Archive for March, 2009

Evil Parasitic Caterpillar that has Been Eating Thomas Friedman's Brain Finally Dies!

Sharon March 9th, 2009

Note: Sorry for the quiet blog – I’ve been away and in transit and lazy.  I will be posting more AIP stuff and also an account of my Tucson trip, including my visit to Chile, whose food I must say tastes even better than it looks on the blog.  But in the meantime, here’s this breaking news!

Thomas Friedman, uncritical neo-classical economist, whack job proponent of globalization and porn-star-style mustachioed New York Times columnist has actually decided that growth is bad.  http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/08/opinion/08friedman.html?_r=2 

 This stunning development occurred after the evil, parasitic alien caterpillar that has been residing on his upper lip died, ending its multi-year position controlling all of Friedman’s brain activity.  This is the only possible explanation for a sudden shift to rationality from a man who has done more to encourage the globalizing destruction of all hope for sustainability than most.  

 In a news conference, Friedman also renounced the “science” of economics, and vowed to help develop a new steady state economy.  He also reassured those who would miss his famous look that despite the death of his parasite, he’d be keeping its corpse on his upper lip, since he’s gotten used to it. 

 (Ok, the last part isn’t true.  But the article is, and this is the only way I can think of that really makes sense ;-) ).

 Sharon 

Adapting In Place – And When Not To

Sharon March 3rd, 2009

Welcome to the first day of the Adapting in Place class – most of my posts this month will focus on the theme of how to get along where you are, with what you’ve got.  I love this class, and enjoy doing it.  I would note that some of the registered participants have not yet subscribed to the discussion group – please do so, so you don’t miss anything!

 I thought I’d start out with the question of who *should not* adapt in place.  The very first activity we do in both classes is to sit down and make a list of what your alternatives are if you have to leave your present place.  The reason we do it is because things like that could happen – people lose jobs and homes, they have fires, they are forced out by climate changes or environmental crises – sometimes you can’t stay where you are.  And as much as we’re going to focus on staying in place, we should also make sure we never lose sight of the fact that we do have other choices, even if we don’t much like them,

And for some people, getting out of Dodge is the way to go.  That is, I think that some people should absolutely consider leaving where they are, and doing sooner, rather than later, because they have little or no hope of successfully remaining in place. 

Now some of this comes down to long vs. short term issues – and there are balances to be struck.  For example, let’s say you live in a place that may be underwater in a couple of decades.  You love it, you are in your 50s or 60s, your kids are here.  Do you have to leave?  No, you don’t have to, but you might want to think about your choices.  For example, do you want to have to evacuate your location regularly due to coastal storms in your 80s?  Do you have a support network that will make that possible, that will help you?  If you plan to move when things get more acute, how likely is it you will be able to sell your house, as areas look increasingly difficult to inhabit.  Do you need to sell it?  If you have family inland who would take you in,  maybe risking that you might have to walk away is ok – or maybe it isn’t. 

Our homes are our homes, and our right to stay and choose them sometimes seems inviolable – but it isn’t.  In the next decades there are going to be a lot of migrants – and you  may be one of them.  Migrating and settling in a reasonably liveable place might be better – or it might not, and you might want to wait and see.  But don’t do it in ignorance – find out all you can.  The reality is that many people do more research on what movie to see than we do about our future, and the risks and benefits of the locations we choose.

 So here’s my list of when to think seriously about getting out.  There will be exceptions in every case – my claim is not “you definitely must go” but “think hard about what you are choosing.”

 1. If you have an ARM and can’t reset it, are already facing foreclosure or have no reason to believe you’ll be able to pay for your house, or if your current house was bought near the market peak and you require two ful incomes to pay for it. 

 The odds are good you aren’t going to keep your house in those circumstances – and the worst possible scenario for you may well be that you go into debt frantically trying to keep your old way of life open, which closes off other options.  If you have a better choice, one that can provide some stability, or there is hope of selling and getting out from under, seriously consider it.

 If you do end up in full foreclosure, remember the magic words – “Produce the Note.”  Rerquire that the company do full due diligence and stay in your house as long as you can – you might as well save up rent for the future.  And unless your loan is a recourse loan (be very careful with state assisted refinances, since many of these turn no-recourse loans into recourse loans – you do not want to be paying for this forever)  But do me a favor, and don’t trash the place on the way out – someone else, even you may eventually end up renting a foreclosure, so don’t trash what assets we’ve got indiscriminately.

