A kick in the teeth for optimism

There has been a recent smattering of blog posts and discussions out there about the need for optimism in the sustainability movement. The gist being that the only alternative is pessimism, and that is neither practicable nor appealing. Certainly, if we are pessimistic about our chances of success then we will be demotivated and will essentially be admitting that our project is not likely to succeed.



I might seem like a matter of semantics, but I think the only thing we can allow ourselves is hope. The difference between hope and optimism is the difference between a thoughtful human and an open-mouthed labrador. I know which one I would prefer to be.



Having said all this before, I succumbed to optimism recently. I thought that the dangers of climate change and the action necessary were so clear that our national leaders and negotiators would do the right thing. Just this once.



I'm not going to lay particular blame or analyse the Copenhagen process in detail: others have done that to death. But I do have to admit that I was wrong. The process of international negotiation is inherently unsustainable, which is what I had always said before: undemocratic, untransparent and subject to disproporionate vested interests. There is a possibility that an agreement with half-decent, binding targets will be made in Mexico this year, but we can't count on it. Besides which, time is running out.



Somewhere between luck, the effects of campaigns like 10:10 (http://www.1010uk.org/) and movements like Transition Towns (http://transitiontowns.org/), we might get through this crisis. But there is no place for optimism. 10:10 might demonstrate that ordinary people are aware of what has to happen and are willing to make the changes needed, even if it involves expense or changes in lifestyle.



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Another dose of cold reality came from reading Upton Sinclair's The Jungle (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Jungle). The book is seen as the predecessor of modern exposes of the food industry and working life at the bottom of the social ladder such as Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fast_Food_Nation) and Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel and Dimed (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nickel_and_Dimed). It would be wrong to leave it in the footnotes however.



Towards the end of The Jungle, Sinclair spells out the alternative vision he sees for America and the world. It is a hardcore socialist vision, where the proletariat takes control of all industries and runs them for the benefit of all people, sharing the profits and making safe and fulfilling workplaces. Interestingly, he also catalogues the counter-arguments given by working-class voters: that it is unreasonable to believe that power could be rested away from the barons of meat, steel and coal, that a free-market capitalist system is more efficient than any alternative, and that people's place in society is somehow predestined and immutible.



A century later and many of those arguments against the practicability of socialism, which are also directed against green anarchism, do hold some weight. Capitalism itself has evolved to entrench the interests of big business, with oil now the dominant force. Corporations have have also evolved so that there are no longer industry barons such as John D Rockefeller (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_D._Rockefeller) that can become permanent hate figures; for comparison, even if he had not gone to jail and died, Kenneth Lay (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenneth_Lay) was an entirely removable figurehead at Enron. What's more, corporate activity has become globalised and global corporations have negotiated themselves into operating conditions that cannot be rationally justified.



State organisations have also managed to build a reputation for terrible inefficiency, usually bound to bureaucracy apparently for the sake of bureaucracy. Anyone who has suffered at the hands of one of the United States' Departments of Motor Vehicles might find it hard to believe that a state-owned industry could avoid a decline into nincompoopery.



Why should a green anarchist vision succeed where the rabble-rousing might of socialism has had few successes? The same vested interests and arguments of potential inefficiencies stand against it. Worse, capitalism has evolved to be more pernicious rather than less.



On behalf of socialism, I would point out that the same old inequities still remain to be opposed. This is a matter of principle rather than pragmatism. It is still wrong that wealth is accumulated at the expense of the most vulnerable. And that is also one of the principles of green anarchism. Ecology simply adds the evidence that wealth is finite and cannot sustain indefinite growth, which means that this is not simply a short-term limitation.



Further, anarchism may be spelled out as an ideology, or family of ideologies, but it does not have to be espoused in the way that state socialism does. A movement that wants to change state-level organisation has to build consensus amongst the population of each nation. A majority is needed in elections or enough revolutionaries are needed to overthrow the government. Anarchist ideas and initiatives can be taken up by any community group, whether they are labelled as such or not.



There are enough of these ideas and initiatives in action today to give me hope.

Heroes, Season One

There is a basic premise of superhero fiction, that the actions of an extraordinary individual (or group) can make all the difference between disaster and the safety of millions, if not all of humankind. It’s a premise I’m willing to accept for the sake of entertainment (I’m probably one of the sizeable minority eagerly waiting for Hellboy II).

