Archive for January, 2005

Working Together

Monday, January 31st, 2005

The Iroquois Confederacy long ago devised the rules of peace-making and negotiation after centuries of war and vengeance. What crucial lessons can we learn from them as we face a world torn apart by hatreds? … Reposted from Lapis Magazine.


Learning from our Elders

John Mohawk

Bear with me while I take some words that have established usage in English and bend them a little to make them fit where I want to go with this.

I’d like to begin by saying that if we were to put into English the philosophical tradition of the native peoples, especially the native people of the Northeast woodlands, we would probably have to call it a form of progressive pragmatism. The whole tradition of pragmatism actually found its roots in Native America, and the way it is practiced in contemporary America has lost its way from where it came from. But without going too much into how it lost its way, let me go back to where it came from. Why is it relevant today?

We don’t know exactly where it came from; it goes beyond history, way beyond, actually. In the beginning of the story of the formation of the Iroquois Confederacy, there was discussion about a time prior to the existence of states. Before there were states, there was war. In a way, we would probably describe it as blood feuding. What was peculiar about it was that people had the capacity to make war but did not have the capacity to make peace.

This is the case of warlords. A warlord can essentially initiate violence, but he can’t guarantee the cessation of violence for the most part. He certainly can’t guarantee it on the part of a nation. Before you could have peace, you had to have the formation of something larger than the unit capable of striking; you had to have some cohesion.

I was very struck with that because I think what happened in the prehistoric past of the northeast woodlands was that at one point there was internecine warfare going on everywhere. It was led by what we would call today warlords, although they were actually warrior chieftains. At some point people began discussions about how do you stop it once it gets started. I imagine that those conversations took quite a bit of time. In any case, they began developing a way of thinking about war and peace, which actually turns out to be quite relevant to our time.

Here’s what they thought, roughly. They began by thinking that peace would be a positive thing if we could achieve it. But in order to achieve it, we would have to have a sort of critical mass, a number of people who were brought into the theory that violence could be brought to an end. And then they asked the question, what would take its place? There was no event that could be pointed at to say, “this is the event that started this violence.” In some cases, no one could remember what started the violence. They had been at war, revenge war, for so long that some people were born knowing they had enemies and not knowing why they had enemies.

I propose to you that this condition of pre-state warfare has always existed, continues to exist and will always exist. There will always be people who have the capacity to organize violence, who work outside of a framework of states; who do this violence and adhere to no real coherent rules about when to end the violence. I propose to you that that has always existed in our lifetime and is taking place now and will take place in the future in cultures that find the idea of revenge to be very attractive.

How the Iroquois Made Peace

iroquois.jpg (117053 bytes)In the Iroquois culture, they found revenge to be very attractive and they had to find two routes to stop it. This is where things got to be on two tracks: the track of how to stop violence inside the groups that are committed to ending violence, and the track of addressing violence in those groups that are not. This is why one of the things that came out of this was entirely made up of what we call pragmatism. We only have a few quotes from the Indians. They were basically ignored from the time of the Puritans who assumed that the Indians were an inferior group and that the Indians didn’t have anything to say.

By the time the British military came along and had to engage in the peace making conferences and truce making conferences, the British adopted some of the Indian protocol on how you have meetings and discussions. In the British adoption of that kind of protocol, you’ll notice that in historical records, the British stand astonished at the quality of oratory that was set forth by the Indians. Almost all the Indians that they met exhibited a kind of oratory that left the British somewhat amazed. The reason, I propose, for that is that the Indians had devised a structure of how to think about the project that they were addressing.

Their structure required that the combatants, the people on opposite sides, had to acknowledge the other side. Whenever two sides came in contact with one another in some form of conversation, there was a protocol to it. The protocol was preceded by a condolence. This was an interesting idea. A condolence was a ceremony, usually short, in which the two parties who were about to have a conversation had a preliminary meeting, in which they acknowledged that each side had suffered as a result of the conflict they were in.

In short, they did a ceremonial acknowledgment of each other’s humanity and of the losses and sacrifices that had been made on both sides. It’s quite an elaborate conversation actually. When the two sides would meet, they passed strings of wampum to one another and each string of wampum carried with it a sort of preset message. And when you sent one of your sets of messages to your enemy, they acknowledged by repeating it back to you, what you had said. The idea of it was to set the stage for things that had to be discussed.

Here was a period of time when people made wars with clubs and bows and arrows and traps and not with so-called weapons of mass destruction. Actually at one time, a good solid club was a weapon of mass destruction wielded by the proper parties. In any case, there was going to be a lot of conversation going on when they actually got to the peacemaking part about the idea of casting their weapons beneath a tree and burying them. This is of course, entirely symbolic, just like modern disarmament is entirely symbolic. The next time you get a paycheck, you go out and buy some more.

The same thing was true with the Indians. They could always go home and whittle some more of those weapons. In any case, they couldn’t give up weapons entirely because they depended on them for hunting and for food supplies. So when they say they are putting the weapons of war under the tree, the conversations is just symbolic language meaning that they are not going to use them on each other anymore.

