Faraway, So Close: Barack in Berlin

My Berlin peeps were excited; even my mother said she wished she could go hear him.

And he spoke eloquently. “The walls between the countries with the most and those with the least cannot stand. The walls between races and tribes, natives and immigrants, Christian and Muslim and Jew cannot stand. These now are the walls we must tear down.” Yes.

But I didn’t love his speech. Did the Berliners love it? The video I watched stuck with a close shot of his face for all 25+ minutes, so I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them, when they stayed silent, and when they erupted into applause (at: we will finally end this war in Iraq and at: no more nuclear weapons and at: my country must take climate as seriously as you have here and at: the world is more interconnected than it ever has been).

And I found myself wondering whom this speech was geared towards. I found it… not quite in touch with the Berlin and the Germany I know.

The speechwriters clearly held the romantic notion (not uncommon among USAmericans) that Die Wende—the reunification of Germany—is a source of pure pride and joy for Germans. But in my experience it’s a fraught issue, with a good number of Wessies still upset at the drain on their resources and lowered quality of life, and a lot of Ossies missing the ideals and sometimes even the realities, of communist days. Meanwhile, many of the students in that crowd of 250,000 weren’t walking, talking, or even born when the Wall fell.

So Obama crescendoed with the glorious defeat of communism, the victory of capitalism and democracy… but the Berliners cheered far more heartily at the mention of the downfall of apartheid in South Africa.

And his opening, about the Airlift (about which I blogged a while back)… this story showcases the graciousness of the United States, taking pity on the starving people of Berlin despite the atrocities of the recently-concluded war.

What was he trying to accomplish with it? You better remember that we saved your asses? Or…remember once upon a time when we were a force for good?

I would have made the Airlift part of a resounding conclusion, to call America back to the magnanimous spirit of yore.

Yes, the historical stuff all felt a bit off—down to the mention of the Victory Column behind him as a symbol of…victory… when really, don’t we all associate the Golden Else (as Berliners refer to her), with Wim’s angels?? I think the Wings of Desire would have been a far stronger reference point than wars and victories, myself.

Lockdown

Back in my hometown, the Imperial City, they’ve instituted military checkpoints around one violence-ravaged neighborhood. Upon approaching the area, you’re stopped, asked your reason for needing to be in the area, and turned around if they don’t like your answer.

Brilliant. Has no one heard of root causes? We need jobs and economic alternatives to deal with crime and violence, not police intimidation, people.

See Wash Post coverage here.

Thanks to my schoolmate Ebony, still a DC resident, for alerting me to this situation.

Chevron Scum

I was at the Goldman Environmental Awards (the Oscars of environmental defenders) on Monday night, a slightly less awe-inspiring lineup than in previous years, it seemed to me, EXCEPT FOR Luis Yanza and Pablo Fajardo, the legal team fighting behemoth Chevron for its poisoning of Ecuadorian Amazon. Their integrity and courage is undeniable.

Conniving Chevron and its puffy-faced spokesman saying Yanza and Fajardo are con-men out for personal gain is laughable. Would be laughable, except that petroleum-poisoned children and other creatures and water and plants of Ecuador are dying every day.

Liebe will riskiert werden.

Majora Carter–co-founder/leader of the Green For All campaign alongside my boss Van Jones—was an Olympic torch bearer during the San Francisco leg yesterday. We figured she’d have something up her sleeve in terms of making her feelings known with regard to Tibet (and Darfur). We just didn’t realize it would be literally up her sleeve, where Majora had stashed a Tibetan flag.

Last night over a post-torch dinner with her, she described her bizarre day: despite (her kidnappers’) orders not to communicate with the outside world, she managed to hide her husband’s cellphone in her underpants (hers was too big), and from the back of the bus in which the torchbearers were shuttled around, to whisper haphazard info to the outside world about her location. “Can you see any streetsigns?” we were asking on our end. “Do you see the water?”

The route of the “Houdini torch,” as it came to be known, entirely circumvented the picturesque planned itinerary along the Embarcadero, instead heading up Van Ness and down to the Marina, from where they took it onto the highway—yes, the highway— towards the Golden Gate. But just a short way up the cleared expanse of concrete, they aborted the course towards the bridge, shoved the torch into the bus, and sped it off to San Francisco airport.

