Thursday, October 31, 2013

 

Limits to Growth in the 21st Century: Planetary Boundaries


In The God Species, Mark Lynas, a leading science journalist from the UK (Six Degrees) and former environmental activist, gives us the early twenty-first century version of Limits to Growth by reporting on the work of the Planetary Boundaries group, a team of leading scientists from their fields who have met since 2010 to lay out, quantifying where possible, the limits beyond which we must not push our planet. Lynas, who was invited to attend the sessions of the Planetary Boundaries group, clearly lays out the parameters for each of nine boundaries. This information alone is as daunting as it is necessary. But he goes on to argue for the high tech, large-scale solutions favored by the international policy community, a brash and unsettling challenge to environmentalists who would prefer a small-is-beautiful, grassroots response. For each of the nine interlocking boundaries, we are at a choicepoint, and Lynas argues that in some key respects (nuclear power, the Green Revolution, GMO's) Greens are lining up on the wrong side of techno-history.

The book's challenge for me is twofold. The first is to broaden my perspective from focusing almost exclusively on climate change as the central ecological issue of our time. Biodiversity loss, the overuse of nitrogen, land use, and water shortages are all boundaries whose interaction with climate change are crucial to the biosphere. The second is to suspend my “naturalistic fallacy” to consider the possibility that some high tech solutions might actually be worthwhile in getting us out of the mess created by the very technologies that are the hallmark of our human-dominated era, the Anthropocene (a term coined by one of the scientists in the group, Paul Crutzen, to describe our dominance of the planetary system since the beginning of the industrial era ca. 1800). This second challenge is far heavier, for it goes against some of my most cherished values.

So here is the crux. Are romantic Greens, seized by the “naturalistic fallacy,” missing the opportunity to utilize technology and market mechanisms to ease, indeed make possible, the final transition from pre-industrial poverty to sustainable energy, land use, agriculture, and housing for the nine billion humans who will be here by mid-century? Are we the ones who are unwittingly condemning billions to unnecessary starvation or death by exposure by our purist opposition to GMO's and nuclear power? What do we want to sustain, our Romantic values or the earth?

On the other hand, as Paul Kingsnorth argues in his equally challenging Orion article, “Dark Ecology,” Lynas joins a whole group of neo-environmentalists who place full faith in the very kinds of technological solutions that have often made problems worse by creating new, unforeseen ones. Moreover, they enthusiastically adopt (Kingsnorth's word is “worship”) capitalism, the very system that has ruthlessly heightened our ability to hunt, mine, burn and otherwise strip the earth of her resources, as the best economic engine for sustaining civilization while respecting those boundaries

Indeed, the book's title contains both hubris and hope. Hubris because we have usurped god (from the religious perspective), the ecosystem manager (Eugene Odum) become the God Species, able to create or destroy the post-natural (McKibben's End of Nature) world which we dominate. If we live in a web, as the ecologists eloquently show, we have the position of a master spider, spinning from a ubiquitous center in a global technocracy. And hope, because in the anthropocene, we have the tools to pull ourselves and crucially, the biosphere, out of the mess. Though he clearly understands what we're up against, Lynas is an upbeat optimist, identifying the engines of change as well as signs of coalescing international agreement after the debacle of Copenhagen, “humanity's darkest hour.” Characteristically, he points out that we have “only” crossed three of the nine boundaries, perhaps not so far along (in 2011 anyway) that we can't go back (They are: climate change, 390 ppm CO2 vs 350; biodiversity loss, 100 species extinct per million per year vs. a boundary of 10; and the nitrogen cycle, expressed in the amount of N2 removed from the atmosphere, millions of tonnes per year, 121 vs. 35.) Lynas' figures for the extinction rate are low - the range biologists give is from 1000 to 10,000 species/yr.

The current blogpost, and its sequel, which will focus on the implications of Lynas's study for agriculture (and world population), are condensed accounts excerpted from a broader review-essay addressing some of the fundamental environmental issues that a planetary boundaries approach requires us to face. But I have a working conclusion to that piece, still a work in progress...

Faced with the enlarged, much more complex set of challenges that the nine planetary boundaries confronts the dominant species with (if you except bacteria), it is tempting to revert to the comfort and cleanness of our traditional default values, whether we are on the right or the left, rather than struggling to find the grey middle which the facts may require. There is no arguing with the facts, as hard as climate deniers try (or farmers who say more is better to chemical fertilizer, as well as those who think organic is always better, no matter the consequences for water and land use, who are often the same who love country living, but not urban sprawl).

