Finding an island by SUCH

By Tommi Kauppinen

When a person walks a graveled path,

they see nothing but stones.

The crushed, however, budge and shake

under their feet, shoulder to shoulder.

 

When a swan swims in a lake,

it does not feel the lake's bed, however,

the bed knows it is there,

from the tug and pull of some other.

 

“We can only observe”, is the truth cut in two lies.

“No man is an island”, a well-rehearsed line.

There is an interaction, and the neighbor

is not always the one by eye or ear or mouth.

 

It speaks no words, but we can still listen.

We do not observe, the object perceives us.

How does it feel? How can we understand it?

No object is an island, not even an island.

 

A resourcification manifesto by SUCH

By Hervé Corvellec

In a world of nearly 10 billion people, the competition for resources is likely to become fierce. Food, energy, and material, but also power, freedom and knowledge. Where will these resources come from? Our answer is: social processes that turn things into resources. Resources do not simply exist. They become, and we label resourcification the social processes of resources that become resources.

Resourcification is a social process that occurs within specific time and space contexts. It does not reach all in the same way, some being affected in more positive or negative ways than others. Neither have all the same control over resourcification.

All resourcification processes are specific, but they share certain conditions: an extractivist view on nature, things, and people; an access to technology and infrastructure; a supportive discourse; legislation; the existing of a regime that determines the value of things.

There are also various modes of resourcification. Resourcification is usually pragmatic in the sense that it builds on what exists in terms of available biotic entities, tangible materials, and intangiblesfactors, like aesthetics, emotions and culture. But resourcification can also be ideological, for example, when politicians introduce market mechanisms where there are none. Management and governance are instrumental to resourcification, but so are art, literature, music, religion and metaphysics.

Finally, resourcification processes are characterised by differentiated temporalities. They draw on the past, present, and future. They also are unstable process that take place at different paces. Just like something can be turned into a resource, it can also stop being considered a resource. The current campaign “keep it in the ground” is a case in point of a fight for deliberate de-resourcification.

More about resourcification in two recent publications:

  • Hultman, Johan, Hervé Corvellec, Anne Jerneck, Susanne Arvidsson, Johan Ekroos, Clara Gustafsson, Fay Lundh Nilsson, and Niklas Wahlberg. 2021. "A resourcification manifesto: Understanding the social process of resources becoming resources." Research Policy 50 (9):104297. doi:https://doi.org/10.1016/j.respol.2021.104297.

  • Corvellec, Hervé, Johan Hultman, Anne Jerneck, Susanne Arvidsson, Johan Ekroos, Niklas Wahlberg, and Timothy W. Luke. 2021. "Resourcification – A non-essentialist theory of resources for sustainable development." Sustainable Development. doi: https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/sd.2222.

Making Food Systems Agroecologically Symbiotic by SUCH

By Pasi Heikkurinen, David Skrbina, Juha Helenius, Kari Koppelmäki, Toni Ruuska, Tina Nyfors

Human food systems are causing ecological crises. Calls for sustainable change echo in global policy from the UN’s Agenda 21 to the EU’s Farm-to-Fork Strategy and the United States’ Green New Deal. Despite these efforts, ecological indicators continue to show strong signs of risk and the biosphere continues to suffer grievous losses (Vitousek et al, 1986; Bar-On, 2018; IPBES, 2019).

According to the I=PAT formula, the conjunction of population (P), affluence (A), and technology (T) define the ecological impact of humans, including food systems (see Chertow, 2000; Ehrlich & Ehrlich, 2008; Holdren, 2018). The increasing role of global markets in contemporary food systems makes the achievement of policy goals heavily dependent on agribusiness (Gumbert and Fuchs, 2018). Sustainability requires a transformation of the industrial food system model, including reformulating the strict separation between consumption and production, and addressing fossil fuel addiction.

A new systemic innovation called ‘Agro-ecological Symbiosis’ (AES) could transform food production to a post-fossil era. AES is a local, biocircular organization that produces both food and energy. Ecological benefits of the model have been proven (Koppelmäki et al., 2019). This, and the emergent social and economic benefits, have attracted research interest across Europe. The primary objective of the symbiosis is to stay within the ecological limits of specific agroecosystems, connecting AES to the idea of sufficiency—living a high-quality life that is globally sustainable (Princen, 2005).

AES is formed by farms, food processors, and renewable energy systems working in close proximity. A network of AES (NAES) would create a place-based food system replacing the consolidated supply chain. From local to regional to global scales, NAES can produce a resilient, distributed food production system consistent with Sustainable Development Goals (Helenius et al., 2020), as well as can contribute to other sustainable policy initiatives.

References

Bar-On, Y. M., Phillips, R., & Milo, R. (2018). The biomass distribution on Earth. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 115(25), 6506-6511.

Chertow, M. R. (2000). The IPAT equation and its variants. Journal of Industrial Ecology, 4(4), 13-29.

Ehrlich, P. R., & Ehrlich, A. H. (2008). Nature’s economy and the human economy. Environmental and Resource Economics, 39(1), 9-16.

Gumbert, T. and D. Fuchs (2018). The power of corporations in global food sector governance, in Handbook of the International Political Economy of the Corporation, Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar Publishing.

Helenius, J., S. E. Hagolani-Albov, & K. Koppelmäki (2020). Co-creating Agroecological Symbioses (AES) for sustainable food system networks. Frontiers in Sustainable Food Systems, 4, 588715. 

Hoffmann, M. et al. (2010). The impact of conservation on the status of the world’s vertebrates. Science, 330(6010), 1503-1509.

Holdren, J. P. (2018). A brief history of “IPAT”. The Journal of Population and Sustainability, 2(2), 66-74.

IPBES (2019). Global assessment report on biodiversity and ecosystem services.  Available at https://ipbes.net/global-assessment.

Koppelmäki, K., Parviainen, T., Virkkunen, E., Winquist, E., Schulte, R.P.O., and Helenius. J. (2019). Ecological intensification by integrating biogas production into nutrient cycling: Modeling the case of Agroecological Symbiosis. Agricultural Systems 170. 39. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.agsy.2018.12.007

Princen, T. (2005).  The Logic of Sufficiency. MIT Press.

Vitousek, P. M., et al. (1986). Human appropriation of the products of photosynthesis. BioScience, 36(6), 368-373.

Feminism(s) and Degrowth Alliance: Pandemic as an opening for a care-full radical transformation by SUCH

By Dr. Eeva Houtbeckers, eeva.houtbeckers@aalto.fi

I am writing this text from home. I should do more than write this text. But then again, I have been told by the officials that I should stay at home. Still, I cannot escape the feeling that I should be helping, salvaging, conserving, supporting, caring, mending, repairing... Though I can barely write this text. Who is in a position that they can write texts during these times?

When the pandemic was declared in March 2020, I took me some time to realise that I was in shock. It was not as much because of the virus, but because of the frenzy I witnessed. Overwhelmed people trying to make decisions with flickering knowledge. Governments issuing historical restrictions and financial support programs. According to sharp-minded critical thinkers all this was to keep the status quo as intact as possible. But I could not think clearly. My mind was racing with concerns about how to secure food, water and shelter for people I care about, if things get worse. When do we leave from the metropolitan area and try to find a place somewhere else? I was thinking of survival. This is not a drill.

I was thinking all of this while for me many things were fine. Almost overnight my precarious position as a fixed-term funded researcher seemed more secure compared to the people with permanent positions in companies cutting down their expenses. I was able to keep paying our home loan and secure a home, where I could work. I was mentally stable enough to take care of my children. I had money to buy food. Water and electricity were being delivered uninterrupted. We were healthy and safe. Realising this was a reminder of privilege. 

Feminism(s) and Degrowth Alliance (Fada)[1] members organised meetings to make sense of the situation. Some of the participants were wrecked since they had worked day and night with communities to ease the quick changes for people in vulnerable position. Some were puzzled. How to go on with anything during times like these? Some were determined to act. Some were in shock like me. Out of this polyphony and many virtual meetings grew the carefully drafted FaDa statement: Collaborative Feminist Degrowth: Pandemic as an Opening for a Care-Full Radical Transformation[2]. Some of us organised and facilitated the meetings, while others skilfully drafted a document that was then released in April 2020[3].

 During the process, it was clear that the participants understood the pandemic as "a crisis of the reproduction of life" and "a crisis of care: the work of caring for humans, non-humans, and the shared biosphere".  The statement addresses "how can we use this moment to democratically rebuild social organization of labor and care work" by presenting four priorities for "an intentional degrowth informed by a democratic and feminist approach": (1) Towards a Provisioning Economy: Recognize and regenerate social and ecological reproductive capacities; (2) Home as a site of production and reproduction; (3) Towards a Caring Economy. Care Labor and Care Income; (4) Towards a Solidarity Economy.

What is the meaning of this when there is so much to do? Moreover, what do texts do in these times of crisis? In this short piece, I give a personal answer to these questions: The FaDa statement process was my lifeline that spring. Not only it forced me to act, but we acted together. I remembered that I am among the many who feel the pressure to act. Instead of the unequal accumulation on wealth that is accelerated by supporting the status quo, we need mobilisation and transformation for altered relations. But this does not mean transformation sometime in the future. Who can afford to wait that? Not people and Earth others in need right now. Urgent changes are needed to resist astronomical capital accumulation and the destruction of life and life sustaining processes. 

Yet, I can barely manage to keep it together during these times, even one year after the declaration of the pandemic. But rest assured, I have no illusions that this could not affect me although I feel safe for now. Precariousness has increased for many and it will keep on increasing - unless we act together. 

**

I thank Corinna Dengler for comments. 

[1] https://www.degrowth.info/en/feminisms-and-degrowth-alliance-fada

[2] https://www.degrowth.info/en/feminisms-and-degrowth-alliance-fada/collective-research-notebook

[3] https://www.degrowth.info/en/2020/04/feminist-degrowth-collaborative-fada-reflections-on-the-covid-19-pandemic-and-the-politics-of-social-reproduction

A sufficiency perspective on household consumption by SUCH

By Tina Nyfors, tina.nyfors@helsinki.fi

The climate impact of household consumption is significant.  It accounts for two thirds of consumption-based[i]greenhouse gas emissions globally (Hertwich & Peters 2009) as well as in Finland (Nissinen & Savolainen 2019). The everyday decisions of households hence play a significant role in addressing climate change. The carbon footprint of an average Finn is about 10 tons carbon dioxide equivalents (tCO2-ekv) per year. This can be viewed in relation to limiting global warming to 1.5 degrees as outlined in the Paris Agreement. A report by IGES et al. (2019) estimates that staying on the 1.5-degree pathway would translate into personal carbon quotas of 2.5 tCO2-ekv per year in 2030. This means that the footprint of an average Finn must decrease by more than 70%.

What does this mean in practice? The Finnish Climate Change Panel’s report “The sufficiency perspective in climate policy” (Linnanen et al. 2020) and the subsequent scientific article (Nyfors et al. 2020) outlines how households could reduce greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions of their consumption by following the idea of ‘ecological sufficiency’ (hereafter sufficiency). The report also proposes how sufficiency could be implemented in climate policy. The report refers to Gough’s (2017) three-stage strategy for decarbonisation, consisting of (1) ramping up eco-efficiency, (2) an intermediate stage of recomposing consumption and (3) reducing consumption absolutely. The report focuses on recomposing consumption, however this text also brings up elements of reducing consumption absolutely.

One way of addressing emissions from a minimum level of consumption is to calculate the GHG emissions of national reference budgets. It is also a way of scrutinizing dominant consumption practices and structures in society. The reference budgets examine the perceived decent minimum level of consumption at a given time in a given context. Reference budgets are made in several countries including, Finland, Sweden, UK and the Netherlands. In Finland, the reference budget is used, for example, in the process of evaluating levels of basic security benefit.

The Finnish Climate Change Panel report calculated carbon footprints of three types of households (see Figure 1) in the Finnish reference budget which builds on numbers from 2016 (Lehtinen & Aalto 2018). The results show that the carbon footprint of a decent minimum level of consumption in Finland is considerably smaller, about half (49–58%), compared with the carbon footprint of an average Finn. Despite the considerable emission reductions that a decent level of consumption entails, there is a need to reduce GHG emissions further in order to reach the 2030 targets. Compared with a global target of 2.5 CO2e/person per year for 2030, the emissions are twice as high.

Figure 1. Carbon footprint (kg CO2-ekv) per person. The GHG emissions of different households in the Finnish reference budget (the three columns to the left) compared to the average footprint of a person living in Finland and Finland’s goal of reduc…

Figure 1. Carbon footprint (kg CO2-ekv) per person. The GHG emissions of different households in the Finnish reference budget (the three columns to the left) compared to the average footprint of a person living in Finland and Finland’s goal of reducing emissions by 60% by 2030. The emission reduction goal in line with a 1.5 degree pathway illustrated as personal carbon quotas of 2.5 tCO2-ekv per year in 2030. (Linnanen et al. 2020, translated)

The fact that even households and individuals living on what is perceived to be a social minimum exceeds the ecological maximum level illustrates the magnitude of the emission reduction challenges and points towards the need of coordinated political initiatives.

How to proceed? This text suggests that a sufficiency perspective on household consumption and in climate policy is implemented and advanced. This would include adopting new sufficiency-based guiding principles for households. In other words, systematically shifting the consumption from identified high-carbon options to low-carbon alternatives, as well as consuming less. These processes should be supported by climate policy on different levels so that households are steered to not only consume low-carbon alternatives instead of high-carbon ones, but also steered to not consume.

Since the emissions from household consumption come from mobility (30%), nutrition (20%), housing (25%), and goods and services (25%) (IGES. 2019: 14, Nissinen & Savolainen 2019: 41), these major sectors call for special attention. 

Concerning mobility, about 80% (IGES 2019: 21) of the Finnish households’ emissions come from use of private car. Low-carbon options include reducing car travel or living car free, avoiding airplane travel and instead using other modes of transport, including public transport, walking or biking. We could also ask whether mobility is needed in the first place. Do we really have to move so far and so quickly?

In nutrition, high-carbon options include a diet rich in meat and dairy. Low-carbon options include nutritionally adequate vegan or vegetarian diets, or mixed diets including only small amounts of meat and dairy, replacing meat with, for example, legumes. Furthermore, addressing overconsumption of food is associated with both health and climate benefits. 

In housing, more than 80% (IGES 2019: 18) of the emissions come from heating and electricity consumption. Low-carbon options include, for example, smaller living space, lower indoor temperature, reducing the use of hot water, shared living space, use of renewable energy and improving energy efficiency. We could also think about the resource intensive living standards. What kind of housing suffices?

