Downloaded from YTS.BZ
Official YIFY movies site: YTS.BZ
Well, I want to see this beautiful city
Yes, I want to see that beautiful city
Well, I, I want to see that beautiful city
I'd like to see that beautiful city
One of these days, one of these days
And I, I want to sit at the welcome table
Yeah, I want to sit at the welcome table
Well, I want to sit at the welcome table
I want to sit at the welcome table
See that beautiful city one of these days
Oh, one of these days and I
I like to sing and never get tired
Well, I want to sing and never get tired
Yes, I want to sing and never get tired
I'd like to sing and never get tired
Sit at the welcome table
See that beautiful city one of these days
One of these days
People have always migrated.
Always looking for that elusive home on the horizon.
What tells us we're welcome?
What tells us we're home?
We invite you to our table on the levee.
There's no tablecloth.
But each thread of our stories weaves a tapestry.
The people at this table crossed many rivers to get here.
People from every continent
who have been displaced by climate change...
meeting here for the first time
to ask, where is home now?
Sit with us and hear our stories.
We begin with a family
whose paradise burned all around them.
Hello, I'm Allie.
My life was beautiful and blessed. Our home was such a special place.
During the fire when we got gridlocked,
we were all stuck.
The firefighters were stuck up there, too.
And there's this song, I think a Bee Gees song, on the radio.
There's propane tanks blowing up.
It's like...
Staying alive, staying alive
Ah, ah, ah
And then firefighters told us to abandon our vehicles
and run to the nearest parking lot,
because the fire was coming.
Stayin' alive, stayin' alive
This is...
This was it.
Yeah, this used to be my JBL PRX Dual 15 professional loudspeaker.
I do sound reinforcement DJ and stuff.
We hadn't had any official warning.
- There was no warning? - No.
There was no public warning or anything.
You just heard explosions.
Just constant explosions.
Could hear the propane tanks starting to blow up,
and that's when I knew that this fire is within a mile of us.
We're at-- All gone.
Right over there is where you could see the fire.
It was orange.
What did they say was the number?
Like, 800 football fields in a minute?
Eighty football fields a minute.
It's big. It's fast.
This right here would have been our bedroom.
She was born right there.
The home was her first thing she knew.
And I just looked around and I'm like, what do I grab?
Hmm.
And I had the baby, you know, who's crying 'cause she's hungry.
And then I'm also trying to pack for all of us at the same time.
The road we were trapped on is basically just right through the trees here.
We got on the road and just instantly got caught in gridlock.
I don't think we made it two miles from our house.
I was sitting in the car,
and I was just thinking, like, "This is not how I go.
Just brought a baby into this world.
"This is not how we go. I got all these kids with me.
This is not how we go."
Allie, Jason, and their family were the lucky ones.
Eighty-five people died,
and everything in Paradise burned away.
In our new climate-changed planet, it's hotter and drier than ever before.
A common wildfire is now a climate inferno.
A glimpse of the apocalypse.
Burned-up and then liquefied baby bottles.
- Tires. - Dashboards.
Formica counters, microwaves.
Liquid crystal display televisions.
- Satellite dishes. - Sneakers.
Plastic containers for organic baby arugula.
Cameras, clothes.
The only place that didn't burn
were parking lots.
You can return the shopping cart to its little shopping cart pen.
But the supermarket isn't there anymore.
Eventually, a police officer was getting everyone out of their vehicles
and said that we were now on foot.
So, everyone on the road just took off running.
They had told us to go to this parking lot.
This whole parking lot here was full of evacuees, yeah.
At first, it was really, really scary.
With fire all around us, there was nowhere to go.
It was just raining embers.
Later, they said, okay, we have a path cleared.
If you have a car still, get in it.
Keep going. Don't veer off. You'll risk everyone else. Just go.
Did you have a lot of smoke inhalation?
Oh, yeah, they didn't have masks.
My boys had this piece of cloth that they each used
that later when I washed 'em, they were so dirty, just black.
You'd see RVs everywhere, or in people's yards everywhere.
They just...
You can tell they're set up for living.
The number I've been hearing about displaced people
is something like 22,000.
These are modern-day refugees.
Climate refugees, living just 30 miles down the road
in a van in Chico.
Is this the future?
The American dream collapsing all around us.
From sea to shining sea, there is no security.
Where will we be safe?
There is no geographical answer.
From coast to coast, fires, floods, extreme weather of all kinds.
The fabric of American stability has frayed,
the threads unraveling.
American cities being destroyed faster than they can be rebuilt.
A heart that's
Filled up like a landfill
A job that slowly kills you
Bruises that won't heal
You look so tired, unhappy...
None of us would have ever suspected that a fire like that
would come through a neighborhood like this.
Picture perfect.
Kids playing in the yard. It could happen to anybody.
It's a matter of when, not if, at this point.
I'll take a quiet life
A handshake of carbon monoxide
And no alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
Silent
Yeah, so this was actually the main part of the house.
Right.
Bathroom for the master bedroom.
This was our son's room.
Living, dining, eating area, and then kitchen.
Most of it was Irma, and then Maria took the rest.
We had glass doors here and glass doors there.
So, once the roof went, that really couldn't stay up.
Where did the roof go?
I'm not sure.
I even say today that it was months
before I realized I was homeless.
At the time, I remember thinking that we were forgotten.
We're not a very wealthy community, and people are living simply,
but then you get thrust into a situation where it becomes poverty.
Oh, my God!
I don't know where I'm going next, but we are climate refugees now.
