Showing posts with label Bushfire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bushfire. Show all posts

Thursday, August 20, 2020

‘All things will outlast us’: how the Indigenous concept of deep time helps us understand environmental destruction

by Ann McGrath, The Conversation:  https://theconversation.com/all-things-will-outlast-us-how-the-indigenous-concept-of-deep-time-helps-us-understand-environmental-destruction-132201

The bushfire royal commission is examining ways Indigenous land and fire management could improve Australia’s resilience to national disasters. On the face of it, this offers an opportunity to embrace Indigenous ways of knowing.

But one traditional practice unlikely to be examined is the Indigenous concept of “deep time”. This concept offers all Australians a blueprint for understanding the land we live on.

In the words of University of Technology, Sydney, Visiting Research Fellow and Yuwaalaraay/Gamilaraay woman  Frances Peters-Little:

All things will outlast us, the land will change, and survive … Yes, the land will be different. But new things will come of it.

For non-Indigenous Australians like myself, the past summer of bushfires seemed to mark the end times. Indigenous Australians also grieved the enormous losses wrought last fire season – but their long perspective on history offers hope.

Indigenous rock art
The ‘deep time’ concept offers all Australians a blueprint for understanding the land. Dean Lewins/AAP

What is deep time?

Deep time asks us to rethink our narrow conceptions of time by looking back far into Earth’s history, and looking forward far into the future.

The Indigenous Australian sense of history spans the 65,000 or more years they have lived on this continent. This goes way beyond the Western concept of “ancient history”, set in the Northern Hemisphere and reaching little beyond 6,000 years.

Australia’s deep human history covers everything Aboriginal people achieved before 1770 – the year marking the arrival of British navigator Lieutenant James Cook on the Endeavour – and 1788 when convicts under the governance of Arthur Phillip arrived.

Different groups of Indigenous people witnessed these events. But they also witnessed the great climate dramas of the Pleistocene and the Holocene. They experienced the chilling cold and adapted to the drying up of key water sources such as Willandra Lakes in far west New South Wales.

Around Sydney, they witnessed river systems forming and changing course around Kamay or Botany Bay, and the lands of Port Phillip Bay rapidly filling with water. In Queensland, they witnessed their lands being submerged and islands such as Koba (Fitzroy Island) being created. Some are thought to have observed the Great Barrier Reef being formed and  volcanoes erupting.

Yugambeh man sitting on the ground holding a boomerang.
The Indigenous Australian sense of history spans the 65,000 or more years they’ve lived on this continent. Shutterstock

Beyond a Western sense of time

The story of deep history cannot be gleaned from the kinds of written evidence left by Cook and Phillip in their 18th-century journals. Rather, information about the deep past is held in features of the landscape itself.

As the Anangu people of Uluru explain, the land contains proof of a spoken narrative, like a photograph. The land’s markings are the archives, the inscriptions revealing and proving deep history stories.

Nature can expose some of these stories. In southwestern Victoria last summer, for example, the bushfires uncovered more sections of the ancient stone fish traps at Budj Bim.

Similarly, in the late 1960s, erosive winds took away sand deposited over tens of thousands of years, revealing the grave site of Lady Mungo in southwestern NSW. Here, her remains were ritually burnt 40,000 years ago.

For Aboriginal people, these events constitute their ancestors revealing themselves; people of the past speaking directly to those in the present. It is almost as if the ancestors are living today – in what anthropologist WEH Stanner translated as an “everywhen”.

The Budj Bim cultural landscape was heritage listed after fires exposed its intricate aquaculture system, built by Indigenous Australians. PR handout image

A blueprint for change

News in May that mining company Rio Tinto destroyed two rock shelters containing evidence of habitation dating back 46,000 years triggered public outrage. Perhaps this signals a burgeoning realisation that to understand our land, Australians need a history that stretches well beyond 1788.

To achieve this, Indigenous custodians, parks officers, historians and archaeologists might work together to develop a “deep time” research policy. This might include a national survey to assess the cultural heritage of Australia’s deep past.

Across Australia, many such sites – containing ancient rock art, engravings and the like – are little known and sometimes neglected. Surveying them will give all Australians insights into ecological change.

Of course, some of this work is already underway. Last summer’s Blue Mountains fires burnt some of these relics. But  researchers and Indigenous people are working together to record and conserve remaining sites.

At Namadgi National Park near Canberra, rock art identifies animals of the region, such as dingoes, kangaroos and wallabies. Firefighters successfully saved the Yankee Hat rock art site, including ripping up its timber boardwalks to prevent it burning. Figures at the site were painted over hundreds, or possibly thousands of years.

Elsewhere, such as in the Kuringai National Park in NSW, rock engravings point to astronomical knowledge about the Milky Way. The appearance of an emu figure in the sky once signalled it was time to gather emu eggs.

Indigenous Australians use astronomy, such as this emu constellation, to identify ecological patterns. Dylan O'Donnell/Wikimedia

A deeper understanding

Embracing a deep, expansive understanding of non-linear time helps give context to disasters such as bushfires. On Australia Day this year as the fires raged around Canberra, Frances Peters-Little told me:

There’s a lot of talk of extinction. (But) Aboriginal people are focusing on rejuvenation. It is our responsibility to ensure the land is protected … As a culture that has lived here tens of thousands of years, we know this. We have been here too long to think it’s the end of things.