 2. If you have young children or are elderly, have close ties somewhere but are living far away from them in a community that you are not invested in.  Not everyone has people (family biological or chosen) who will give you a place at the table, thin the soup to make it stretch, let you sleep on their couch and otherwise cover your back.  But if you do, recognize that these people are the beginnings of your tribe. Not all of us have tribes in one place – and some of us have multiple tribes.  But if you aren’t rooted where you are in some deep way, if you live there primarily for a job, and you can get back to your people think about it seriously.

The people who will most need the support of their family are young families themselves struggling to make do and older people who may need some help.  Sometimes these peopel are related to one another ;-) .  Not all family is good, not every friendship can go this far, but if you have these ties, they matter, and they are essential.

 3. If you have children or parents you need to care for far away.  Again, this is ymmv, but if you are going to be dealing with your parents’ decline, or if you don’t have custody of your kids but want to spend time on them, you need to set it up in a way that doesn’t make anyone rely on airline or other expensive long distance travel.  That means that if they don’t come to you, you go to them. It was once perfectly viable to live across the country from your kids, and say, have them spend summers with you – it may no longer be viable.  I realize this will be enormously painful and disruptive to families, but if you are the resource for people very far away over the longer term, you need to find a way to be closer to one another, or accept that you may not be able to take on that role.

 4. If you live in an extreme climate, likely to become more extreme with climate change, but you are not particularly and unusually well adapted to it.  That is, unless we check climate change, which at this point seems unlikely, if highly desirable, at some point, many places are going to be uninhabitable for many of the people who presently live there.  Some may become literally uninhabitable over time, but more likely, what we’ll see is that small populations, extremely well adapted to their environment, and extremely attuned to it, become native to many places as long as they are even marginally inhabitable.  But the question is, are you one of them?

 That is, if you live in a very hot, dry place, and are an expert desert farmer, gifted at retaining and using every drop of water prudently, and comfortable living without lots of input or air conditioning, and happy to live on the diet that grows there well, great, you and your descendents will probably do very well there if anyone does.  But if you are fond of long showers, keep the a/c on six months a year and think that hamburgers are a right, you might want to think about somewhere else.  Moreover, if you need income from the sale of your house, you might want to think about it sooner, rather than later, because there will probably come a point at which the number of people who want to live there declines dramatically, and it will be even tougher to sell than it is now.  Now even if some places do become uninhabitable, they probably won’t do so immediately - you might well be able to live out your life where you are.  But remember that it will probably become gradually and increasingly hard – the summers will be worse, the storms will be stronger, the ice pack will be smaller.  Are you prepared to be that adaptable?   

5. If you live among people with lousy values.  I’m on the record saying that most of us can probably get along in most places with at least some people. I don’t think everyone in your town has to be like you, or that ecovillages are the only way to find community. That said, however, there are exceptions.  And even if you can find some small community in a larger culture of rotten values, you may find that it wears you down. 

 Thus, if your neighborhood is chronically ridden with violence and crime, maybe it is a good idea to fight it – but maybe you’d be better off somewhere else.  If you bought in a gated community full of self-centered rich assholes, and now you regret it because they are pissed about your garden, sometimes, if you can, living somewhere else might be nicer. 

If you belong to a minority community, you might want to live where people like folks like you, or at least tolerate them, rather than a place that is hostile to them.  If you rely on a religious community, you might want to live where you feel that the cultural values reflect your own. 

Personally, I’ve always had a lot of luck finding allies where I went, even if we didn’t share faith or experience.  But there are root values we did have in common – integrity, kindness, a desire for community.  If those things don’t exist, you might seriously have to consider another choice.

