Monday, August 26, 2019

The Amazon is burning (among other problems) and what to do about it

Ueslei Marcelino / Reuters

With each new headline of environmental crisis out from the woodwork comes various dogmatic camps proselytizing about why their solution or way of life is The Way Forward and everyone else is Selfish Idiots Who Don't Read the Stats. Since I have basically dedicated my adult life to figuring out solutions to environmental problems, trying to decipher what works and what doesn't, I feel compelled to throw my own solution into the ring.

The first thing that is absolutely clear to me is that all current environmental problems are a result of industrial capitalism, and this is fundamental. This is an important assumption to start with because so many of the solutions people put forward only address part of the problem, and without getting to the root of it these solutions could be actively turning us away from solutions that do anything at all (more on this below).

Industrial capitalism is now global in nature. This means that private corporations, in conjunction with corrupt local governments around the world, are beyond regulation and social movement activity. (Note: the only thing that has empirically been shown to make major long-term changes is eco-terrorism such as exploding important hubs of production or sustained protest that disrupts the production of society, both of these being extremely dangerous).

It has been demonstrated time and again in the environmental sociology literature that international labeling or buy-cotts fail time and again, because corporations can write loopholes, evade correct labeling or find new markets to continue their destructive behavior. Further, what happens in industrial processing in the global marketplace is that it is absolutely impossible for consumers to completely follow the routes of products, and thereby be informed as to where their products came from.

Further, land use is complicated. As anyone who has ever been in a rural area knows: land use constantly changes. We know that when the Amazon Rainforest is burned, what first gets put on the land is livestock (mostly cattle) for industrial production. After a few years or so, it's been pretty well documented that a lot of that land gets turned into industrial soy plantations that then get processed into soybean oil and soybean meal which gets turned into both animal (mostly chicken and some pig) feed, but also other industrial products. Soybean oil is used for biofuel, human consumption, but also in various beauty products, pet food, and so much more. We know that Brazil exports over 79% of its soybeans to China, where it then gets processed and turned into myriad industrial products that then get shipped all over the world.

You see, when you start looking into the details, the supply chain is messy and complicated and spans the entire globe. But the story I see is not meat = bad. The story I see is the one that has happened since peasants were pushed from their land starting with industrialization (do you see that I keep highlighting this word?). Small scale producers that raise food non-industrially get pushed off their land by giant corporations that destroy the land for profit by making myriad industrial foods (animal and vegetable products alike, alongside a million other industrial products).

Now, what I've been dancing around here is the solutions part of the conversation. I am sorry to say that the answer is not simple and unfortunately never as easy as eco-friendly consumption like becoming vegetarian or vegan. We know that children's hands and mountain tops get blown off in Africa to make renewable energy technology with rare earth minerals, how does becoming vegan stop this? In fact, many people who are vegan probably also buy 'renewable' technologies, unaware of the environmental and human destruction they cause. We know that in India and Vietnam women's hands are being destroyed to make cashew milk for vegans who won't eat local dairy, even if it's raised on entirely grass-fed, biodiverse pastureland, because in their mind animal foods are the problem. We know that habitat for orangutans and indigenous communities are being destroyed for palm oil plantations that are in myriad food, makeup and soap products. Everything industrially produced is built on the destruction of land and people, including the energy it takes for processing. And it is labelled in such a way that you cannot know where it came from.

Unfortunately, it makes people feel control to have a simple solution like don't buy meat from Brazil, but there are actually some very dangerous consequences to this kind of thinking, and here's where my background in sociology comes in. A seminal work in Environmental Sociology is Andrew Szasz's book Shopping our Way to Safety. In it, he describes a kind of eco-conscious consumer who buys organic vegetables as a kind of political activism and protection from the harms of industrialism. What has been revealed in study after study (and this is pretty much right in my area of expertise) is that people spend the extra 50 cents on organic eggs, and then stop caring about anything else. They don't care what GMOs are in the cereal or the veggie burgers made with soy or the bread made from poisoning the soil with glyphosate or how much rainforest is cut down to supply the various vegetable oils in their margarine or vegan oreos.