Such a pretty house
And such a pretty garden
No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no...
Nobody expected, nobody had ever seen fires
like that in the suburbs.
It's not like there's a thousand available houses in the neighborhood
for people to just go move into.
They have kids in schools, they have jobs.
It's not like anybody's got a plan.
Oh, I guess if my entire neighborhood burns down,
where do we go next?
Silent
Let it go just like the ones that came before
Stones rolling back into the ocean
Shake it off it was only just a cost
Money, money, money
Can't buy the ocean
Léo Farah, a famous firefighter in Brazil,
founded HUMUS, a first response organization
that goes from one disaster to the next.
There are so many, he can't respond fast enough.
Oh, man. Holy shit.
Oh, my God. So, these were houses here?
And Léo says, this is one of the smaller ones.
In Rio de Janeiro, these landslides
have taken out thousands.
Rain bombs coming out of the sky.
The Earth's atmosphere is five percent wetter
than the dawn of industrial times.
That's because warm air holds more water vapor than cold.
The warm air from the warmed climate can gather all of that vapor up,
and what goes up must come down.
There's no justice in any of this.
No way to say everything happens for a reason.
But there is a strange and mysterious thread
that connects us all.
In times of disaster, you can see the frayed ends of it.
And if you respond to that disaster, you can tug at that thread,
and you can pull at it and see where it weaves us all.
Into every life, a little rain must fall.
You know the expression.
But our world was only built for a certain amount of rain.
More than that, and everything starts coming down.
The land slides.
I went to go pick up Karina Lapenta, my translator.
Good morning.
We could barely make it through to her neighborhood.
No one in this region was unaffected.
Karina is a high-strung, tatted punk with a heart of gold.
We're gonna be friends for life.
So, you had water all the way inside here?
This apartment complex, barely even finished,
was being waited for by other poor people
who these displaced people displaced.
It's stark, Orwellian, naked, isolating,
oppressive, like a prison.
A temporary shelter, it has nothing of the vibrancy
of the favelas.
And into this bleak landscape
marches the blue-haired angel,
Gabriel.
A victim of the landslides himself, he lost his apartment,
but he decided to pick himself up and volunteer with the relief effort,
where he was immediately recognized as a leader.
People need to tell you their yarn. Spin their part of the thread.
Listening is helping,
including you listening now.
Gabriel was one of those expert listeners
who exuded compassion and patience and love.
Because listening was helping him, too.
Often, in disaster,
there's a local organization that just steps up.
In this case, Verdescola, an after-school program for local kids.
Every town should have a Verdescola,
a place to teach and care for the next generation.
Maria Antonia runs it.
She's kind of like your favorite kindergarten teacher
of all time.
When the landslides occurred, classes were stopped
and the place was turned into an impromptu shelter
slash hospital slash aid station.
But Maria Antonia is not just a thought leader
and a moral bastion of this town.
She was also a victim of the landslide.
I go with her to her house for the very first time
after the landslide.
Oh, my God!
Sure!
Oh, man, this is insane.
It's really strong...
Go ahead.
Oh, wow.
She wanted the simplest and smallest thing.
The little mosquito net for her cup of tea that she drank every morning
- in her kitchen. - Yes!
It had somehow survived.
The little things,
the little things that remind you that you're a human being.
The little things that tell you this is where you live,
this is who you are.
Looks like a crime scene.
So, this is normally where the children
would be sleeping and hanging out.
The next day, Karina and I went and toured a favela to see the damage.
And then that thread began to pull.
That weird moment where you know something is about to occur
that there's no way you could have possibly planned for
or anticipated.
A family passes right behind.
Two people and a child.
They lean over and say, "Hey,
"you know, if you're doing videotaping of the landslides,
the view is much better from up at the top."
It was a welcome.
Hello.
And so we followed it.
The steps are probably ten stories.
They told me they felt the house tremble
and got out just before it slid down the hill.
Our host introduces themselves as Jessica.
...because of the kids.
Jessica tells us of the bias they suffered as a child.
Somehow, Jessica's family had been left behind
with no help, but Karina knew how to show up and listen.
We have a choice at the moment of disaster
to connect or not.
We immediately run down to Léo to find help for Jessica.
And to our shock and dismay,
Léo turned to us and screamed.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?
"Don't you know that if you walk up into that territory,
"the drug cartels that run that entire village
"could mistake you for police and kill you instantly?
"You can't walk into one of those neighborhoods with a camera.
You're lucky to be alive!"
But then Léo took a breath, calmed down, and he said, "Look, I can help you."
"I know the interim councilwoman in that neighborhood.
"Her name is Pauleteh,
"and you have to get Pauleteh's cooperation
"to get back into that neighborhood.
You need her protection."
Now, I've met a lot of city council people in my day.
So I was expecting a politician, middle-aged bureaucrat.
Boy, was I wrong.
Hey, amigo!
As she walks down the street, everybody waves.
Everybody loves her.
She's like a local celebrity.
Hey, amigo.
And then it happened.
Our queer dream team of disaster mutual aid workers
showed up to the rescue.
You know the sun is in
Your eyes
And hurricanes and rains
And black and cloudy skies
You're running up and down that hill
You turn it on and off at will
There's nothing here to thrill
Or bring you down
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town
Now that trust has been established,
Jeff can say he's a he, and Jeff can tell us all of his concerns.
This is a community.
A community that has
not just needs for food, water, and shelter,
but a need for people to understand.
These are some of the toughest people on Earth.
Suffering the triple catastrophe of climate change,
bigotry, and poverty.
