Before the Civil War, many U.S. citizens believed they lived in a land of freedom and opportunity. They knew it wasn’t perfect, but if they had experienced, or expected to experience, those benefits personally, it was priceless. Many others had neither freedom nor opportunity, and certainly no such stake in the existing order.

Today, most would agree that abolishing an unjust system is sometimes preferable to reforming it, especially for those directly under its thumb. Would a slave in antebellum America, for example, settle for reform that didn’t change the practice of enslaving human beings? Whether abolition took the form of violent revolt or nonviolent transformation, it was the status quo itself that was the problem — not just some some cruel slaveowners. The political and economic system that benefited from and protected slavery needed fundamental transformation: Its central logic had to be abolished.

Today, most Americans recognize serious problems in our current economic and political arrangements but are convinced that transforming them in any fundamental way will unleash chaos. Instead, across political divides, nearly all propose reforming rather than transforming the existing order because, we are assured, a better one is not possible.

For a moment, let’s consider the possibility that the existing order itself is our central problem.

Particularly in times of crisis, the question of reform versus abolition confronts every society. Should we assume that the way things work now, despite dangerous flaws, provides stability we shouldn’t tinker with? Or should we at least consider the possibility that the costs of “stability” outweigh its advantages?

We are indeed in a time of crisis, one that confronts all of humanity. If humans and the Earth systems that support them are in extreme peril — a consensus conclusion among scientists — we may have to choose between the risks of fundamental change and the risks of remaining on our current path.

Some attempts to enact fundamental change, like the French Revolution, have unleashed chaotic forces, but stable regimes resisting change have turned vicious at least as often. When is such a regime so ruinous that, even recognizing the risks, it should be abolished?

The existing order Americans experience today, we are often told, is both the source and shield of freedom. Free markets are said to be part and parcel of the freedom to speak and participate in decision-making. U.S. politicians call this “the international rules-based” order, or simply “the free world.”

Almost by definition, any alternative would be unfree. Countries like Russia and China exist on the edges of this order, each with its own — more government-controlled — form of capitalism, but each also networked into a global economy that preys on the people of the global South.

When corporate capitalism is fully unleashed, as it has been for 40 years in the U.S., corporations become as free as humans. Because of their wealth, they can influence elections and secure massive government subsidies and tax breaks. Corporations, in turn, depend on investors who are focused like a laser on their returns. Neither has any incentive to even consider the longer-term future.

What does the freedom to speak mean when it is divorced from power, when money speaks louder than anything else? Do we merely need to tweak this status quo or transform the heart of it, where the power now is?

Our options are limited. When storms, droughts, and rising water drive millions from their homes seeking safety, the “fortunate” may temporarily survive behind walls, floodlights, and weapons. Those who stormed the Capitol talked of fundamental change “back” to a world more favorable to people like them, but pulling up the gangplanks won’t address a planetary crisis.

Rather than walling the desperate out, we need to eliminate the desperation. Only a world where all can thrive makes possible the global consensus necessary for survival. A tall order for sure, but is this mere suggestion threatening to the existing global order?

Eventually, some will propose an authoritarian world government that forces “survival” by eliminating CO2 emissions at the expense of freedom and inclusive justice.

Can’t we have both survival and freedom? Only, I suggest, if we extend both to all. There is no “drop out and survive” option, no survival of the few, no ark.

None of this means abandoning efforts to work through the democratic means available, as long as the goal is fundamental change. Insisting on both survival and justice is the only path to a livable future, even if it disrupts the existing order.

Patrick McGreevy lives in Greenfield and welcomes comments at pmcgreevy@gmail.com.

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