Goods and services include a wide range of products and services and the GHG emissions come from several categories. Major sources of emissions are furniture and domestic appliances, clothing, electronic devices as well as leisure activities. Low-carbon options include buying second-hand or low-carbon products of high quality and using them for a long time, sharing, repairing, reusing and refurbishing, and buying low-carbon services. Sufficiency options also include the option of working less to earn less money to buy things, and hence not purchasing at all is also a viable possibility in some cases.

In policy making there are numerous ways of steering consumption away from identified carbon hotspots towards low-carbon options (Nyfors et al. 2020). Regulation includes banning or regulating high-carbon options; the obligation to provide low-carbon options and regulating advertising for high-carbon products and services. Economic instruments include addressing high-carbon options through carbon taxes and fees and by removing harmful subsidies, but also supporting low-carbon options, for example, through subsidies and tax exemptions and personal carbon budgets. Nudging includes making low-carbon choices more easily accessible or default options. Cooperation includes different forms of sharing economy, widening social consumption and supporting existing public institutions such as libraries. Information includes, for example, communicating ‘best practice’ sufficiency examples to specific target groups. Information can also be used to increase awareness of the standards of luxury that we have attained and to increase awareness of the mechanisms that stimulate consumption.

Perhaps one of the most radical suggestions of steering would be to set direct caps on consumption, in the form of impact caps or cap-and-trade systems at different levels, including individual level (Spengler 2018). Suggestions include personal carbon quotas, which have been described as, in principle, the ideal policy instrument for realising sufficiency. It could set limits on how much households and individuals could consume on a given time, while at the same time enable different lifestyles within the frames of the allowance or bought allowance. Caps could also be placed on specific products and services with high climate and environmental impact. Furthermore, the caps could include setting limits on how much paid work one can do per week or what is the maximum that can be earned per year. 

In industrialized countries, the notion of an absolute reduction of consumption faces strong resistance and is a rather unpopular political topic. This may relate to that sufficiency touches on issues that are sensitive in liberal societies: freedom of choice versus political steering, as well as possible effects of reduced consumption on economic growth. Still, the need to reduce emissions remains. I believe that the fact that effects of climate change become more visible also in wealthy countries in the form of exceptionally mild winters or drought and fires, may alter people’s attitudes towards more radical policy measures. This text suggests that sufficiency policies and a focus on consumption hotspots could offer a more effective approach to climate change mitigation by addressing individual consumption as the main driver of the increase in global greenhouse gas emissions.

Tina Nyfors is a PhD student at the University of Helsinki at the Department of Economics and Management. 

[i] Consumption-based emissions accounting = domestic emissions + imports – exports. Compare with territorial (official) emissions accounting, which includes emissions emitted within the territory of a country.

References

Gough, I. (2017) Heat, Greed and Human Need. Climate Change, Capitalism and Sustainable Wellbeing. Cheltenham, Edward Elgar Publishing Ltd.

Hertwich & Peters 2009 Carbon Footprint of Nations: A Global, Trade-Linked Analysis. Environ. Sci. Technol. 2009, 43, 16, 6414–6420. http://hdl.handle.net/10138/300737

IGES (Institute for Global Environmental Strategies), Aalto University, D-mat Ltd. (2019) 1.5-Degree Lifestyles: Targets and Options for Reducing Lifestyle Carbon Footprints. Technical Report. Institute for Global Environmental Strategies, Hayama, Japan. https://www.aalto.fi/sites/g/files/flghsv161/files/2019-02/15_degree_lifestyles_mainreport.pdf

Lehtinen, A-R., Aalto, K. (2018) Mitä eläminen maksaa? Kohtuullisen minimin viitebudjettien päivitys vuodelle 2018.Publications of the Faculty of Social Sciences 2018:101.

Linnanen, L., Nyfors, T., Heinonen, T., Liimatainen, H., Nissinen, A., Regina, K., Saarinen, M., Seppälä, J., Viri, R. (2020) The Sufficiency Perspective in Climate Policy: How to Recompose Consumption. Finnish Climate Change panelreports 4/2020. https://www.ilmastopaneeli.fi/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Sufficiency-in-climate-policy_2020-09-25.pdf

Nissinen, A., Savolainen, H. (eds) (2019) Julkisten hankintojen ja koti-talouksien kulutuksen hiilijalan-jälki ja luonnonvarojen käyttö. Reports by the Finnish Erivonment Institute 15/2019. Finnish Environment Institute, Helsinki. http://hdl.handle.net/10138/300737

Nyfors, T., Linnanen, L., Nissinen, A., Seppälä, J., Saarinen, M., Regina, K., Heinonen, T., Viri, R., Liimatainen, H. “Ecological Sufficiency in Climate Policy: Towards Policies for Recomposing Consumption”. Futura 3/2020. https://helda.helsinki.fi//bitstream/handle/10138/323631/Nyfors_et_al_Ecological_Sufficiency_in_Climate_Policy_version_accepted_author_manuscript.pdf?sequence=1

Spengler, L. (2018) Sufficiency as Policy. Necessity, Possibilities and Limitations. Baden-Baden: Nomos.

Money for a house on fire by SUCH

By Karl Johan Bonnedahl

Starting points for this reflection were stock prices which rose when Corona related unemployment and deaths were still mounting, and the massive amounts of money made available to get mainly the same economies going again. Not that this surprised me, but at times like these, we can both see some of the deeper societal structures from new angles and get a little hope for change. Hence, this reflection relates to some of the earlier blog posts here, not least the ones of Lisa Juangbhanich and of Toni Ruuska and colleagues.

As a background, decades of research and talk about humanity’s ecological challenges has not changed the course of the human enterprise. Like our predecessors on Easter Island, but with other objects to worship, recent generations have continued on a path of exploitation. This ugly truth is hidden behind a smokescreen of technological improvement and eco-efficiency. The latter is an economic concept telling how productive we are when we use nature and should not make us believe that our ecological dealings is getting better. In other words, it is about the relative improvements often connected with “development”, while the absolute environmental impact continue upwards. 

As a global illustration, last year’s SDG report of the UN showed that developed countries, compared to the developing, just used a fifth of the natural resources for the same amount of economic value. In ecological terms, these are useless facts. The same report told us that the material footprint per capita has increased at an alarming rate, and that it is strongly related to the income-level of countries (the average inhabitant of high-income countries being 13 times ecologically heavier than the one of low-income countries).

Quite obviously, the goal of this development has not been to reduce biodiversity, increase temperature or spread substances and waste from our industrial and consumerist systems. These are just, since a long time, well-known and accepted side-effects. When we are confronted with facts about these, we normally don’t stop with the causing acts; we start talking about how we can get rid of the effects without changing the acts or the values and priorities behind the acts. This approach can only lead to relative decreases in environmental impact, while absolute pressure continue to rise. 

What we may need is some kind of acute social or economic crisis to react in appropriate ways to the permanent ecological crisis. Will the Corona situation be used as such an opportunity? 

As regards ecological challenges, both effects and causalities often appear unclear to us. It is easier to go for what’s seen and voiced clearly in the crisis, like failed companies and unemployment. In principle, all the governmental money invested now could be spent on new types of (“green”) jobs, but an obstacle is that governments, probably like the former rulers on Easter Island, are too unwilling to see the root causes to problems. Some of the money will certainly be spent on trying to cover the chimney (e.g. criteria for Air France to receive support), but can we really expect attempts to extinguish the fire?

As root causes, one crucial category has to do with ethics. Unfortunately, I believe that the universal care for others and the future, presumed in the sustainable development discourse, is quite far from the reality. It may even be a definite obstacle to a sustainable future. Instead, I will comment on the role of money as one of the system components of contemporary society. It’s relevant as means in the attempts to recover economies, but it’s not enough that we change what money is used for (“green investment”); we should also change its role. I see the following problems:

  • Money is based on debt in a system of continuous expansion, implying a continuous chase for economic return.

  • The chase drives a commodification and market exchange of what entrepreneurial people can find in nature. 

  • These processes have detached the use of money from the usefulness of objects, spaces and systems (a move from use value to exchange value). 

  • Money is also largely detached from real goods and services (money is invested to get money), which increases the role of financial capital in relation to other types of capital.

  • Together with preferences, money is also the key component demand, the central mechanism of the markets. This means that markets will not allocate resources in relation to needs (which are unrelated or negatively related to the possession of money). 

While it is close to a tautology that money is a servant of the financially wealthy, a reflection over these systemic features is necessary if we really want to save our house from the fire. In relation to the governmental money now spent on recovery, I would first suggest three simple principles:

  • Don’t support any of the old fossil-dependent industries, like airlines and car manufacturers

  • Spend money on people rather than on companies. This is more likely both to promote change and to meet needs.

  • Link any company support to strict sustainability criteria

To bring more systemic change, I would add the following more difficult issues related to money:

  • Bring the financial system under political control (which would include reduced possibilities for large private banks to create money)

  • Reduce the relative role of market transactions in society by introducing other allocation mechanisms than demand/money

  • Replace the use of quantitative (monetary) economic growth as indicator of progress with relevant qualitative indicators

  • Introduce caps (absolute criteria) for the protection of common resources (including the use of products such as petrol), under which markets may still operate

  • Similarly, combine costs with personal quotas to make transition more fair (e.g. permits for the use of private car or flights)

  • Introduce formulas for maximum salaries or wage differences (e.g. no more than a one to five or one to three quota between the lowest and highest pay in organisations)

Among other needed changes related to money is the need to reduce or even phase out the possibility to privately buy and own natural entities such as land and genetic material. A sustainable society also needs modernized forms of organisation, not based on the reduced financial risk of the investor. Rather, forms which promote responsibility and the common good must be found. 

Changing direction isn’t easy, but today is a good time to begin. 

On death and (un)natural dying by SUCH

By Galina Kallio

Amidst Covid-19 death has become an everyday encounter. It appears in daily statistics; it shows in increasing numbers of empty beds and occupied coffins; it directs the politics of today, yesterday and tomorrow. Saving human lives has suddenly become the political top priority. But while protecting life and avoiding death seem to go hand in hand, the paradox between these two pursuits has never before appeared so gigantic to me. 

This text is a raw draft about my thoughts and feelings on death and (un)natural treatment of dying in the context of what I call Western civilization. I use this space to write about my observations and to prompt a discussion on a topic that generally appears a taboo: how and why death of other-than-humans is a norm but dying of humans is institutionalized as unnatural and appalling?      

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As a continuation of my PhD on alternative forms of organising food production and exchange (Kallio 2018), I started my postdoctoral research on invisible work in regenerative agriculture (Kallio 2019a). During one year of field work - of literally working on fields of six different farms - that I have conducted so far, I have encountered death and dying of different beings and in diverse forms. Last Fall, I wrote about my initial thoughts in a blog (Kallio 2019b), but during the past Spring it has become clear to me that this topic requires more dedicated reflection. 

Regenerating life through cycles of death

The core of the paradox in protecting life by avoiding death, to me, is in the failure to see how death and dying are intrinsically connected to and inseparable from life and living. Now, when I speak of “death” and “life” I refer not only to humans but equally to all life forms and life sustaining parts including microbes, soils, plants and animals, water, and geological elements. While Covid-19 has shown that despite their best efforts, humans can’t always control death (or life), hegemony over life and death of both humans and other-than-humans is still primarily the role that humans consider theirs to take. 

To me, the interplay between death and life - dying and living - has become particularly visible through the practices of regenerative agriculture that I study. In trying to produce food by optimizing natural processes, by increasing biological complexity and by regenerating the local ecosystems farmers are dealing with multiple other-than-human beings that appear as friends or foes depending on the aims, abilities, and ethical guidelines of the farmer. 

There’s a constant balancing between killing someone, or something, for saving something else. To kill a deer in order to save strawberries, or a fox in order to save the chicken. To kill chicks in order to have eggs; weeds in order to protect food crops. To kill trees in order to have more light. Human endeavours compete with plants and animals for food and habitat. Just like in the wild (nature), someone needs to die in order for someone else to live. But how should we decide who dies, who lives, and who kills? 

The documentary Biggest little farm records the life of an American couple who buy an old farm, which they start regenerating. It reveals how difficult it is for farmers, despite their best efforts, to co-live, co-create and co-evolve with their local ecosystem while aiming at producing food and making a living out of it. Mourning the dying of an individual pig, a single fruit tree, or a nearby pond is normal as long as their death has a direct impact on income, or livelihoods of people. But to take death of living and non-living organisms as a point of reflection, a mirror for the life of humans, is extremely rare. (Can one say that a cliff has died if it’s blown away for, for instance, road construction? Or, can a single leaf die?). 

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In the documentary the farmer couple face multiple instances where their harvest becomes threatened and the farmers need to decide which measures to take. Snails occupy fruit trees, coyotes slaughter the chicken, moles eat the roots of the plants. Each scenery showing these losses at the farm seems horrible and extremely unfair - to the farmers. The logical way out appears to be eliminating the causes like building more powerful fences, placing traps, taking out the shot guns. But, the moment you start to think that there’s too much to bear and too many losses for the farmers to overcome, the documentary shows how the regenerative design together with the ecological succession that has taken place during the several years of consistent work for restoring the local ecosystem bring the solution: coyotes arrive and start eating the moles instead of chicken, birds arrive and start eating the snails, rains help the pond to recover its water circulation.    

The aesthetics of death 

I sit on the train and watch the landscape pass by: fields after fields after fields fenced by forests; trees after trees standing in straight lines; clearance screaming silently. I used to love fields. I would gaze endlessly from the window at the countryside surrounded by miles of monocrop fields. I used to love birch and pine rows that I, together with everyone else, call forests. I used to love bridges, scenery routes, rails. 

It was only by learning to make connections to the soil through my research when I started to see death in agricultural landscapes, in manmade scenery routes, in tree plantations. 

In her book The wild human Kaihovaara (2019) describes how natural parks are kept “natural” through removing unwanted plant species and animals in order to take care of the wild nature. She describes how holes are drilled in trees and filled with fungus in order to provoke the process of rotting (dying) to maintain the wilderness. Indeed, very little of the Earth’s surface remains “natural” and untouched by humans (IPCC 2019). 

Alongside endless extraction required by economic growth (Raworth 2017), protecting the natural habitats is analogically extractive: conservation controls the processes of dying (and living). Humans decide what species are valuable, where and when; who gets to live and why. Meadows are created by placing animals to pasture. Sheep wipe out young tree seedlings and unwanted plants in order to protect and bring plants classified as valuable species to life. Animals get food, humans get traditional biotopes. Plants get killed and saved. 

Forests are turned into national parks by building roads, camping areas, and toilets. Pebble roads enable us to connect to the forests, signs nailed to trees guide us on the right tracks, cars allow us to arrive to the wild nature.  

While death is seemingly invisible, it remains in the center of what people find beautiful or ugly, natural or disgusting, desirable or dangerous. 

