How to communicate with small-town Florida voters about climate change

My hometown of High Springs, with a population of just over 5,000 people, is bordered by many other small cities (Alachua, Micanopy, Hawthorne, Newberry, Fort White), but only Gainesville can be considered a proper city. is. The same goes for other Florida municipalities, with nearly half of Florida’s municipalities having fewer than 5,000 residents.

Because national and state political powers are (so far) reluctant to pass continent-wide and peninsula-wide legislation and implement policies to address climate change, mayors, counties in these sparsely populated areas Commissioners and city council members have an opportunity to collaborate. Let’s engage Florida’s strong climate justice movement and do some work.

But if we are to do more to tackle climate change, we small towns have to do more to tackle this issue. But how should policymakers and activists communicate with small-town voters about climate change?

Over the holidays, I spoke with Sue Colson, the mayor of Cedar Key (population 732). This coastal town is still recovering from three hurricanes in 13 months. We talked while volunteering at a food pantry she hosts.

Colson pointed to rising sea levels, spring tide flooding, continued access to fresh water, struggling clam and oyster farmers, and the difficult challenges of keeping Cedar Key viable for the working and middle classes. He spoke frankly about Cedar Key’s much-publicized ecological challenges.

Colson knows that voters often have short memories of climate crises like hurricanes and are uninterested in messages buried in data. Nevertheless, she is instrumental in advancing many of the adaptation and resiliency goals advocated by Florida’s climate justice movement. What is her not-so-secret weapon for changing climate justice?

After our conversation, I was left with two conclusions about how we can talk to small-town voters.

First, these voters understand the complexity of climate change, adding another layer to how climate change is generally viewed. Using what could be described as a Socratic method of deep listening and questioning, Mr. Colson explores what the science of climate change can tell us about each constituent’s business, housing, insurance costs and more generally. The government is systematically communicating with voters about future crises. of Cedar Key.

Adaptation and resilience appear to be different for each household and small business owner, and Colson and voters are discussing each possible scenario based on what voters do or don’t do.

Talking about climate change requires time to unravel all the stones, and consultant-planned slogans and “downplaying it” are a worthless endeavor. As Colson points out, “climate change cannot be isolated from other, often personal, issues. People think holistically, asking, ‘How much will it cost to adapt? “I want to know that.” When should I adapt? And I ask them: “What will help you achieve that goal?”

My second lesson is that communication about climate change needs to be rooted in emotion. Colson is a former hospice nurse, so it may not be surprising that there is an empathetic side to her style.

For example, getting someone to bear the risks and costs of relocating their family business because of sea level rise requires deep compassion and an understanding of what that relocation means for the middle class.

Even so-called experts know this. Cognitive linguist George Lakoff writes in his research on effective communication about climate change policy: Indeed, you cannot be rational without emotions. ”

The latest “I feel your pain” strategy, which incorporates inflationary pressures and rising insurance premiums, will guarantee nothing for politicians and the climate justice movement. But as Saul Alinsky reminds community organizers, “If you start with nothing, demand 100%, and then settle for 30%, you’re 30% ahead.”

As our planet shows us, nothing is certain anymore. But if Floridians are to sustain the climate justice movement, we must not overlook the voices and political potential of our small-town allies.

David Vaina has a Ph.D. in political theory and has spent the past 15 years helping fund, develop, and operate nonprofit organizations in Florida. His new book, Advancing to a New Civil Society: Mutual Aid on the Edge of the Anthropocene (Rebel Hearts), was published last fall. This opinion piece was distributed by the Invading Sea website (www.theinvadingsea.com), which publishes news and commentary on climate change and other environmental issues affecting Florida.