In Texas, a Crisis of Inaction Without Consequence

Across the state, Texans are forced to watch helplessly as our politics devolve into mean-spirited petty grievance and blatant corruption, leaving us unable to act collectively to address pressing issues like gun violence, health-care inaccessibility, and the unsettling rise of “child care deserts.” What it means to be Texan is changing, and it is telling that the Elon Musks and Joe Rogans of the world find refuge within the state to live out their cowboy fantasies and revel in the do-as-thou-wilt, devil-may-care world of unfettered industrial deregulation, little to no taxes on the ultra-wealthy, and fascist resurgence. 

Growing up between Jamaica and Houston, I’ve been able to compare and contrast how those most impacted by climate change and those most responsible for it react to the steady onset of our unequal new reality. A few days before making landfall in Texas in early July, Hurricane Beryl swept through Jamaica, where it also caused widespread power outages. 

While Jamaica is much more deeply bogged down in corruption and political cronyism than the United States, the universality of the country’s collective experience of extreme weather phenomena leaves its leaders little room to distance themselves or deny the reality of anthropogenic climate change. While I am reluctant to assign them a passing grade, there is much to be said for the decisiveness of their response: They wasted no time coordinating disaster response measures, handing out grants to those most impacted, implementing plans to climate-proof the country’s agricultural sector, and performing intensive post-mortems of the resilience of the nation’s electrical grid.

While I might have had more options to keep cool during the ensuing blackouts in Houston than my friends and family back home did, I, like everyone else in Texas—particularly those on the Gulf Coast—had to sit with the painful realization that our leaders’ determination to refuse to prepare for (or even acknowledge) the ongoing climate catastrophe is proof of the yawning gap between our ruling class and the average Texan. While it was to be expected that our grid would still be shaky after May’s derecho-induced 100 mile per hour winds flung debris and toppled light poles, the recurrence of these predictable failures during an election year speaks to the need for a grassroots effort to hold our elected officials accountable. 

Our statewide leaders have for years been open in their shamelessness. Perhaps the most infamous example was when, during deadly grid failure in 2021, U.S. Senator Ted Cruz fled to Cancun for a vacation as millions of his constituents were caught without power in the coldest winter storm since 1989. Temperatures plunged, and over 246 people died. The senator justified his absence as an effort to shield his family from the impacts of natural disaster. Public outcry hastened his return, and he gave a brief press conference clad in a short-sleeved polo shirt and jeans while his constituents had to scavenge fallen tree branches for firewood. 

What followed was worse. As temperatures returned to normal and the state’s residents collectively grappled with a lack of access to water due to burst pipes, our elected leaders took the opportunity to pin the blame on a convenient scapegoat. Governor Greg Abbott appeared on Fox News to conjure up elaborate imagery of frozen wind turbines and the dangers of Green New Deal-style energy policy. This, of course, was a classic misdirection in a state dependent on oil and gas, whose wells had simply frozen over when it got too cold—causing a massive shortage of natural gas supply for power plants. Texas Agriculture Commissioner Sid Miller and Houston-area Congressman Dan Crenshaw also pitched in their fair share of conspiracy theories on how a supposed overreliance on wind energy failed us. As always, the purpose of a Big Lie is to obfuscate, redirecting public attention from the reality that our elected officials are up for sale, and that our lives are simply outweighed by the millions of dollars in campaign contributions from the oil and gas industry. 

One successful election cycle later, and those in charge don’t even bother to hide how little they care anymore. Hurricane Beryl was the sort of freak occurrence that is sadly now a common facet of life in the era of anthropogenic climate change, as was the shameless breakdown of leadership we saw. How else can one explain Governor Abbott’s trip to East Asia at a time of disaster, the predictable failure of an unregulated power grid, a failure to apply for federal aid in time to avert disaster, or the lack of clear communication from the region’s state-sanctioned utility monopoly, which had people turning to the Whataburger app?

Scenes of chaos unfolded across the Houston area, as over two weeks of no electricity and a poorly coordinated disaster response during sweltering summer heat left 36 people dead. While there has been some effort to hold Centerpoint accountable, it is foolish to expect much from the same leaders whose kowtowing brought us into this mess in the first place. Performative showboating aside, all Houstonians are left with is a series of damning revelations of the extent to which overt corruption has fueled Centerpoint’s monopoly over the city, and all Texas’ elected officials have to offer us is a “he-said, she-said” attempt to avoid taking accountability. 

What happened during the aftermath of Hurricane Beryl was more than a systemic breakdown of leadership; it was the latest protracted act of malice that the state’s conservative leaders have directed at Texas’ major urban cities and counties. Their status as deep blue oases within a political red desert has made cities like Houston (and counties like Harris) a target of the state’s Republican ruling class, be that through undermining urban school systems before taking them over, eroding the power of city councils and the concept of home rule itself, rewriting election rules to lock Democrats and the cities that vote for them out of statewide office, purging voter rolls, or bare-facededly threatening to wage “total war” against any effort towards bipartisanship.

This is the logical end result of a pay-to-play system of electoral politics that incentivizes politicians to listen to those who line their pockets more than those who vote for them. As we head into the final stretch of another election season, it is high time for the broad mass of apathetic voters to engage meaningfully with the democratic process and replace our disdainful ruling class with a representative government. 

One thing I’ve noticed in my time as an activist is that most people aren’t apathetic, they’re just disengaged. Texas in particular trails far behind other states when it comes to civic engagement, and while there is much more work to be done, things are beginning to move in the right direction. Across Houston and around the state, folks have been rallying together to engage in mutual aid, combat highway-fueled car dependency, take back control of the our school system, defend the right to protest, and, most significantly, target the complicity of our local institutions in facilitating the ongoing genocide in Gaza. As we reflect on what comes after this year’s potentially pivotal state elections, these efforts have shown real potential to build on the legacy of the racially diverse coalitions which won legal recognition of the civil rights of the state’s Black and Latino residents. 

This hasn’t gone unnoticed, and our Republican leaders are stretching the limits of legality in their effort to hold on to power. They’re determined to do nothing with it and will continue to sit on their hands as the we inch ever closer to the inevitability of true climate catastrophe. Going forward, it’s not enough for there to be a brief flare-up of outrage whenever something particularly egregious happens. It’s up to every Texan to fit themselves into these ongoing struggles, lest the state buckle under the weight of its own disregard for its citizens.

Editor’s Note: A description of infrastructure issues during the 2021 winter storm has been changed.