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(Un)naturalising death

Death accompanies life but it is wiped out from our everyday lives. Cleaning up death occupies a considerable role in our Western, progress-oriented societies. Slaughter houses don’t have open doors, forests are cleared from dying and dead trees, corpses are hidden in coffins. 

I have noticed that despite it being everywhere in nature, decomposing is not a natural part of human life. Plants are rarely allowed to decompose and fertilize fields. The processes of decomposing are oftentimes considered disgusting. Sharing one’s excitement about watching organic matter break up and turn into compost, soil, or worm poo is not a topic for a small talk, or a for family dinner conversation.   

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I have realized that the moment the connection to soil is lost death becomes unnatural. The most symbolic and yet concrete evidence of unnaturalizing death comes from our funeral ceremony. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust – but let the soil never touch the body. The coffin, or the urn separates corpses from the earth disabling the human body to decompose organically. The idea of human body composting by allowing millions of bacteria and organisms eat it and turn it into soil is not only disgusting, but also disturbing for most people. 

But I find the image of a tree growing from one’s composted body intriguing.  

In his work, Eisenstein (2013) builds on the concept of separation, which he argues lies at the core of our (progressed) civilizations. He speaks of separation from other human beings, from other-than-human beings, and ultimately of separating oneself from death by denying and avoiding it. It is this detachment of death from life which reproduces the separation. “Decomposing corpses are part of the natural cycles. Death draws life to it. In a human environment, decomposing is not allowed, not to nature, nor humans”, writes Kaihovaara (2019, p. 191). This all seems to make sense, but only when I stay in my small bubble. 

I have started to wonder why, despite death being everywhere around us, it only touches us when our close ones die. Losing a family member is a tragedy. Losing a relative can be very sad and upsetting. Losing a pet hurts. Death of production animals is normal, but affects some of us. Hunting might seem unfair and unpleasant, but yet, there’s something primitive, something wild about it, that kind of demystifies and justifies death. But what about death of a plant? Or a microbe? Do we need to mourn them? Do they even feel anything? 

Where to draw the line of caring?

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Daring to care

The more I have started to connect with soil, local landscapes, and people taking care of these landscapes the more I have been touched. The more I have read about plant life (Gagliano 2018, Tomkins & Bird 1973) and familiarized myself with ecological principles and ethics (Curry 2011, Leopold 1989, Sessions 1995) the more I have realized that understanding and connecting to the processes of dying enables caring. Caring doesn't happen in isolation; it happens through relationships (de la Bellacasa 2012). And in every living relationship, death is always present. 

However, speaking of death (and life) in general terms, without specifying who’s life and who’s death is in question is easily, though not necessarily justifiably, held as problematic. This is because comparing a life of a human being to a worm’s life is not only inappropriate, but also absurd. It is absurd not because the answer is obvious (it isn’t), but because one shouldn’t compare individual beings, but rather start thinking in terms of populations, ecosystems and habitats. It is to enforce the separation by treating humans as individuals rather than as a collective form of an evolution seeking (desperately!) its place on the planet Earth and beyond. 

Studying regenerative agriculture has made me realize how deeply embedded our Western civilization is in symbolic reproduction, and not in reproduction of life. I have, with horror and embarrassment, realized that I can name numerous brands but barely know the names of the birds and plants in my backyard. With suspicion and despair, I have realized that in our Western civilization plants have consciousness only if the science has been able to prove it. 

We think we know. But what do we know?

 

***

In the blue night

frost haze, the sky glows

with the moon

pine tree tops

bend snow-blue, fade

into sky, frost, starlight.

The creak of boots.

Rabbit tracks, deer tracks,

what do we know.

 

(Pine tree tops, by Gary Snyder)

***

References

de la Bellacasa, M. P. (2012). ‘Nothing comes without its world’: thinking with care. The Sociological Review60(2), 197-216.

Curry, P. 2011. Ecological ethics: An introduction. Polity press. 

Eisenstein, C. (2013). The more beautiful world our hearts know is possible (Vol. 2). North atlantic books.

Gagliano, M. (2018). Thus spoke the plant: a remarkable journey of groundbreaking scientific discoveries and personal encounters with plants. North Atlantic Books.

IPCC 2019 Climate change and land. https://www.ipcc.ch/srccl/

Kaihovaara, R. 2019. Villi ihminen.

Kallio, G. 2018. The visible hands – An ethnographic inquiry into the emergence of food collectives as a social practice for exchange. Doctoral Dissertation Series. Helsinki: Aalto University Publications, Unigrafia Oy. https://aaltodoc.aalto.fi/handle/123456789/34034

Kallio, G. 2019a. Katse maassa - tutkijatohtorin työorientaatiota etsimässä. Teoksessa Räsänen, K. (toim) Tutkija toimii toisin - Esseitä akateemisesta työstä ja sen vaihtoehdoista. https://aaltodoc.aalto.fi/bitstream/handle/123456789/41495/isbn9789526088792.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y

Kallio, G. 2019b Uudistava maatalous avaa näkymän elämään – ja kuolemaan, Nessling-blogi https://www.nessling.fi/apurahatutkijalta/uudistava-maatalous-avaa-nakyman-elamaan-ja-kuolemaan/

Leopold, A. (1989). A Sand County almanac, and sketches here and there. Oxford University Press, USA.

Raworth, K. (2017). Doughnut economics: seven ways to think like a 21st-century economist. Chelsea Green Publishing.

Tompkins, P., & Bird, C. (1973). The secret life of plants (No. QK50. T65I 1973.). New York: Harper & Row.

Alkuperäinen lainaus Kaihovaaralta: Maatuvat raadot osa luonnon kiertokulkua. Kuolema vetää elämää puoleensa. Kuoleva ja kuollut puu vetää puoleensa useita eliöitä ja eläimiä. Ihmisympäristössä maatumista ei kuitenkaan mahdollisteta, ei luonnolle saati ihmisille. 

Capitalism, Inequality, Climate Change (and the Coronavirus) by SUCH

By Lisa Juangbhanich

The 21st century has not been kind and we have found ourselves battling two major life-threatening crises so far. The first being issues surrounding environmental degradation and climate change; in thinking about future scenarios radical change needs to be made to instigate more self-sufficient approaches. The second is the ongoing battle with the coronavirus outbreak; a pandemic many refer to as spurring from a “once-in-a-century pathogen” that has infected over 6 million of the population across 216 countries[1]

In reflecting upon the ramifications and trauma these crises have ensued together with the goals and objectives of SUCHthere is one common issue that I see as impeding society’s response to combat climate change and the pandemic: that is the capitalist approach and the inequality it creates.

To evidence my thought process, I draw on a few selected articles that I have found inspiring and thought-provoking (and have led me to writing this post). I seek to briefly outline how capitalism as causation of unequal societies can be seen as limiting our response to climate change and handling of the pandemic. Most of the information presented in this post are amalgamated from articles – for anyone interested, I urge you to visit the sources directly for a full discussion. This is also a disclaimer to say that I also acknowledge how the wealth generated through the capitalist economy has also led to innovative and fruitful interventions that have helped to progress society; I have merely focused my arguments on addressing the “other side” of the coin in hopes of unearthing some of the perspectives that I believe are often left unaddressed. 

Inequality and Climate Change

Growing inequalities means widening gaps between the rich and the poor. This can occur within countries “within-country inequalities” or scale comparatively across different nations “across-country inequalities” (terms borrowed from Islam and Winkel, 2017). It is under both of these frameworks that inequality can be seen continuing to enable unsustainable practices. 

  • Affluent countries and households are prone to excessive consumption – unbalanced wealth distribution enables patterns of excessive consumption within and across countries. For instance, North America and China alone made up nearly half of global carbon emissions in 2018 (Alberro, 2020). Alberro remarks how “the comparatively high rates of consumption in these regions generate so much more CO₂ than their counterparts in low-income countries that an additional three billion to four billion people in the latter would hardly make a dent on global emissions”. There is also the staggering figure that one-third of all carbon emissions in the modern era can be pinned down to the operation of 20 fossil fuel firms.

    Within countries, there are also differences in lifestyle across various income groups to consider. Alberro notes how, 

“The consumption of the world’s wealthiest 10% produces up to 50% of the planet’s consumption-based CO₂ emissions, while the poorest half of humanity contributes only 10%. With a mere 26 billionaires now in possession of more wealth than half the world, this trend is likely to continue”.

  • Inequality heightens subsequent inequality – Accumulated capital and the current structure of the economy facilitates the rich to become richer and the poor, poorer. In relaying this back to climate change, a “vicious cycle” perpetuates as initial inequality causes disadvantages groups to suffer disproportionately from the effects of climate change (i.e. greater exposure to climate hazards, greater susceptibility caused by climate hazards) that results in greater subsequent inequality (Islam and Winkel, 2017). I contend that this proposition serves also to retain the abovementioned consumption pattern.

  • Access to resources to combat climate change are limited for the less affluent – the adverse effect of inequality also means disadvantage groups struggle more to cope and respond to climate change issues (Islam and Winkel, 2017). In their paper, Island and Winkel identified four areas of resources pertaining to climate change mitigation that is reduced for less affluent groups:

    1. households’ own (private) resources, 

    2. community resources, 

    3. resources provided by various non-government organisations (NGOs), including religious and philanthropic organizations and philanthropic activities of private companies, foundations, etc., and 

    4. public resources provided by the government, including local governments.

Inequality and Covid-19

Much similar to what has been identified in the above sections are patterns of inequalities and their impact on the pandemic. This column by Fisher and Taub (2020) captures some of these nuances in light of the coronavirus outbreak (credit goes out to a friend of mine who emailed this article over).

  • Health disparities – Affluent societies are better equipped to combat the pandemic, and have better welfare systems and resources that can respond more effectively. This means less exposure to health risks but also better support for well-being during lock-down and self-isolation. This leaves certain regions behind: “Covid-19 can be about twice as deadly for those along their society’s lower rungs” as chronic health conditions can make the coronavirus “up to 10 times as deadly” (Fisher and Bubola, 2020)

If you live someplace with good governance, as well as plentiful health care and economic resources, the systemic risk to you is likely to be lower. That means that you have less chance of dying from Covid-19, yes, but it also means that any impact on you is likely to be less severe. The state will be better able to absorb any societal and economic burden.

But if you live someplace where state and society function less effectively, the consequences are likely to be greater, and more severely felt by individuals... An economic slowdown might be more painful and longer lasting (Fisher and Taub, 2020)

  • Some cannot afford to miss work – this means less adherence to self-isolation and lock-down measures when needed. Individuals from less affluent households may be less likely to be able to justify missing work and hence quarantine. 

 People with lower salaries will find themselves more vulnerable… [and] will feel more consequences from any societal turbulence. Those individuals will also feel greater pressure to keep showing up at work, even if they have a pre-existing health condition that makes Covid-19 more dangerous. (Fisher and Taub, 2020)

“Avoiding Coronavirus May Be a Luxury Some Workers Can’t Afford” is another article that develops this argument. 

  •  In times of crisis, some are seeking to capitalise on masks and hand-sanisers for profit  making these much-needed products even more inaccessible for individuals and hospitals. In this article, Jack Nicas documents the Colvin brother’s journey to secure 17,700 bottles of hand sanitisers and anti-bacterial wipes over the course of three-days.

300 bottles of hand sanitizers were posted and sold online for $8 to $70 each before Amazon pulled their items off the market (alongside thousands of other listings for sanitiser, wipes and face masks). The rest of the bottles of hand-sanitisers were since donated to a local church for redistribution, but for a period of time “while millions of people across the country search in vain for hand sanitizer to protect themselves from the spread of the coronavirus, Mr. Colvin [was] sitting on 17,700 bottles of the stuff with little idea where to sell them” (Nicas, 2020).

Nicas (2020) further reports how e-commerce companies such as Amazon and eBay have tried to prevent sellers from “making excessive profits from a public health crisis” which thousands of people were doing at the time. I argue that this culture can be seen institutionalised from the capitalist frame of mentality and at the same time, a function of inequality in today’s society. 

Doyne and Gonchar (2020) in their follow-up article questions whether the rationale behind stockpiling for profit during the pandemic is an immoral action and purely logical under the capitalist framework:

The Colvin brothers saw a golden business opportunity. Demand for hand sanitizer was exceptionally high, while supply was limited and falling fast. Economics 101: If they played their cards right, they could make a huge profit by buying low and selling high.

Is that an example of capitalism at its finest? A fast path to the American dream? Or, is it immoral and selfish?

 And as Nicas notes, “To him [Matt Colvin], ‘it was crazy money.’  To many others, it was profiteering from a pandemic”.

 In evidencing some of the above affairs, my intention is to relay what has appeared to me as a commonality that bars our efforts to respond effectively to these global crises. I find myself reflecting on issues of capitalism, the inequality this creates that have limited aspects of society’s response in times of crisis.

We often focus on improving technology or other pragmatic approaches to better the future – which are significant contributions. What I feel is usually overlooked is the underpinnings of our social structures, cultural institutions, and systems that act as a normative framework for practices and individual decision-making that may well be equally worth questioning and changing.

The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.

― Albert Einstein

[1] Figures are taken from WHO as of June 5th, 2020

Nothing comes without trouble – or was it that nothing good comes without trouble? by SUCH

By Tarja Salmela & Outi Rantala

Writing a blog post to sustainable change research arena in June 2020 seems almost impossible without situating it to these troubling times (we obviously share this experience with the authors of the previous blog posts in this channel). COVID-19 pandemic has shaken our world as we have come to know it, and it has thrown us into the unexpected and unknown. Here in the north, we are to be grateful for many things during this crisis. For example, while the type of social life that is defined in anthropocentric terms did come to a standstill, north has provided us with a place where the connection with nature kept many of us sane. We have had the possibility to continue engaging with nature, forests, rivers, lakes, and hills during the pandemic, and not to experience lockdown in a way that we have seen in many countries. As such, the crisis here in the north – perhaps – has even widened our common understanding of what counts as ‘social’.

This writing is situated in Finland, Lapland. Part of it is written outside, by the flooding Kemijoki river, with foam heads, twirls, floating ice, different colours, tones, sounds, and rhythms passing by and continuing their way into the sea, out of our eyes’ reach. The river embodies constant transformation, motion, on top and under the surface of the water. Life goes on, and we must find ways to live again, even when we have been hurt or our faith has been tested. During this spring, the wooden shelters, ski tracks, winter hiking routes, and our proximate forests have been visited actively by local people. Many of us have taken a good look at the core values of our lives, and deliberated what the life in the north actually includes and enables. Living in the north is living inwithbeside and as part of nature. But living in-with-beside-part of nature does not come without trouble (as already hinted by Toni Ruuska and others in the previous blog post).