It's worse than that, though. Because they also get channeled (a term borrowed from social movements literature). Channeling is where someone is given a false sense of control or power. For example, when an indigenous leader is given the opportunity to voice concerns at the table with a powerful corporation who is planning to build a dam and flood their village. The indigenous leader feels heard, included, and loses the political will to fight against these people that listened. The corporation goes ahead as planned.

This happens a lot in social movements. People feel like they are doing something, like becoming vegetarian or vegan or buying organic, and it literally makes them worse than they were before, because their concern falls away. They see a solution that on the surface makes sense. Let's boycott meat from Brazil (or stop buying animal products altogether)! It's doable, it's (relatively) easy. The problem is, it is industrialism that is the problem, not one tiny part of it. So, these people keep talking about animal products as if that's the entire problem, and the solution solely vegetarianism or veganism, they start to believe animal products (and the people who eat them) are very, very bad.

This focus then leads to an even bigger problem, which is the failure to see the industrial system as at fault. These people become disciples of "no animal products = save the environment," they can't even see other solutions for what they offer (especially not solutions related to sustainable animal production). They lose big picture thinking about the system because they live in an echo chamber of "I can't believe other people are so stupid and selfish as to continue eating meat when it clearly is destroying the planet. Thank goodness for us veggies who are saving the world. *pats own back*" This us/them mentality really hurts in the environmentalist community. Then, when solutions are put forward that require more than slightly altered consumption, they are suddenly confused and shocked, because they feel like they've already sacrificed enough by changing their diet and buying organic foods (or buying a Prius and installing solar panels or whatever).

So the solution to this problem of industrial capitalism is not just related to food, but literally everything we use, how we get around, where our poop goes, and how we relate to the natural world. It is a total cultural shift, which includes real fights with terrible actors, plenty of which are currently happening. It is a future in which we re-envision a non-industrial world, one in which the logic of this world is completely upended. It is one where we ask hard questions like: can I do without this? If not, how can I source this product from someone who makes it non-industrially? What are all the systems I rely on for water, sewage and transport and how could those be altered to do less damage? What kind of social systems can I invent (sharing, co-ops, etc.) that upend the logic of exploiting people in the marketplace? What kind of activism can I take part in that can either stop corporations or governments from exploiting the world, or envisioning a sustainable future? (Plenty of city councils are currently working on city-level Green New Deals, get involved!)

All of these questions take decades to answer for us raised in the Global North on soy-meal-fed-McNuggets, fries covered in fungicide and fried in pristine-landscape-destroying canola oil, and high fructose corn syrup Coca-Cola, while washing our hair with palm-oil-orangutan-habitat destroying shampoo. The point is, so much of our lives are shaped by industrialism that it is like the air we breathe. We can forgive ourselves if takes a while to figure these things out, but the important thing is not to commit to a solution that gives us a false sense of efficacy (along with an identity).

On the one hand, these bad industrial actors are so powerful, there is little we can do to really stop them dead in their tracks. On the other hand, thanks to limits of physics and biology, we can't go on this way destroying the environment in an industrial society for much longer, so we should be using every spare moment we have figuring out what's next, and how to take care of ourselves when oil costs $400/barrel. We have more agency than we realize, and there are so many things we can do right now to imagine a post-industrial future. But the first step in the journey can't only be buying our way out. The first step is likely inward questioning, education, and big picture thinking. Then, getting out of your comfort zone, getting involved in projects with other concerned people, which will lead to more ideas and activities and on it goes.

I will end with this. Often when people read about crisis after crisis, they feel defeated. The point of this essay is not to bombard with how bad things are and how little you can do. Instead, when I hear bad news like what's happening in the Amazon, it lights a fire in me to do more, explore more, figure more out. What does this actually look like? I make friends with people who are doing sustainable agriculture and learn from them (join some facebook groups for earth building or regenerative agriculture or permaculture and just start reading everything!). I spend my money on fruit trees and non-industrial infrastructure (you can't eat money). I offer to watch my friends' kids and have them watch mine in an informal co-op (there is a lot of evidence that communities with these kinds of connections are MUCH more resilient in disaster/crisis situations). I get free range chickens (just did this a week ago!) and learn how to take care of them. I write about people practicing innovative solutions (just interviewed a bunch of people building Earthships) because one thing I can offer this world is research and writing. What can you do?