These are the folks that know how to be strong in a crisis.
Woo! Whoppa!
- Ow! - Woo!
Take note, humanity.
The Queer Mutual Aid Task Force has something to teach you.
And that weird, mysterious thread
is weaving something beautiful.
Mm.
Throughout South America and Central America,
climate change has destabilized every aspect of life.
The extremes of this new planet
exacerbating every social crisis.
Food insecurity, economic insecurity,
rural populations are being forced into cities,
worsening gender-based violence
and making life difficult and dangerous
so much that people migrate,
not only internally in their own countries,
but north,
towards the United States,
towards the wall.
Demagogues have always divided us
into who was welcomed and who was not.
And to do that,
they divide us into who is human and who is not.
Animals. These are animals.
They're coming into our country. They're not people.
These are animals. They're animals.
Take a look at the death and destruction
that's been caused by people coming into this country.
The death and the destruction caused by people that shouldn't be here.
USA! USA! USA!
Walls work.
We're going to have strong, incredible borders.
Just so you know, we're building the wall anyway.
Whether they like it or not.
And we'll get it done.
- Eh la ba! - Eh la ba!
- Eh la ba, chèri! - Eh la ba, chèri!
- Komon sa va? - Komon sa va?
Eh la ba...
In 2019, the Trump administration announced
a new policy for migrants
who were legally seeking asylum.
Families with young children would be separated,
thrown into detention camps.
The policy was a clear violation of international law
and considered to be child abuse.
Progressive members of Congress went down to Texas
to check out the facility.
Media was not allowed inside.
What we saw today was unconscionable.
No child should ever be separated from their parent.
These people are coming in saying, fuck your rules,
we'll do what we want to, and you are going to pay for it.
So, you don't think that children
are being abused in these detention centers?
Absolutely not.
- Not at all? - Not at all.
Imagine you've lost your home,
been forced to move, travel across continents,
and then at the border, your two sisters, aged four and 12,
are basically kidnapped.
Do you know where they are?
She's an 18-year-old migrant from Colombia,
where climate change has intensified violence.
Extreme floods pushing migrants into cities
where gangs prey on them.
Climate and security are related, compounding crises.
She came to the US border to legally declare asylum.
And what happened?
Her two sisters were immediately separated from her.
And she was dropped off in Juárez, Mexico by CBP
to await her court date.
A city where thousands of women have gone missing
or have been murdered.
When I ask her if CPB or ICE or INS or DHS
or any of the alphabet soup of border agencies
have given her any way to find where her sisters are,
she just says, no.
I mean, the postal service will give you a tracking number for a package,
but for two young, vulnerable girls,
no information, no nothing.
They could be in El Paso, or they could be New York,
or they could be in one of the hundreds of other detainee facilities in America.
Nobody knows.
Declaring asylum is a human right.
No one is illegal.
And our rights are at the basis of all of our dreams.
You might not know this, but you have the right to move.
You have the human right to go anywhere in this world,
anywhere within your own country or anywhere abroad.
And you have the right to return to your country,
to your home.
And if things are so bad in your country that living there threatens your life,
you have the right to declare asylum.
Those are human rights laid down to us.
All of us.
In 1948, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights
was adopted by the United Nations,
and a brand new kind of human being was born.
A human being with rights.
This Universal Declaration of Human Rights
may well become the international Magna Carta
of all men everywhere.
World War II, which had just ended,
was based on all the worst things
that make up humanity,
racism, militarization, nationalism, empire.
A conflict so insane that when it was all over,
when the smoke cleared and the blood had soaked
into the soil,
the new world builders set out to redefine what it meant to be human.
Rights needed to be set down and codified so that violating them
was actually a crime against humanity.
All sorts of rights were set down.
The right not to be persecuted for your race or religion,
the right not to be murdered for your gender or ethnicity,
the right to self-determination,
the right to democracy, the right to personhood,
to nationhood, and the right to move.
And just after, in 1951,
came a new definition of refugee.
There'd been so many people who'd been forced to migrate
that the convention relating to the status of refugees was held,
and it defined refugee as any person who fears being persecuted
for reasons of race, religion,
nationality, social status, or politics.
And refugees can apply for asylum
anywhere in the world simply by crossing a border.
But even though you have the right to move,
you don't have the legal status to declare asylum
because of the climate.
The definition of refugee set down all those decades ago
doesn't include climate change. It simply didn't exist then.
And so our legal framework is breaking down
in the face of the climate that's breaking down.
If the climate throws you across a border,
if it destroys your home, in spite of your right to move,
you have no legal status, and you cannot declare asylum.
And the walls all over the world just keep going up.
I come today to share a truth with you
There resides a light inside of you
I see the eye between your brows, mm-hm...
Huh.
Imagine getting on what's essentially a raft
with dozens of other people
and heading straight out towards the middle of the sea.
The sea, so terrifying at night.
That blue, blue Mediterranean sea.
The EU is using the Mediterranean like a wall.
And like the wall, it's failed as a deterrent.
Nobody knows exactly how many migrants have drowned
in the Mediterranean trying to reach Europe from Africa.
It could be 40,000 people in the last decade,
four or 5,000 a year.
But there's no records of ships. There's no way to know.
Now imagine that you're floating
out there, vulnerable.
Thousands of miles from home. No one knows where you are.
You see a boat, and it starts shooting at you.
The Italian government gave warships to Libya,
and they're calling it the Libyan Coast Guard.
And they've been seen shooting at rafts full of migrants from Africa,
deliberately trying to swamp their boats and drown the people.