They put together this idea of seeking peace and they had to make it practical. So there is an attention to practice, to what’s pragmatic, to making promises to one another that are likely to be kept. So you’re going to have a peacemaking process that begins with some principles, which are just symbolic, one of which is the destruction of weaponry. The second one is that we are now going to put our minds together to create peace.

Of the quotes you can think of about the Indians, the most famous ones are the one from Sitting Bull. “Now let us put our minds together to see what kind of world we can leave for our children.” And the other one out of The Great Law, “Now we put our minds together to see what kind of world we can create for the seventh generation yet unborn.” Both of these are pragmatist constructions. They lay out the idea that we are now going to put our minds together to create some kind of desirable outcome. And pragmatism is entirely about outcome. To begin with, you lay out the outcome and then you step back and negotiate the steps to go from here to the outcome that you want.

I want to point out that Northern America has only given one single philosophical tradition to the world, and that single philosophical tradition is pragmatism. But pragmatism, in order for it to follow the principles of the Iroquois Great Law, has to be progressive pragmatism as opposed to regressive. First, it lays out desirable outcomes that both sides can agree upon, and second, that these were going to be adhered to through a set of protocols. It acknowledges on some level that it is not possible to create peace by force. Peace has to be arrived at, and there’s really some conversation here about what peace is in the first place. Peace is not the cessation of violence, it turns out.

The Meeting Between the Warring Parties

The two parties meet in the middle of the forest, and they address the first thing, which is each other’s humanity. And they address it in a very interesting way. In the beginning, they set the stage by paying attention to the people. The one side says to the other side something like this. “Well we’ve been engaged in combat and you’ve come out of the forest and you’re covered in the bracken of the forest; we see that on your clothing. So the first thing we do is brush your clothing off, and clean off all the stuff that shows that you’ve been in a war. The next thing they do is they brush off the bench that the man is going to sit on and make it clean and ready for that. Then they begin addressing a series of things.

These are symbolic. They say stuff like this: “With this wampum, I release the pressure in your chest. You’re feeling tightened in your body from the struggle, so I release you from that. With this one, I take the tears out of your eyes that you’ve been crying because of the people you lost in your war. And with this one, I release your vocal cords. I release your voice so you can speak strongly.” What they are basically addressing is that things have to be done symbolically to prepare both sides to talk. The first thing that is there in the tradition has to do with the concept of what conditions actually lead to peace.

According to the Great Law, peace is arrived at through the exercise of power, righteousness, and reason. I always thought these were interesting because translated into action, what does it mean? Power, your power to act, depends on your capacity to believe that what it is that you set about doing can be done. In other words, you won’t do what needs to be done if you think it is a futile gesture. You can’t acquire power to deal with an enemy unless you acknowledge that the enemy is a rational being who has wants and desires, who wants to live and who wants his children to live, who wants to live in peace. To acknowledge that they are human gives you the capacity to speak to them. If you think they are not human, you won’t have that capacity. You will have destroyed your own power to communicate with the very people you must communicate with if you are going to communicate with your enemy.

Just to bring this into contemporary thinking, you can’t say we don’t negotiate with terrorists. They are the people who are trying to kill you. You have to negotiate with them, but to negotiate with them, you have to do something that is trickier: you have to acknowledge that they’re human. Acknowledging that they are human means also acknowledging that they have failings. But you don’t concentrate on the failings; you concentrate on their humanity. You have to address their humanity if you’re going to have any hope of stopping the blood feud.

Second, remember, there is peace in which there is no state, no government. There is nobody on the other side who can actually surrender; nobody on the other side who can guarantee anything by law. We’re looking to make peace between peoples in which the foundation of the peace is the tradition to which they agree and which they embrace, and it’s held up by their honor and nothing else. This is important because the people who are at war now are not states and there is no way to stop them unless they agree to stop.

Power was the first word. Righteousness is the second. Righteousness is a very dangerous word in English. It’s a very dangerous word in English history. But let me just give a sense of how it was used. Righteousness means that almost all of us agree that some things are right, correct, positive, which is to say that they might not all agree that some things are obviously right and wrong. But there are some things that they will agree on. So those are the things you start to build on. You have the conversation and your negotiations until you hit the rock hard things.

That takes us to the third and last section, which is reason. Reason means that you’re going to do the rock hard things. You’re not going to settle them really, but you’re going to do the best you can with them. You’re going to move them as far forward on as many points as possible. The Iroquois law of peace assumes that you will not achieve peace. You will not achieve a perfect agreement between two warring sides about how the world ought to be in the future. But it also assumes that you can reach enough of it to have something to work on so that you can take the conflict from physical warfare over to a place where, as they used to say, thinking can replace violence.

So the purpose is reach a place, where you can actually work on it and get it done. But you’ll never achieve it because peace is not achievable as a static condition. Because relationships between human beings are not static. Relationships between human beings one might say, are left undone, unfinished. They continue to be unfinished business so it’s assumed that peace can’t be concluded. You can get toward a place where the conversation about peace is ongoing and continuous and continues to replace the violence.
Points of negotiation can be worked on. It is important to find out why the two parties continue to have conflict and try to remove those irritants that have caused the violence.