(P.S. check out the work we do at rizomafieldschool.com entirely centered on environmental solutions and alternatives!)

Edited to add:

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Sunday, May 12, 2019

Alternative...parenting

I have been meaning to write a series of explanatory posts about how myself and my family are exploring alternatives to mainstream ways of doing things.

Since today is mother's day, I thought it would be a good day to talk about the way I do parenting.

I am lucky that through a mix of being exposed to certain people and ideas even before becoming a parent, I was able to learn about subjects that greatly improved my parenting.

Two books I read before becoming a parent were Wandering God by Berman (about nomadic tribes) and The Art of Loving by Fromm (a psychoanalytic take on love). Neither of these were explicitly about parenting, but I learned in them the importance of the maternal role in setting up deep attachments that provide a secure base for children.

For instance, Berman showed how prolonged breastfeeding (beyond 3 years) was common for most of human history until people became sedentary with agriculture and had kids closer together, which lead to earlier weaning. Berman argued that this connection to the mother made for a different kind of consciousness, one that felt that the world is generally a secure place. He talked a lot about how modern children use transitional objects (like a teddy) to help ease the pain of early weaning, night time/sleep separation, and lack of overall touch.

Nomadic babies don't use transitional objects, but instead the child is physically near the mom (usually in a baby carrier worn on the mother's body) and uses nursing as a way to connect and calm themselves. This importance of physical connection was echoed in Fromm's book from a psychoanalytic perspective, and then a few years later I read Jared Diamond's book The World Until Yesterday about nomadic tribes and this finding was repeated again and in this article. At this point, I was already convinced theoretically about the importance of holding/wearing the baby, co-sleeping, and breastfeeding until the baby chose to wean (little did I know what that would entail).

Before having Isa I went to La Leche meetings and met some other breastfeeding mothers, and joined facebook groups for breastfeeding help. I had my support network for information, so when I had pain initially, I found out that was common and pushed through. When I had mastitis, I figured out how to treat it. When I was trying to figure out co-sleeping and nursing, I could get tips and tricks to get good sleep and not roll onto the baby.

I always thought I would continue nursing until the baby chose to stop, and I realized that if there are no other issues that means the kid would wean somewhere between 3 and 6. Yikes. Since most of my experience has been seeing mothers only nurse babies under one year, this came as a shock to me, and of course I have felt the judgment of others with my prolonged nursing. But, I remind myself, most of our parenting practices date back only 100 years or so (cribs, formula), and at the most they date back 12,000 years to the agricultural revolution. Our babies bodies are meant to be held, nursed, and this is one of the most important traits to set them up for psychological health. This is what the evidence I read said, and this is what I believe to be true, so I persist, even when it's not so easy and I'd rather just give my kid some cow's milk and have my body back and I'd rather not have to endure those sideways glances when someone sees my 2 year old asking to nurse.

The other information I came across early on (thanks to a fellow grad student friend, Emily) was something called radical unschooling. For me, it is more a stance on child rearing than schooling per se. The idea is that you want to model curiosity, and show your children how to follow their passions in an unstructured way, as opposed to rote memorization and learning to 'behave' in a classroom (read: sit still and be quiet). The upshot of this is to see your child as autonomous, and having of desires that deserve to be respected, while keeping in mind the limitations of anyone's desires.

Here's an example. The kids are in a crazy mood and they start climbing on top of the car. I see the roof is denting in a bit, and I want to yell at them to just get off the car completely, but instead I see what they're doing is just having fun and learning how to climb and use their bodies. This is a good thing to foster. So, I show them how the roof is denting and ask them to climb in a way that does not do damage to the car. I am not looking for them to obey me because I do not make up rules that are arbitrary. I am asking them to respect boundaries that they will experience in their real lives. Parents' rules are often so out of touch with the real boundaries people experience. I try to make sure that I am telling them to do something that has a good reason, and one they will likely encounter in their lives. I ask myself, often: can I say yes to their request? What is at the heart of what they are asking? How I can I foster that in a way that makes me comfortable and feel respected myself?