In spite of the heroic efforts
of non-profit organizations like SOS MEDITERRANEE,
the governments of Europe are allowing or encouraging the Mediterranean...
to become a mass grave for migrants.
Looking out at this vast Mediterranean Sea
with these Italian bodies, sun-tanned, floating,
swimming through the beautiful blue currents,
and up and down the beach, young men from Pakistan
and Bangladesh, climate-challenged countries
with huge amounts of migrants, selling Italians blankets and trinkets,
sunscreen and sunglasses and inflatable unicorn flotation devices.
Guys with, like, a whole Walmart on their back
walking up and down the beach, up and down the sand.
And just down the port,
SOS MEDITERRANEE ships coming in,
having rescued people from the Mediterranean.
Francesco Creazzo, spokesman for SOS MEDITERRANEE,
an organization that plucks migrants out of the ocean.
One ship with rescued migrants who narrowly escaped drowning
and just down the beach, other ships full of vacationing tourists,
unworried and untroubled, taking their disembarkation for granted.
The inequality, the racism, the inhumanity, the injustice is so stark.
Different threads woven in prejudice.
Whose dream is this Europe?
All of these guys have stories to tell.
Chris Obehi left his home in Nigeria to seek safer shores,
and he ended up on a small boat across the Mediterranean.
Chris survived, ended up in Sicily, and became a famous musician.
Mr. Oga
Yo, Mr. Oga
Chris fled Nigeria,
a country in the throes of unprecedented climate-induced flooding.
Which has worsened the grip of Boko Haram,
an Islamist terrorist group
committing horrifying violence across the country.
Hayya! Hayya! Hayya! Hayya!
Chris' music is shaking up sleepy towns like Palermo.
And in the south of Italy, there's not much
but sleepy towns.
I know, because I'm from one of them.
In case we haven't met, this is Josh Fox.
And for this part of the story, I walk the streets
of the tiny Calabrian town my family left so many years ago.
Now, it's like a ghost town.
The ivory tower that the Italians and the Europeans are defending,
the reason they're drowning people in the Mediterranean,
is to defend empty towns.
Towns that Italians left in droves a hundred years ago.
My grandmother was born here in Calabria.
When she was two years old, her family left for New York.
There was just no work for anybody.
Most Italians that you might find in New York
or in America are from the south of Italy.
The place was so economically destitute
that its chief export was actually its people.
And in the early 1900s,
there was a lot of backlash against Italian migrants.
In fact, there were cartoons in New York magazines and newspapers
depicting Italians as rats with exaggerated mustaches,
brown faces, knives in their teeth,
hats that said, "socialism, communism, anarchy."
Same racism, different century, different race.
There were even cartoons portraying the wall.
And now, in Southern Italy, there's so many places that are empty.
So many places, that don't have people.
Empty houses, empty buildings, buildings that are boarded up.
Places that could be used by people are empty,
dilapidated, falling apart.
And yet, the migrants of today are shut out in the same way
that Italians were a hundred years ago.
But there's one town in Southern Italy
run by a mayor with a different vision.
Mimmo. Mimmo Lucano.
A mayor of a tiny little town in Calabria called Riace
that turned Italian migration policy on its head.
The government was going to cancel funding
to this town's schools because there weren't enough children.
Meanwhile, boats and migrants arriving from Africa daily,
only to be arrested and thrown in jail.
Mimmo Lucano said, "No, these people are a resource.
These people are our future."
So he brought people into his town from across the world.
Refugees were welcome.
Buongiorno.
And he created an immigrant economy.
He found a way to integrate people into life
in Southern Italy, and he's shot into worldwide popularity.
"One of the top leaders in the world,"
said Forbes Magazine,
Mimmo Lucano took the fear of migrants and turned it into love.
And what did the Italian government do
to celebrate this man's genius rejuvenation of Riace?
They prosecuted Mimmo Lucano on trumped-up charges.
They charged him with criminal conspiracy to facilitate illegal immigration
and misappropriation of public property.
This world thought and policy leader
was facing 14 years in jail when we first arrived.
I guess giving empty houses and jobs to migrants was a step too far.
But everybody knew that Mimmo Lucano
was being prosecuted because he was a symbol of a new Europe.
Somebody shot the door.
Mafia.
At age 65, a 14-year sentence is basically life in prison.
Also, the Italian government can criminalize
welcoming people while normalizing letting children
drown off the coast.
But the gates are still open and migrants are still given houses.
One of those migrants is Delphine and her son, Prince.
Prince.
Delphine has no visa, no legal status.
She's in limbo.
While she waits for a work permit,
she's learning traditional Calabrian weaving.
I think about the Fates of Greek mythology.
They wove threads, they wove stories, they wove tales.
Where were they all from?
The sea holds a lot of our pain and trauma,
but the sea is also our joy.
And the boats arriving have kings and queens and princes.
I think for those who survived,
there's a special triumph
in realizing the pure joy of the Mediterranean.
A joy that should be felt by all.
And I've never seen a mother and child laugh
as much as Delphine and Prince.
Dilegua, o notte
Tramontate, stelle
All'alba vincerò
Vincerò
So, how did we get here?
Is there any way out? And how much worse will it get?
In 2015, in Paris, the world came together
and pledged to try to limit global warming to 1.5 degrees.
"1.5 to stay alive" was the slogan.
That meant radically transforming our energy systems from fossil fuels
to wind and sun, which I might add is totally doable technically.