Now for the most part, the thing about blood feuding is that it’s often built on injuries, damages, and things that happened to people in previous generations. It didn’t happen to the people sitting at the table, it happened to their fathers or their grandfathers. It happened a long time ago. And they’re still carrying that injury. They’re bringing that injury with them as a real injury. And I propose to you that the world is full of this.

Relevance to the World Today

In the contemporary world, there is a certain dismissal of this. We look at these people and say, “Wow, sure. But that happened in 1952 and you were only two in 1952.” The pragmatic people, however, think that you still have to address this. You may have done something that you can undo. If you can’t undo it, at least you can address it. So the purpose of having the negotiations is to address old injuries as well as new ones.

The other reality is that revenge is very, very hard to address. Some people only live for revenge. They have no other purpose. In fact, the old Iroquois stories tell story after story about people who were like that. They lived for the purpose of revenge. The story of The Great Laws is the story of a guy who comes along and he does a certain amount of combing of their hair. He speaks to them and addresses their issues. And there is a constant and relentless conversation going on about the whole issue of righteousness, about what’s right and what’s wrong. What works and what doesn’t work. What might work if we tried it or not work if we didn’t try it. The point of the project is the process and not the end of the process because it is assumed that there will never be an end. It’s an endless process and it wants to engage the next group. So they’re setting the stage for the next generation to carry on the process.

Hopefully, the process of maintaining peace. Or actually, the process of talking and thinking instead of shooting and blowing each other up. Hopefully, this process will continue on long enough until it becomes normal that we don’t blow each other up.

Which gets me to my final and last point. People are starting to talk about a war on terrorism. Well some cultures haven’t realized that there’s always been a war on terrorism. Forever, as long as human memory has existed, there have been assassinations and harm done from group to group, on and on, endlessly. And sometimes they had some sort of claim to a religious foundation, sometimes it was just things that happened as a result of battles. But whatever it was, it would have been an interesting thing, in my opinion, if the contemporary war on terrorism had been built on principles of pragmatism, of coming to ways of sorting out whatever it is that people are saying was done wrong to them, and making proposals about how to make it right. That would have been interesting.

There will never be an endgame to the war on terrorism. What we need to do is a beginning game in the process of peacemaking. As far as I can see in pragmatic terms, we haven’t begun that yet.

Progressive pragmatism seems to have lost its strength in American culture. But I think it would be a good thing if we could have a conversation to bring it back. And bring it back in its full and complex glory because pragmatism, progressive pragmatism, is ultimately the most complex process devised so far by people who play politics.

 

This article is adapted from a talk given at a conference on American Spirit and Values organized by The New York Open Center and City University Graduate Center.


John Mohawk is a member of the Seneca Nation and the Six Nations Iroquois Confederacy Grand Council. A spokesman for the preservation of indigenous values and culture, he has authored a number of books, including Utopian Legacies: A History of Conquest and Oppression in the Western World, Exiled in the Land of the Free, and A Basic Call to Consciousness. He has contributed essays on Native American culture and affairs to many books and has published articles in such journals as Akwesasne Notes, Indian Times, and Northeast Indian Quarterly.

Interview with John Mohawk.

Working Together

Friday, January 28th, 2005

Reposted from The New Farm.


Creative Farming

Dan Sullivan


I
t´s tough to pin a label on Peter Kenagy. ìSeedsman” (he produces native seed endemic to his region, mostly sold to government agencies for wetland and prairie restoration). ìResearcher” (A few years back Oregon State University ag experts caught wind of his innovative use of strip tillage, experimental cover crops, and riparian buffer zones, and now Kenagy is a recognized and active leader in the world of conservation farming). ìEnvironmentalist” (Kenagy views his Albany, Ore. farm as an entire ecosystem, working hard to mitigate the impacts of farming).

ìMy seed-saving operation is primarily geared toward the production of native seed–Pacific Northwest natives,” he tells us as he extends a handful of phaecelia–an experimental cover crop he´s been working with–for inspection. The City of Portland has been a huge customer for the native grasses, he says, though budget cuts have tapered that business off for now.

Kenagy, winner of SARE´s 2004 Patrick Madden Award for Sustainable Agriculture, says customers for the seed he produces for Pacific Northwest Natives (also in Albany) include just about anyone doing riparian work and revegetation. ìMost tends to be governmental or quasi-governmental agencies, for the big buyers,” he says. ìIt´s a really fickle market. You never know how much you´re going to sell; it´s really hard to predictÖIt´s really specialty stuff; there´s not a big market for it.

So why bother? Because the endeavor passes the litmus test Kenagy runs just about all of his projects through: Its fun, challenging, interesting, and it helps the natural ecosystem deal with the footprint of humankind.

Working with about 130 riparian and 320 tillable acres bordered by the Willamette river, Kenagy is independent and pragmatic in his thinking and his farming. While many of the farmers he rubs elbows with are strictly organic, Kenagy will use conventional herbicide sprays when be believes them to be the most effective tool for the job at hand. His mainstays are sweet corn and green beans grown for the farmer-owned Norpac food processing cooperative (he´s on the company´s stewardship committee), along with the native grass seed, some vegetable seed, and small grains. ìWe use to raise squash, too, but it was too abusive on the ground and I was hauling 30 tons an acre. It gets expensive, and we weren´t getting a good return.”