Consequently, we decided to name this piece of writing after a question of trouble and its causality. Perhaps the trouble we are going through right now indeed is a transition to something good. We also suggest that to face and live-with the trouble demands the type of engagements that are post-anthropocentric by their nature. We cannot find solutions to problems facing our societies by just staring at the end of the tunnel, relying on our partial vision and trying to measure, evaluate and calculate what is waiting for us at the end of it. We need imagination, hope and good skills of listening. We need to learn to listen to the wider, unimaginably large group of all forms of life that is inhabiting this planet with us – listening even though it is difficult, and sometimes even impossible, to translate the voices from the margins (Höckert, 2018).

As researchers working with tourism studies, we suggest that during these troubled times, it is important to talk about tourism – not only in the context of mobility restrictions and economical losses, but as a certain practice that has its historical roots, cultural dimensions and spatial orderings. Here in Finnish Lapland, historically tourists arrived wandering up the fells or rowing up the rivers – detached from the mundane work related to these landscapes. Currently, tourism relates here both to the masses of jobs that are in danger due to COVID-19, but also to the large variety of practices in which locals partake in the proximate nature. Through these practices the multiplicity of lives in this planet mesh and form complex networks. This complexity communicates the necessity of considering life – and consequently tourism – as profoundly, ontologically, more-than-human

Abhik Chackraborty (2020) writes how the engaging of non-human others in the tourism landscape is utmost necessary for “addressing wicked problems, the complex nature of which preclude anthropocentric solutions”. Indeed, the COVID-19 virus forms a wicked problem for the humans, but it is definitely not only a problem for a humankind. Instead, its consequences can overshadow “much graver problems”, to put it in Tuula Helne’s words in an earlier post in this blog, such as climate change. COVID-19 is a more-than-human challenge that extends in time and space to the past as well as to the possible futures, and originates in itself from transcorporeal relations. Thus, we have no other chance than to approach it in ways that go beyond the Anthropos. This holds true with troubles with tourism respectively. 

During the past months, our research group at the University of Lapland has been working with local tourism and photography entrepreneurs to enable a slow and patient formation of relation with the non-human residents of the northern nature. On June 15-16th we organize an international research meeting, which had to be moved to a safe online environment. In order to create the type of environment that enables slowing down, accompanied by the presence of the non-human inhabitants of the Pyhä-Luosto National Park, the local entrepreneurs have produced visual narrative material for the meeting. The materials will be presented at our website – www.ilarctic.com – at the time of the meeting. The material includes, for example, a Slow-TV broadcast from Pyhä-Luosto.  The collaboration has not been generated in order to only ‘keep the system going’ and to create a possibility for income to the entrepreneurs during these challenging times. Instead, it is a part of a bigger, long-term project. This collaboration is about putting care into effect – to act instead of feeling sorry. Together, we are creating something new, helping each other out, and extending this collective effort to learn to live during these troubling times together with and in nature. Our modest hope has also been that, perhaps, we can all – our collaborators as much as us researchers – learn something new from the process, and create new imaginaries. This process has been about forming new kinships (Haraway, 2016) in a more-than-human world. By making kin, we grow determinacy to make a change and to live with the trouble – and learn from it. 

Literature referred to in the text:

Chakraborty, A. (2020). Emplacing non-human voices in tourism research : the role of dissensus as a qualitative method. Tourism Geographies0(0), 1–26. https://doi.org/10.1080/14616688.2020.1713875

Haraway, D. (2016). Staying With the Trouble. Making Kin in the Chthulucene. Durham and London: Duke University Press.

Höckert, E. (2018). Negotiating Hospitality. Ethics of Tourism Development in Nicaraguan Highlands. London: Routledge.

Going back to ‘normal’ is not an option by SUCH

Toni Ruuska, Pasi Heikkurinen, Jessica Jungell-Michelsson and Tina Nyfors

A new kind of economic-humanitarian crisis

At least since Henry David Thoreau, the environmental movement has highlighted the destruction of the biosphere and analyzed its root causes. The more radical wing of the movement, the so-called deep ecologists, have called for widespread societal change, concerning particularly industrialized and urbanized states and nations. Today, also the international scientific community agrees in their reports that climate change and the sixth mass extinction are real, existential threats caused primarily by the territorial expansion of the human species and the growing material production and consumption.

The identified causes and effects of the biospherical crisis are, however, culturally and contextually dependent. It is rather clear that all human cultures are not, or have not been, equally destructive. Notwithstanding the intra-human disproportion in culpability and responsibility, the ecological havoc persists, as it is evident that the aggregate consumption of all human individuals put together is on an unsustainable level. Increasing material affluence, the sheer number of humans, and the amount of resource-intensive technology has produced the Anthropocene, the new human dominated epoch on Earth.

From the perspective of consumption, the unsustainability of current situation has two components. On the one hand, non-renewable natural resources are consumed faster than substitutes are developed. On the other hand, renewable resources are used more rapidly than they can regenerate. In addition to these resource questions, humanity faces a growing waste problem, particularly related to the greenhouse gases that are emitted into the atmosphere as fossil fuels are burned (not to forget the problems related to nuclear power or other industrial wastes). The consumption of natural resources is so fast and wide-ranging that the different parts of the biosphere are not able to regenerate or receive emissions in a way that would maintain stable climate conditions typical in the previous geological epoch, the Holocene. 

These issues are typically grouped together and conceptualized as a climate crisis, which is increasingly seen as being connected also to humanitarian crises. The undesired environmental changes, such as increasing floods and draught periods, impact on human living conditions and often also lead to societal unrest and armed conflicts. Economic crises of varying depth and breadth are then again primarily humanitarian crises. These crises are an inherent part of the globally networked capitalistic system that is based on continuous capital accumulation and ever-increasing economic growth.

Nonetheless, the effects related to handling the Covid-19 virus led to a new kind of humanitarian crisis, in which the crisis of the capitalistic growth economy, as well as the limitations of urbanized life, are combined. Although the next crisis of the global capitalistic system was foreboded to start already years ago, in the end it was the corona pandemic that caused the collapse of the global economy and formed the basis for the possibly worst livelihood crisis since the world wars. During the first months of the still ongoing crisis, people, especially in urban environments, were forced to stay in home quarantine and innumerable people around the world got sick. The outlook for the upcoming months is still very uncertain and does not benefit from the continuous flood of information, its inconsistency and the varying reactions to slowing down the spreading of the virus in different countries.

When considering the crises that are connected to the destruction of the biosphere, it is important to notice that the corona-induced crisis is primarily an economic-humanitarian crisis. Its undesired effects are above all related to human health and income, while its impacts have been desired from the environmental point of view. Owing to the corona restrictions people have been forced to decrease their mobility as well as to restrict their consumption, which in turn has reduced aggregate production and consumption. As a consequence of the reduced economic activity, emissions and consumption of natural resources have decreased around the world.

In other words, the corona crisis has succeeded where economic-political systems based on growing affluence or the mainstream environmental movements have failed, i.e. decreasing the quantity of production and consumption. Nevertheless, problems remain in societal priorities, although these have been put in somewhat alternative order due to the corona crisis. For the first time in decades, human health has been prioritized over profit seeking, which in turn has had the side effect of decreasing environmental burdens. 

However, a fundamental problem still remains behind the humanitarian crisis: the current public discussion indicates that human well-being will be pursued through economic growth also in the future. This, or course counters the demand of deep ecologists and the degrowth movement, which call for a systematic reduction in the quantity of production and consumption in order to preserve a diverse life, while simultaneously securing livelihoods for people.

Thus, the coronavirus is not a victory for the environmentalists and nature, but only a time-space for taking a breath. It is a window showing a glimpse of what it could be like if, for instance, climate change and the socio-economic measures its alleviation calls for would be taken seriously – almost all of the airplanes stay on the ground, international travel drops down to a fraction of what is used to be, a large part of the people work from home, and so forth. One could also think that the Covid-19 crisis perhaps also uncovers, on the one hand, what is really essential for human life, but, on the other hand, how people are encouraged to behave in the capitalist growth economy – consume, consume, consume!

Alternatives needed for globalization based on urbanization

The crisis in the capitalist system is caused particularly by the weakening of economic growth prospects. And when the economy does not grow or the growth prospects are endangered, the result is humanitarian backlashes in societies that are based on economic growth and in households, which income is connected to the growth economy. Indeed, the corona pandemic has revealed the fundamental problems with a global economic system that is based on growth and investments. It has also revealed how few people in modern urban societies work with tasks related to satisfying basic needs. Many individuals and communities have only now noticed how vulnerable the system based on economic growth is, and also, how dependent they are on it. The crisis-prone growth economy, with its winners and losers, signify an uncertain and one-sided life and livelihood for many, also beyond the coronavirus. 

In urbanized contemporary societies, the division of labor is deeply differentiated. Modern societies are built on economic growth, technological development and the development of the division of labor. In practice, this means that city-based societies of today are considerably more complicated than local economies in the countryside. The actors of the current economy usually operate in a certain line of business and produce mainly one commodity or service. Food is primarily produced within the industrialized agriculture scheme, in which one type, or at most a few types of plants are grown in the field with the help of tractors and other machines along with industrial fertilizers and pesticides. 

As a part of these complex systems, people educate themselves in a certain field and become an expert of a particular thing. The role of money, and especially debt, is to tie individuals to the growth economy and consumption. It is a question of commoditizing the whole life, in which case human action and the destiny of the whole biosphere is determined by the economic value creation.  The globalized world is a network of things, goods and people moving around everywhere – a one big, intercity system. The single-minded logic and purpose of it homogenizes cultural richness and destroys living environments. 

Cities began to grow and spread and the population to grow in parallel with the increasing use of fossil fuels. The enclosure and appropriation of common land created, and still creates, the basis for the working class in the cities, which Marx called the reserve army of laborers. The global working class is created by driving people away from their lands, meanwhile industrial farming practices oppress and discipline small farmers, agricultural workers, domestic animals and the soil. Therefore, it can be claimed that the contemporary urban consumerism is based on the exploitation of the degrading rural areas as well as of the diversity of human cultures, local economies and diversity of life more generally.

The ongoing corona crisis has exposed this unsustainable development more explicitly than before. It is thus becoming increasingly clear that the one-dimensional urban globalization is not a desired model for development, neither from an environmental perspective, nor from an economic-humanitarian one. At the same time, we can notice how the demands of the growth economy and the actions related to biodiversity conservation are deeply conflicting. 

Parallel systems are built in the countryside

The corona crisis has, after all, not brought new insights to the deep ecology movement. The perception of the economic-humanitarian crisis, which is caused by the coronavirus that primarily is spreading in the cities, as well as the decrease of the human caused negative environmental impacts, supports the deep ecology movement’s central claim regarding the hierarchy of separate parts and the whole. The human being is just one species among many others and part of a bigger constellation, i.e., the web of life. In the Anthropocene, most other creatures on Earth suffer from negative environmental impacts caused by humans. The actions related to taking care of the pandemic have so far mitigated these negative environmental impacts. Thus, it can be concluded that the biosphere has benefitted from the humanitarian crisis – without diminishing the human suffering or injustice the pandemic and the economic crisis have brought. On the other hand, should the human inflicted environmental destructions revert to the same level as before when the crisis is over, we have again returned to the unsustainable ‘normal’. 

Instead of this ‘normal’, the deep ecology movement roots for flourishing of diverse life, not restricted to the human race or some human organizations’, cultures’ or societies’ short-term wellbeing. As a solution, the deep ecology movement suggests that the ‘interests’ of different earthbound creatures should be taken under consideration in a way that would give more space to other inhabitants of the biosphere. The most central mean for this would be to limit the economic growth and the standard of living, so as to reduce the consumption per capita among the overly affluent and overconsuming part of the human population. Limiting the growth of human population is also centrally connected to these issues – the more people there are on this planet, the more one species occupies space over others. 

Now, it is seemingly evident that these ambitions cannot be reached by gradually reforming the techno-capitalist system. Instead, alternatives to it have to be created and imagined. These alternatives cannot be planned and implemented only within the growth system, which means that one has to go to its edges or totally beyond its reach. This implies a thorough consideration of the potential of the local and rural as well as a critical examination of urban globalization development.   

Producing energy and food locally is an excellent way to reduce one’s ecological footprint and also a way to prepare for oil and other resource crises in the future. Already today there are many who live accordingly and represent alternatives to the global growth economy. These ‘neo-rurals’ are individuals, families and other human communities, who live outside the cities aiming for food and energy self-sufficiency in the spirit of solidarity. This growing movement at the same time strengthens the local livelihood possibilities and enriches local culture in the area. As these self-sufficient farms and villages network, socio-economic resilience also increases.

By moving to the countryside, people also have the possibility to take responsibility for their own life, their loved ones and their surroundings, as well as to reduce their dependence on the complex and unsustainable growth economy. Furthermore, a countryside every-day life, which is concentrated on basic needs, will not get disturbed by e.g. economic crises or infectious diseases spreading throughout the world. This is demonstrated by the stories told during the corona crisis by many friends and acquittances living outside the urban sphere. Trees have been cut down and chopped and land has been prepared for the growth season, just like before. On a more psychological level, many have had more time to come closer to ‘nature’, which in the best case creates a more long-lasting understanding of our interconnectedness with the environment. 

However, the emergence of a parallel, increasingly rural system is certainly not easy. The move to the country brings many challenges, such as, the lack of many practical skills, the non-existing social networks and the invariably needed monetary capital, which would enable the purchase of own or common land. Particularly because of these reasons, Valtimo School of Self-Sufficiency (Omavaraopisto) and the Foundation for Sustainable Culture in Finland (Ikikaiku Elämänperintösäätiö) and other initiatives alike are extremely important for the deep ecology movement. 

Finally, it can be said that the ongoing economic-humanitarian crisis has opened up the possibility for a larger cultural and socio-economic transformation. Still, the public discussion has been focused mainly on the economic reflation, which seems to be aimed at getting back the households and national economies on the growth track. Instead of putting excessive time, energy and money on figuring out where to direct the reflation, such as in wind or nuclear power plants or in train or air transportation schemes, alternatives to using the money should also be brought forward, e.g. protection of woods and water systems or even not using the money at all. 

The growth economy endangers the diversity of the biosphere and consequently, the continuity of human cultures. Thus, going back to ‘normal’ should not be an option. Instead, now is the time to direct time and resources to the establishment and support of self-sufficient communities. 

Whales on the beach (or why the coronavirus worries me for unorthodox reasons) by SUCH

by Tuula Helne

Social scientists are often scolded for always claiming that our societies are in turmoil or in crisis. Well, nobody reproaches us now: crisis is on everyone’s lips, from politicians to journalists, the general public and social scientists alike. I must, however, say that I am not at all sure about the gravity of the situation, or if I am, not for widely accepted reasons. I am, obviously, referring to COVID-19.