There is, however, a wider range of responses to the facts, the boundaries that we are up against. I would love to be pure and side with the Kingsnorths and their nineteenth century technology. My gut harbors a Luddite strain that my imagination feeds daily. On the other side, I find rational arguments about ways to use our technological abilities persuasive, especially if I hold fast to the boundaries in question (though sometimes their requirements conflict). It is this latter kind of thinking that has led me to reluctantly accept nuclear power as the best bridge technology to a future sustainable energy world. This requires going against my gut disposition and my agrarian values, and, crucially, using risk assessment to favor nuclear power over coal (our main options for baseload power, which is how the energy world as currently constructed). Excess CO2 will surely kill us; a few nuclear accidents, as painful and disruptive as they may be, will not. In the case of each technology, we need to carefully assess whether it actually helps avoid crossing another planetary boundary.  When the technology helps with one boundary, but hurts with another (for example, nuclear waste is a toxin), then we must use risk assessment to help prioritize the boundaries in question.  

NOTE. I have already made several posts about this issue (see April-May 2009 sequence), though I need to update what I wrote about renewables, which have come a long way in 4-5 years. I have also posted on food production, favoring supporting subsistence farming over global food trade. I now see that as a romantic view, requiring revision. See the next post, coming shortly.





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Saturday, December 29, 2007

 

Two Paradigms

During this year’s Friends General Conference, Quaker Earthcare Witness sponsored a panel, “How Green is Nuclear Power?” I participated, along with Karen Street and Louis Cox, QEW’s information officer . Our aim was not only to debate nuclear power, but to discuss the value systems underlying our positions. Louis laid out two paradigms through which to think about the issue. The first was industrial, whereby technological innovations coupled to mandated economic reforms could lead to maintaining the projected world population of 9 billion at mid-century. The second was ecological, in which human culture would mimic the ecosystem and re-integrate with it. Louis identified with the ecological paradigm, implying that a pro-nuclear power person would represent the technological mind-set. Karen felt her position was more nuanced, but basically demonstrated her accord with it, emphasizing the costs to both humans and other species if we did not severely dampen our carbon emissions by decisively adopting nuclear power.

I found myself in the middle, for I identified with Louis’s value system, while accepting at the same time that the numbers just don’t support the splendid ideal of “doing it all” with renewable energy pathways. It is difficult, but I find it necessary to hold both of these paradigms within me, and see what emerges from the encounter. I am disturbed both by the unwillingness of environmentalists to look at the figures and study new information, and by the policy community’s ignoring the human capacity for metanoia (radical change of mind). We need environmentalists who use reason, rather than emotionally reacting from untested positions, and we need scientists and economists who understand that we need more than policy tinkering. The human community cries out for thoroughgoing structural change.

Let me be clear. I do not think we can commit to caring for an eventual population of 8.5 to 9 billion. We crossed the boundary of the earth’s ability to replenish herself in 1985, when the global population was around 4.5 billion. With great care of engineering, international mandates, and personal restraint, the earth might be able to sustain that many people, but more likely the figure is far less. The laws of population, the limits that Malthus clearly saw, are the same for any species. If the population exceeds the carrying capacity of its habitat, then it will suffer a crash, a die-off. Willfully mistaking what dominion means, we have exceeded the entire earth’s carrying capacity, and the technological fixes are but a momentary stay against the inevitable. When I advocate nuclear power, it is not for the purpose of continuing mad growth of population and resource use, but as one of the means to allow us to make a transition to future sustainability.

Thomas Berry, when queried over the fact that he continued to use a car, spoke of the “ambiguity” of the automobile as we made the shift to an ecocentric human presence on the planet. I want to suggest that nuclear power is another such ambiguity, an awkward compromise that is a trademark of our times, as we transition from the late industrial to the post-industrial era. In a remarkable book full of hope, Blessed Unrest, Paul Hawken shows that this transition is well underway, with at least two million small organizations and NGO’s awakening to protect Gaia, acting as part of her immune system. This bottom-up systemic response is healthy, and contains the instinctive passion that will be necessary for our survival, but more importantly, the survival of a planetary ecosystem still resilient enough to support complex life. But I fear that the auto-immune system will lose its vital connection with the head, with reason exemplified in the policy community’s careful, peer-reviewed recommendations. We need both; neither has exclusive claim to truth.

NEXT: Wendell Berry, Wes Jackson and the New Agrarians. Can we make perennial grains the basis for sustainable farming?

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Tuesday, September 04, 2007

 

Tender Mercies Versus Ecological Justice

“The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.” Proverbs 12:10
“Your wrongdoing has upset nature's order." Jeremiah 5:25

Tender mercies. Fellow Quaker electronic journalist Marshall Massey brought up this phrase in response to my arguments for nuclear power as the most compassionate energy source in an era when we dare not burn more carbon. Massey got the phrase from reading John Woolman’s journal. In a famous (among us Quakes) passage, Woolman describes killing a mother bird for sport, then, mindful of tender mercies, reluctantly kills her brood, who would perish without her. Going back to the source in Proverbs, Massey shows that “tender mercies” follow in the train of wickedness, a belated effort to set right some wrong. “Wow. He hit the nail on the head,” I thought at first. But then I remembered my own argument on nuclear morality: The overall moral issue is not nuclear power per se, but of how we care for the web of Creation. It is stewardship in an era when our numbers are overwhelming Gaia, multiplied by an extravagant lifestyle (look at the freezer and the clothes dryer, air conditioning and electric heat, the car and multiple-car families). We live in a world deeply, perhaps fatally, compromised by our industrial choices.