At that point in 2015,
the Earth had only warmed by one degree Celsius,
and it was already wreaking havoc.
1.5 was decided to be the absolute limit of a sane
and safe Earth.
Why?
Because scientists can see the future.
And the IPCC, the Intergovernmental Panel
on Climate Change, which is made up of hundreds
of the best scientists in the world,
those scientists saw that every fraction of a degree was dangerous.
Between 1 degree and 1.5,
every tiny excess fraction of heat was closer
and closer to us all burning up.
They told us of their nightmares.
They told they saw destruction.
They told that they saw tipping points,
and they raced to tell the world.
Every fraction of a degree represents a tipping point somewhere on Earth.
The point where ice tips to become water,
tips to become a flood.
A tree tips into fire, a wind tips into torrent.
A rumble becomes a cataclysm, a storm becomes a bomb.
A town is reduced to ash.
A landslide buries a whole neighborhood.
The tipping point, pinpointed to a fraction of a degree,
1.1 degrees bad, 1.2 degrees worse, 1.3 degrees worst.
The tipping is where the roof flies off as opposed to it staying put.
And every fraction of a degree
represents a tipping point somewhere on this Earth.
A crop that fails, a building that falls, a child that gets a disease,
a mind that snaps, a species gone extinct,
a suicide, a desperate murder in hunger,
a family that decides to move, abandon their home,
a land grab, a war, a genocide.
Every fraction of a degree, they said,
that we can stop or slow is worth trying for.
As the window towards resilient adaptation closes,
every drop of oil or puff of gas or lump of coal
that we don't have to burn represents a life saved.
A town still standing,
a roof holding back the rain somewhere on Earth.
And the IPCC said we had just 15 years to cut emissions in half,
50% reduction by 2030 to stay at 1.5.
And what they saw was 127 different impacts.
127 categories of despair, 127 different types of catastrophe,
127 categories of cataclysm.
Here's a small sample:
Rise in climate extremes,
irreversible impacts as natural and human systems
are pushed beyond our ability...
Increase in the intensity of the climate
and weather extremes. Heavy precipitation...
Hot extremes on land. Drought and...
Coral bleaching and mortality...
Irreversible losses in...
...especially bad for children.
Malnutrition. Mental health.
Economic and social...
Health services disrupted. Intensifying in cities.
Trauma from weather and extreme climate events.
Increased exposure to wildfire...
...economically and socially marginalized.
Adverse effects on gender and social equality.
Interstate violent conflicts.
War. Economic stress brought on by droughts
and floods and extreme weather crises...
Criminality. The collapse of governments.
Failed states.
Climate change makes armed conflict worse.
Weaponization of water.
Gender-based violence,
violence against women increases with...
Civilization's vulnerabilities get worse.
Food insecurity. More violence.
Disruption of services...
...authoritarianism.
Complex risks
from multiple climate hazards occurring concurrently.
Multiple risks interacting,
compounding overall risk and resulting in risks transmitted
through interconnected systems and across regions.
And in all, approximately 3.3 to 3.6 billion people
currently living in contexts
that are highly vulnerable to harm from climate change.
Somewhere between 1 degree and 1.5 they said.
And if we go over 1.5, all hell breaks loose.
Even though 200 nations pledged, the pledges were not observed.
Emissions went through the roof.
We never burned this much this fast.
"1.5 to stay alive," the bad news is, had been woefully conservative
in terms of its time-frame projection.
The nightmares were true,
but the time to sleep much shorter.
Scientists believed and projected then
that we would only breach 1.5 degrees by 2050.
But they were 25 years off.
Because in 2024, we breached and smashed the 1.5-degree threshold
and brought the world to 1.6 degrees Celsius.
And every year, emissions are growing, not declining.
And even if we stopped and started declining right now,
the projections indicate we would still warm the Earth
by two degrees Celsius,
but we're most likely on our way to three degrees.
But even a two-degree-warmed world is an apocalyptic hell.
That's where we're headed.
We are the North Side
Oh, Skull and Bone Gang
We come to remind you
Before you die
You better get your
Your life together
Next time you see us it's too late to cry
There's a place we all come from,
the original home of all of humanity,
but now its rivers have run dry.
It doesn't support human life
because of a six-year climate change-induced drought.
The Turkana of East Africa are the original human beings.
150,000 years ago,
they spread out all over the globe.
Every one of us has our origin here.
The Turkana have lived the same way
as pastoralists for thousands of years.
This is humanity's past,
but it's also our collective future
because what's happening here will happen to us all.
Twenty million people in this region
are suffering from food insecurity,
and this is perhaps the gravest injustice of climate change,
is that the people who have done the least to cause the problem
are suffering its worst impacts.
The economies of the Global South,
Africa, South America, and the so-called developing world,
don't burn a lot of coal, oil, or gas compared to the Global North,
which has been polluting the atmosphere
since the Industrial Revolution.
And the carbon dioxide emitted since then is still up there.
It stays in the atmosphere for centuries.
The Global North has benefited enormously
from the development created by burning fossil fuels.
And conversely, the Global South
is the least equipped to deal with the total upheaval
that's coming from climate change.
So, should the Global North,
that caused the problem in the first place,
be made to pay for this planetary destruction?
I mean, you break it, you pay for it, right?
That's the idea behind the Loss and Damage Fund,
born at the 2009 COP Climate Summit.
Rich nations pledged to donate
$100 billion a year by 2020 to compensate for the damage and loss
to the developing world.
Sort of like climate change reparations.
However, the COP summit is non-binding, exhausting, and incomplete.