The premise is flawed in a couple of ways when compared to reality, however. First, humans come equipped and/or develop a spectrum of abilities, but it’s a limited spectrum, with Olympians and geniuses at the upper limits. We know what they can do and, extraordinary though they might be, we know they cannot fly, leap tall buildings or move objects with the power of their minds. Second, and partly as a consequence of the first flaw, individuals can only have a limited effect on the course of human history.

There have been some disproportionately effective individuals, but their effect is more often as a catalyst for social forces that would find form with or without them, later if not as soon they made it so. The ironic example is Karl Marx, who pushed the cause of proletarian empowerment with Herculean forcefulness. The Twentieth Century is often portrayed as entirely coloured by the ink from his pen. Yet Marx himself recognised that revolution is a consequence of the social environment more than a conscious decision of the people. In other words, socialist-communist thinking would have evolved and manifested itself if Marx had never been heard.

It is difficult to argue that the world would be the same today without the actions of Adolf Hitler, but over centuries, I believe we would reach the same stage of development. Having said that, the rise of the Nazi Party was as much the consequence of the circumstances in Germany between the wars: economic depression, extreme national pride shamed by failure in the “Great War” and the disproportionate suffering of the poor Germans. So another catalyst might well have led Germany to the same awful state.

If all I’ve said here means anything, is there any point in having real-life heroes? Well, yes.

Because ecopolitics has an element of fatalism, which it shares with Marx, that doesn’t mean that it is without hope. Which brings me to my first hero: Per Gahrton. When I met Per, it was near the end of his long career in electoral politics. He had been a member of the Swedish Parliament for the People’s Party and left to co-found the Swedish Green Party. I don’t know why he did it, but he was one of the few “eurosceptic” voices in the European Parliament.

I’m not sure how effective he was in fighting “ever deeper union” from within, but I suspect he found it depressingly futile. He published a small booklet on his views of Green politics and it included an indictment of those who took Sweden into the EU, with their promises of Swedish independence on issues of economics and [stricter] environmental protection. Both were eroded almost immediately after Sweden joined.

At the end of the booklet, having exposed the erosion of all the Green principles he believes in, Per asked himself if this meant that he could still be optimistic. “I am not optimistic,” he said, “but I have hope.”

It’s a quote that makes me teary-eyed because I believe in the same principles and share the sentiment.

Next season: more heroes.

I'm so glad for the meek

As Michael Stipe sang:

“I can't say that I love Jesus
that would be a hollow claim.
He did make some observations
and I'm quoting them today.”

One quote that stuck with me from childhood was “the meek… shall inherit the Earth”. I seem to remember that this was not a prophecy, as such, in the mind of our teachers. How, they reasoned, would the meek take control if they were, well, meek. The only possible explanation was that old JC didn’t mean it literally, more that they were yet another of the bless-ed crowd.

Meek, after all, means courteous, kind, merciful, indulgent, or not violent or strong, mild. How can these attributes gain you any territory or win you any elections?

Even allowing for mis-translation and shifting meanings, this is only one of His pronouncements that are often sidelined, ignored or re-interpreted. The teachings of Jesus form part of a pan-Eurasian heritage of religious thought that commonly advocates non-violence and fair-to-generous treatment of others.

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” is karmic in its effect. The common Western belief that karma is what ensures that what goes around comes around, is less accurate than the directive that to do right by others is simply the right thing to do.

But the role of the meek is both more complex than “do unto others…” yet more simple than my teachers made out. If anything, it encapsulates everything I’ve been trying to say in this blog in a single phrase. Violence is counter-productive and can only destroy. Those who practice humble non-violence will ultimately triumph. (Triumph isn’t exactly the right word, however, since this is the antithesis of will-to-power.)

It’s my limited belief that it was the co-option of Christianity as a state religion, first by Constantine, and then by other opportunist kings and emperors, that ensured its general decline as a radical force for peace and equality. To align a religion with nationalist sentiment, it must be stripped of anti-authoritarian ideals and skewed to show a preference for one group over another. The course of Christianity has been perverted through Late Roman, Crusading, Conquering and warring times.

The most extreme neutering of the Christian ideal was arguably the silencing and partial co-option of the Catholic Church in Nazi Germany. No religion built on non-conformity and peace could have been cowed in that way.

Incidentally, Gandhi’s opinion on what should be done about the Nazis--that the German people and all those affected should have stood up against them non-violently, both in opposition and to demonstrate how ruthless the Nazis were--is considered one of his most ridiculous ideas. But ridiculous though using non-violence against those capable of genocide might seem, and courageous beyond almost all belief that it would have been, it might have saved the world from the horrors partially covered by war.