Perhaps this is just a mass psychosis, a friend of mine said. I tend to think he might be right. Of course, people are dying and suffering from a nasty disease (and I wish it went away), but, on the other hand, people die all the time anyway. At the moment of writing this, the daily newspaper statistics tell that 255 people have died from COVID-19 in Finland. Due to the virus outbreak, previously unimaginable measures that encroach on individual liberties and freedom of enterprise have been taken, with remarkably few voices of protest. 

For the sake of comparison: about 250 people die in road accidents in Finland yearly, and about 500 people are severely injured. Yet nobody suggests banning motorways, cars or talks about disqualifying under 25-year old males from getting a driving license. Indeed, how could cars be forbidden: they are the symbol of speed blind capitalism. We (or at least the well-off arrogant male road and world owners) need to get from one place to another as fast as possible, making as much noise as possible while at it. Here I come: notice me!

A second comparison: in the USA, the virus has up to now killed 76 000 people. Meanwhile, about 36 000 people are killed by guns each year. There are proponents of more gun control laws, but I am afraid they will never win, since guns are a symbol of the historical prerogatives of the white male. Moreover, individual rights are inviolate (unless we are dealing with the coronavirus, when restrictions suddenly become legitimate). 

A third example: according to WHO, air pollution kills an estimated seven million people worldwide every year. The major outdoor pollution sources include vehicles, power generation, agriculture or waste incineration and industry – i.e. the engines of economic growth. At present, the worldwide death toll for corona is about 270 000. 

A fourth and final comparison (and the most symptomatic of the human exemptionalism paradigm): Just on land, more than 200 million animals are killed for food around the world every day. When wild-caught and farmed fishes are included, the total is closer to 3 billion daily. Moreover, since the dawn of ‘civilisation’, humans have caused the annihilation of 83 % of wild mammals. These statistics are not published in the newspapers on a daily basis, if ever. I think they should be.   

Global reaction to the slaughter: practically non-existent. Why should we care: the right to kill sentient beings is, in the end, a human prerogative, one indication of the human exemptionalism paradigm (a concept coined by William Catton and Riley Dunlap) that guides the behavior of Homo sapiens. In this paradigm, humans are seen as separate from nature, superior to it, which, we assume, grants us the right to exploit it as we please in order to satisfy our needs and wants, and to increase the wealth of nations (or that of individual capitalists). The paradigm may take different forms, but consumer capitalism is the most powerful among them.

Why is the coronavirus perceived as an unparalleled threat? The obvious reason is that it menaces the dominant paradigm. Viruses are not humans, and consequently not entitled to kill us. Second, the virus also poses a threat because it literally is a pandemic: it ruthlessly shatters the lives of even the inhabitants of the richest nations (who, in the paradigm, are more valuable than the rest of the world). How dare it! People die all the time in Africa, Afghanistan and other godforsaken places but that (as if by definition) is not really our problem. 

One thing offering us a ray of hope is that children seem to be less affected by the virus. We should, indeed, be happy about is, considering that according to UNICEF, an estimated 6.3 million children under 15 years of age died in 2017, or 1 every 5 seconds, mostly of preventable causes. Half of all deaths of children under five took place in sub-Saharan Africa. Oh well, treatments cost money.

Third, the virus hurts our economies, and hurting the economy is far worse than hurting people. The nightmare scenario of mainstream economists has come true, but – lo and behold – the medicine is already obtainable. Money is pouring into safeguarding businesses (such as flight companies), and advice for best courses of action abound. As the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the Confederation of Finnish Industries stressed in an interview, ‘it is now particularly important that all enterprises and people who find it within their capabilities consume as much as possible and keep the wheels of the economy rolling’. Now is also the time ‘to buy our children the toys they have been dreaming of’, as the CEO of the Association for Finnish Work maintained. 

COVID-19 is essentially a problem of the Anthropocene. The virus crossed over from animals to humans because of our increasing encroachment onto their natural habitats. As people move deeper into the territories of wild animals for extracting more and more resources, they are exposed to the pathogens that earlier did not leave these areas. There is simply not enough space for animals and nature on this planet anymore. And so be it, according to the paradigm we live by: humans first (or the chosen among them). 

To go back to the noise humans make: I have recently been haunted by an article about the mass strandings of beaked whales. A growing body of research points to what triggers this heartbreaking behaviour: the noise caused by ship traffic and industrial and military activities (such as drilling, explosions and powerful sonar systems). Since noise is very stressing for cetaceans, they do their best to escape it as quickly as possible. There are medical explanations (such as decompression illness) for why they end up beaching themselves, but I cannot help thinking that they just could not stand the noise anymore. Do the whales commit suicide because of us? 

Yes, I do worry about the impacts of the pandemic, but not for the generally accepted humanistic or economic reasons. I fear that the virus hysteria and its consequences will overshadow much graver problems, such as those I yet did not mention: anthropogenic climate change and plastic pollution. No time for these now; we’ve got to keep the economy going and growing. It is, at the end of the day, in the best interest of the oh so wise Homo sapiens. 

Yes, the world is in crisis, but the reason is not COVID-19. 

 

korona by SUCH

by Tommi Kauppinen

 

this will take a while

if you so please

majesty of the forest

be with me

 

if one could take their leave

are there bacteria in Mars

where would they go

 

this will take a while

if you so please

majesty of the forest

be with me

 

this is a world of commons

who are more equal than others

where machines work remote

 

this will take a while

if you so please

majesty of the forest

be with me

 

if everyone is in debt to the bank

did nature decrease our credit rating

where could we find solace

 

this will take a while

if you so please

majesty of the forest

be with me

 

here is one of many truths: be

should we all know suffering

where are we on the curve

 

this will take a while

if you so please

majesty of the forest

be with me

 

if death shall take the streets

how many die of hunger every year

it is there we learn humility

 

this will take a while

if you so please

majesty of the forest

be with me

Resilience – a neoliberal captured term or a chance for a hub of change? by SUCH

Marcus Petz (Scientific Coordinator NomadTown), marcus.kit.petz@student.jyu.fi

I am currently at the University of Jyväskylä studying rural resilience and how communities can use community currencies to support themselves. Here I look at how action research can manifest in achieving resilience. A social technology called S.T.O.P., that is being developed at NomadTown, in Karelia, Finland is promoted to enable cultural evolution in the direction of a deeply adapted or resilient society post climate change. I am directly involved in systemizing, writing-up and disseminating that technology to early adopters.

We are beset with calls to make a change to adapt to climate change. Denialists have become sceptics and with their feet dragged to the fire (Scotty from Marketing I am thinking of you) there has come a realisation, even from conservative politicos that lip service and BAU (Business As Usual) will not do any more. So what form is that change taking? We are seeing now the use of terms being captured from those of us that have long advocated solutions. 

Those of us to which a crisis has been evident for decades have talked about mitigation, and now adaptation, extended by some as deep adaptation and resilience. These are ways that we hope to deal with the Great Transition that we must undergo – like it or not – under the effects of anthropogenic climate change AND crucially concomitant ecological extinction.

Resilience is a term that is suffering the same semantic shifts as sustainability did not so long ago. There is a danger that such shifts can render the word meaningless. In the case of sustainability, the view of a sustainable business is often considered from the view-point of homo economicus’s neoliberal approaches. This is one that only looks at cash-flow and excludes as many externalities as it can (both the positive and the negative ones). 

Another way of looking at a sustainable business, even in terms of economics, would be to look within green / ecological economics paradigms and perhaps from the view-point of multiple capitals approaches. I like particularly the idea that we might look at forests and lakes as a capital and how we approached things in Finland if this was the capital we were enhancing. If korppi (the wild wood) was what we were considering re growth we would look at the forest stocks we have in a whole different way.

Imagine, if you will, that plantation forests – even though they had much harvestable timber – were to be found poor because there are insufficient:

White-backed woodpeckers (Dendrocopos leucotos) – who nest in deciduous old trees and thus show a landscape level of woodland health, 

Wood anemones (Anemone nemorosa) – which as a slow growing shady woodland species is indicative of old growth forests 

Or even biodiversity. That is not only indicator species or at the local level, but in concert with other biodiversity at a landscape level. 

These different levels of biodiversity are termed thus: 

alpha biodiversity is a local diversity in a small habitat and the average diversity there. 

beta diversity which is the diversity between 2 alpha diversity areas / habitats or regions and can be called a regional diversity. It is calculated by (number species in habitat 1- number of species habitat 2+1 have in common) + (number of spp. in H2- number of spp. H1+2 have in common).

Gamma diversity is the whole ecosystem or landscape species diversity.

So growth in these landscapes would be related to enriching the landscape – does that or rather how does that relate to human populations that live in that biocultural landscape? Just like an inhabitant in the fictitious Flatland 2D world finds it hard to conceive of a 3D world, so it is hard for conventional accountancy practices to look at this way of seeing things (and even harder for mainstream economists or their politician followers), though some relationships can be drawn out and efforts are being made from a financial industry perspective to do this, particularly to know how to value these things in terms of insurance and payments for loss and damage. 

Degrowth (décroissance) perspectives and associated ways of looking at economics try to reduce the impact and take a kind of topsy-turvy view of winding back or undoing rather than redirecting the damaging processes that are in place. Can we instead try to build an alternative and repurpose those processes? Perhaps we can. The resilience that was introduced in this article as a manifestation of deep adaptation is one such way of doing that. It is very much connected to the turquoise meme of spiral dynamics. This is one that manifests in trying to unite disparate trends, histories and traditions to create a new paradigm constructing a different whole – rather like trash labs, that turn junk into treasures in artistic workshops as part of maker spaces. 

This redirecting is quite hard to think about without some understanding of spiral dynamics history. So, the history of spiral dynamics has come from several thinkers and is very strongly associated with Ken Wilbur. Wilbur is a somewhat mystical in how he interacts with the science community. He does not want spiral dynamics to be subjected to consensus or peer review as much of science is. His reasoning seems to be that the scientists’ world-view will color that in such a way that his ideas will be unacceptable (found unscientific and thus dismissed as pseudoscience).

To make that clear, those who share Wilbur’s perspective often regard postmodernists who are reputed to analyse by smashing things into smaller pieces as destructive forces which believe false philosophies such as there is no objective truth or that different perspectives are equally valid. Yet the second order thinking of the Turquoise meme is able to contain cognitive dissonance – and contradictory thoughts are not just acceptable, but desirable in an agonist philosophy that allows their integration for a functioning whole. This is integral thinking – not holistic thinking.

We can see a manifestation of this in activism where we have altermondialisation / alterglobalisation contrasted with antiglobalisation. The activists engaging in the former actually want globalisation, but on their own terms. So how does this manifest in the Finnish context? We have a clear example where such efforts of resilience building are taking place now. This is NomadTown, which is being constructed as a resilience hub. It is in Karelia and supported by the association called Sydänlanka (Heart-string). Nomad Town is not only manifesting as a place you can visit (or live if you are so inclined), but also has an out-focusing missionary aspect to what it is doing. The aim is that it will influence the nearby city of Joensuu, the wider region and hopefully internationally too, to adopt its more resilient practices. 

Finland’s first resilience hub is bringing a response to the situation that we are living in a crisis, created by exceeding ecological and climatic limits in our environment. It is making a cultural adaptation to this situation. Part of such adaptation necessitates reflection and evaluation to create a path forward in the biocultural landscape for members of the community and connected communities. Resilience hubs offer a way to spread techniques for development of alternative ways to exist. 

This year NomadTown is developing a social technology with a focus on green skills, rural crafts and foraging practices. The social technology is called S.T.O.P. This project is being supported by Bridge47 – an EU funded project administered by FINGO. FINGO is an NGO platform and an expert on global development. FINGO represents 300 Finnish civil society organisations and strives to build a fairer world for all. Also connected with the project are members of SUCH. This institutional support has been sought out by Sydänlanka as it helps in technology transfer. The knowledge capital will be spread more widely through these organisations.

Scientists and activists connected with NomadTown are thus engaged in the process of creative place making of a resilience hub and the associated cultural milieu. This process takes advantage of the concept of co-learning where the “teachers” are the community at large (which includes the institutional environment and organisation in Finland) and also they are the “learners” (who will act as multipliers of the results of that learning). Sydänlanka is making use of the rural symbolic economy by bringing a contemporary iteration of rural sustainable culture, which is akin to the arts and crafts movement, to a wider audience. It will also act in ecosynergy with the natural world that NomadTown is embedded in. NomadTown is manifesting as a low ecological impact culture.

There are plans to share S.T.O.P. at:

Additionally, a peer reviewed paper, which explains more deeply the concept of a resilience hub and how it relates to the action research of Nomad Town will report on the pedagogical aspects of S.T.O.P. 

As S.T.O.P. is running this spring why not come and join us at one of the Full Moon Full S.T.O.P. events? You can see more on the Sydänlanka Blog in Finnish or English

http://sydanlanka.blogspot.com/

Keywords: Deep adaptation, resilience, survivalism, nomadology

 

SUCH_blog_Mar3.png

Why are you here? by SUCH

Rachel Mazac, University of Helsinki

I crafted my response to the question asked of myself and fellow students in a course on sustainable agriculture in rural Northeast Thailand. This was a question that helped me to acknowledge my privilege and interest in learning not just about agriculture, but indeed culture itself, in a non-western context. Eventually, we would come to realize a pluralistic understanding of what ‘sustainable’ means in different contexts, to different people, at different times outside of the western scientific paradigm within which I have been immersed as a student and scholar. 

Why are you here? Seems to be a question I get often, but most recently from one of the instructors of this three-week sustainable agriculture course. We went around the room, the other students introduced themselves, and they briefly outlined their respective fields of study. My classmates, mostly Thai and all Master’s students, generally mentioned wanting to learn more English and more about sustainable agriculture in Isan, the region of Thailand within which our coursework was to be set. I realized quickly how privileged my position was as a native English speaker and someone with a recently-completed MSc degree in sustainable food systems. 

After I had introduced myself to the other students, there was some general nodding and I knew I had already gone off the deep end as far as the rest of the class as concerned. In my answer, I detailed some of my questions about the course as an edifying experience, discussed my MSc work, and left the response with an open-ended question about how sustainable agriculture is practiced in rural locales. See? Too much. Later, when we had some time to actually talk, one of the other students remarked, “So, you’re a PhD student; you must be so smart.” I was taken aback, and I replied, “No no, I just find this topic really interesting and can’t seem to stop thinking about it.” I would later come to realize that I have never considered myself anything more than a creative problem solver with a penchant for critically overthinking the world and a soft spot for existential threats.