6. If you don’t think your children (and by your children, I mean the children in your family, even if they aren’t your own)  have a future where you are.  Now this is somewhat speculative, and may partly contradict what I said above – you may, for example, simply not be ready to leave a place, even if you don’t think it will be sustainable in the long term.  But it is worth thinking about the larger consequences of committing to a place that may not have a future.  If your children have to leave to get work, if your children have to leave because it isn’t safe or is underwater, are your prepared to part with them?  Are you prepared for your family to be parted in circumstances that might not be conducive to cross-country travel?  More importantly, if you have land or something you hope to pass down to your kids, are you prepared not to be able to do so?  Is it an asset that they will be able to do without?  Again, you can’t know all this for sure, but it is worth thinking about.

 7. If you plan to move anyway.  That is, if you have a family place or somewhere you have always planned to return to, if you can, now is probably the best time.  It takes time to build soil. It takes time to get to know people. It takes time to see fruit trees come to maturity.  If you were planning on going anyway after a few more years of earning, or something, now might be the right time.  That said, however, I’d be awfully cautious about buying, and only recommend this *if you can* leave – either by selling your current place or if you’ve been renting.  But building roots is important.

8. If you aren’t prepared to live in the place you live as its culture demands.  That is, as we get poorer and travel and transit become bigger issues, living in the country is going to be a lot different than it is now – instead of living essentially a suburban life, commuting to activities not available and relying on trucked in supplies, you may have to shop occasionally and mostly stay home in the country, making your own entertainment.  Are you prepared to do that?  Urban dwellers may have to make do in tougher conditions as infrastructure problems come up.  My own analogy is this – if you’d be ok living in the worst neighborhood in your city as most of the people there live now, you’ll probably be fine.  But if you’ve been affluent and comfortable and might not be forever, be sure you can afford the city and like the life.  I believe strongly that city, suburb (most of them) and country all have a future – but the differences between them are likely to become more acute.  If you aren’t prepared to deal with those differences, you might consider moving.

9. If you live in a outer suburban housing development, particularly a fairly new one.  This is the one exception I make to the question of whether the suburbs are viable.  Generally speaking, I think a lot of suburbs will do fine, others will adapt in different ways – some may become more like small cities, others may be more country like.  But the ones that I think the least hope are the larger developments that were built in the “drive ’til you buy” model of the last few years, where lower income families have to move further and further away from urban or suburban job centers.  If your suburb was built on a cornfield forty miles from your job, think seriously about how you will get along either in an energy constrained world or one where energy is much more costly because of carbon limitations.  Do you really think anyone is going to run public transport out there?  Is there topsoil?  Is it a place worth maintaining and farming?  Are there neighbors?  Are there going to be?  If you are already in a half-finished development, you really might want to get out.

10. If you are native to another place.  By native, I mean that many of us have a strong sense of place, and a strong sense of belonging to a place.  My husband once went on a job interview at UIL Champagne-Urbana.  He recalls looking across the land and seeing the horizon and thinking “oh, there’s the ocean.”  But of course, there was no ocean there - his misperception lasted only a second, but revealed something about his ability to live in that place – he comes from people who live on hilly land around water, and know the flat horizon as the space of the sea.  It is possible that he could have adapted to the flat open land of the midwest and learned to love it – but it is also possible that one’s sense of place should be respected if possible.  I know people who have never fully adapted to their place, in the sense of being truly native to it – desert born people who could never breathe comfortably in the humid air of the southeast, warm climate people who found the cold of northern winters unbearable, city folk who find the country abnormally empty and silent, water folk who can’t imagine life away from a boat.

Not everyone is tied to a place – some people can live anywhere, others in a wide range of places.  Some people can take their sense of place to wherever they go, and find a new home.  But some people can’t.  And it is simply the case that your body, and parts of your soul are shaped by your experience – a college friend of mine once spoke of people who grew up by the sea has sharing “water thinking” and noted that she who lived in Hawaii and I who lived in Coastal Massachusetts had that in common in our way of viewing the world.  More mundanely, people who grow up in hot climates develop more sweat glands, and a better ability to cool themselves than people who grow up in cold ones – our physiology is shaped by our place.

And our native knowledge of our place is valuable – in fact, it may be the most powerful tool we have.  Now some of us will have to leave our native places, to journey again as people so often have.  But if we can stay where we are, knowing our flora and fauna, knowing what grows where and how things smell when the seasons change and how to heal or feed or tend with what is native here is absolutely valuable – as is the ability to adapt that knowledge as our places change.  So if there is a place where you feel at home, and no other constraints bind you, perhaps you will want to go there, and be there, and help other people be there.