I see school as a place for my kids to make friends, learn the language and socialize. I see home as a place to foster deeper learning, and to pursue the things they are curious about. I am the main educator of their lives, not their teacher. And I follow Rousseau's educational theory, which is to have early childhood learning be mostly physical discovery, and as they get older their learning should follow their own interests, with an emphasis on trial and error as well as useful skills.

We will see how this philosophy plays out as they get older and grow into more complex creatures. The idea behind radical unschooling and attachment parenting is that giving the kids a foundation of love and respect at an early age helps to set up your connection with them and their security so that they trust that you are a person who has reasonable expectations and has their best interests at heart.

I have seen this play out with Isa as she grows older, although of course it's never 100% because we are always still growing and improving. If I explain to her why I am telling her to do something, and it is reasonable, she will usually comply unless she has other issues (like she's too hungry or tired) -- which is basically the way it works in a relationship with mutual respect and love, something we want to model.

I rarely have to yell loudly at my kids (I only do this if they are hurting each other). Rousseau said that the worst punishment should be the parents' disappointment, which can simply be expressed with a face. I have seen that since I so rarely abuse my power with them to get them to obey me, they are very responsive to my disappointment, almost always crying out of remorse if I ever get upset with something they do. I don't take this position of authority lightly. I know they are reliant upon me for both care and approval, so if I exercise restraint in using disapproval, it becomes quite a powerful tool. Of course, after I disapprove I make sure to tell them I know that [insert behavior] doesn't represent them and they had a momentary lapse of judgment.

This is where I stand at the moment, and it's working well for our family on most days. Breaking free from the way any person or society tells me is the 'right' way to parent is really liberating. Finding what works for us and doing it, despite the judgment of others, has been quite a journey, but I would never choose another path.  My hope is that we can make a generation of kids who are secure, who can then keep the cycle of positive parenting (and relationships) going.

Monday, April 8, 2019

Greatest country on Earth!

When compared to the 19 others OECD (developed) countries, including Greece, Turkey, Chile and Mexico, America is:
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https://www.commondreams.org/views/2019/03/29/peoples-state-nation



Sunday, March 31, 2019

Incomodo

My first ever fiction:

Incomodo

I realized I hadn't been breathing and sucked air slowly into my lungs, so as to not show my panic at the realization. When I didn't know what to do with my face, I involuntarily smiled. I hated it, but I couldn't change my face, no matter how aware I was of it and how inappropriate it was for the setting we were in.

The dance teacher said, "dale," and I knew it meant it was time for something else, but I didn't know where to place my body or how. Or what to do with my face. I tried glancing at the others in the class. As everyone sat down cross-legged, I made sure to sit in a way that showed it was my own idea. "Oh yes, I planned on sitting too, obvio." I straightened one leg and tucked the other one in so as to say "look, I am not copying. I am doing my own thing. I'm comfortable here." But I wasn't comfortable and all this thinking was making me tired.

I was performing for no one. My audience was my own perception of others' perception of me. No one was looking at me. I knew this, but I continued on with that heightened sensibility that comes from an audience. My heart beat faster and I kept forgetting to breathe.

The teacher described the next set of movements. The only word I picked up was "infinito."

Is she talking about infinity? Like, philosophically? Or is this a specific dance instruction? I never know with her, her language is so damn flowery. How am I supposed to tell these things? If I interrupt for clarification it'll ruin the flow of the class. I know this. I've done it. Just see what the others are doing and figure it out as you go. This is good for you. Get out of your shell a bit. Get out of your damn head.

I step into the corner of the room, in line with the others. The teacher stands facing us. Each one of us takes turns moving in any way that occurs to us, while making eye contact with the teacher. "What movement will I make? Do I make the same movement each time? Should my movements be decided by what the other students are doing? How can I get this smile off my face?"

The exercise starts and each time it is my turn to confront the teacher I am thinking of everything at once. "Breathe. Control your face. Do something interesting, but don't stand out too much. Don't laugh. See what the others are doing and do something like it, but don't look like you are doing what they're doing. Ok, a simple spin. I've been doing this spin too many times, I'll switch it up to a clap. Oh god, clapping and making eye contact feels like I need to erase my existence from history, try something else. Back to the spin. Oh no, too many spins, she is probably noticing. What are other people doing?