And pledges were not honored.
And so, by 2016,
the rich nations had only pledged to donate
about seven or eight billion dollars a year.
A trivial amount compared to the trillions of dollars of damage they've done.
Even 15 years later, at COP29,
although a Loss and Damage Fund was addressed,
the pledges were still very low, and they won't start until 2035,
once again, moving the goalposts.
Of course, a Loss and Damage Fund
won't unbreak the climate,
but it could start to address
this drastic global inequality.
Nothing today.
The most calamitous effects of climate change
have been inflicted on those who've had the least part
in creating this instability, this global chaos.
For most of recorded human history,
the ruling political system has been Empire.
Empires have ruled the planet for centuries.
The British Empire, the Ottoman Empire,
the various Muslim caliphates, the Romans, the Greeks,
the Mongols, the Chinese.
And those empires colonized, brutalized,
raped, pillaged, enslaved, extracted,
and stole everything they could,
everywhere they could, all over the world.
And people are nothing.
Normal people, we were at the will of the empire.
And brutality and military strength were the principles that ruled the Earth.
You know, everybody wants to rule the world.
Centuries of colonialism
and two brutal world wars of Empire killed hundreds of millions of people.
And in the wake of fascism's defeat...
...a new world system emerged.
The United Nations was born.
Throughout the '40s, '50s, and '60s,
former colonies threw off the yoke of imperialism
and declared independence.
India, Jamaica, Caribbean, Africa,
independent nations,
now 195 in total.
The formality of Empire dissolved
and borders mutually agreed upon or created.
A new system of nation-states was born.
Our current era of nation-states is young.
It's younger than blue jeans,
younger than cars, than planes.
It's younger than machine guns.
For all intents and purposes,
the system of nation-states is a new creation on the planet.
But the empires never really let go of their power.
They found a way around all those countries' sovereignty
and independence, and a new world of economic domination
and military hegemony emerged.
That's the period we're in now.
The Global North, the former empires,
the former colonizers are still very much in control of the global system.
They still control the resources,
they still control the militaries.
The economic hegemony and the military dominance
make sure that those borders
of those newly established independent sovereign countries
are now basically enclosures,
walls of confinement.
Visas and passports,
border stops and tariffs and checkpoints and border control.
That system of global economic domination never disappeared.
And this new world is still defined by radical economic inequality.
And inequality is the wall.
If you're in the Global North
or you've got money, you can go anywhere you want.
Sit in that chair while people bring you drinks
and arrive anywhere you feel like going.
Planes, trains, and automobiles. It's so easy.
But in the Global South,
the former colonized world,
the borders of your nation are your confines.
You're not free to move. You're not free to travel.
Checkpoints are everywhere. Everywhere has borders.
It is the colonial system that has never left us,
which is the root cause of climate change.
And the forces of Empire
and their emissions don't stay behind their own walls.
Borders and walls don't only exist
for our countries and our houses,
they exist inside of us.
But there's one place that I've been where the houses didn't have walls.
The town was defined only by the edge of the jungle.
Achuar territory in the Peruvian Amazon.
We're immediately welcomed by this family
just chilling out at the end of the day.
This guy's like an Amazonian Tony Danza
with his perfect hair and his soccer jersey.
You feel like you could just float away.
I'm here with Ricardo from Amazon Watch and Benjamin,
who's the tribe's media coordinator.
Instantly, their daughter runs up a tree.
It's welcoming. That's a real welcome.
It's the greatest tasting fruit I've ever had.
Yeah, of course.
Can't say no.
You're gonna have some, and it's going to mellow you out.
Even the Peruvian government.
That's very funny.
But even this tiny, insanely remote corner of the Amazon
can't escape the crisis of the world and like so many other paradises
is under attack.
'Cause there's something that has no respect
for the sovereignty of this borderless society
and threatens to displace the Achuar
from their thousands of years in this forest.
Corporate capital, oil drilling.
Petroperú, the state oil company,
has a disastrous drilling record in the Amazon.
Spills, leaks, illegal dumping, decades of ruin, destruction, chemicals,
cancer, health problems, despoiled areas.
And Petroperú is seeking
the investment of the big banks to drill in Achuar territory
against the will of the people.
Nelton Yankur, the current Achuar president,
has fought off five oil companies in his four-year tenure.
I can't imagine a worse or more precarious place to drill for oil,
and yet it's been happening for decades.
The big banks are heavily invested in oil and gas.
Chase, Citibank, Wells Fargo.
If your money's in one of those banks,
it doesn't just sit there quietly in a vault somewhere.
As soon as you deposit it, it starts flying all over the world
financing destructive projects of the oil industry.
It's hard to believe that your savings account
could go to create a pipeline in the farthest reaches of the Amazon,
but that's this global system
where money travels faster than people and rarely respects borders.
Oil companies don't respect borders.
Human rights violations are part of their business model.
Oil from a broken pipeline has been seeping up
through the ground for years...
...contaminating the water table.
That's all oil.
He has that thousand-yard stare of the contaminated,
the brutality of neglect and poison that threatens his family.
So, you become a refugee in your own village.
You become a displaced person on your own land.
Divorced from your faith in the planet.
That in itself is a kind of dispossession.
Oil is the breath of climate change.
Oil is the blood of the system that divided the world
and set it on fire.
But there are other valid systems.
He shows us the Sangre de Grado trees.
Dragon's Blood.
The red blood of these trees is a medicine the Achuar are cultivating.
Instantly, an army of ants
comes to defend the tree.