Again, all of these examples will have exceptions. No one, especially me is saying “move now!”  And some people who probably should leave will not be able to for reasons of family and obligation, underwater housing and job commitments.  But do think about all your choices.

 Sharon

Seussian Paradigm Shift

Sharon March 2nd, 2009

Today Is Dr. Seuss’s Birthday. Today is the day that anti-coal activists try to shut down the capitol coal plant.  Utility shut offs for those who can’t pay their bills have hit a new high.  Last week New Scientist magazine published its prediction that we would hit four degrees of climate change, and its apocalyptic vision of what that might mean. Friday we learned that economy had contracted nearly twice as much as predicted.  This Friday we can expect to find out that we’ve lost between 3/4 of a million and million jobs.  Somehow, all these things came together in my mind…

I once read an incredibly entertaining literary critical analysis of _The Cat in the Hat_ which began from the premise that all the action in TCITH is an attempt to fill up the overwhelming absence of the mother from the scene.  She has “gone out for the day” leaving her children untended, something she clearly is in the habit of doing, since there’s a sequel with the same issue embedded.  The glimpses we get of “mothers new gown” and her empty bedstead stand in implicit reference to what it might be that mother is out doing, while the The Cat tries desperately to distract the children from thinking about it.

Now whether or not you think this is an excessively close reading, you must admit, it adds a bit of engaging frisson to one’s 87th repetition of the book.  The fun thing about Dr. Seuss is that there’s so much there to play with, even for the grownups.  The books can generally be sung, recited from memory (and how many parents do know a full repetoir of the books perfectly?), sped up to get the kids to bed faster, have the words changed for pornographic or political discussions between exhausted parents desperate for a joke later… or for internet circulation.  My husband and I used to have Fox in Socks speed competitions to the delight and and amusement of my children, who got to declare the winner.  One normally praises Seuss for what he brings to children, but his work is a gift (and occasionally a curse) to adults as well.

I was thinking of Seuss this morning, because my children are anxious to celebrate his birthday (his 105th), but also because it strikes me that the world-turned-upside-down qualities of our present situation are in some ways Seussian.  And how surprising is that, when so many of us were formed by his writing?  I suspect, thinking about Seuss’s endings and stories, that maybe we owe him more than we think – some of our ability to process reality, rather than fantasy, may come precisely from the fantasy creator.

Seuss books almost inevitably follow the pattern of a small, precipitating event (the offer of a snack, rainy day boredom, a horse and wagon on Mulberry Street), and preceed through a frenzy of wild variations on the theme, bringing things to a crisis point.  The horse and wagon becomes a parade, the cat trashes the house, things deteriorate (or progess) into wild chaos.  In some cases, things as basic as language themselves begin to decompensate -  a few words “fox, socks, box, Knox” becomes “When a fox is in the bottle where the tweedle beetles battle with their paddles in a puddle on a poodle eating noodle, THIS is what they call…at tweetle beetle noodle poodle bottled paddled muddled duddled fuddled wuddled fox in socks, sir.”  And in _The Cat in the Hat Comes Back_ we actually see linguistically multiplying alphabet cats, and something beyond Z that annhilates language and imagination altogether.

Perhaps it is just me, but it does seem to me that (mostly without the funny bits) we’re moving towards a Seussian style crescendo of many different parts.  Whether we like it or not, the events we’re seeing are linked to one another.  The tanking of our economy was helped by oil’s meteoric rise – the destruction of our climate is presently being partly aided by the fact that we’re all distracted by the economy, our oil decline may well be set in stone by the economy because we are not investing in energy infrastructure that would keep our decline rates stable.  All the pieces are interconnected, and as each situation becomes more acute, responses become more scattered in many ways.

Dr. Suess books almost inevitably end in a full stop, another small thing that reshapes the crisis.  Sam I Am takes a bite.  The resentful turtle at the bottom burps.  Horton’s egg hatches.  And in the midst of all that wild language and its even wilder illustrations, things become quiet again – not necessarily because all the internal conflicts are resolved, but because the books reached the point at which there was nowhere else to go in the direction they were facing, and thus, another small precipitating event changes things.  As we see from _The Cat and the Hat Comes Back_ further chaos is likely – but the direction has changed.