This time I'll do a dip. Can't use any of my go-to dance moves from gradeschool. I put my hand up on your hip. Twerking with my little 10 year old body back when we called it juking. Yeah, definitely don't do that. I wonder if it would be considered vulgar here? Just don't do it, you'll stand out too much. But do I try to do something salsa-y? Or like some kind of Shakira belly dance? I know the teacher's dad is Egyptian. I'm going to come off as laughable if I try to pull off something like that. My sense of these kinds of dances have the depth of a cartoon. I can imagine someone from here trying to twerk like they see on American TV. That would be funny. Ha. So, what do I do then? I can't be who I was, I can't yet be who I'm going to be. Ah shit, it's my turn again and I haven't thought of anything. I do a belly dance move. Ah, just kill me please. Just get through this. Let this song end. Who am I praying to exactly? Just remember to breathe, at least. Stay alive."

The teacher puts the students in the receiving position. It's now my turn. As each dancer comes up to me and moves in front of me, looking me in the eye, I panic. My face. Oh god my face. I am trying to control my smile with closed lips but my mouth just keeps moving up and up my face until it is right under my nose. Where do I put my hands? Behind my back? No, that's terrible and everyone sees it. Just put your hands to the side. Act normal. What does normal look like again? No, I know they aren't looking, but it still feels like they are looking. No, they're definitely not looking.

Now my teacher comes up to me, looks me right in the eye reflects my ridiculous face back at me with her mouth just up under her nose. In less than the time it takes to have a conscious thought I think, all at once: she has been looking, erase yourself from history now, stop smiling, change your face. And then I laugh out loud, acknowledging what she is communicating to me while I drown in my prison of thoughts.

At the end of this first class, she asks the group to reflect on how the experience was for them. "Comodo. Comfortable," people were saying as she went around the room. "What in the hell?" I thought. "INcomodo," I found myself saying, when it was my turn, without first thinking it through. The instructor looked a little horrified. Did I make some kind of faux pas? At this point, who cares. I am so tired of thinking.  "I don't know if I'm using the right word. For me, in order to learn something new, you have to be at least a little bit, uncomfortable." They all smile. Relief. They were feeling it too, but the culture here is too polite to say such a thing. Maybe that's who I am here. The one who says what others only think. Lending a moment of freedom to their prison.

Maybe I will twerk next week.



Sunday, January 13, 2019

Loss of a good friend

Patrick McDonnell was an epic personality. One of those people whom everybody loved to tell stories about. Or, actually, recount the stories he told.

Like the one he told about parties among the English upper class (Princess Anne sometimes came) in the 60s that lasted weeks with people alternating between weed and acid and the only way to get the party out of his house was to offer to take everyone to Stonehenge for a grand LSD adventure. Or how he was charged with conspiracy by the English government for sending tabs of LSD to the Icelandic army. The thing about charging someone with conspiracy is that you don't have to prove anything except that they thought something, he would say. Or was it the U.S. nuclear submarine officers he sent the acid to? The stories always changed, but remained riveting whichever detail he decided to include that day.

Or how he was raped by priests in the Catholic church in Ireland as a young boy, and how years later he went to the Pope with the allegations. Or how he staged protests in front of the Uruguayan telecommunications company when their policies meant he was ostensibly locked into a never ending rural internet contract.

He had great ideas about social change. Give everyone psychedelics. Or protest. If you are going to use violence, make sure you go for the supermarkets first, because they are usually owned by someone powerful in the community. Never be afraid to use your voice and speak directly to power.

I loved the story he told about trying to get residency in Uruguay 15 years ago. He had this criminal record, spent time in jail for mostly political crimes. So, he had to go in front of a tribunal of senators to hear his case. Lucky him, at this point in history the senators were mostly former leftist guerillas including then-senator, later president Jose Mujica, who himself was imprisoned for many years because of his political action. This group sympathized with his political point of view and came to find out that McDonnell had actually donated money to their leftist group a few decades back. They granted him residency and Mujica came to give him a hug, thank him, and invite him for a beer after the hearing.