With all I’ve said already, I must note that something of the pre-Constantine religion has lived on: in various “heretical” sects; in rebellious priests and preachers; and in groups such as the Quakers and Mennonites.

I can’t say that I love Jesus, but he did make some exceedingly good observations.

The local migrant

Green politics is all about the local. By which, I don’t mean just the pub, but everything that goes into a strong, positive community: from the basics of housing, food and education to the less tangibles of trust, belonging and sharing. In describing these things and how to achieve them, it is often implicit that this is a long-term, geographically rooted programme.

Well, it is. So where do migrants fit in the picture?

Let’s be clear: a migrant is anyone who moves from one local community to another, whether they do that regularly or just once in their lives, and whether they do that across the globe or between neighbouring villages. Not all (maybe hardly any) problems of migration are directly related to international movements, and it makes no difference what the motivations for moving are.

I write this as a migrant myself. I have not worked in my country of birth since I first left university. I have moved about once every two years in the last twenty, usually from one community to another and twice between continents. I did so out of what I would claim was necessity, to work or to affordable accommodation. And I’m far from exceptional.

There are some things we migrants can do easily: we can shop locally and take an interest in local affairs, wherever we are. We can also take over responsibility for our garden, join community groups that we find appealing and volunteer to help in local projects. From the beginning, we can bring an attitude of openness and experience of projects in other locales.

We can be the nomadic local, joining in wherever we go.

I’m not going to discourage anyone from being nomadic. It has its rewards: we understand what we all have in common and what makes one place unique compared to any other. Most positively of all, the local nomads can bring a cosmopolitan open-mindedness with them to counteract any insular tendencies.

Of course, sensitivity isn’t a guaranteed characteristic of the migrant, and I’ve known plenty incomers that have little respect for indigenous culture, import goods rather than try the local alternative, or generally annoy their new neighbours with brashness or insularity.

Then there are the elements of community that nomads can never bring, particularly continuity of experience and long-term commitment. Communities need continuity because there are elements of the community (mainly its spirit) that take time to develop. A place where people are only passing through is never much more than the sum of its parts (although hostellers know that even a little goes a long way).

In other words, a community is more than just a place or a group of people. A “hood” or “manor” has a reputation, its pubs and shops have a reputation and an atmosphere, and it has a direction. Plans for the development of social housing, schools, doctors and dentists take long-term commitment.

Individuals within the community have to invest years, often decades, of their lives to the institutions that reflect community will: teachers, doctors, councillors, police officers, residents’ association officers, etc.

If both migrants and locals have an important part to play in the community, there must be a sensible balance between them. It might be interesting to find indicators of community cohesion and positivity, measure them and compare communities with different amounts of resident “churn”. I suspect that getting a sensible mix is not particularly difficult and that the optimum will depend on many factors, including the cultures involved.

Which leaves us with the extreme communities: entirely local or overwhelmingly migrant. Are mono-cultural communities too slow-changing to be sustainable, and are they inherently xenophobic? And how much migration is too much migration?

These are questions that deserve a large space of their own.

Human nature, part one

David Mamet has decided that he is no longer a “brain-dead liberal” because he no longer believes that “people are basically good at heart”. In other words, there is no point in putting your faith in humanity, so we need a greater degree of authoritarianism. I also infer that Mamet would prefer that the educated (if not the rich) should have a greater say in the running of things.

Reading this made me realise that I haven’t addressed what is the most common objection to idealistic politics: human nature.

The practicalities of winning elections form one barrier, but ultimately it’s human nature that most people believe stands in the way of anything they regard as utopian. We’re violent, greedy, distrustful, racist and lazy. How can we expect humanity to converge on a society, or societies, where we don’t use violence, don’t take more than we need, trust our neighbours (on every level), treat everyone fairly and all contribute to our community?

The question isn’t how we overcome these aspects of ourselves, and I won’t deny a tendency towards most, if not all, of these “sins” in myself, but whether these traits are significantly inherited, or whether they are predominantly learned.

This is (I would say “of course”) almost unknowable, but there are some things we do know make them worse. It could be argued that some are even a creation of society and not individuals. Racism is the obvious example: there is no reason to fear or hate those who are different from ourselves. Racism rises and falls with poverty and unemployment; differences are exaggerated to deflect blame from those in power or as a source of power for others.

The main counter-argument is that some of our less admirable traits have evolved in us, to give us an advantage in surviving and reproducing. Greed drives us to get what we need to feed our family and survive the winter. But that doesn’t explain the laziness. And evolution also seems to have provided us with the altruism that helps communities to stay together and survive.