Nevertheless, Friend Massey performs an important service by getting me to look at how global thinkers and policy experts omit attention to individual moral acts. Living as we now do, we gloss over so much wickedness, accustomed by an habitual industrial lifestyle to regular mayhem against the ecosystem. Anyone, including myself, who argues for upholding any part of the global industrial machine can only do so in terms of relative harm. Thus we regularize wickedness even as we try to exercise moral sensibility. Massey questions the place of tender mercies in a world where injustice reigns, a global corporate world that ignores the deeper structure of the natural world, which is one of limits, both in terms of quantity and in terms of boundary – especially in the case of transgenic research.

Yet the whole world screams out for mercy! Why pick on the particular cruelties of nuclear power and wastes, when the cruelty is in the industrial system: cruelty to human beings, cruelty to ecosystems and individual members. I shot the parakeet, again and again, and lo, they came back for more as the dead littered the ground wrote a well-munitioned hunter in the North Carolina forest 250 years ago, amazed that they did not fear him. The Carolina parakeet is now long extinct. Today, extinction is the final ruin we inflict not by individual thoughtless acts, but by our whole way of life.

So, Marshall, you have alerted my moral compass to the task, which is to move beyond acts of compassion motivated by shame and remorse. It is not compassion that is the key to righting our wrongs, but justice – ecojustice. Getting right with God in Jeremiah’s terms is more important than tender mercies. Justice trumps compassion, suffering is a necessity, and we muster as much compassion as we can as a consequence. To re-establish a just earth system, we must dismantle what we have wrought. Dismantle a system that commodifies everything, causing us to hasten commerce for short term monetary profit, thus burning more carbon. It’s just a matter of how far we go, and how it comes to pass. Some would say that we need to dismantle settled agriculture itself and return to hunter-gatherer existence (maybe a few million human beings worldwide).

We are not going to do this. We might set up a few adulterated laws to slow down emissions (we and the Europeans and other signatories to Kyoto). But the Chinese are going to keep building their economy until they reach the living standard of Portugal. So they hope. If that is true, if we are to have a Portugal of 1.5 billion people, then our tinkering with carbon caps in the rest of the world will be for nought, and the Climate Beast will go into avalanche.

But there are things we can do. We can grow our food and trade for goods that are locally produced. We can stop buying Chinese goods. We can get rid of our cars and stop riding airplanes. We need to cut our electricity usage by more than half, and where appropriate, shift from reliance on the electrical grid to distributed power. Planners argue against distributed power as “inefficient.” Is this true as well of food production? Is industrial scale efficiency really the answer? We need to stop globalization. But structural changes are the most difficult, and frankly, we don’t have time.

How many can the earth support? Living at what level? The poor African seems to live in a more ecologically just way. Electricity and personal motorized transport are conveniences, but are they a necessity? But even if we all lived a simple lifestyle in tiny houses or efficiency apartment complexes, this itself accepts commandeering the amount of land we’ve stolen from other species, leaving them starving into extinction. It is an argument based on human use-value, not ecojustice.

Given North American bloated lifestyles requiring three and a half to four earths (that’s just the average, which includes the homeless with their assured hot meals and street life near vents of waste heat), living a truly sustainable lifestyle is remote. To be sustainable in a world of 6.5 billion means no coal-fired plants, to be sure, but remember that solar panels, windmills, and hybrid cars all require fossil-fuel inputs to build. Energy and materials intensive manufactured items of any kind are problematic in such a world. And nuclear power on the scale required to replace coal (as well as replacing decommissioned nuclear plants) will cost a fortune that is probably unattainable. But in a world where subsistence is more the norm, durability (Bill McKibben’s word) is within reach. A system that can sustain and renew itself will require belt-tightening on an unprecedented scale. We need a universal one child policy and carbon tax, with a cap on both corporate and individual emissions. Remember, this is war, requiring war’s emergency measures – war against our own rapacious human nature. Short of this, we will have what population biologists call a die-off.

But if we as a species are not going to respond with huge structural changes in the global economy in time to answer the trumpet of ecojustice that clearly rings, what we need to work and pray for is economic collapse. Our retirement portfolios will suffer (a coordinated sell-off of stocks would help bring this on). This will cause the most pain to the poor, just as global warming will. But the order, the natural and the human order is so disordered, so far out of balance, that the suffering has been deferred. The bill of pain has now come due: economic pain, physical pain, the pain of hunger, the pain of dying younger with less offspring to care for us. The balance of nature has to be reset, and the longer we wait to restore that balance (or more accurately, the longer the system takes to right itself), the more pain.