I have no crystal ball, but I wonder how much radical shift in direction we’re likely to see in the coming year.  My own sense is that we may well see such a shift – and quite soon – away from our frenzied attempts to prevent the worst, and toward attempts to mitigate what we must now acknowledge as inevitable - the extended Depression, the rising temperatures, the lifelong project of adapting to Depletion.  I do not know for sure by any means, but it strikes me that we are nearing a point at which we will no longer be able to go on as we have been, and the projects we engage in will have to change fundamentally.  We may have to admit that the hope of growing the economy again or rescuing the banks is futile – and turn our efforts, hopefully, towards mitigating suffering.  We may have to conceed that the planet will pass the 2 degree tipping point (and I say this with great pain), and that the best we can hope for is to not add more damage.  We may have to conceed that our children will be dealing with a national infrastructure designed for cheap energy – and without much of the energy, and turn ourselves to the national and world project of adaptation.

My own favorite Seuss book is _I Had Trouble Getting to Solla Sollew_ – in it, a young creature with a constant stream of unbearable troubles finds himself seduced by the promise of a trip to Solla Sollew, “…where they never have troubles, at least very few.”

After an agonizing comic journey, he arrives to discover that Solla Sollew only has one trouble – but it is a trouble that means that no one can get it.  Offered a chance to embark on another journey to “Boola Boo Ball, on the banks of the beautiful river Woo Wall, where they never have troubles! No toubles at all!”  He considers it, and then chooses otherwise.

“I’d have no more troubles…that’s what the man said.  So I started to go. But I didn’t. Instead…I did some quick thinking inside of my head.  Then I started back home to the Valley of Vung.  I know I’ll have troubles.  I’ll maybe, get stung.  I’ll always have troubles.  I’ll maybe get bit, by that green-headed quail on the place that I sit.  But I’ve bought a big bat.  I’m all ready you see.  Now my troubles are going to have trouble with me!”

The acknowledgement that our troubles are not going away, no matter how deeply we care, how much we wish to prevent them, no matter how we try to stop them, seems like a starting point for what we really can hope for – a shift in which we give events we are not fully in control of as much “trouble with us” as possible.  That is, we face what is necessary, stop what harm we can, and set ourselves hard to the project of making sure that we get back some of our own by doing the work of mitigation.  The message is for children, but it is a fundamentally adult one.

In Suessian stories, there are happy endings, of course. These are children’s stories, after all.  Horton, who hatches the elephant bird, the Grinch whose heart grows three sizes just in time.  Because, as Seuss says of Horton’s elephant-bird, “And it should be, it should be, it SHOULD be like that!”

But in the happy endings are also “happy enough endings” that teach children that solutions aren’t always found at the end of the story.  The Onceler can pass on a seed of the last Truffala tree, but he can’t bring back the Lorax.  The Cat in the Hat may have cleaned up his mess, but the children are still faced with the question of whether to lie to their parents about him.  And the boy goes back to the Valley of Vung, this time better prepared, but still expecting to get stung.  Written into the text of Horton and his egg is the fact that the reason things happened the way they did, is because it is a story.  That is, the transformation that made all the problems go away is narrative, something that can happen in stories because “it SHOULD be like that.”  But, in the very transformation he draws, Giesel reminds us that it isn’t – those heavy, repeated “shoulds” force us to think of the ways in which it usually isn’t.

This is a hard lesson for children, but one that it is good to embed early – to clarify the distinction between fiction and reality.  It is one that is clearly hard for many adults to grasp – thus, the fact that we desperately *want* the economy to be restored makes us see signs of restoration where none are.  The fact that we want to address climate change without personal hardship makes us convinced that this is possible, that we want there to be fossil fuels without constraining our consumption means we choose to believe it.  But navigating the fact that happy endings of the “Happy 100 percent” sort are mostly fictive is perhaps the life project for both children and adults. 

And that may be his best gift to the world’s children and grownups – that even as he trained us to see that the stories can end in joy, he also reminds us that sometimes, the best we can hope for is a future in which we give our troubles all the trouble we can.  Let us do so in his memory.

- In Memorium Theodore Seuss Giesel-

 Sharon

« Prev