So, is the balance essentially positive or negative? I’ll give one example of why I believe we are prone to act positively: Hollywood.

As Chomsky, if no-one else, has pointed out: powerful nations are inclined to behave badly. It is not the mix of ethnicities that makes the USA behave as the world’s bully while pretending to be the world’s policeman, it’s the need to consolidate its position as the world’s only superpower. But the American creative media do not, on the whole, reflect this need. American books, music, tv, and most especially movies, take a far more moral stance (on the whole).

Bad behaviour is punished in proportion to the crime. Good behaviour, particularly if it is otherwise motiveless gets rewarded. If not, the viewer is made painfully aware that this is an “unhappy ending”.

So, what motivates the film studios? Their own behaviour does not echo the morality of their movies. They are giving the movie-watching public what they think they want. We are the movie-watching public and most of us want the world of the movies to be good and just.

Don’t try and tell me that we don’t want the same in the real world.

In the end, does it matter what is in our nature? Well, yes. If we are not capable of sustaining a better world of better communities, then there is no point trying for anything better.

Take the power back

Richard Nixon, when asked why he hadn’t done much to strengthen small government (in fact he did the opposite), said: “Sure I didn’t. I’m not a knucklehead. People back home holler that they want less government. Give it to ‘em and except in the South they’ll go out and vote for the Democrats.” (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/4368095.stm)

Nixon may have been a power-mad fascist, but he wasn’t stupid.

Library shelves have been filled with books about the nature of power and how power interacts with human nature, but it is exceptional to find a political figure or movement that has taken power and fulfilled its promise to give it away. [Portugal’s Carnation Revolution (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnation_Revolution) is possibly the most remarkable exception.] And the process of national government is a constant reminder of this power dynamic, as stated so pithily by Nixon.

Devolution—power redistribution as a principle and in action—is therefore unlikely to be espoused or happen in any meaningful way through a national administration. The parameters for polling public opinion and the scope of localised democracy will always be defined in a way that undermines the ideals and goals of the project. Devolution is not a principle or a right espoused in the UN Charter, arguably because national sovereignty is the first principle of the Charter, but presumably because very few national governments would concede any validity to their regionalist movements.

So, if you believe in people’s right to reclaim their sovereignty, how do they overcome the inherent opposition of central government?

Let’s assume there is no barrier to the dissemination of your ideas (although centralised media tend to reflect the mindset of the centralised governing elite) and look at what local political activists might achieve. Further, let’s assume that there is a majority of like-minded local representatives that therefore hold the local council.

The first step would be to identify the issues that are impossible to solve within the constraints set by central government. If you believe there is a need for devolution, you must also be able to identify symptoms of the failure of centralised government. One example might be the provision of facilities for the homeless, which under budgetary and legislative restrictions, the local council could not provide a service that allowed either a dignified existence or a realistic opportunity to achieve self-sufficiency.

The second step would be to confront the government with a plan to address the problem by redistributing and/or marginally increasing local taxation. If government conceded, fine, but it is quite likely that the plan would be recognised as a “thin end of the wedge” and be rejected.

The third, most difficult but crucial step would be to implement the plan anyway, and to reject all fines imposed as a result. This confrontation, and the resulting support from local inhabitants and likeminded people around the country, is what would make the break towards devolution work. The government rules by the consensus of more than just the ballot box. It needs the support and acquiescence of all the other institutions of governance in the country.

Redistributed power is possible: it is our power anyway. We just have to take the power back.

Maybe “communitarian” would be more accurate

In the last post, I implied that we will reach global sustainability more effectively from the bottom up than from the top down. The more I think about it, the more I believe that’s absolutely true.

All the problems commonly identified in our current systems of governance are piled up against our attempts to achieve sustainability. In other words, the perfect worked example of why we need systemic change, which is worth spelling out.

1. Vested interests. The business sectors creating the most waste, pollution and greenhouse gases while consuming vast quantities of non-renewable resources are also among the most profitable and/or high turnover businesses. In a system that, by its very definition, runs on the accumulation of capital, i.e. where money is power, these vested interests are also the most influencial.

2. Disconnect. The prevalent view is that since climate change (seen as the most urgent sustainability issue) is a global issue so it as to be tackled at the global level. At the same time, the pre-eminent global governance body, the United Nations, is perpetually being criticised as being undemocratic and ineffectual. Proposals have been around for some time to improve the UN (streamline it, make it directly elected, make involvement dependent on human rights record, whatever) but the irreconcilable truth is that global governance is neither feasible nor desirable except where global consensus exists. Which is not much.