After making this argument, what am I willing to do? How do I live? Will I give up my freezer? Not my car, for I live in the country, nor our dehumidifier, for my wife could not live in this mouldy partially buried house without it, nor our large refrigerator (by global standards). I could give up air travel. I already spend less than the world average on goods and clothes, and yet I have far more clothes and goods than I need due to a nature that is both frugal and possessive. I have virtually given up buying distant produce (California, South and Central America) and have a fairly large garden. I live in a passive solar house, and use wood for the remainder of my space heating (very inefficient in terms of carbon usage, but it’s within the normal cycle of forest growth on my leasehold). We’re putting in photovoltaic panels this fall, but that means cutting thirteen more trees, and even with pv’s we could not run the dehumidifier without reliance on supplemental power from the grid.

Friends, we have only about six years left until the chances will be 50-50 that unstoppable climate change is upon us (at 450 ppm CO2e). James Hansen said in January 2006 that we had “ten years” to make a significant reduction in global CO2 emissions, 10%. Since then, the rate of global emissions has increased, so that we are now at 430ppm CO2e, the figure that includes not only CO2 but other greenhouse gases like methane, NO2 and fluorocarbons. With CO2 alone being produced at 3ppm/year, I read 2013 as the Reckoning Point. If neither personal choice nor continually deferred government action are going to effectively achieve the kinds of needed reductions, then that enticing subset of the biosphere, the global human economy, needs to fail sufficiently to lessen the CO2 outputs that are tied to the production and consumption curves. At that point, we will begin to learn what “community” really means.

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Tuesday, July 31, 2007

 

Be Ye Therefore Perfect...

BE YE THEREFORE PERFECT...

Marshall Massey's blog, Earth Witness, recently hosted a significant exchange on the Morality of Nuclear Power, which I blogged about this spring (“The Morality of Nuclear Power,” April 2007). It was occasioned by an impassioned, eloquent post by Angela Manno in which she spoke of the "abomination" of nuclear power and went on to demonstrate that Friends testimonies, the Quaker values that are as close as we get to credal religions, all implicitly condemn nuclear power. Marshall, commenting on the responses from Karen Street and myself, spoke of the conflict between absolute and relative values within the context of Quaker theological history, and promised to respond more fully at some point.

In my previous post I tried to place the question of the morality of nuclear power in the context of our industrial life, showing that it was not benign, but the least harmful way to power the grid, and, in time, personal transport in the form of plug-in hybrids or as a source of hydrogen for fuel cells. But Angela's impassioned call has continued to trouble me. I want to stick by my point that all of this is relative: all of our professed testimonies accuse us in an era when we have compromised the earth's integrity to accommodate unsustainable numbers of people on earth, one billion of whom live much, much more profligately than the earth can sustain, two billion of whom live in abject poverty. Karen Street, my personal policy wonk consultant on energy and climate change, responded point by point to some of the inaccuracies and wrong assumptions behind Angela's post. But I want to carry the conversation further by responding to the challenge with respect to the testimonies, for I think to look at these core values in the context of our way of life, with far-flung tentacles into every corner and all depths of the earth and its fragile atmosphere, is a worthy exercise. For it's not a matter of sitting with a bunch of sympatico Friends in a wooded glen affirming these values as ones we can live by. It's a matter of honestly looking at what degree our lives speak these values.

Simplicity. I cannot deny her point here. Karen and I are talking about nuclear as our best hope to provide non carbon-emitting baseline power for the grid. Almost all of us are hooked to the grid, which because of economy of scale, is the most efficient means of providing electricity . But efficiency is not simplicity. Paul Hawken has said, "Never before has there been a system so ubiquitous, so destructive, and so well managed." The greater the efficiencies we achieve, the faster we deplete the earth. In the earth system’s hour of crisis the only efficiency that will help is one enthralled to negative development and negative population growth. Then, and only then, efficiency might take a turn towards simplicity.

If my wife and I follow our plan and install solar panels this fall, we will be more carbon-free, but certainly not living more simply. I heat with wood, but would be severely challenged to do so without my chainsaw. Yeah, it'll help those nasty emissions when the 2008 federal law bans all new 2-stroke engines, but my trusty saw will be grandfathered in. We have worked for decades to simplify our lives, and I could enumerate many un-American ways we live, but the fact is that though I live at half the American standard, it is still about twice the average world standard of living,.