Majora, for her part, had her moment of glory at some random Civic Center-y corner—Sutter?, Pine?, Gough?—some street name I get confused with so many others down in those parts. She had spent an hour and a half feeling out her torchmate about his stance on politics in general (he felt we should focus our attention more on problems at home, apparently was the gist of it), and she ultimately confided in him shortly before their turn came up that she planned to pull out the Tibetan flag as soon as she had the torch in hand. And was he cool with that? He told her he “knew her heart.” He’d be cool.

And, as has now been liberally broadcast, she did just what she said she’d do, but didn’t get far. The Chinese officials snapped the offending flag away and had both her arms behind her back in a matter of seconds, as she insisted that she was exercising her constitutional right to free speech in support of human rights internationally. For a moment she wondered if she was going to be arrested by the Chinese. Then the SFPD just forcibly deposited her on the other side of the barrier they formed, into the people, and barred her from further contact with the torchbearing elite. And that was that.

Our experience of the day, out to support her while also displaying pro-Tibet and/or “save Darfur” signage, was nearly as bizarre and uncomfortable. We weren’t there to be hating on Chinese folks, or Chinese-Americans. Just as many or most of us in this country don’t support the Bush administration’s warfare, torture practices, and imperialist foreign policy, many or most of them don’t support their government’s actions. But the scene on the streets yesterday was ugly. Ugly, ugly. I understand a lot of the Chinese folks were bussed in to show some pride for China; they were greeted with real nastiness by the protestors.

Then there were the tourists and the local sleepwalkers who came out just to see the torch go by. And honestly—I sympathized with them too. I happen to have a huge soft spot where the Olympics are concerned. Ever since I was a little girl I’ve loved the idea that all the countries of the world come together and bring forth their talents—particularly when underdog countries take home gold medals. I know it’s not as simple as that, I know—but still, when the national anthem of Senegal or Uruguay or Jamaica plays and the people of that country are in the world’s spotlight as Number One, I get (ridiculously) sentimental. So shoot me.

And as the day progressed, and we realized there was no way we’d get to see or cheer Majora on, our little crowd felt sicker and sicker to our stomachs. Mahfam in particular, upset by the barbs, started calling out “I love you—I just love Tibetans too!” as she walked by people with Chinese flags.

In the end, the shirt I’d chosen to wear seemed particularly appropriate. We’d been told not to wear any Green For All-branded stuff in support of Majora, and I didn’t have anything related to Tibet or Darfur, and so I went with a T-shirt that my friend Uta sent me from Berlin. I saw lots of folks trying to figure it out (either that, or they were checking out my rack.)

It reads: “Liebe will riskiert werden,” which translates, more or less, to “love wants to be risked.” IMHO, that’s what we all really need: the anti-hate, the anti-fear.

We Made History—and the News

Just back from a conference on the environment. Sort of.

This was like no green event I’ve attended, and I’ve been to my fair share of them: the sprawling Green Festivals, brainy Bioneers, well-intentioned SVN sustainable business gatherings, crunchy Harmony Festivals…Burning Man 007…

So what made it different?

Well, for starters, it took place in Memphis, Tennessee, not California or upstate New York.

And it didn’t have “green” or “sustainable” in its name. It was called The Dream Reborn.

And we didn’t get eco-bags stuffed full of flyers and “eco-friendly” trinkets that got dumped into hotel trashcans.

There was gospel singing, and praise for God. Mmn-hmm. Let me hear you say it now.*

And, get this: Global warming—and scary statistics about ice melts, water levels, storm forces, disease vectors and endangered species—were hardly mentioned.

And: thank the gods!—there was hardly a pair of Teva’s to be seen. Instead, people had style.

It wasn’t the typical green event crowd. The ratio was perhaps 1:6 whites to people of color. We Euro-Americans were a few raw nuts folded in a rich brown batter.

And the speakers? There was no Al, Arnold, or Amory. Neither the James** nor the Julias*** made appearances. No one from the covers of green Vanity Fairs was given top billing.

The participants didn’t even identify as “environmentalists,” just as ordinary people who drink water, eat food, and breathe air.

Come to think of it, “conference” felt like the wrong word, though the event took place at the Convention Center, and there were plenaries and workshops and fancy receptions, and everyone had badges hanging around their necks.

As one fine speaker said, it was more like a family reunion, where you can sit down with any given perfect stranger, and after a few moments of talking, discover how you’re connected, and experience that eerie recognition of the traits you have in common.

So what WAS this thing?

