands of tonnes of overburden (the soil and rock between the earth’s surface and the coal) every day. On the excavator stands a workman in an orange hard hat. He shouts something incomprehensible. Presumably he is angry because the activists have prevented him from doing his work. Around 20,000 jobs still depend on brown coal in Germany, and the government has neglected to come up with an adequate restructuring plan for the region once the industry has gone. Internationally, Germany has a green reputation. The ambitious Energiewende (‘energy transition’) spearheaded by the Social Democrat–Green government in the 1990s inspired other countries to follow suit. But despite huge advances in wind and solar, 37% of electricity is still derived from coal; 22% comes from brown coal, which emits much more carbon dioxide than black coal. For the last nine years, Germany has failed to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions. Last summer chancellor Angela Merkel’s government announced that it would miss its 2020 emissions target of a 40% reduction over 1990 levels by a considerable amount. Yet a study by the Fraunhofer Institute found that Germany could still reach that target by simply shutting down its 14 oldest lignite-fired plants – without the lights going out. Under pressure to finally do something about climate change, Merkel appointed a coal commission in spring 2018. The roundtable of politicians, energy executives, environmentalists and labour unions is supposed to draft a plan for an environmentally and socially acceptable coal phaseout. Environmentalists want to end coal by 2030, but industry and Merkel’s conservative CDU oppose a fixed deadline. A compromise date of 2038 seems likely, so the government’s target of a 55% reduction in emissions by 2030 seems illusionary. Without ending coal, there is little chance of progress. The Hambach struggle is powerful because it has put a spotlight on Germany’s lack of climate action. It all began six years ago when young activists began to squat the forest and build treehouses, in which they lived year-round – attracting occasional visits by the press. The situation escalated at 12 Resurgence & Ecologist January/February 2019
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The last remaining tree house village ‘Lorien’ is evicted by police special forces, September 27, 2018 © Daniel Chatard www.chatard.de Issue 312 the end of last summer, when RWE announced that it would start clearing the forest. Local authorities began to forcibly remove the occupiers from their treehouses on the grounds of insufficient fire safety, which, oddly, had not been a concern during the extremely dry summer. About 3,000 police guarded the forest day and night as specialist climbers painstakingly dragged the activists from their treetop homes, some of them 25–30 metres above the ground. The operation cost millions of euros and generated a vast amount of media attention. In polls 75% of Germans said they opposed the destruction of the forest. More anger was sparked when a young journalist died after he fell from a rope bridge between treehouses. The grotesque spectacle motivated people across Germany to act. “Totally unnecessary,” says Sandra, who travelled to the protest from Cologne. “Simply a display of power by the state government. This really worked me up and led me to take a closer look at what was going on. I wasn’t an environmental activist beforehand. The evictions of the treehouses moved me to get involved.” Public outrage grew. Spurred on by the hashtag #hambibleibt, thousands headed to the forest every weekend to demand that the state stop doing the corporation’s dirty work. By the end of September some 88 treehouses had been destroyed. RWE was to start cutting down trees around October 15. Then, on October 5, the eve of the big protest, the good news arrived: the Higher Administrative Court in Münster had ordered RWE to suspend all work until a case filed by BUND was properly reviewed. The environmentalists’ lawyers argued that Hambach Forest was covered by an EU directive because it is the habitat of 142 protected animal species, including the endangered Bechstein’s bat. RWE said it would lose €100 million in earnings as a result of the ruling. Its share price plummeted. The police stepped back and allowed 50,000 people to congregate peacefully to celebrate the stunning, if temporary, victory. It could take two years before the court makes its final decision, giving the forest another chance to live – and Germany a chance to come up with a more ambitious climate policy. The battle against coal is far from over. Activists have little faith in the coal commission. Some have begun to build new treehouses. For Sandra, Hambach symbolises a new spirit of solidarity. “All kinds of people are here: environmental activists, middle-class people, Christians, leftists. Everyone is working towards a shared goal. Just to feel that strength gives me hope – no matter what issue is on the table – that people can mobilise quickly and make things happen together.” Maurice Frank is a freelance journalist based in Germany. Resurgence & Ecologist 13

describe the devastation. A moonscape. A humanmade Grand Canyon. A giant’s sandbox.

The opencast mine, the largest of its kind in the world, reaches 500 metres into the earth and covers 85km². Before mining began here in 1978, the forest stretched over 4,000 hectares. Now just 200 hectares remain.

A few protesters are perched at the drop-off. Directly in front of them an enormous circular shovel is suspended in the air. The shovel is attached to a monstrous machine. These “bucket-wheel excavators” are 80–90 metres tall and capable of chewing away thousands of tonnes of overburden (the soil and rock between the earth’s surface and the coal) every day.

On the excavator stands a workman in an orange hard hat. He shouts something incomprehensible. Presumably he is angry because the activists have prevented him from doing his work. Around 20,000 jobs still depend on brown coal in Germany, and the government has neglected to come up with an adequate restructuring plan for the region once the industry has gone.

Internationally, Germany has a green reputation. The ambitious Energiewende (‘energy transition’) spearheaded by the Social Democrat–Green government in the 1990s inspired other countries to follow suit. But despite huge advances in wind and solar, 37% of electricity is still derived from coal; 22% comes from brown coal, which emits much more carbon dioxide than black coal.

For the last nine years, Germany has failed to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions. Last summer chancellor Angela Merkel’s government announced that it would miss its 2020 emissions target of a 40% reduction over 1990 levels by a considerable amount. Yet a study by the Fraunhofer Institute found that Germany could still reach that target by simply shutting down its 14 oldest lignite-fired plants – without the lights going out.

Under pressure to finally do something about climate change, Merkel appointed a coal commission in spring 2018. The roundtable of politicians, energy executives, environmentalists and labour unions is supposed to draft a plan for an environmentally and socially acceptable coal phaseout. Environmentalists want to end coal by 2030, but industry and Merkel’s conservative CDU oppose a fixed deadline. A compromise date of 2038 seems likely, so the government’s target of a 55% reduction in emissions by 2030 seems illusionary. Without ending coal, there is little chance of progress.

The Hambach struggle is powerful because it has put a spotlight on Germany’s lack of climate action. It all began six years ago when young activists began to squat the forest and build treehouses, in which they lived year-round – attracting occasional visits by the press. The situation escalated at

12

Resurgence & Ecologist

January/February 2019

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