Peace: reverence for life and the practice of respectful, nurturing relationships, non-violent living, conflict prevention, conflict resolution, working to reduce and eliminate the causes of war and violence. Another tough one. Nuclear power moves us a little closer towards conflict prevention with respect to oil use, since the biggest users of oil have very little of it, and it takes far less uranium than coal, oil, and natural gas to provide lower-emission energy. To the degree that the spread of nuclear power increases the chances of weapons proliferation, then fission power means less peace. But it's the wealthy nations of the world who have that option, not the poorer ones. Rogue weapons are inefficient weapons (mostly "dirty bombs"), which while they are threats to peace, are far less threatening than the nations with delivery systems and plenty of bombs to mount on them. Security issues are real. The path towards coping with them is to strengthen the IAEA. But the greatest risks to our security are the nuclear weapons states, among which we are the proud leaders.

Perhaps the main nuclear assault to peace is the process of mining and drilling, which the First Nations have always resisted because it is like ripping into the womb of the earth. Since it takes far less uranium (or thorium, a better alternative) to power the grid than coal or natural gas, the assault is less with nuclear power. But none of our industrial level comforts and conveniences promote peace when you get right down to it.

Equality. I have already blogged about this in terms of ecojustice. Ecojustice is best served if we devolve from our industrial ways entirely and essentially give up the enterprise of civilization. If we are talking about human equality, nuclear is the better choice, for it is more affordable and, if we commit to it, more quickly available than other non carbon-emitting sources of energy.

Integrity. This one is huge for me. If we're talking about the integrity of the whole earth system, then we need to devolve as rapidly as possible. Human systems need to back off or more likely, break down, so that the rest of the earth system might heal. This is true for cultural preservation as well as natural preservation. On the other hand, what are Eskimos and similar folk to do if they are only allowed enough whale and walrus kills to eat, not to power their lives? Not one of us can live a life of integrity on this planet given the current industrial order of arrangements. Our order has supplanted the natural order, as Jeremiah said long ago. Only we have done it on a scale unimaginable to his audience of sinners. Deep down, I still resonate with my own thesis - "Don't mess with the nucleus" - as fundamentally a witness about integrity. In terms of integrity on the planetary scale, the scale of deep ecology, we need to suffer economic and population collapse and work to reassume our place in the democracy of planetary life.

But if you're talking about integrity on the scale of human interaction and witness, then the point is not to kid ourselves that by being anti-nuke we are pure, holier than the nuclear power advocate. I am so tired of anti-nuke folk willfully ignoring their own ecological sin while blasting those who speak in terms of relative harm. (One recent example was a prominent anti-nuclear Quaker activist damning our exercise of reason and deliberation as she stepped on a plane to Turkey. Whether this was to do "important work" or for pleasure is beside the point; emissions are emissions to the earth system, whatever our motivation.) Yes, we will talk of integrity, but we must make a pact to walk with integrity.

Community. Which community? Nuclear power violates the earth community in some ways, common to other power sources which require mining and drilling and industrial scale use of ever-narrowing supplies of fresh water. And yes, it requires more resource use to safeguard its wastes. But it violates the human community less. "Not in my backyard" ignores the fact that coal and oil wastes don't have any boundaries. The chief person the nuclear power plant effects negatively is the trout fisherman by warming the waters (not to mention the trout).

"Friends Testimonies and the Ecological World View" is Canadian Friend Keith Helmuth's commentary on the testimonies from the biospheric perspective. Just one example, his expansion on my key testimony of integrity: "Ecological Sound Adaptation: design for living according to the integrity of the biotic environment; ways of life and means of livelihood that are congruent with earth's life support processes and systems,; active enhancement of biotic processes and systems." Fine. this is basic Leopold, who undergirds my "Morality of Nuclear Power” blogpost. Keith is a member of a think-tank (Quaker Institute for the Future) to help lead us in the direction of a restored land ethic. However, they have not come up with a way to get the current mass of humanity to the middle of the century without overheating the planet to such a degree that all of our values except compassion in the face of annihilation will be moot.

I pray that my grandchild and his child can live the values of Angela Manno and Keith Helmuth as integral, whole beings, without speaking hypocritically. These are my values, too, and I find honestly facing my impact on the earth very painful, even more painful than changing my long-cherished anti-nuclear position. St Paul's statement, that his flesh continues to sin, even as his Inner Guide counsels not to sin, still fits not just our traditional sense of sin, but ecological sin as well. As inhabitants of the earth's biosphere, the only one we know in the universe, we are not yet in the place where we can truly follow the advice of Paul's Master, "go and sin no more."

Marshall, gentle, firm guide to our conversation, I await your response, which I suspect must move beyond the perfection of absolute values to embrace ethical relativism at some level. No matter what our history as a people of faith in these matters, we are at an entirely new place. It is either the end of history, or the threshold of metanoia.