3. The prisoner’s dilemma. Western governments (well, the US anyway) have been quick to point out that they have every intention of addressing climate change but they will not do so if it disadvantages their industry and economy. This may be completely untrue, since investment in sustainable technology will give a nation an economic advantage, but they won’t be convinced. Or maybe they are simply lying to excuse bowing to vested interests. The grain of truth in this assertion is a form of the prisoner’s dilemma (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prisoner's_dilemma) and the world’s greatest powers will not move towards sustainability fast enough unless they can recognise the dilemma and trust each other to do their share. The dynamics of global politics do not engender trust.

4. Disconnect II. Where we do elect representatives to positions of power and influence, the power seems paltry and voting feels pointless. Voter turnouts and party-political activism are in seemingly terminal decline. Few people know who their Member of Parliament is, and fewer still know who their local councillor(s) is/are. Local government, with over 80% of its expenditure decreed by central government, is ineffectual because it has been made impotent. Members of Parliament represent an average of 74,000 voters in a population of nearly 100,000. If your only political activity is voting in a winner-takes-all election, it’s no surprise that it feels like pissing in the sea and expecting anything more than a moment’s warmth.

The antithesis of a flawed theory is not necessarily a correct one, but in this case—the struggle for sustainability—the flawed theory is that global governance will make us sustainable, when the evidence is that it cannot and will not, while leading from below is certainly more practical, easier for people to understand, and a damn sight more empowering.

Empowering, that is, for local communities. Which is why it might be less confusing to call my ideology “communitarian” rather than anarchist.

Is our sustainable development open or closed?

The great debate in cosmology is about whether the universe we live in is open or closed. It doesn’t matter in the slightest during the lifetime of our planet, but it is fundamental to our understanding of the nature of where we live. That is, will the expansion that started with the Big Bang continue until all energy dissipates into nothingness or will gravity’s pull (to put it crudely) bring everything back together in a Big Crunch? The former is described as open and latter as closed.

Similarly, there is a fundamental question about our species’ attempts to live sustainably. Sustainable development has been adopted as a requirement of government and business, with varying degrees of effectiveness, but that avoids examination of society’s absolute sustainability. In other words, is enough progress being made to ensure our indefinite existence? Or, how much sustainable development do you need to achieve sustainability?

We could add “in a finite amount of time”, but that caveat is self-inserting because sustainability will not wait for ever. We can only live unsustainably for so long, by simple definition.

So how do we determine whether any particular instance of sustainable development is open (ultimately unsustainable) or closed (improving quickly enough to achieve sustainability)? And can we then extend such a method to a community, nation, region or species?

Even quite simple systems like fish stocks have to be monitored over several years to get a clear picture of how fishing practices affect them. As a result, assumptions of effect have to be made and continually modified when planning sustainable development of any activity. But the evolving picture should quantify any permanent effects and trends, and the ultimate sustainability should be evident.

The activity of a community or organization could be assumed to be the sum of its component activities, so if each component activity is judged as sustainable then it should follow that that community’s activities are sustainable. And a slightly more complex criterion for sustainability would be that any unsustainable component activities would have to be balanced out by other positive activities--akin to carbon offsetting, but allowing strictly compatible effects.

The sustainability of the activities of larger groupings of people could be assessed in a similar additive way, until we can judge the ultimate sustainability of our species. But at present, with very little assessment being made, we can only make an informed guess.

Which brings me back to the comparison with cosmology. Where most experts (climate scientists, anthropologists, ecologists, historians, etc.) might judge our current rate of development as unsustainable, opinion is probably more evenly divided on the question of whether we can and will accelerate development enough to achieve sustainability.

Until the informed view becomes so hopeless that we no longer believe we can achieve sustainability, it will remain the prime objective. Or rather, it should remain the prime objective but the mainstream focus has been stuck on sustainable development with no recognition that such development has to be anything other than nominally positive.

This is one paradigm change that is probably best started at grass-roots level, because our species’ ultimate sustainability is the summed effect of its constituent communities. Each community has to achieve sustainability in isolation or in combination with others. Although “think global, act local” always seemed trite and unfair when so much human activity is already consolidated and globalised, communities can demonstrate sustainability one-by-one and the cumulative pressure will be brought to bear on the communities, nations and regions that remain.

As a final thought: achieving global sustainability, will necessitate societal change. Hence, the Green Revolution, if it is to happen at all, might well be won without ideological confrontation. And where’s the satisfaction in that?