Soft-spoken, Kenagy speaks his mind as perhaps only a farmer can. Walking down from the big red barn that houses his seed-harvesting equipment to the lowland fields where he grows his vegetables for the co-op, Kenagy stops to look out on a field of phaecelia–a lush-green, fall-planted, fern-like cover crop he´s been experimenting with–curiously planted with a wide band of oats running through.

ìDo you know what it is?” he asks mischievously. ìOats,” we guess. But that´s not the ‘big picture´. ìIt´s a big circle with a ìW” [inside] with a slash to it,” he tells us on this typical dreary Oregon morning two weeks after the presidential election has upset his field of dreams. (ìI finally did get comment about it from one of the neighbors who flies,” Kenagy offers in a follow-up conversation. ìHe wondered what it was; he didn´t quite make the connection.”)

ìThe ground down on the bottom floods every year,” Kenagy tells us as we slog on in the direction of the river. To the left, just downhill from a flock of ducks that don´t seem to mind the incessant rain, a newly planted field of phaecelia is interplanted with radishes, simply because Kenagy had a 10-year-old surplus of the latter on hand, he explains. ìIt´s the best way to get rid of the seeds, and it gives me something to munch on when I´m down here,” he explains. ìThe ducks will dig the radishes out when it floods.”

Regarding the phaecilia, ìa native of California,” he says: ìBees love it. It´s really easy to establish in our falls, and it´s an easy cover crop to deal with in spring.”

The buffer zone between the cultivated fields and the Willamette River resembles a regal park setting or genteel Southern neighborhood, with rows of poplar and native conifers and hardwoods both soaking up nutrients from the farm and providing Kenagy with an additional revenue stream.

ìI´d like to cut, but the market´s too poor right now to cut,” Kenagy offers, adding that, once upon a time, there was even a market for the hybrid cottonwood that figures prominently in his buffer zone (it was used for plywood core). Kenegy owns a small mill and, with the hardwood he selectively harvests, produces high-quality furniture stock.

Kenagy´s father´s family bought the first section of Kenagy Family Farms, ì50 acres next to this one,” in 1936, adding another adjacent parcel here and there as the years went by and as the land became available. Peter Kenagy has been farming here since 1979. The last parcel we acquired was in 1985. ìThe transformation from farming predominantly rented ground to farming predominantly owned ground was finished in ´85,” he explains.

Kenagy–who recently received Norpac´s Grower of the Year award in the company´s new ‘sustainability´ category–says he likes the certainty of growing vegetables for the food processing co-op. ìThey tell us what variety to plant and when to harvest.”

Once the bills are paid, though, this farmer´s true passion lies in the experiment.

Kenagy is still trying to figure out the best way to deal with the invasive canary grass and Himalayan blackberry that plague his farm, he continues to play with techniques that encourage wildlife–such as planting bugger strips of sorghum, Sudan grass, and sunflower–and he´s always got a keen eye out for something new.

ìI noticed some interesting grass one year back in the timber,” he recalls. ìI took it out, had it I.D.´d and found out what it was.” It turned out to be blue wild rye (Elymus glaucus).

Kenagy made a hand collection and planted a quarter acre, sold that production off and planted another 4 acres. ìI knew there was a demand for the seed but I overran how much of a demand there was and produced substantially more than I needed. I don´t regret doing it; that seed will store quite awhile. I expect I will eventually be able to move it.”

Of course, for Kenagy, the profit margin doesn´t always lie in dollars and cents.

ìIt was a fun little deal to work on because it´s interesting and challenging,” he says.


©2004 The Rodale Institute


Dan Sullivan is senior editor at The New Farm.
Visit the The New Farm.

Working Together

Friday, January 21st, 2005

Reposted from YES! Magazine. China will soon surpass the U.S. in carbon emissions and fossil fuel consumption. Its immense population and rapidly growing economy make for an environmental timebomb.


China’s Future, the World’ Future

William Brent

After an initial rush of excitement over writing a piece about China for YES!, a slow creep of dread and unease replaced the thrill. With global oil prices spiking because of China´s rapacious growth in oil consumption and the country poised to replace the United States in the dubious role of world leader in carbon dioxide emissions, could I honestly write an article portraying as positive what is happening with China and fossil fuels?

My doubts were not erased, but amplified, after some initial phone calls to environmental leaders in China were met with long pauses when I asked for suggestions on positive stories.

But I was not deterred. I made a pact with myself–I would keep asking until I found something positive, and be honest about the complexities of China, while focusing on the light, not the dark.

China is important to me. I take what is happening there to heart. In many ways it is my home, and I am protective of it. I have spent nearly half of my life there, as a foreign correspondent and businessman from 1986 to 2002. During that time, I experienced what I consider to be one of the most dramatic periods of transformation in world history–from the brief ecstasy of free expression in the late 1980s and the might of totalitarianism in snuffing it out, to a shift toward capital markets and the massive spiritual, economic, and social changes that came with that shift, including the beginnings of civil society. (When the United States industrialized, it had fewer than 80 million people, and it took around 40 years to do it. China has nearly 20 times that number of people, and it is industrializing at hyper-drive speed, manufacturing not only for itself but for the rest of the world.)