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Thursday, April 26, 2007

 

The Challenge of Compassion in a World Ravaged by Global Warming

In a warming world of diminished resources creating tensions over oil and water, encroaching seas producing unprecedented numbers of refugees, and severely compromised farmland leading to widespread famine, compassion is the resource we are going to need to grow most of all, not just for fellow human beings, but extending to the entire web of life. Thus ended my last post. I am interested in hearing from readers about pro-active training programs, as well as personal transformation as compassionate beings, in preparation for the arrival of this wave of disaster, which is already gathering. The tensions are going to elevate – already have with oil wars - long before some of the worst effects like refugees from flooding coastal areas. But if this is the greatest crisis we’ve ever faced, then the level of response will need to be correspondingly huge.

In the midst of my analysis of nuclear power, retooling my thought, I stopped one day to reread some of the touchstones of my personal values, Edwin Goldsmith and Thomas Berry. It was only after integrating with these previous mentors that I proceeded to write the piece on nuclear morality which I posted last week.

Feb 25 Ah, the beauty of Goldsmith's analysis (The Way), speaking to my depths as a human being, to my animal, my Adam. And oh, the sullied world in which we have to embrace nukes to have a chance of getting through. We're certainly not going to just give up carbon-burning and shrivel up and die. We're gonna go down swinging, one way or another. So perhaps his is yet another statement that shows us who we could be, if we hewed close to our type. And I would prefer to write and teach about that. Yes, I feel dirty and compromised, though Lovelock and Karen Street (that “Quaker woman”) would argue otherwise. Coal plants are even dirtier and far more deadly; I've just looked the other way. Those who prefer that we'd destroy ourselves have some sympathy from me when I try to listen deeply to the earth..

How can we hold ourselves to our best selves, as Thomas Berry and Goldsmith do, and continue to build nukes? How can we hold to our best selves and continue to grow a civilization on the scale we now mount it?

How will we hold ourselves to our best while death and destruction rain all around us? When refugees swarm at our borders, our doors? When there's not enough food for our fellow humans, let alone the creatures whose habitats we've robbed? I was hungry and you fed me. That will apply until the end, breaking the last crust of bread with the stranger. But what if it's a group of fifty desperate starving people? What happens when you must measure out compassion so that one in every eight survives? How will we choose?

I remember my fury when I read a memo from Larry Summers, recently resigned as president of Harvard, stating coolly that one of the poorest Latin American countries (Haiti?) should be left to collapse, that it wasn't worth the investment in a world with insufficient resources. But what would you or I do? Lester Brown has answers, and so do I: subsistence farming is a key one. Having overrun the planet and outstripped her resources, subsistence, not sustainability, must be our response until our numbers have been vastly reduced. Aran Island and its potato farmers will be gone, but we will farm the cement crannies as they once did their deep rock crevices, buckets lowered into the darkening loam.

Thich Nat Hanh says that the most important thing for us to do now is to hear the sound of the Earth crying within us. How do we feel both the pain of the earth and the pain of humanity? What does it mean to choose your battles in such a situation, when all of it is necessary and holy? Yet, to avoid the “blooming, buzzing confusion,” even perception requires that we choose. We need to learn how to align our ears and eyes and touch, even as we continue to choose our battles - without shutting down entirely. Our media endlessly lament, and thereby glorify, the slaughter at Virginia Tech. But what of the forgotten Iraquis? And who tolls the bell for the species as they pass behind the infinite black curtain of extinction?

Compassion not only for the earth and others but for ourselves. For if we don’t’ have that, then we have the hatred and anger of the activists who are having a final field day with this, our darkest moment (no wonder nobody will listen!). We can’t love the earth without loving other humans, and we can’t love them without loving ourselves.

Cultivate the compassion of the crucified God deep within all of creation. Dwell in it, rather than in how to escape it and get on with salvation, either through piling up material wealth, doing good works or becoming spirit-beings. Salvation is the temptation in a world where the shadow of capitalist cornucopia from an infinite earth, scarcity, has finally come to deeply shade the final fruits of a system that works by creating infinite desire while colonizing dear, immediate necessity. Even as ecosystems are in the early stages of collapse, the stock market reached new highs this week. Who is singing a requiem to the latest extinctions – both biological and cultural?

We scramble for oil, water, farmland. On the other hand compassion for all who lack that, who are starving, being beaten, tortured and raped, who thirst. Do you share your last glass of water with a roomful of refugees, and all die of thirst? Larry Summers' grim choice looms. Sophie's Choice is minor compared with the triage we will face by the latter third of this century.

To hunger and thirst after righteousness. Ecojustice, while we still have a chance this might include the poor and the marginal native peoples of the earth. It is narrowing, and will give way to Gaia's justice. The problem identified in Stephen Jay Gould's essay (“Nonmoral Nature”) comparing morality in the human world and the amoral world of nature. This root problem will be coldly exposed in a world of cascading extinction. Is justice itself the key human intervention, the one we have avoided, and the communist experiment failed to realize? If so, is there really something like ecojustice?