Little did we know, but this was the mission and vision of the coursework the whole time. To get us to question why we—as students, people, and, more directly, farmers—were here, why we do what we do, why we should care, and what to do about the challenges we face. Over three weeks of coursework, field research, soil sampling and analysis, and interviews with farmers in the rural villages of Pho Sai and Nong Seang, we were led through a journey of cultural exchange and deepening understandings the agriculture in Northeast Thailand. We gained a view of the tools that are used in sustainability assessments for agricultural development, and in general set out to ask, “Why do farmers do what they do?” Now, I can’t say we came to any definitive answers to this question, but we circled in on some understanding of the constraints farmers face in Northeast Thailand, which subsequently, even surreptitiously, dictate why it is they do what they do. Farmers face many choices, which are constrained environmentally, socially, and economically. Sound familiar? It should…

These constraints were what we sought to understand, quantify/qualify, and communicate clearly by the end of the course. So, three weeks is pretty short for an entire sustainability assessment for agricultural development. Yet, we landed on the understanding that farmers do what they do because that is why they are here. They are doing what they know best, given the constraints and conditions they have to work within, and most importantly given the values that they have. 

In a system of values that builds upon itself and is also interconnected to other values, there are land/environment values, farmers’/farms (as businesses) values, and community/village values that influence why farmers do what they do: to instantiate those values through their work in the agricultural system. The land or environmental values form a foundation upon which the farmer and farm values as businesses can be built, which contribute the infrastructure for social values of the community. We came to understand that the value of economic stability is founded on the result of food security—farmers sought the ability to produce a viable living to be stable in food, income, and resources to live a complex and fulfilled life. 

Finally, the community and social values of the village were understood in terms of government support for dams and irrigation ponds, family projects, farm plans for the future situated in a historical past, and what was really important for the village. In interviews with farmers and the head of one of the villages, we understood the social values were measured in units that were a bit different than the others. The head of the village indicated a desire for farmers in the village to want to grow their own food, to increase the diversity of crops grown to include more than the staple crops of rice and cassava, and to be able to maintain their own place within the markets to avoid government mandates and price fluctuations. Not in exactly these words, but these units of resources shared, land owned, rights, self-government and self-sufficiency, signified the head of the village outlining a desire for and the value of food sovereignty.

Here is where we started to see the plurality of the idea of what ‘sustainable’ means for different people in different places. Though I have placed these values in terms of the language I have been given for ‘sustainability’, the underlying structures and desiderata are analogous in definition and practice. The environmental value of agroecological sustainability, the economic value of food security, and the social value of food sovereignty. These were why the farmers do what they do. This is why they were here, to lead lives and make every decision balancing of the constraints of the present to attain a desired future. We should continue to seek and participate in experiences which offer opportunities for people—as scientists, students, teachers—to exercise the epistemological agility needed to embrace pluralistic view of sustainable lives. To see and understand the many values, reasons, and ways you are here. I was fortunate enough to be given one of those opportunities through this experience.

So, ask yourself, “Why are you here?” I would later realize that it was also because of my values, of which I shared the same set of with the farmers and my classmates: to help me cultivate the possibility of a life, though constrained, lived in plentitude and for a sustainable future. A life where I can continue to ask deep questions, go too far in sharing my thoughts, and feed my existential propensity for critically over-analyzing the larger systems in play and structures that set the context within which we live it.

Digging for the roots of the Anthropocene by SUCH

Pasi Heikkurinen, University of Helsinki

I

The verb ‘digging’ can be interpreted at least in two ways. The first one is naturally the rural one referring to the removal of Earth or turning land over in order to expose or relocate something, like weeds. The second meaning of the word comes from the urban vocabulary, referring to liking or showing preference to something.

In metaphorical sense, I will do both. That something we are after here are the roots of the ecological crisis. What has led the Earth to a geological epoch known as the Anthropocene, where humans have become a global force. Traces of human kinds can now be found all over the planet, and unfortunately these traces are nothing to be proud of.

We pollute the air, waters, and land. We destroy forests and entire ecosystems. We domesticate animals, put them in zoos, and kill them for food and other products, like shoes. We build dams and megacities that displace habitats. We even trash the space with satellites and rocket stages. And then we call it ‘progress’.

One day, all the products of our actions will turn into technofossils creating a layer in the Earth’s crust, and the humankind will be stored in the cosmic memory of the universe. As said, this is nothing to be proud of. The march of progress is not much more than a collective, slow suicide. Or actually it is, it is also murder. The scale of biodiversity loss has reached a stage that scientists call anthropogenic, human-induced mass extinction.

In this talk I will try to dig out the roots of the Anthropocene. I do this because I dig the idea of roots. The questions, does the Anthropocene have ‘roots’, and if it does, can we know them, are important for finding a way out of the ecologically destructive epoch. Or how else are we to come about outlining a response to the crisis, if all causes are equally relevant?

In the world of plants, roots convey water and nourishment by numerous branches and fibres. It is notable that there is no single root, but roots always come in the plural. Together they enable the life of the plant and are vital in this sense. The plant, however, is not a mere product of its roots, as other factors, like sun, soil and carbon dioxide, are also needed to produce it.

So, as a metaphor, ‘roots’ is an interesting one. On the one hand, it refers to the enablers of an object, and on the other hand, it communicates to us that these enablers are not exhaustive. For the roots of the Anthropocene, we should bear this in mind. That is, we can examine what has enabled and perhaps led us to the new geological epoch, while remembering that roots are not everything.  

The life of plants also reminds us of another important tenet of Earthbound being, namely the processual nature of things. We cannot nail down ‘the birth moment of roots’ or ‘the cause of roots’ without referring to another event in nature. Everything is connected and causalities run in several directions. Nevertheless, and because not everything is equally connected and not all causalities run in all directions, we can say something meaningful about the roots. After all, even in a process, there is some temporal order to be revealed.

II

In the Anthropocene debate, there are two major powers at play. The first one is the power of natural sciences, explaining how, why, and when humans become a global destructive force. There is, of course, no consensus about the birth date of the Anthropocene. And consequently, the root causes of the Anthropocene also remain vague. It is increasingly accepted, however, that we now are in a new geological epoch characterized by human dominance. 

While natural scientists continue sharpening their tools for more exact measuring, social scientists add the other power to the Anthropocene debate. Many of them claim that the Anthropocene is a poor term and should not be used. Instead, the method of social sciences should be employed as it provides crucial information about who in the humankind has caused the ecological crisis more than others.

So, in its simplest: natural science blames humans as a species, while social science some particularities of the civilized, mainly the Western culture. These two powers are of course complementary, adding to our understanding of the roots of the Anthropocene. Firstly, it is about humans, and secondly, it is about the culture.

This categorization reflects the deep-rooted belief in the divide between nature and culture. The humankind-explanation of the Anthropocene can be interpreted as naturalist, based on the assumption that only natural (as opposed to supernatural or spiritual) laws operate in the world. Progress, or the ecological crisis, then appears as an outcome of forces of nature. Something that had to happen because of ‘nature’. 

The cultural explanation of the Anthropocene again can be considered to be anti-naturalist, as it implies that the natural world and the social world are different. Progress, or the ecological crisis at hand, is claimed to be a product of a particular culture rather than nature as a whole. We are in the Anthropocene because of certain cultural facets. As they cannot be natural, their source must be supernatural, or metaphysical. And this is where gods often enter the scene.

III

I think it is a common misunderstanding to perceive these two forces, natural and supernatural, as mutually exclusive. Experience seldom gives a definite answer and when it does, it has often mistaken. These two forces coexist at the very moment in our discourses and everyday activities. Different viewpoints can and do come together, and are able to cooperate and care for the shared project of understanding.

I will next attempt to outline a story, which will end in the Anthropocene:

Something happened. 

Perhaps a dance of one, two or many

(monist, dualist, or pluralist).

Changes in constellations. 

But only changes 

since nothing can appear from nothingness,

as Emmanuel Severino aptly noted.

So, nothing new under the sun.

Processual nature.

Cyclical time.

If we take an explanation rooted in natural and social sciences, then we say that nature-cultural selection due to our differences in phenotype and spirit made humans distinct from the rest of nature. We got the gift of fire and we took it. We started grilling and killing with better tools. Our brains developed. Our communication skills developed. We got the gift of language and we started using conceptual tools. Abstractions were key to planning and predicting the world. All this for our security.

After all, the times were about life and death. Fire and language together were a recipe to progress. To leave the forest in order to enter the villages. Agriculture and religion helped us to control not only the environment but our own kinds as well. With bigger, more static units of urban centers arts and crafts were thriving. From effective organization, excess food and energy become plentiful to some. These, mainly white men, had time to think and create tradition. More tools and machines. More ideas on how humans are not animals and how culture is not nature. We are not apes! Hierarchy building between humans and other beings. Pyramids reaching to the outer space! Greeks. Christ on the crucifix. The Roman Empire. Churches. Medieval era. Banks. Feudalism. The British East India Company. Colonialism. Secret societies. Capitalism. Oil. Globalization. Floating currency. Secularization. Neoliberalism. Digitalization. Toxic masculinity. Whiteness. And most recently, Trump.

IV

Honesty, tell me how can we pick a single phenomenon, or even a set of them, from the intricate flow of events in the history of being, and claim to be at the roots of the Anthropocene. It is of course tempting to challenge the term Anthropocene with one of Capitalocene, Plutocene or Naftocene. That is, to claim that it is not the humankind but the capital-kind, or the rich-kind, or the oil-kind, that have led us to the new geological epoch.

I argue that while these characterizations tell us about the roots of the Anthropocene, they are not capable of answering the follow-up question regarding the roots of roots. We are returned to the same flow of events when we ask why capitalism, why the wealthy elite and why fossil fuels?

Cthulhucene, the answer proposed by Haraway is neither very exact nor useful in finding a way out of the Anthropocene. Stating that we have always been like this, destructive by our naturecultures since algae and cyanobacteria does not lead us very far. 

So how should we go about the manifold roots of the Anthropocene? It seems convincing that the Anthropocene has roots. After all, the epoch did not appear from nothingness. Also, it is clear that not all humans have equally contributed to the ecological crisis, so we need a more contextual explanation. 

It also seems that we have access to some of these more fine-grained roots, while not all of them are available to our understanding. And even if they were, and could pinpoint a single economic system; a particular class; or a certain source of energy to blame, such analysis would not necessarily be the most pragmatic one.

Perhaps what we need to do is pause digging and plant seeds for new beginnings.

The past is contaminated.

This talk was presented at the Peaceful Coexistence Colloquium Pre-Seminar ‘At the Roots of Ecological Crisis’, 12 June 2019 at the University of Helsinki.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the shadows of carbon by SUCH

Authors: Galina Kallio, University of Helsinki, galina.kallio@helsinki.fi and Jenny Rinkinen, University of Helsinki, jenny.rinkinen@helsinki.fi

Carbon is one of the key components of life on Earth. Since the industrial revolution, carbon has occupied a centre stage in big societal transformations. Coal - which is basically carbon mixed with hydrogen, sulfur, oxygen, and nitrogen - has had a massive role in enabling the transformation from agrarian to industrial societies and thereby increasing the wealth of nations (Smith 1789). Now, carbon-based substances allow humans to drive cars, cook meals and heat houses. At the same time, however, carbon has become a problem. Paradoxically, while it seems we can’t live without carbon, we can’t live with too much of it either. 

We have reached the point that cutting carbon emissions appears as one of the guiding goals for policy making. The EU is committed to a vision that can lead to achieving net-zero greenhouse gas emissions by 2050 (EU 2019). Finland is even more ambitious: Finnish Government 2019 and states that this goal is achieved by accelerating emissions reduction measures and strengthening carbon sinks (Finnish Government 2019).

Soil, the new black of the carbon markets

IPCC proposes that emission reductions can be achieved in multiple ways (IPCC 2019). In practice, it appears, however, that instead of regulating industry and corporate actors to radically lower their emissions, political agendas are directed towards more market-based solutions (Kauppalehti 2018Ministry of the Environment 2019, in Finnish). Among these, harnessing “resources” such as farmland and forests to meet carbon targets appears as a prominent one (EU 2019, in Finnish). 

Indeed, in agriculture, much attention has lately been directed to the capacity of soil to act as a carbon sink (see also Minasny et al. 2017, HS 2019, in Finnish). Within a relatively short time in Finland, discussion has started to circulate around regenerative agriculture referring to a set of practices that improve the soil health (USDA 2019) - including, for example, maximizing plant-based cover of the soil, minimizing soil disturbance, increasing plant diversity, focusing on growing roots, and integrating livestock grazing - which in turn increases soil’s capacity for carbon sequestration. Slogans like “roots, no shoots” (Williams 2019) direct attention underground and are aimed to make farmers, industry representatives and political decision-makers see business potential in carbon that lies beneath the soil.

Forest policy is characterised by a debate whether to converse forests as carbon sinks or utilise them for the bioeconomy in order to preserve fossil fuels. For countries like Finland, which has substantial forest areas, it has been important to be able to count forests as carbon sinks to reach emission targets more easily. However, despite the increased attention to forests in climate policy, Finnish carbon sinks have actually decreased by 43 percent from 2017 to 2018 (HS 2019, in Finnish). This is partly due to the altered methods of calculation, but largely due to increases in cuts. It shows that mainly economic rationales continue to guide forest policy. 

It does appear a positive development that the health of the soil - both in woodland and farmland - is acknowledged and nurtured. The received attention makes visible that food and energy provisioning are not only important from the perspective of the bioeconomy (MMM 2019), but also form an essential part of climate politics. Sadly, what connects these political and economic discussions in agriculture and forestry is that they are all subordinated to contributing to economic growth. Developing carbon markets with the help of politics enforces this connection. 

Towards multiple ways of knowing 

We argue that soil, which has become central in agricultural and forest policy, is - and should be seen as - much more than a carbon sinkage. Reducing it to a carbon sinkage places other ways of relating to and valuing the soil in the shadows of carbon. 

Both, research within deep ecology and ecofeminist science and technology studies as well as our practical experiences in the field of forestry and agriculture support our argument. Puig de la Bellacasa (2014), for instance, challenges scientific approaches that support industrial and intensive ways of knowing and treating the soil. While soil appears predominantly as a scientific, political and economic playground or as a resource for providing ecosystem services, soil is also a living entity and provides a home for a multitude of living beings (Puig de la Bellacasa 2014). 

People who work with or connect to soil in diverse ways - through practices such as gardening, trekking, foraging, restoring ecosystems - form relations with the soil and through the soil to the surrounding habitats and other living beings. These relationships are not primarily symbolic and abstract, but practical and embodied. Knowing that arises through these different practices of engaging with soil emerges through a particular form of relating (Puig de la Bellacasa 2016) and can’t be reduced to scientific rationale only but senses and bodily ways of knowing (Lash 2016) as well as intergenerational knowing (Vannini & Vannini 2019) become to define what is (un)real, valuable and worth pursuing. 