Patrick would tell us that the two things he wanted to see in his lifetime were legal gay marriage and legalized marijuana. He was very happy to see both happen, sooner in Uruguay than in his native Ireland. One day he and his partner Chris were at a routine government meeting, as his story goes, and some Uruguayan bureaucrat handed them a paper saying they were now legally married via co-habitation laws. In that moment, they both began to cry. After a lifetime of laws that allowed him to be hurt, beaten up, and discriminated against because of his sexuality, it was a relief for him to be in a place that allowed him to live and let live.

I remember his story about getting permanently kicked out of South Africa. He was there after a jolly jaunt around the world in his 20s. He was working at a bakery trying to make enough money to get back to England. One day, meeting with a friend of his father's, he was waiting for the 'white's only' elevator to come and it was taking forever. The 'mixed' elevator was already standing there, open, so he went in. He was apprehended by South African police 'dressed like little boy scouts' as McDonnell would always say, who asked him what he was thinking taking the wrong elevator. He said he is mixed race, he is Norse and Hebridean. They said you have a bad attitude (Patrick always delivered this line in a South African accent) and they beat him bloody. He was given a one way ticket back to England with a ban from ever returning. Good, he thought, that's what I wanted anyway. After apartheid, he did get a letter of apology and welcome back from the South African government. Maybe the arc does bend toward justice?

Patrick was in the Tet offensive as a British military contractor, and just as the firing started he ran toward the U.S. military bunker knocking to be let in. They said screw off, ostensibly, but McDonnell was smart. Right as the bombing started he ran to his quarters and got whiskey and cigarettes. He yelled back to the U.S. Army men I have whiskey and cigarettes! They let him in and he was safe to live another day. He told us to always have hard alcohol and cigarettes on hand in case of emergency.

I loved Patrick's sense of humor. One of his most laugh out loud stories was about a farm manager who was ribbing him and his fellow workers for not working fast enough pounding in heavy iron stakes. The boss grabbed the stakes and started stomping toward the next place to pound one in. Trouble was, they were working on a steep cliffside in Ireland and of course trying to work too fast he lost his footing and started sliding toward the cliff. He dropped all the stakes that went flying off the edge and barely made it from flying off the cliff himself. He promptly got up and walked off while Patrick and his friends were doubled over in laughter.

After some work in the U.S. in the late 60s he was offered either U.S. Citizenship or a brand new red Ford Mustang by his employer. He chose the Mustang. For the life of me I cannot remember where that Mustang ended up he would always say.

Patrick told stories like I imagine they are told in the old Irish oral tradition way. They are not just stories, they have a lesson, the share a culture, each one tells you a little about humanity.

My favorite memories of him, though, were our moments of kindness together as friends and neighbors. As we were running around with our two little girls, without a moment of peace, he would say You two really are fabulous parents. When it seems no one sees the work you're doing as a parent, Patrick would not only notice, he would say it out loud. His great great great (something) grandmother was Isabel Fitzgerald, and he had an oil portrait of her in his house in Uruguay. We instantly felt a familial connection with him and Christopher. He used to say we are from the same ancient clan of Fitzgeralds.

When we first met we came over for lunch and at the end of it he said We are so excited to have someone worth talking to around here! He and Chris would invite us over for lunches every couple of weeks and every time we would have champagne. Celebrating life together. Celebrating simple friendship and being alive. And we would eat Chris' home cooked food, prepared with love just to share with us, and it felt like family.

When you choose to live in a new place, you have to find ways to cope without the social networks you are born into. So you find others, and if you're lucky, they can turn into a new network on which you can rely. We knew we could rely on Patrick and Chris, and they could rely on us. That simple fact can give you so much peace. If I need help, I know they'll be there.

He was suffering a lot toward the end and I am glad that is over for him. He always wondered out loud how in the hell he lasted as long as he did after all the drugs he did in his lifetime. Well I am glad he lasted long enough to overlap a few of his years with myself and my family. We are better off for having known him, and the world is lucky to have had him for the time that it did.

I will miss his big stories and guidance and love. I know I won't stop telling stories of the great Patrick McDonnell, and in that way he will continue to be.