Symbiosis, partnership, understanding, working together.
Benjamin says, let's go fishing, but he has no poles and no nets.
Forty minutes.
Okay.
Suffering...
slightly.
There's a certain plant, if it gets in the water, stuns the fish.
This plant gets the fish drunk.
In fishing, nothing beats local knowledge.
Ah! Look, there's one already.
Holy shit.
Oh, my God.
They follow the cloud down the little river,
as each one of the fish that it encounters gets stunned, confused,
and starts swimming in a funny way that they can see it.
Sirincash. Oh, wow!
In the jungle, there's a flow, a seamless, boundless exchange of life.
Nature is the ultimate welcome.
It welcomed our species.
Shit! That almost got the camera.
I mean, look at us. Look at us.
Look at him.
Look at us.
Isn't it our job to show each other who we are
and to do that with a great deal of pride and humility,
that we can welcome and share each other?
This planet is generous,
and we can mirror that generosity.
The oil industry wants to build walls here,
walls of exploitation and certain contamination.
But without the Amazon, we all perish.
We're all interconnected, all related.
The flow of life cannot be walled in.
I don't wanna do a thing
Without you
I know it's a dream I'll keep dreaming
So, just how much have the empires
and the first world nations heated up this planet?
In just the last 50 years, burning fossil fuels
has added the heat of 25 billion atomic bombs
to the environment.
The risk is coming at us so much faster than we thought.
Climate emergency is no longer
a projection into the future.
It's an emergency now. It's happening now.
A rainstorm is no longer a rainstorm.
It's a bomb with a whole year's worth of rain
falling in one or two days.
Climate infernos where it's never been that hot or that dry.
Huge sections of forests burning
across the world from the Amazon to Canada and then the bombshell...
The IPCC now says huge swaths of the planet Earth
will become uninhabitable.
By 2070, a third of all land no longer habitable.
A person born today will have 33% less of the Earth
to live on by the time they're 45 years old.
And so who's a climate refugee? What is the definition?
A victim of a drought? Yes.
Fire? Yes.
Flood, landslide? Yes, yes.
But also the victim of the war, a victim of the gang,
a victim of gender-based violence,
the victim of bias, those pushed across borders
by these unimaginable stresses,
by all the structures crumbling at once.
The sky, the ground, the earth, the water.
The very fabric of life,
the threads that weave the tapestry of our story
has frayed,
and the loose ends are ripping in the wind.
That's who we are now,
a loose thread unknit from the material of the world.
So, we're gonna need to get really good at welcoming,
because with a third of the planet uninhabitable,
three billion people will be on the move.
We will either be on the move ourselves
or tasked with welcoming those who are.
The farthest continent from everything else
but not far away enough to escape the climate.
Our last stop, Australia.
Some of the most extreme climate impacts happen here.
Apocalyptic fires, biblical floods,
extreme heat.
It's also one of the most brutally colonized places on Earth.
Delta Kay, a Bundjalung leader, teaches Aboriginal history at Byron Bay.
Mm.
Wow.
The brutal British invaders committed genocide against Delta's people
and hundreds of other Aboriginal tribes,
killing between one and two million people.
They stole the land, pillaged timber and minerals,
killed and enslaved and abducted the people,
separating families.
Australia had lush and diverse rainforests
like the Amazon.
99% of it was cut down.
Cutting down the forest to make the whole place look like
the English countryside is like courting climate karma.
When the rains come, there's no protection from floods.
And in 2022, one of the oldest colonial towns,
Lismore, flooded away.
It was apocalyptic.
The entire town was sunk,
thousands were displaced, many people killed.
To house all these refugees, the Australian government
built what they call pod villages.
Pod houses for a pod civilization, for a pod future.
This is your neighborhood?
It's almost like you landed on the surface of the moon.
Uh-huh.
But here, our story of climate, migration, colonialism,
and empire takes one more profound and maddening turn.
Because not everyone exiled to pods was a victim of flooding.
Some were victims of another kind.
The final stage of climate displacement,
climate gentrification.
The powerful colonial government using the chaos of climate change
to seize land and dispossess the politically disenfranchised.
Cabbage Tree Island,
one of the few special places owned and stewarded
by the indigenous people for generations with Bundjalung customs and language,
actually survived the floods because their houses are built on stilts
and were above the flood line.
But residents like Auntie Faye were forced to leave anyway.
Auntie Faye takes me to her house for the first time
since she was forced into the pods.
Wow.
So, it didn't actually touch the house.
Can I go up there?
There's a lot of glass in here...
and a lot stuff ripped out.
Yeah.
Wow, it's really trashed.
What was the deal? Somebody vandalized
and took the electricity wires and stuff?
Wait a minute, this reminds me of something,
something close to home.
Hangin' in the Tremé
Watchin' people sashay
Past my steps
By my porch
In front of my door...
Probably the first event in the history of modern climate displacement
is the levee failure after Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans,
and it's also probably one of the first episodes
of climate gentrification.
In a blessed tone
Yeah
Down in the Tremé...
Using a storm to deliberately displace people.
I'm John Boutté.
I no longer live in the Tremé even though I wrote
the neighborhood's most famous song.
What's up, baby!
So, I live--
This is the street I wrote the Tremé Song on.
They were stealing everybody's copper.
They were stealin' anything metal.
All the grates and stuff like that, man. It was just ridiculous.
They kept us out for a long time saying the neighborhoods weren't safe,
the houses weren't safe.
They didn't have water.
We had no electricity.
You know, they shut everything down long enough
just to force people to not come back.