When knowing about the soil becomes knowing with the soil, forests and farmland appear as sites of observing, relating, healing, nourishing, nurturing and dying. This is a different paradigm within which soil is never a site for carbon markets or a battlefield for ecological serial killers. There is no win-win between these paradigms: there is life and death. Should that which outweighs the other be decided in the carbon markets? 

How and what we know about soil are intrinsically connected. This is a basic epistemological claim (Gherardi 2011) and if we accept that these two are connected, then, as Puig de la Bellacasa (2014) argues, what and how we know about soil has implications to the future of life on earth. If political decision making is mainly based on knowledge about soil being produced by soil science and measuring, then that what is (the purpose of) soil becomes reduced to biochemistry, and ultimately, to carbon. But if humanity and the society wants to cultivate a nourishing future for multiple beings, we need to account for and start valuing and validating multiple ways of knowing. Does this happen by teaching our children how to compensate for their consumption via smart phones? Or, do such approaches distance people from other ways of knowing and connecting, and make them forget biodiversity and the wellbeing of other living beings - without which our life is threatened? 

Whilst pursuits for carbon neutrality may make soil pass from the background to focus, it is done in a way that doesn’t acknowledge its value beyond human utility. In the end, it doesn’t really matter how much carbon is stored and where, if the surrounding ecosystems collapse.  

As the famous Albert Einstein quote goes: “We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.” By looking at carbon we are trying to fix the problems that are created within the economic growth paradigm with solutions supporting its continuation. Zooming in carbon neutrality overshadows the accelerating mass extinction of species (see e.g. Radford 2019) and bypasses deeply ecological and spiritual ways of knowing and relating to nature (see e.g. Bellacasa 2014, Curry 2011, Eisenstein 2013, Kingsnorth 2013).

What would happen, if more people connected to soil and acknowledged it as a living entity that’s valuable for its ability to create life rather than for its ability to sequestrate carbon?

References

Curry, P. (2011). Ecological ethics. Cambridge: Polity press.

Eisenstein, C. (2013). The more beautiful world our hearts know is possible (Vol. 2). North atlantic books.

Gherardi, S. (2011), Organizational learning: The sociology of practice. Handbook of organizational learning and knowledge management2, 43-65.

Lash, S. (2006). Life (vitalism). Theory, Culture & Society23(2-3), 323-329.

Minasny, B., Malone, B. P., McBratney, A. B., Angers, D. A., Arrouays, D., Chambers, A., ... & Field, D. J. (2017). Soil carbon 4 per mille. Geoderma, 292, 59-86.

Radford, T. (2019) Food at risk as third of plants face extinction. Climate News Network. https://climatenewsnetwork.net/food-at-risk-as-third-of-plants-face-extinction/?fbclid=IwAR1YRoTPjP6allf1ak9jUOeMZkbRqEA7uAMGfDSP6EeZy5C6zD3f9cLX8XY (Accessed 18.12.2019)

Puig de la Bellacasa, M. (2014). Encountering bioinfrastructure: Ecological struggles and the sciences of soil. Social Epistemology, 28(1), 26-40.

Puig de la Bellacasa, M. P. (2016). Ecological thinking, material spirituality, and the poetics of infrastructure. Boundary objects and beyond: working with Leigh Star.

Smith, A. (1776) An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations

Vannini, P., & Vannini, A. S. (2019). Wildness as vitality: A relational approach. Environment and Planning E: Nature and Space, 2(2), 252-273.

Williams, J. (2019) Elävä maaperä ja hiilensidonta luomutuotannossa. (In Finnish) Presentation at the Finnish Organic Days. https://luomu.fi/luomupaivat/ohjelma-ja-esitykset-2019/

Who can act for sustainable change? by SUCH

Author: Tiina Onkila, University of Jyväskylä

Within sustainable change research network, we aim to contribute sustainable change with research based activities and to challenge the unsustainable societies of today. For this aim, we need to consider the role of change agents for sustainability. This means involving agency perspective into our discussion, and questions such as how change agents may contribute to sustainable change and why they would be involved. 

In our joint project of many Finnish universities, CICAT2025, funded by Academy of Finland, Strategic Research Council, our multidisciplinary research team aims to support the change towards sustainable circular economy in Finnish society and to analyze the catalysts towards the change. As a part of this project, our WP2 focuses on analyzing who are the change agents of circular economy, what are their practices, and how to enforce agency.

To prepare for our empirical research, we reviewed CSR and sustainable business research on agency and its practices. In our review, we identified multiple actors associated with sustainable change in business. These actors are both individuals and organizations and include for example companies (both multinationals and smaller/medium sized companies and family owned companies), individuals in organizations and societies, managers and leaders, consumers, pioneers and champions in different contexts, public sector actors, shareholders, communities and social movements, NGOs and environmental activists, labor unions and stakeholders as a whole. 

The research literature is marked by a tendency to analyze the power to influence other groups, and multiple reviewed studies focused on how sustainability actors may aim to promote the change among of other actors. This relates with their either direct power by supporting the change among other stakeholders or indirect power through networking and using language to reshape and frame the phenomenon. Instead, we found hardly any studies analyzing the change within the agents themselves. Some studies described how certain sustainability tools, programs and practices have been adopted and some analyzed how agency may develop among certain groups. 

I believe that change agency for sustainability is essentially difficult to understand and analyze. Sustainability is inherently an ambiguous concept. At the micro level the change concerns multiple social, cognitive and emotional processes. Thus change agency for sustainability entails more multifaceted concerns than the reviewed studies would lead us to assume. We should be able to consider questions how sustainability is understood by different actors, how sustainability aims may conflict and include paradoxes and how emotions mark agency. It is often difficult to understand what sustainability means in different contexts. As noted in prior SUCH blogs, sustainability may be given different meanings depending on the context and the definer. Sustainability entails multiple conflicting and paradoxical goals that are difficult to tackle – we are limited in our understanding concerning the direction for our change. Furthermore, sustainability is essentially an emotionally laden phenomenon, with emotions ranging  from pride for acting responsibly and anxiety and fear related with changes.

So who can act for sustainable change in our societies? Based on our review, it is difficult to find such an individual or group who could not act for sustainability. A broad range of actors have been identified having possibilities to contribute the change. However, difficulties in understanding the meaning of the term, the direction of change and perhaps the fear of change may hinder many benevolent aims for changes. 

Are you a change agent for sustainability yourself? How do you feel about it? 

***

The author is a senior researcher of Corporate Environmental Management at the University of Jyväskylä, School of Business and Economics and currently involved in CICAT2025-research project. 

The blog text is based on a research paper presented at CRR conference 2019 Tampere: Onkila, T., Teerikangas, S., Mäkelä, M. and Koistinen, K. 2019. Sustainability agency: actors attributes and strategies - a systematic review of CSR literature

Please find more information on CICAT2025-project here: https://cicat2025.turkuamk.fi/fi/

The population question: Toward a plan for global sustainability by SUCH

Author: David Skrbina

Too often, it seems, matters of population are overlooked in discussions of global sustainability.  And this is true, despite some rather obvious points:  A world of, say, 5 billion people is more likely to be sustainable than one of 10 billion; and a world of 1 billion is likely more sustainable still.  All things being equal, a world with fewer people will allow for a more robust planetary ecosystem, and a higher quality of life for humans, than a world with more people.  Few seem willing to state things this clearly, but I think few would contest it, if pressed.

Currently the Earth is at roughly 7.7 billion, heading to 9.5 billion by 2050, and perhaps to 11 or 12 billion by 2100.  Each year about 135 million babies are born; if we subtract the 55 million annual deaths, we get an annual growth rate of 80 million—or around 220,000 more humans every day.  Every one of these people needs clothing, shelter, food; they produce waste; they buy things and discard things; and they compete for space on this planet with all other animal and plant life.  As we see from mass extinctions and general reductions of animal life in particular, humans are slowly but surely squeezing out all other lifeforms on Earth.  This is not a recipe for long-term sustainability.

But it’s not just human numbers, as we know.  It also depends on how much each person produces and consumes—their standard of living, and specifically how much of the Earth’s resources each requires, on an on-going basis, to support their lifestyle.  This aspect has been factored into the ecological footprint: a measure of land-area equivalent, per person, that represents the average resource use of each person in a given nation.  Thus, 10 million people with a high footprint are more ecologically damaging, and hence less sustainable, than 10 million with a low footprint.  It is well-known that wealthy, ‘first world’ industrial nations have higher footprints, and poorer, ‘third world’ nations much smaller ones.  At the low end, we have nations like Haiti, that survive on the equivalent of just 0.7 hectares/person.  India consumes a bit more (1.2) and China more still (3.6).  European countries are higher still:  for example, Spain (4.0), Italy (4.4), Germany (4.8), Finland (6.3), and Sweden (6.5).  At the high end of major nations, we have Canada (7.7) and the USA (8.1).[1]  There is naturally some variability in such numbers, and their precise calculations can be questioned, but they seem to provide useful directional figures.

From a global standpoint, what matters is the total footprint of each nation, and ultimately, the total footprint of all humans. Calculating national totals is simple:  per capita numbers (above) multiplied by current population.  The total footprint of Haiti, then, is (0.7 x 11.2 million =) 7.8 million hectares.  Figures for all nations listed above are as follows:

skribina1.png

Constructing a Plan

My concern here is to sketch out a nation-by-nation plan by which each country can establish concrete, achievable numbers to get to long-term sustainability, using a common standard.  This will allow a nominally “fair and equal” approach, and hopefully will avoid pitting the wealthy north against the poorer south.  Thus we need not point fingers at China, for example, and say that they have the largest global footprint, and therefore that “they need to do something.”  It’s not that simple.  Everyone has a role.  Thus, we need a fair and reasonable plan, on a universal standard, that each nation can pursue on its own.

One way to do this is to establish clear and intuitive standards for sustainability.  Here is one approach that I have long championed:  Compare a nation’s total footprint to the land area that they have.  As we might guess, many nations are “overstepping their bounds,” and living on more land area than they actually represent.  Take the USA.  Discounting Alaska—which is huge, sparsely populated, and mostly mountains or frozen tundra—the US has around 810 million hectares of land.  And yet, as we see above, the total footprint of the US is about 2,700 million hectares.  Hence they are over-using land by a factor of 3.3; in other words, Americans use more than three times as much land as they have.

How is this possible?  Partly by overtaxing their land, and partly via that economic practice known as globalization.  On the one hand, America uses its own non-renewable resources (like coal), and uses its renewables at a faster rate than they can be replenished.  Additionally, America’s vast international corporations stretch out across the planet, acquire resources, and bring them back for local consumption.  Oil, machinery, hardwoods, precious minerals, food, technological devices…all these are purchased abroad and imported into the US for consumer and industrial use.  Obviously, this is an unsustainable situation.  It is not a global model.  Every nation cannot overstep its consumption; there is only one Earth, after all.  

How do others fare?  Thanks to advanced technology and globalization, America is not alone.  India has about 330 million ha of land, and thus overreaches by an even larger factor of 5.2.  China has around 950 million ha, and thus overconsumes by a similar factor.  Figures for the nations in question are listed below: 

Skribina2.png

For the northern nations (Finland, Sweden, Canada) I have subtracted roughly one-third of their formal land area, being, like Alaska, largely frozen or otherwise unusable land.  

Such figures are, of course, very rough numbers, but they do give us valid directional information.  All but Canada are overreaching their bounds, and hence are unsustainable on this basis alone.  Germany stands out here as being deeply unsustainable, with Italy not far behind.  I hasten to note, however, that ecological overreach is not primarily a rich-nation phenomenon.  Even impoverished Haiti, with its dense population and mere 2.8 million ha of land, overreaches by a factor of 2.9.  This partly explains why, at present, humanity is consuming the equivalent of 1.75 Earths—a situation guaranteed to lead to catastrophe.

A first step toward true sustainability, then, would be to require each nation to live within its own area.  Or rather, equivalent land area; clearly there can be mutual trading, where each nation “uses” some amount of land area elsewhere.  But ideally it should be net zero—no net imbalance. 

But this step alone is insufficient, because it presumes usage of all of a nation’s land area.  The US, for example, cannot sustainably use its 810 million ha because soon enough, the land would be exhausted.  They cannot farm, pave, develop, harvest, or graze every bit of land they have.  Large portions are functionally unusable (desert, mountains, swamps, etc), and much needs to be protected, for the sake of nature.  Much less than the 810 million ha can used, sustainably, in the long-run.

So, we arrive at a key question:  How much less?  In other words, How much for nature?  Setting aside the oceans, how much of Earth’s land area does nature ‘need’ to do her work?  Large swaths, to be sure.  Large carnivores need vast areas of contiguous land with little or no human presence.  Migrating animals need the same.  Forest ecosystems flourish best in large, undisturbed areas.  Wildfires must be allowed to burn on their natural schedules, in vast regions, to restore the vitality of the soil.

So, how much?  How much would be fair and yet still get the job done?  Here’s one proposal:  50/50.  That is, half for humans to use, and half for nature to do what nature does best.  On the face of it, this might seem fair, but of course objectively it’s not.  That one species among millions should be allowed to dominate half the Earth is, in fact, an outrageous assertion.  It speaks to the gravity of our situation that 50/50 should even pretend to be ‘fair.’  For now, though, it will serve our purposes.

I’m not alone in this call, incidentally.  Prominent biologist E. O. Wilson has notably defended a similar figure, in his proposal of “half-Earth.”  See his 2016 book of the same name, and the organization he established online at www.half-earthproject.org.  Again, this is a very rough guideline, but as a concept it is simple and coherent:  half for nature, half for humanity.  And it just might work.

Two Core Principles

All this boils down to two essential principles of global sustainability:

  1. Each nation should set aside half of its land area, as wilderness or protected land.

  2. Each nation should adjust its population and consumption to live on the other half.

This is simple, clear, intuitive, easy to convey, and workable.  At the very least, it can serve as a vision moving forward—certainly it is far ahead of anything being attempted at present.

So, in rough numbers, what does this actually mean?  The principles are straightforward, but for many nations, the challenge would be steep.  Take the USA.  If America were to be truly sustainable, it would begin to set aside some 400 million ha as wilderness, national park, or protected land.  Obviously this cannot happen quickly, but given, say, until the end of the century, it is eminently workable.  Setting aside 2 or 3 million ha annually would reach the desired goal relatively quickly, given that several million hectares are already under some form of protection.  

Harder would be to reconfigure American society to live on the other 400 million ha.  It has three options:  (1) reduce population, (2) reduce per capita footprint, or (3) some combination of the two.  Let’s say Americans want to continue to live at their luxury level of 8.1 ha per person.  No problem—they just need to have less people.  A lot less people.  The math is straightforward:  400 million ha divided by 8.1 allows just 50 million people.  This is a breath-taking 85% reduction from present levels—in a nation that is currently growing by some 4 million people annually.  