We must all think of ourselves not just in biographical time – inhabiting one lifespan – but rather, of the future generations to come and those long before us.


This article was reviewed by University of Technology, Sydney, Visiting Research Fellow and Yuwaalaraay/Gamilaraay woman Frances Peters-Little.

Wednesday, January 22, 2020

How to Manage a 30-person Housing Cooperative

by Emily Bender, Shareable: https://www.shareable.net/blog/how-to-manage-a-30-person-housing-cooperative


I have continually been fascinated by the question of how to build a strong community through collaboration, especially in shared housing spaces. I live in San Francisco, California, which has one of the country's largest gaps in economic inequality. This in turn is fueling gentrification and community displacement
In response, people are turning to shared living communities such as the 30-person Chateau Ubuntu, a housing cooperative that I'm a part of. As opposed to traditional top-down hierarchy that incentivizes competition, our house is a complex series of "networks" that depend on the participation and collaboration of everyone. Untangling this complicated web of networks is key to understanding how we function together.
Our structure includes three distinct frameworks: the star, chain, and all-channel networks. As the most centralized, the star network acts as a central hub that all nodes of the network are connected and communicate through. While lacking a central hub, each node along the highly stratified chain network is connected along a predetermined path that obscures associations between nodes. 
Finally, the all-channel network is completely decentralized where all nodes are connected and can freely interact with each other. A visual representation of the three network styles is demonstrated below by John Arquilla and David Ronfeldt in their 2001 book on networks: 
We manage ourselves through seven decentralized working circles that (mostly) have free association with one another — like the all-channel network above. All circles are open for any housemate to join, and everyone must be a part of at least one circle. However, looking closer at circle operations reveal different degrees of centralized decision-making and chain communication. 
For example, all circles have rotating "lead" position, some of which are paid. The lead circle is responsible for facilitating that circle's tasks alongside acting as the circle's primary representative with the larger community. But beyond this each circle's structure diverges, and a brief overview of each is necessary in understanding how they work together:
Recruitment: The recruitment circle manages the task of bringing new people into our home. This group acts as a star network, where the individual tasks carried out by members of the circle, such as interviewing applicants, are all communicated back through the circle's lead. The recruitment lead then acts as a liaison between potential applicants, exiting house members, and the rest of the community.
Food: The task of sharing food — one of the powerful ways we connect and collaborate — is carried out through an "all channel" network, which helps us navigate complex logistics. All housemates pay a fee towards buying groceries in bulk — together accessing cheaper prices for groceries than we would ever find individually. The majority of our food is delivered through two local food distributors, Veritable Vegetable and Imperfect Produce. We also have deals at the Sunday farmers' market.
Labor: The labor circle oversees our chore system to make sure the common spaces are tidy. This includes facilitating monthly deep cleaning sessions, ensuring appliances and other things in the household are functioning well, and, in conjunction with the recruitment circle, onboarding new house members.
Events: The events circle, an entity without a rigid form, organizes fun gatherings like talent shows, live music, dance classes, game nights, writing workshops, and even a live dating game show. Living together with a multitude of people from a diversity of places and cultures opens incredible opportunities for continuous education, sharing, and fun.
Sustainability: The sustainability circle, like the events circle, doesn't have specific day-to-day tasks, but is instead responsible for lowering our household's environmental impact.   
Finances: Besides overlooking the house budget and rent collection, the finances circle is crucial for other working groups that make regular purchases — such as food and labor. While the circle itself manages the flow of funds, the whole community determines the allocation. In this sense, this circle most resembles a chain network, carrying out the decisions made by the larger community.   
Community Wellness: This circle, in which I currently serve as the lead, serves as a support system that bridges the working circles and the larger community together. We act as first-line mediators in interpersonal conflict issues. If initial mediation is unsuccessful, then the issue is brought to the rest of the wellness team, and if escalation continues, it's brought to the larger community.
Integrating all three network styles allows us to successfully maneuver the tension between having an organized framework to maintain a cohesive, happy household and one that is dynamic and open to changing needs of our housemates. However, to make this function smoothly requires buy-in from all members. We aim to reaffirm our commitment at our bi-monthly, all-house meetings, where the circles report on their progress to the entire community. 
We find that this is usually when most conflict arises — but we work together to address triggers and fill in gaps in our structure. Doing this ensures that we're all taking responsibility for each other's well-being and creating experiences that wouldn't be possible if we went at it alone.
All images provided by Emily Bender

Monday, January 13, 2020

How Lebanese Environmentalists Helped Spark Revolution: Activists Work to Chart a Greener Path for Lebanon

By Alexandra Talty, Sierra:  https://www.sierraclub.org/sierra/how-lebanese-environmentalists-helped-spark-revolution

A BEACH IN KESEWAN, NORTH OF BEIRUT, LEBANON, WHERE HEAVY WINDS AND STRONG WAVES WASHED PILES OF GARBAGE ASHORE. | PHOTO BY MARWAN NAAMANI/PICTURE-ALLIANCE/DPA/AP IMAGES
Five Gen-Zers crouched around a small pile of trash in the center of Martyr’s Square in downtown Beirut in the early November sun. Wearing white gloves, they sorted bottle caps, cigarette butts, hookah mouthpieces, ticker tape, and plastic food packaging: all detritus from the previous day’s protests.