April 15 Celo Friends Meeting. I minister with Joan Baez' song, "Just a Little Rain" and speak of our moving from worries about Strontium 90 rains seeded by atmospheric testing to a shift in the entire Earth climate: what have they done to the rain? And then I wonder aloud at the contradiction between what we have wrought and the statement in Genesis that we are made in G-d's image.

At the end of meeting a young woman reads from Brother Nouwen: once we move into prayer mode, any thought becomes a prayer. Reflecting on my dark thought about our rapacious race, I realize that the infinite depths of compassion, the ability to suffer with our fellow human beings, the Earth with all her critters and plants, is also in the image of God. We have become as gods, and must therefore be God-like in our compassion for what we have brought to pass. From the Garden to the neolithic sweat of our brows to the doomed global industrial machine. And then, as the Earth takes back her due, the garden again, farming the paved cracks in the ghosts of cities. The inner city will be one big vacant lot waiting to be redeemed. And the broken and wounded will be everywhere, desperate for healing. Redemption is mine, sayeth the Earth. May the wave of destruction seed a whole tribe of Mother Theresas, flinging them into those same failed cities.

NEXT: Justice and Ecojustice in the Shadow of the Fearsome Wave

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Friday, April 13, 2007

 

THE MORALITY OF NUCLEAR POWER

The overall moral issue is not nuclear power per se, but of how we care for the web of Creation. It is stewardship in an era when our numbers are overwhelming Gaia, multiplied by an extravagant lifestyle (look at the freezer and the clothes dryer, air conditioning and electric heat, the car and multiple-car families). We live in a world deeply, perhaps fatally, compromised by our industrial choices. As a human being struggling with moral choice I am deeply embedded in the accumulated world of infrastructure and culture built upon layers of thought, pre-existing decisions, my very perceptions structured by millennia-soaked predetermining gesture, thought, and decision.

Starting with Romanticism, signaled by William Blake’s total horror before the effects of the industrial revolution upon London, a genuine critique has emerged from within this embeddedness, ending with a clear statement that is the antithesis to the presuppositions of modern industrialism. This critique is ecocentric rather than anthropocentric, and it is represented by deep ecology, ecofeminism, and ecotheology: the view of the divine as immanent, the primal creative intelligence spread throughout the universe.

My own moral stance is strongly indebted to the Hebraic sense of justice, including the prophets’ land ethic, the compassion preached by Jesus, and Gandhian non-violence, which I learned primarily in the Hindustani context of my early twenties. Once I settled into life in Appalachia, the Quakers became my moral/spiritual home, uniting all of these strands. John Woolman’s testimonies on slavery and respectful treatment of Native Americans led me upon further study to his positions on whaling and industrial dyes. About the same time, I came upon the ideas of deep ecology.

In the early seventies, Arne Naess articulated deep ecology, a philosophy in counterpoint to the anthropocentric, use-value oriented environmental movement. It is deep ecology which touches me most deeply, connecting me to my Paleolithic forebears and my brethren among the critters (see my very first blogpost from November 2005). This is the ultimate test for any of our technologies: energy use, agricultural and manufacturing practices, and housing. An ever-expanding awareness of intrinsic rights has led from Locke, Jefferson and Paine through Woolman and the suffragette movement to include animal rights, even plant rights (The Secret Life of Plants). Everything has an equal right to exist in the biosphere, and it is all necessary to the web of creation. Today, slavery is that state of misguided human greed in which all of nature is enslaved to our industrial machine and global capitalism.

Aldo Leopold laid the foundation for deep ecology with his land ethic: A thing is right when it preserves the integrity, stability and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise. Nuclear power, and everything other tool of the late industrial era, needs to be judged by this overarching ethic, buttressed by the values of the world’s great religions. As Edwin Goldsmith, editor of the journal Ecology, points out in his magisterial book, The Way, these religions developed in the wake of abandoning a human way of life which intrinsically honored the land ethic. They laid out a pathway to salvation from a world of sorrow in the cities which expressed human “progress” in escaping the Garden. “Revealed” religions provided solace to the individual and the nuclearized family that was torn from the web of Gaia. Their accompanying values, including justice, compassion, and ahimsa (non-violence), now need to be enlisted as we find our torturous way back, not to the Garden, but to a sustainable human lifepath which honors what remains of the web as Gaia embarks once again upon reweaving in the wake of eco-collapse.