I believe it is essential that all of us not only understand what is going on in China, but that we become active agents for making it better. Unless we do something urgent, my two-year-old son will enter adulthood in a world neither he nor I want to contemplate.

When I first arrived in China, Beijing was one big bicycle lane, as was the rest of China. There were no private cars–no one had the money and even if they had, private car ownership was prohibited by the government. The few cabs on the road catered to the few foreigners who paid in the equivalent of U.S. dollars.

In less than 20 years, all that has changed. By the mid-1990s, the taxi population had hit 65,000, and private car ownership was not only allowed but it flourished. The quiet flow of bikes has been replaced by chaos in motion, albeit slow motion, since road infrastructure fails to keep pace with the number of vehicles and emissions often create a haze so thick it defines torpor.

China´s GDP (gross domestic product) is about equivalent to that of California, but its carbon emissions are second in the world and on track to surpass U.S. emissions by 2025. In the east coast cities of China, there is now an 80 percent year-on-year increase in private auto sales. Every major auto manufacturer from around the globe is rushing to China to set up production lines. (A weekly e-mail newsletter I receive recently had DaimlerChrysler, Volkswagen, and Honda all announcing production plants for China–a typical week). China is now the world´s second largest oil importer after the U.S. and expected to become the world´s largest car importer within 10 years.

Coal, the main source of electricity in China, is wreaking havoc on the environment. Because of voracious electricity demand in industry and increasingly in homes, China is building two new coal-fired plants a week to try to meet its needs.

I´m not afraid to admit this information had a paralyzing effect on me. Where can the positive be?

Economies of scale

Here´s where optimism started to creep in: Although I am shocked by how few people inside and outside China are working on renewable energy in China given the magnitude of the problem, the past 18 months have resulted in a new sense among this small but growing community that change is possible, or more accurately, that change is unavoidable. As Jennifer Turner of the China Environment Forum at the Woodrow Wilson Center put it: ìThings are starting to stick.”

Even if China´s central and local governments don´t have a collective conscience pushing them to move to renewables for the good of the planet, they have no economic choice. The central government has acknowledged the clashes between peaking world oil production and China´s burgeoning economy, and between maintaining growth and preserving public health. From here on in, the response will be a question of degree–and each degree will count.

The flip side of the statistics about China´s massive thirst for fossil fuel is that because China is so huge, even modest adoption rates of solar, wind, hydrogen, and other renewables could mean the price of renewable energy and related technology drops globally. China could create previously unknown economies of scale. Imagine that.

China´s national legislature is now pushing through a law that would promote renewable energy use, beginning as early as 2006. ìInstead of just policies and regulations, this would elevate renewables to being law,” says Wang Wanxing of the Energy Foundation, a U.S.-based group that has been at the vanguard of work with China on alternatives to fossil fuel.

According to Wang, China will have about 900 gigawatts of energy capacity by 2020, more than double what it had at the end of 2003. The government recently committed to having 120 gigawatts, or 13 percent of that, be renewable (China includes nuclear power as a renewable energy), including 20 gigawatts from wind (or half the current worldwide wind power capacity).

China is estimated to have about 250 gigawatts of potential wind capacity. Wind is proving to be an economical alternative to cheap and dirty coal, as a recent program along the coast has shown.

The government is encouraging private investment in wind power through the auctioning of wind concessions. Companies bidding on the first two concessions in September 2003 paid prices that were competitive with the cost of electricity from a new coal plant. The experiment is being expanded to include three more concessions, leading me to envision a ìring of wind” circling the country from the south in Guangdong province north to Inner Mongolia, and west to Xinjiang. In a relatively short time, a completely new mechanism for encouraging investment in wind power has already created half a gigawatt of new capacity. It may be a fraction of the 35 to 40 gigawatts of additional installed capacity that China requires each year, but it still represents a huge advance. According to Wang, ìThe government has put wind high on the agenda for development.”

Smarter transportation

For such changes to matter, China must figure out how to balance a desire to make the automotive industry a cornerstone of economic prosperity with preventing a greenhouse gas nightmare. Recent moves by several major Chinese cities to ban bicycles from downtown streets to provide more room for cars is a sign of this pull toward car culture. Yet many of the same cities are exploring ways to boost mass transit, especially bus rapid transit (BRT), which creates dedicated lanes for buses to go station-to-station with subway-like efficiency.

The Chinese government froze continued funding for subway and light rail in 2003 because of expense. By doing so, it left every big city mayor in China in a quandary, faced with a huge and growing demand for vehicles and a standstill in road infrastructure. ìHow do you move people in the megacities of the world, especially China? Private cars won´t work, and subways are too expensive,” says Doug Ogden, also of the Energy Foundation, which is helping spearhead the BRT effort in six cities.

ìTwo years ago the BRT concept was unknown in China,” Xu Kangming told me. Xu is shuttling around the country working to convince cities to adopt BRT. His efforts are succeeding. ìMore and more cities are starting to do some preliminary planning and explore the opportunity to implement BRT.”