Impossible, you say?  Fine, we have an alternative for them:  reduce per capita consumption.  Let’s say Americans want to keep all of their current population of 330 million people.  No problem—they just need to consume less.  A lot less.  Again, the math is clear:  400 million ha divided by 330 million people allows an average footprint of 1.2 ha per person.  This is roughly the level of present-day India.  Such is the math.  The numbers are relentless.  

Fortunately option #3 is more palatable, especially if implemented over, say, 80 years.  If both population and footprint were reduced by a small amount, consistently, every year, America could reach sustainability in 80 years.  And easily.  For example, if both were reduced by just 1.2% annually, in 80 years—by the year 2100—America would be at a population of 125 million with a footprint of around 3.0 hectares per person.  Its total footprint would then be at 375 million ha, effectively a sustainable figure.  And if the other half of its land were placed into protection by that time, the US would be a model nation for the world.

Similar analysis holds for other countries, with appropriate modifications.  Take India.  With a land area of 330 million ha, India should set aside half for nature, and then live on the other half—on 165 million ha.  On the one hand, an annual reduction of 1.5% over 80 years in both population and footprint would work.  But this would yield an unacceptable footprint of 0.36 ha/person—about half of present-day Haiti.  Probably something like 1.0 ha/person is the bare minimum to maintain anything close to a civilized existence; less than that, and we are looking at mass poverty and mass starvation.  Therefore India’s task is nearly all on the population side of the ledger.  Consequently, they would need to get their numbers down to 165 million, roughly, to reach sustainability.  Today they are at 1.4 billion.  Over 80 years, this requires a 2.75% annual reduction—a challenge, to be sure, but not impossible.

And then consider Finland.  If we take its usable land area of 22 million ha (again, neglecting the frozen north), and set aside 11 million for nature, and then use the other 11 million for human sustenance, the numbers are very manageable.  A mere 0.7% annual reduction in population and footprint would arrive at figures of 3.2 million people (versus a current figure of 5.5 million) and 3.6 ha/person.  Finland, in fact, is already trending downward in population, according to EU estimates.  Projections are now officially “bleak,” with a projected loss of some 100,000 by 2050 and another 100,000 by the end of the century.  And yet, from a sustainability perspective, this trend is positive and needs to be reinforced, not resisted.  

Here is the full chart, with “ideal” populations in the year 2100, along with percentage reductions from present.  

Skribina3.png

Note:  Numbers for Haiti and India have been modified to keep their per capita footprints from falling below 1.0 ha.  And Canada alone shows no necessary reduction, given that they are already far below their limit—i.e. that their overreach is today below 1.0.  But most nations will necessarily have to plan for a significant long-term reduction, albeit at a small (1 – 2%) annual rate.

Next Steps 

Clearly there is more to be said, and many details to examine.  But I think, directionally, this gives us some important facts to consider in the broader context of sustainability.  For example, the need to shrink both footprints and population is naturally compatible with the ‘degrowth’ movement, which certainly needs to look beyond merely economic concepts like per capita GDP and examine population and nature directly.  Within the SUCH network, I would be happy to collaborate with others on further discussions along the above lines.  I would suggest that we all need to keep in mind population and footprint issues, in our larger fields of work.

From a governmental standpoint, it seems that most talk these days is around climate change and the need to become “carbon neutral.”  For example, Finland recently committed to becoming carbon neutral by 2035, which makes it one of the most ambitious plans in the world.  But there is a danger here:  The implication here that carbon neutrality alone will solve the climate crisis, and perhaps even the global ecological crisis as well.  Unfortunately such a plan, though welcome, is far from sufficient. First, we have been pumping carbon gases into the air for over 300 years, and neutrality only means no further additions; at some point, we need to start pulling carbon out of the air, and return to a stable condition.  We need a “carbon negative” plan, not a carbon neutral one.  Second, the implication is that population can continue its unhindered growth—as if a world of 10 billion “carbon neutral” people could be sustainable.  It can’t.

But this raises an important question:  How many people can the planet sustain?  We can do a quick analysis, comparable to what I have done above.  The total usable land area on Earth is around 11.2 billion ha.  If we set aside half (5.6 bha) for nature and live on the other half, and we assume the current global average footprint of 2.8 ha/person, then the planet can support just (5.6 / 2.8 =) 2 billion people at current living standards.  This is a decline of 74% from the current 7.7 billion—a figure that is very much in line with the national reductions I listed above.[2]  

Furthermore, this suggests the need to set national and global targets for both population and footprint.  Both are currently rising:  global footprint at 2.1% per year, and global population at 1.0% per year.  Rationally, we should accept the need for halting the growth curves and then implementing long-term reductions.  This implies setting a target date for a population peak, and then goals and plans to bring it down.  The same idea, incidentally, has recently been proposed with respect to meat-eating—meat being especially destructive, ecologically.  Scientists have proposed a “peak meat” date of 2030, after which global (and presumably national) meat consumption would decline.  We can do the same here.  Let’s propose a “peak population” date of 2030, after which we can map out a decline to sustainable levels.  Then we can push national governments to commit to such a target, and begin to implement plans to make it happen.  

It goes without saying that there are many potential criticisms of such an approach, and these must be considered and responded to.  Given the substantial reductions in both population and standard living that I propose here, I can imagine that they will be harsh indeed.  But my general response is this:  If we don’t like this road to sustainability, what would be better?  That is, what true plan for global sustainability can afford to overlook population reduction?  I can’t imagine any realistically sustainable Earth with 5 or 10 billion people; such an idea seems absurd.  Population must go down—either voluntarily, slowly, and rationally, or else nature is likely to do the job for us.  And she won’t be kind.  Thus, if population is inevitably going down, the best case is a slow, fair, and reasonable approach.  This was my motivation here.

Finally, I must point out that there is one wild card in this whole discussion:  technology.  Even if, by some miracle, humanity began to move in the above direction and reduced both population and footprint, and expanded wilderness, technology may well continue its relentless advance.  There are many scenarios where accelerating advanced technologies pose literally existential risks to humanity and the planet, and in a time frame sooner than the above plans require.  In other words, our best efforts on population may be rendered moot by some technological disaster.  Hence, we cannot ignore that component.  In parallel to the above, I would suggest that we need a comparable scaling-back of industrial technology, slowly but steadily, to minimize the risk of any such technological catastrophe.  But that’s a topic for another time.

Meanwhile, I am happy to collaborate with anyone on the issues examined here.

[1] 2016 data, from Global Footprint Network.

[2] Obviously, we could sustain a higher population if we reduced the global average footprint.  Theoretically, 5 billion people are sustainable if they all live at the poverty level of 1.0 ha/person.  But that’s not a viable goal. 

A fairytale gone bad by SUCH

Author: Tuula Helne, Research unit, Kela (The Social Insurance Institution of Finland), tuula.helne@kela.fi

Those of you who have read their ‘Sapiens’ by Yuval Noah Harari, are well familiar with the thought that telling stories is the feature that distinguishes humans from other species. It is also the cement that holds our societies together – for good or for worse. 

The most important story we have been telling each other for centuries is that of endless progress towards a shining future. Since the latter half of the 18th century – since the beginning of the industrial revolution and the onset of unprecedented economic growth – we have even been calling ourselves Homo Sapiens, the wise man. 

The wise men have, however, turned into ecological serial killers. Our presence on this planet has never been propitious from the perspective of other beings, but particularly during the last 50 years the extinctions caused by us have become massive. This, dear readers, is why the Anthropocene is not a good thing at all. In fact, humanity has never been as destructive nor moving faster and further from sustainability than at the present moment. 

* * *

We now meet the hero of the story I am telling, Mr. Endless Growth. He is also the protagonist of the most influential variation of the tale of progress. Here he is, in his impeccable grey business suit, smiling patronisingly at us, surrounded by his advisors and PR people.

He has (he thinks) all the reasons for his complacency. Now proof on Earth (biodiversity loss, climate change, plastic waste catastrophe – you name it) does not seem to have the power to shake his position. ‘I’m the master of the universe’, he says to himself when looking down from his office in the highest glass skyscraper ever built. Who knows, maybe he even makes a few dance moves.  

One fine day the advisors of Mr. E.G heard that the people in his empire were worried because birds no longer came to sing in their back gardens. (Even Mr. E.G had been dimly aware that the birdsong in the garden surrounding his luxurious mansion had grown fainter, but he had soon forgotten about this). So worried were the people that they even stopped buying many of Mr E.G.’s fine products, all manufactured at low cost and sold at a price in his identical shops all around the world.

Mr. E.G.’s advisors agreed that something should be done, and invited a consultant, a charming Mrs. Sustainable Development, to put things back on track. Mr. E.G. was beguiled by her, and decided to take her recommendations into consideration – well, at least as long as they did not collide with his most fundamental beliefs and business plans. Mrs. S.D. realised this and was cautious with her advice. One must not, after all, change things too radically nor too fast. 

After numerous negotiations, meetings and conferences a decision was reached: how about a declaration of intent: very, very soon we will do something to make the birds come back. Mr. E.G. climbed up to the top of his tower and made the good news known to all the good people in his empire. Everybody was quite pleased about this; so pleased were they, that nobody noticed that the birds were all gone by now. 

* * * 

Some of you might say that you do not like this tale; it is far too grim. So much is being done, the advisors of Mr. E.G. are perhaps getting a grip on how dangerous the situation is, and isn’t even the OECD going beyond GDP? (Indeed it is, but it is certainly taking its time). I hate to be a spoilsport, but as long as the European Green Deal, for example, is represented as a new EU growth strategy, we are doomed. No matter how many times we are being lulled by phrases like ‘sustainable growth’, ‘green growth’ or ‘inclusive’ growth, the basic fact does not change: Mr. E.G. is the prime culprit of the ecological annihilation we are up against. 

Unless one is talking about plants, green growth is fiction. So is the recent narrative about ‘the economy of well-being’ related by the OECD and the European Union. The narrative may promise a happy end: to put people and their well-being at the centre of policy and decision-making. If one, however, reads the narrative carefully, one discovers that the protagonist whom the happy end awaits is not the poor shepherd or shepherdess turning into a prince or a princess (whichever way you like), but the rich and powerful Mr. E.G. becoming even richer.

* * * 

Political discourses are far more contradictory than fairytales: the very same documents that represent well-being as an intrinsic good, also reveal that their main motive for raising the issue of people’s well-being is setting the foundation for stronger and ‘more sustainable’ economic growth (whatever that means).

What I am saying is that the narratives we have been telling for centuries and the narratives we are still been told are deeply flawed. They may work as a bedtime story, if one wants to sleep tight and keep one’s eyes shut. If one, one the contrary, would rather stay awake and act rationally (something that sleepwalkers cannot do), one should ask for better reading. Or, better still, why not find a campfire around which new meanings are being formed and shared, and begin telling new a story yourself. 

A long, long time ago, something went terribly wrong in our cultural evolution, but (for good or for worse), humans are resilient, and never before have resilience, resolve and resistance been as necessary qualities as today.

For listening: 

Sunrise Avenue: Fairytale gone bad

 

Busting myths about sustainability: Insights from the energy sector by SUCH

Author: Jenny Rinkinen, Consumer Society Research Centre, University of Helsinki,  jenny.rinkinen@helsinki.fi

Fables are short stories, typically involving an animal character and often conveying a lesson, a message, a moral. They are a form of persuasive speech, and when taken to steer everyday action and decision making they are also performative. Like Aesop’s famous fables, they are a diffused body of popular knowledge. 

Fables have come to populate our everyday lives and traces of them can be found in public speech. In our recent book, Energy fables: Challenging ideas in the energy sector (2019, Routledge), we turn our attention to some of the fables circulating in energy policy and research. Increasing energy efficiency, low hanging fruits, keeping the lights on, the energy trilemma, and seven other fables are some of the recurrent themes and established narratives that characterise the energy sector.

The sustainability-related ideas and concepts that we discuss in the book have become fable-like stories and normative guides to steer actions. When widely told and regularly repeated they become taken-for-granted truths that the whole policy package is built on. A good example of a widely circulated story is that of energy efficiency, which is taken to be the most crucial form of governmental response to climate change. The EU‘puts energy efficiency first’ and the International Energy Agency declares that ‘energy efficiency has tremendous potential to boost economic growth’. However, it is less often acknowledged that programmes of energy efficiency ‘justify investment in the production of more efficient appliances’, and also contribute to ‘increases in energy demand in that they reproduce and foster specific, and often resource intensive understandings of ‘service’ (Shove, 2019). Thus, energy efficiency doesn’t lead to the needed radical transformation of the dynamics of demand. Questions, such as, what is energy used for; how much energy do societies need; and how much consumption is compatible with meeting carbon targets need to come first (Shove, 2019).

Unpacking the well-established terms helps to show their often hidden assumptions and suggest new directions. Such a task is important for a number of reasons. First, the urgency of meeting carbon reductions has pushed the energy sector into flux. New means for meeting carbon reductions are desperatly needed. At the same time, dominant ideas remain rooted in the ideologies of consumer choice, growing resource economics, and trust in unlimited and ‘clean’ sources of energy. Unpacking these fables also helps to show that many of the dominant approaches steering the energy sector rely on efficiency gains and technological development, and similarly take demand for granted. Discussions about the ‘energy trilemma’, for example, are in essence discussions about how to handle tensions between energy security, affordability and carbon – but not about how much energy is required overall or for what purpose. It follows that responses and strategies are developed and evaluated as if demand was simply ‘there’.

Energy demand – and more generally the hunger for more and more resources – is growing globally at a fast phase. Too easily we become blind to this growing appetite, and the dynamics underpinning it. For example, conventions around thermal comfort have changed radically only within few decades, and the demand for air conditioners has racketed. Usually the discussion revolves around making air conditioning technology more efficient. This, however, does not take away the problem of the massive increase in global demand for these resource intensive technologies and the environmental harms caused by their use and production, nor does it help to understand why we ‘need’ more air conditioned space, and how that need could be tamed. A profound re-consideration of the dynamics of demand is needed to take more significant steps towards demand reduction (Rinkinen et al., forthcoming).

Busting sustainability-related myths is much welcomed in other fields too beyond the energy sector. SUCH scholars are actively engaged in such work when they are dealing with issues like post-growth futures, or diverse multispecies encounters and challenging the taken for granted ideas steering our everyday lives.

References

Rinkinen, J., Shove, E., & Torriti, J. (Eds.). (2019). Energy Fables: Challenging Ideas in the Energy Sector. Routledge: London.

Rinkinen, J. (forthcoming) Conceptualising demand. A distinctive approach to consumption and practice. Forthcoming in spring 2020, Routledge. 

Shove, E. (2019). Energy efficiency. In Rinkinen, J., Shove, E., & Torriti, J. (eds). Energy Fables: Challenging Ideas in the Energy Sector. Routledge: London.