Justice. The Old Testament land ethic was an ethic of herders, one step better than the banished Cain and his tillers. Their stunting of the forest was effected by moving around herds of herbivores, rather than plowing the earth, breaking the arc towards stable climax and cultivating juvenile, annual plants. But it was a land ethic nevertheless. It grew into a more comprehensive ethic to include the relative right livelihood of the conserving farmer, exemplified in the late modern era by Wendell Berry. But the most embracing term is eco-justice. Post-Leopold, the forms of livelihood, and in our case, energy production, that do least harm to the web are the most just to all. We need to simplify our lifestyles, let go of the idea of space heating and cooling (construction improvements), drive personal vehicles less (or abandon the car entirely), and get rid of unnecessary appliances, especially clothes dryers, my pet peeve. The extent to which we can do this, and lower our standard of consumption, is key to how much energy we can save. Which standard of living are we going to strive for? Are there models? Vermont, Cuba, Costa Rica, Romania, Kerala,? We don’t have to retreat to the level of poor African countries, but the
planet could sustain a lot more folks who lived at 1/200th the American lifestyle – though not on sub-Sahel farmland.

Compassion: if it includes humanity, which it does for all but the most misanthropic Earth Firster, then we need to accept nuclear power, however reluctantly. If it is for the greater system, for Gaia, then perhaps we should stop burning fossil fuels, shut down the nukes and take the money for renewables and put it into habitat restoration for other species, transferring land back to our brother and sister species as we accelerate starvation and disease and the general die-off of homo sapiens. But we’re not going to do that, and as religious people we are already committed to compassion for our own species, including the enemy we are to love. If we are compassionate to both our species and to Gaia, we must embrace the necessity of nuclear power, at least for an interim period of a hundred years or more, along with other sources which emit less carbon than fossil fuels.

Ahimsa. Arguing against my testimony on behalf of nuclear power to the State Utilities Commission, a Buddhist colleague on the NC Interfaith Power and Light board built his case on the foundation of ahimsa, the Hindu/Buddhist concept “to do no harm.” Unfortunately, in the vast drawing down of Earth’s resources that has led to the fit of burning that Thomas Berry calls the “petroleum interval,” the very concept of doing no harm exists relative to the greatest harm we have every perpetrated, both to ourselves and to the earth system. Each of us witnesses from within a system that continues to perpetrate this rape, including those of us who rely on solar and other technologies that are dependent upon the embodied energy of oil (this is true of nuclear power as well). None of us is pure, nor outside it. So all statements about ahimsa are relative. I would have to say that our goal needs to to do the least harm, for “no harm” is not possible as human beings living in the 21st century. Just how much harm we cause is being judged right now not by a transcendent God in heaven, but by the earth herself, and for those of us who are theists, the immanent God whose outer garment is the ecosystem. Least harm in terms of Gaia and continued civilized existence is a mix of energy sources that brings carbon emissions as close to neutral as possible. If we manage to make it that far, then by the latter third of the century, the emissions need to be a net zero.

We have a chance to still be decision-makers then if we radically reduce coal and petroleum use, initiating the shifts in behavior required immediately. As Tim Flannery says at the end of The Weather Makers, “If everyone who has the means to do so takes concerted action to rid atmospheric carbon emissions from their lives, I believe we can stabilize and then save the cryosphere.”[1] (the “eternal realm of ice and snow” at the two poles of the earth. The cryosphere is necessary to buffer solar radiation, both by temperature and the albedo effect of reflecting it. For coastal civilization and tidal and marshland life, its holding water out of the seas is also critical.) My personal response to “everyone” is to go beyond efficiency and conservation to install photovoltaic panels. But in a world of social inequality, civil society needs to supplement what is achievable by those with relative wealth so that the poor, too, can contribute to a sustainable lifestyle – and survive. Up to now, that has meant relying on cheap oil and cheap coal. In the near future, that will mean supporting nuclear power so that the huddled masses in the northern latitudes will survive winter. Justice, compassion, and ahimsa are all involved in reaching this conclusion.

Frankly, I would prefer to let the nuclear power industry quietly die. I’d rather be sharing with you the morally simpler essay, “Don’t’ Mess with the Nucleus” that I drafted five years ago. When I was first asked to write about the moral and spiritual aspects of accepting nuclear power, I realized with a shudder that what I was doing didn’t feel very spiritual. It felt technical, intellectual, political - but not spiritual. But I am the same person whose last stage of life is given over to Creation Care, to convincing enough of my brothers and sisters to change their carbon-producing ways to give Creation a chance. A chance for us and a chance for the critters and flora. I have had to accept my lack of purity, my ability to feel above it all (or so embedded in the web as a deep ecologist that nuclear power would be unthinkable). I have come face-to face with the implications of coal-burning and all that that entails. And that’s just it. When Leopold published the Sand County Almanac (1947), there were 2.5 billion humans on the planet, and CO2 levels were at 305 ppm (now above 6.5 and 382 ppm. Remember, 450ppm is the probable tipping point). Global Warming was not yet a hypothesis.



[1] Flannery, The Weather Makers, 296.

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