And now the Tremé is overrun with developers and Airbnbs.
Airbnb, Airbnb, Airbnb.
This neighborhood was just so packed with musicians, man.
You could just walk from one corner to the other.
I lived around the corner here, but, you know,
it displaced a lot of us and a lot of us never made it back here.
The storm had passed.
It was the actions after the storm that doomed us.
Right? Greedy people, right?
Opportunists, and people who didn't have
poor people in mind.
But we never flooded.
Down in the Tremé
Just me and my baby
We're all going crazy
Buck jumpin' and having fun...
So, the government told everybody they couldn't go back to their homes
in Cabbage Tree Island,
and the whole community was pushed off to a pod
just five kilometers to the north.
You could see Cabbage Tree Island from where they were stuck.
I mean, you're like a refugee for just a few kilometers.
Hold on to the world
As it spins around
Just don't let that spin
Get you down...
That same weird thread laced through a disaster
in Brazil that's being woven in a Calabrian loom
by a migrant from Cote d'Ivoire is in the hands of Auntie Faye
at an Aboriginal healing and weaving ceremony.
Keep your self-respect your human pride...
Instead of throwing up a wall in somebody's face saying no, no,
doing this, saying, yeah, come on, baby, come on, yes.
Yes, welcome, yes to a better life.
Yes to a more loving world. Yes to justice.
Yes to self-determination and no to the hatred.
Take it from me
Someday we'll all be free
Yeah
We'll all be free
We shall overcome
Yes
Take it from me
Someday we'll all be free...
We shall overcome...
Delta Kay shows me the plants that the baskets are woven from.
She pulls a strand. She weaves it together.
In between her fingertips, a reed is converted into art.
Do you find it ironic that these people
who colonized this land and basically stole it
are now preventing other people from coming here?
We shall overcome
- Hmm? - That's for sure.
Take it from me
Someday, we'll all be free
And it won't be very long...
So, you've just been weaving that this whole time?
Yeah.
We shall overcome
Someday
Whoa
Deep in my heart
I do believe
That we shall all be free
And we shall overcome
Someday
In 2025, Donald Trump's administration
spent $11.4 billion on new border walls
and militarization of the border, allocating $75 billion to ICE.
An unprecedented increase in funding
for his crusade against migrants.
Hundreds of thousands detained or deported
and 15,000 children separated from their families.
And yet, truth is, everyone at this table is a migrant.
Everyone in this picture is also a migrant.
Everyone comes from somewhere else...
if you go back far enough.
You usually only have to go back
one or two generations.
That's serious German...
But who gets welcomed and who doesn't?
Stop! Stop, ma'am, stop.
Stop!
And ICE agents detained a mother and her 16-year-old daughter.
They say the teen daughter was holding a newborn baby in her arms,
and that girl's face slammed into the ground
as she was taken into custody.
There's an age-old relationship between fascism
and the dehumanization of immigrants.
The policies of Donald Trump
evokes in many who know history
the despotic playbook of the likes of Hitler,
Mussolini, and the colonists
of empires of old.
Use racism and xenophobia to divide people,
strip nations of sovereignty, convince us that we are not all one,
and then seize power and resources and destroy democracy
and build a wall,
tearing up the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
But what is so powerful
it can strip away compassion
and decency?
What has mobilized the forces of hate once more?
What inflames brutality and violence,
separating families, demonizing immigrants,
violating human rights,
grabbing legitimate asylum seekers off the streets?
The forces of intolerance and hate are building a climate apartheid
where only the rich live behind the walls,
protected by corporate militarized racism.
Our humanity cries out that we do the opposite
because climate change is not the weather.
We sat and talked for five days on a levee.
Aw!
I believe that no matter how high they build the wall,
it will always come down.
That love is stronger than hate,
and sharing is stronger than hoarding
and a wall...
on its side...
can be a table.
I, I want to see that beautiful city
I want to see that beautiful city
- One of these days - One of these days
I, I want to sit at the welcome table
Sit at the welcome table
See that beautiful city
- One of these days - One of these days
I, I want to sing and never get tired
Want to sing and never get tired
Sit at the welcome table
See that beautiful city
- One of these days - One of these days
One of these days
One!
Whoo!
Rich people living in paradise
Poor people under the bridge at night
Oh, yeah
Most people know what it takes to survive
My people
Know how to do it and thrive
Oh, yeah
My people we've been left behind before
Left behind before
My people devil's knocking on your door
On your door
My people sad so many had to go
Had to go
My people, we still here
And one day we gon' all be in the same boat
Rich people still living high and dry
Poor people we watching the waters rise
We watching the waters rise
- Oh, yeah - Oh, yeah
Most people don't even bat an eye
But my people know that it's real this time
Oh, yeah
My people we've been left behind before
Behind before
My people, devil's knocking
On your door
Devil's knocking on your door
My people sad so many had to go
Had to go
My people, we still here
And one day we gon' all be in the same boat
Said all be in the same boat
Yeah
My people we've been left behind before
Behind before
My people, devil's knocking
On your door
Devil's knocking on your door
My people sad so many had to go
Had to go
My people, we still here
And one day we gon' all be
In the same boat
My people
We've been left
Behind before
My people, devil's knocking
On your door now, baby
My people sad so many had to go
Had to go
My people, we still here
And one day we gon' all be in the same boat
My people we've been left behind before
Behind before
My people, devil's knocking
On your door now, baby
My people, sad so many had to go
Had to go
My people, we still here
And one day we gon' all be in the same boat