Among cities adopting or seriously considering BRT are Beijing, Kunming, Xian, Shanghai, Chongqing, and Chengdu, whose metropolitan areas together encompass 75 million people. Other smaller cities such as Changzhou and Yangzhou in Jiangsu are also adopting BRT though collaborations with Germany. Advocates of BRT are hoping Beijing and Shanghai will serve as working models for other cities to learn from and emulate.

Beijing wants a big chunk of its BRT system in place in time for its hosting of the 2008 Olympics. It is currently building a 15.6-kilometer corridor in the city´s southeast corner, scheduled for completion at the end of this year, with plans for 300 more kilometers over the next several years.

Beijing already has one of the largest compressed natural gas (CNG) bus fleets in the world, and it has set a goal of converting 90 percent of its 11,000 buses to CNG by 2008. There are moves in China to introduce hybrid electric engines into buses, which could be converted to use fuel cells.

When I first started studying China 20 years ago, I took a short class from professor Jonathan Chaves, and he pointed out to me something that I had never stopped to notice. When you look at classical Chinese painting, amid the craggy mountains and wind-swept clouds and mist, any people that are depicted are a small part of their surroundings. You have to look hard to spot the people in the paintings–very different from most Western painting, in which the individual is the center of attention. I take hope from that, and believe that the Chinese will demonstrate enlightenment by drawing on the best parts of their long heritage, while learning from our short one to avoid making the same mistakes.

When I called Elizabeth Economy, author of The River Runs Black: The Environmental Challenge to China´s Future, she held out hope, too, despite the darkness of the book´s title. ìThe most important thing that is happening is the rise of NGOs and civil society in China. Ö The burden and opportunity both are with the citizen and the media, and that´s where you see the broadest change. That´s where I see the greatest hope and greatest excitement.”

Though they are in their infancies, a number of environmental NGOs have appeared in China since the late 1990s. They include the awareness group Global Village, Green Student Organizations, the volunteer legal aid group Grassroots Community, and Greenroots Power and Snowland Great Rivers and Environmental Protection Association, both aimed at protecting rivers. Many others are emerging. Liang Congjie, one of the first environmental activists in China and founder of Friends of Nature in 1996, said, ìIt sometimes may not seem like much, but it´s a seed.”

Translating policy into action at the local level, where city governments tend towards myopic self-interest, is crucial. The rise of civil society at the local level will provide a bottom-up dynamic to the traditionally top-down Chinese system.

 ìThe environment,” Economy says, ìis at the forefront of the rise of civil society in China.”


 ©2004-05 YES!

William Brent was a reporter and editor for Agence France Presse in China. He is director of talktoUS.org, and partner in the Shanghai media company Cinezoic.

Working Together

Wednesday, January 19th, 2005

This essay was published under the title Nuclear Power is the Only Green Solution in YES! Magazine.


Return to Nuclear Power

James Lovelock

Sir David King, the British Government´s chief scientist, was far-sighted to say that global warming is a more serious threat than terrorism. He may even have underestimated, because, since he spoke, new evidence of climate change suggests it could be even more serious, and the greatest danger that civilization has faced so far.

What makes global warming so serious and so urgent is that the great Earth system, Gaia, is trapped in a vicious circle of positive feedback. Extra heat from any source, whether from greenhouse gases, the disappearance of Arctic ice or the Amazon forest, is amplified, and its effects are more than additive. It is almost as if we had lit a fire to keep warm, and failed to notice, as we piled on fuel, that the fire was out of control and the furniture had ignited. When that happens, little time is left to put out the fire before it consumes the house. Global warming, like a fire, is accelerating and almost no time is left to act.

So what should we do? We cannot continue drawing energy from fossil fuels and there is no chance that the renewables, wind, tide, and water power can provide enough energy in time. If we had 50 years or more we might make these our main sources. But we do not have 50 years; the Earth is already so disabled by the insidious poison of greenhouse gases that even if we stop all fossil fuel burning immediately, the consequences of what we have already done will last for 1,000 years. Every year that we continue burning carbon makes it worse for our descendants and for civilization.

If we burn crops grown for fuel this could hasten our decline. A car consumes 10 to 30 times as much carbon as its driver; imagine the extra farmland required to feed the appetite of cars.

Only one immediately available source does not cause global warming and that is nuclear energy. True, burning natural gas instead of coal or oil releases only half as much carbon dioxide, but unburnt gas is 25 times as potent a greenhouse agent as is carbon dioxide. Even a small leakage would neutralize the advantage of gas.

The prospects are grim. As individual animals we are not so special, and in some ways are like a planetary disease, but through civilization we redeem ourselves and become a precious asset for the Earth; not least because through our eyes the Earth has seen herself in all her glory.

Opposition to nuclear energy is based on irrational fear fed by Hollywood-style fiction, the Green lobbies, and the media. These fears are unjustified, and nuclear energy from its start in 1952 has proved to be the safest of all energy sources. We must stop fretting over the minute statistical risks of cancer from chemicals or radiation. Nearly one third of us will die of cancer anyway, mainly because we breathe air laden with that all-pervasive carcinogen, oxygen. If we fail to concentrate our minds on the real danger, which is global warming, we may die even sooner, as did more than 20,000 unfortunates from overheating in Europe last summer.