Though the five were students, they hadn’t been in class for 26 days. Some of their teachers were getting upset, but the activists considered cleaning up after the protests that had been roiling the country since mid-October more important than studying. 

They wanted to show the country how to take care of itself, said Paul Hanna, 17, pausing her sorting. “Without recycling, most of the trash goes into the sea.”

“We don’t want to see trash in the street,” said Mira Raheb, also 17. “If we clean here, it will change [the mentality].”

Like youth activists around the world, Lebanese environmentalists are objecting to the status quo, which in Lebanon means protesting against rampant government corruption, a faltering economy, and a long list of environmental problems that dominate daily life. Hoping to capitalize on the current unrest, they are also working to set the country on a greener path.

Since the Civil War ended in the 1990s, Lebanon has been unable to consistently provide 24/7 electricity, a functioning public transit network, proper waste management, or drinking water for its citizens. The lack of basic services impacts poor and working-class families especially hard, and the environment also suffers, with people turning to diesel-powered generators and relying on plastic water bottles.

This past October, a wildfire erupted in a forested area south of Beirut and quickly got out of control, burning more than 3,000 acres. Hot, windy conditions played a role, but so did government incompetence (three privately donated firefighting helicopters sat in disrepair at a nearby airport). 

Five days later, over 1 million Lebanese were in the streets demanding that the members of the government step down. By the end of October, Prime Minister Saad Hariri had resigned.

“The forest fires were a major precursor to the revolution,” said Adib Dada, 36. An environmental architect and biomimicry specialist, Dada has led a guerilla gardening project as part of the protests, planting 30 native trees and shrubs in downtown Beirut with a group called Regenerate Lebanon. 

The NGO has been fundamental in galvanizing the public around collective green solutions for the country’s environmental problems. “It is about continuous actions, really protesting the change we need to see,” said Joslin Kehdy, the group’s founder.

As the protest centralized around Martyr’s Square this past fall, Regenerate Lebanon set up an encampment there. It includes a kitchen that serves around 250 locally sourced meals daily without using any plastic (organizers rely instead on stainless steel kitchenware or the briq, a traditional Lebanese water jug). It has a maker space that boasts a living wall as well as a library and an area to collect donations like clothes and foodstuffs. Citizens can stop by a "cafe," where there is potable filtered water and solar-powered recharging stations. Kehdy sees the encampment as a micro-model that is already being replicated in some villages.

One of the biggest environmental issues that has brought Lebanese from all religious sects together to protest is the garbage that for years has been piling up on the streets and beaches.

Since 2015, the country has spent at least $430 million on landfill contracts that went to business associates of politicians in power. According to reports, landfill operators have not been recycling despite mandates to do so and have been dumping trash and toxic waste directly into the Mediterranean. 

“People are demanding a right to live in a country that manages its waste in a sustainable way,” said Julien Jreissati, campaigner at Greenpeace Middle East and North Africa. Pointing out that there are both political and environmental slogans at the protests, Jreissati believes that the waste problem could easily be solved if the government created a proper strategy. As of now, Greenpeace Middle East and North Africa estimates that only 10 percent of trash in Lebanon is recycled.

An environmental organization known as the Green Tent, which coordinated the Gen-Zers' trash sorting in downtown Beirut, was established largely in response to this crisis. When a group of friends saw the mountain of trash left behind by the protests, they began cleaning it up. 

“We decided to take this initiative to act physically instead of shouting and swearing,” said Karmal Charafeddine, 34. “It’s paying back our civil duties.”

After a night of protests, whoever was available would meet at 8:00 A.M. to begin collecting and sorting. Volunteers started showing up, and the Green Tent began coordinating with other environmental groups like Regenerate Lebanon to come up with creative solutions for reusing waste—for example, collecting glass and donating it to traditional blowers to make new glassware. Over half a million cigarette butts were handed to local shaper Paul Abbas, who is turning them into surfboard mats.

As protests have become more decentralized, the Green Tent has “decided to go mobile,” said Charafeddine. The group is no longer doing cleanups in Martyr’s Square, but has organized two outside of Beirut and is in the process of planning a country-wide cleanup. 

Now nearing the end of December, the unrest in Lebanon shows no signs of stopping, but one thing is certain: The Lebanese refuse to go back to the status quo.

“I used to think the problem was so big—waste, the water crisis,” said Joanne Hayek, a member of Regenerate Lebanon. “For me, the biggest change is that we realized in fact we all had the same dream of a clean Lebanon. That has aligned us.”

AUTHOR

A New York native, Alexandra Talty is an award-winning journalist based in Lebanon. Covering social and political topics in the region, she writes for Playboy, OutsideForbes, and The National. She was the founding Editor-in-Chief of StepFeed in the Middle East and in 2019 was named a National Press Foundation fellow.