Even if those opposed to nuclear power were right about its dangers, and they are not, its worldwide use as our main source of energy would pose an insignificant threat compared with the dangers of intolerable and lethal heat waves and sea levels rising to drown every coastal city of the world. We have no time to experiment with visionary energy sources; civilization is in imminent danger and has to use nuclear–the one safe, available, energy source–now, or suffer the pain soon to be inflicted by our outraged planet.

 ©2004-05 YES!

James Lovelock is an independent scientist and the creator of the Gaia hypothesis of the Earth as a self-regulating organism. This article was first published in The Independent, May 24, 2004.

Working Together

Monday, January 17th, 2005

Reposted from YES! Magazine.


A Life Lived Whole

Parker Palmer

ìThere is in all things Ö a hidden wholeness.”

Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk and mystic who wrote these words, was speaking of the human world as well as the world of nature. But in our every­day lives, Merton´s words can sound like wishful thinking. Afraid that our inner light will be extinguished, or our inner darkness exposed, we hide our true identities and become separated from ourown souls. We end up leading divided lives, far removed from our birthright wholeness.

The divided life comes in many and varied forms. To cite just a few examples, it is the life we lead when:
  • We refuse to invest ourselves in our work, diminishing its quality and distancing ourselves from those it is meant to serve
  • We make our living at jobs that violate our basic values, even when survival does not absolutely demand it
  • We remain in settings or relationships that steadily kill off our spirit
  • We harbor secrets to achieve personal gain at the expense of other people
  • We hide our beliefs from those who disagree with us to avoid conflict, challenge, and change
  • We conceal our true identities for fear of being criticized, shunned, or attacked
My knowledge of the divided life comes first from personal experience. A ìstill, small voice” speaks the truth about me, my work, or the world. I hear it and yet act as if I did not. I withhold a personal gift that might serve a good end or commit myself to a project that I do not really believe in. I keep silent on an issue I should address or actively break faith with one of my own convictions. I deny my inner darkness, giving it more power over me, or I project it onto other people, creating ìenemies” where none exist.

I pay a steep price when I live a divided life, feeling fraudulent, anxious about being found out, and depressed by the fact that I am denying my own selfhood. The people around me pay a price as well, for now they walk on ground made unstable by my dividedness. How can I affirm another´s integrity when I defy my own? A fault line runs down the middle of my life, and whenever it cracks open–divorcing my words and actions from the truth I hold within–things around me get shaky and start to fall apart.

Real people, real relationship

The more dividedness we perceive in each other, the less safe and sane we feel. Every day as we interact with family, friends, acquaintances, and strangers, we ask ourselves, ìIs this person the same on the inside as he or she seems to be on the outside?”

Children ask this about their parents, students about their teachers, employees about their supervisors, patients about their physicians, and citizens about their political leaders. When the answer is yes, we relax, believing that we are in the presence of integrity and feeling secure enough to invest ourselves in the relationship and all that surrounds it.

But when the answer is no, we go on high alert. If our roles were more deeply informed by the truth that is in our souls, the general level of sanity and safety would rise dramatically. A teacher who shares his or her identity with students is more effective than one who lobs factoids at them from behind a wall. A supervisor who leads from personal authen­ticity gets better work out of people than one who leads from a script. A doctor who invests selfhood in his or her practice is a better healer than one who treats patients at arm´s length. A politician who brings personal integrity into leadership helps us reclaim the popular trust that distinguishes true democracy from its cheap imitations.

The media are filled with stories of people whose dividedness is now infamous. They worked at such places as Enron, Arthur Andersen, Merrill Lynch, WorldCom, and the Roman Catholic Church. Surely these people heard an inner call to wholeness. But they became separated from their own souls, betraying the trust of citizens, stockholders, and the faithful–and making our democracy, our economy, and our religious institutions less trustworthy in the process.

These particular stories will soon fade from the front pages, but the story of the divided life is perennial, and its social costs are immense. As the poet Rumi said 800 years ago:

If you are here unfaithfully with us you are causing terrible damage.

How shall we understand the pathology of the divided life? If we approach it as a problem to be solved by ìraising the ethical bar”–exhorting each other to jump higher and meting out tougher penalties to those who fall short–we may feel more virtuous for a while, but we will not address the problem at its source.

The divided life, at bottom, is not a failure of ethics; it is a failure of human wholeness. Doctors who are dismissive of patients, politicians who lie to voters, executives who cheat retirees out of their savings, clerics who rob children of their well-being–these people, for the most part, do not lack ethical knowledge or convictions. But they have a well-rehearsed habit of holding their own knowledge and beliefs at great remove from the living of their lives.

That habit is vividly illustrated by a story in the news as I write. The former CEO of a biotechnology firm was convicted of insider trading and sentenced to seven years in prison after putting his daughter and elderly father in legal jeopardy by having them cover for him. Asked what was on his mind as he committed his crimes, he said, ìI could sit there Ö thinking I was the most honest CEO that ever lived [and] at the same time Ö glibly do something [wrong] and rationalize it.”

Becoming whole

The divided life may be endemic, but wholeness is always a choice. ìBeing whole” is a self-evident good, and yet time after time we choose against wholeness by slipping into a familiar pattern of evasion:
  • First comes denial: surely what I have seen about myself cannot be true!
  • Next comes equivocation: the inner voice speaks softly, and truth is a subtle, slippery thing, so how can I be sure of what my soul is saying?
  • Then fear: if I let that inner voice dictate the shape of my life, what price might I have to pay in a world that sometimes punishes authenticity?
  • Next comes cowardice: the divided life may be destructive, but at least I know the territory, while what lies beyond it is terra incognita.
  • Then comes avarice: in some situations, I am rewarded for being willing to stifle my soul.
This pattern of self-evasion is powerful and persistent. But here is a real-world story about someone who found the courage to break out of it and embrace his own truth.

It happened at a retreat I facilitated for some 20 elected and appointed officials from Washington, D.C. All of them had gone into government animated by an ethic of public service, all were experiencing painful conflicts between their values and power politics, and all sought support for the journey toward living ìdivided no more.”

One participant had worked for a decade in the U.S. Department of Agriculture, after farming for 25 years in northeastern Iowa. On his desk at that moment was a proposal related to the preservation of Midwestern topsoil, which is being depleted at a rapid rate by agribusiness practices that value short-term profits over the well-being of the earth. His ìfarmer´s heart,” he kept saying, knew how the proposal should be handled. But his political instincts warned him that following his heart would result in serious trouble, not least with his immediate superior.

On the last morning of our gathering, the man from Agriculture, looking bleary-eyed, told us that it had become clear to him during a sleepless night that he needed to return to his office and follow his farmer´s heart.

After a thoughtful silence, someone asked him, ìHow will you deal with your boss, given his opposition to what you intend to do?”

ìIt won´t be easy,” replied this farmer-turned-bureaucrat. ìBut during this retreat, I´ve remembered something important: I don´t report to my boss. I report to the land.”

Because this story is true, I cannot give it a fairy-tale ending. I do not know if this man returned to work and did exactly what he said he would do. But this I can claim: every time we get in touch with the truth source we carry within, there is net moral gain for all concerned. Even if we fail to follow its guidance fully, we are nudged a bit further in that direction. And the next time we are conflicted between inner truth and outer reality, it becomes harder to forget or deny that we have an inner teacher who wants to lay a claim on our lives.

Struck by the force of truth

As that awareness grows within us, we join in the potential for personal and social change that, in the words of V·clav Havel–architect of the Velvet Revolution, former president of Czechoslovakia, and seeker of political integrity–is ìhidden throughout the whole of society.” This potential, Havel writes, is found in ìeveryone who is living within the lie and who may be struck at any moment by the force of truth.”

The divided life is a wounded life, and the soul keeps calling us to heal the wound. Ignore that call, and we find ourselves trying to numb our pain with an anesthetic of choice, be it substance abuse, overwork, consumerism, or mindless media noise. Such anesthetics are easy to come by in a society that wants to keep us divided and unaware of our pain–for the divided life that is pathological for individuals can serve social systems well, especially when it comes to those functions that are morally dubious.

When the man from Agriculture distances himself from his soul, it is easier for his department to report to the agribusiness lobby instead of the land. But when he, or any of us, rejoins soul and role, the institutions in which we work find it just a little bit harder to ransack another ecosystem to satisfy corporate greed or to lay off another 10,000 working poor to maximize the profits of the rich or to pass another welfare ìreform” that leaves single mothers and their children worse off than they were.

No one wants to suffer the penalties that come from choosing to live divided no more. But there can be no greater suffering than living a lifelong lie. As we move closer to the truth that lives within us–aware that in the end what will matter most is knowing that we stayed true to ourselves–institutions start losing their sway over our lives.

This does not mean we must abandon institutions. In fact, when we live by the soul´s imperatives, we gain the courage to serve institutions more faithfully, to help them resist their tendency to default on their own missions. If the man from Agriculture acted on his ìfarmer´s heart,” he did not renege on his institutional obligations but embraced them more fully, helping to call his department back to its higher purpose.

It is not easy work, rejoining soul and role. The poet Rilke–who wrote about childhood´s ìwing‘d energy of delight”–writes about the demands of adulthood in the final stanza of the same poem:

Take your practiced powers and stretch them out
until they span the chasm between two contradictions …
 For the god wants to know
himself in you.

Living integral lives is daunting. We must achieve a complex integration that spans the contradictions between inner and outer reality, that supports both personal integrity and the common good. No, it is not easy work. But as Rilke suggests, by doing it, we offer what is sacred within us to the life of the world.

 ©2004-05 YES!

Parker J. Palmer is an independent writer, teacher, and activist who lives in Madison, Wisconsin. He serves as senior associate of the American Association of Higher Education, senior advisor to the Fetzer Institute, and founder of Fetzer´s Teacher Formation Program. His prolific writing includes Let Your Life Speak, The Courage to Teach, and A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward an Undivided Life (Jossey-Bass, 2004) from which this article is adapted. The book contains detailed information about the ìcircles of trust” Palmer and his colleagues have established around the country to help people in many walks of life rejoin soul and role. See www.teacherformation.org and click on the section for readers of A Hidden Wholeness.