The Dream Reborn, held on the 40th anniversary of Dr. King’s assassination, marked the launch of the U.S. civil rights and human rights movement of the 21st century.

The new Dream: to engage those people lacking dignified jobs in work that heals the planet and that not only creates a pathway out of poverty, but leads to The Good Life, the American Dream.

Because it’s going to take a significant amount of work (and sacrifice!, on the part of some of us—but that’s another conference… and mostly for a different crowd) for us to pull back from the brink of catastrophic climate change. And there are lots of people in this country, poor brown and black ones in particular, who really need and want work that they can feel good about.

At the end of an intensely productive day sharing strategies and models and diagrams and messaging and leverage points and technical assistance and business cards…, when the Hot 8 Brass Band of New Orleans rolled in, some half of the thousand of us kicked up our heels and clapped and snapped and snaked and ground and clowned around…and when our procession left the Convention Center for the streets, the sheen of our smiles lit the night, and our chant “GREEN FOR ALL! GREEN FOR ALL!,” it carried.

It’s carrying still.

..

.. ..

*Note: I do believe that there is a powerful, beautiful and creative force greater than myself that includes myself.

**Hansen, Lovelock

***Roberts, Butterfly

the planet, the people too

Where I’m headed next weekend.

Surfaces at work

not a post about how many germs live in the keypad of your fax machine.

Not long ago I interviewed the Chief Environmental Officer (would that all CEO’s in the world could—poof!—be converted not just in title but in spirit as well…) for the City of Chicago, a guy named Sadhu Johnston.

The inspiring interview was part of my research for Van Jones’ forthcoming book on the opportunity within the green economy to lift people out of poverty at the same time we’re healing the planet, by mindfully creating and providing training for “green-collar” jobs.

Sadhu mentioned that one of Chicago’s plans is to have the greenest street (in the, um, world, is what he sed—not surprising given the list of green superlatives the City has already claimed, like largest LEED-certified building in the world, or most urban green roofs in the US…) and that photocatalytic cement will play a major role.

Now, I flat out don’t believe that technology will Save us. Neither one platinum bullet, nor an array of complementary technologies. Instead I believe, with ardor, that our mandate is to make major behavioral changes—such as becoming more local, community-reliant as opposed to self-reliant, and respectful of the imperative for diversity (to survive in the local sustainable community, we need one of everything—baker, seamstress, veterinarian, plumber—or better, two of everything, like on the Ark, in case one falls ill).

But this photocatalytic cement that Sadhu described sounded like some cool shit. He said it will filter the air 8 feet above the ground, drawing out pollutants and making it much cleaner for a pedestrian walking along there (providing, I guess, that said pedestrian is less than 8 feet tall), and is so reflective that at night streetlights require much less wattage.

So I looked it up. I found this article in WIRED (from 2005: color me behind the times! *Blush *)–which explains that the cement is coated with a thin layer of titanium dioxide. So “UV rays hitting the titanium dioxide trigger a catalytic reaction that destroys the molecules of pollutants, including nitrogen oxides, which are emitted in the burning of fossil fuels and create smog.”

The NYTimes also ran a piece (11/06!) on the famous Jubilee Church in Rome, built by Richard Meier, that was coated in the miracle substance—shown in the photo.

Now the EU is investing millions in its research and development. Ten years of testing there have shown that covering 15% of visible urban surfaces with it would enable about 50% reduction in pollution. First Europe, then … Chicago?! Will wonders never cease.

Thanks to Sadhu I’m envisioning brilliant white cities of the future staying cool and clean, every surface in sight coated, and working hard.

Si, Se Puede!

FutureFuel Reads The Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight

The Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight, by Thom Hartmann

Anthropology, philosophy, spirituality, ecology… Where does this book get filed? The keyword on the upper left corner of the back cover says Current Affairs. I guess those are current affairs; I guess it’s high time they were.

I actually bought this book after hearing Hartmann speak at Bioneers in 2006, impressed by his reasoned (intellectual) and grounded (spiritual/emotional) presence on stage. But I never got around to cracking it until I realized it might inform my current researches for Van Jones’ book on Green Collar Jobs.

Hartmann’s first goal is to explain how humanity exceeded natural carrying capacity on earth. For most of human existence, alongside every other living creature, we lived off what he calls “current local sunlight,” the amount of sun that hit the earth and got stored in plants, which fed the herbivores, which in turn fed the carnivores. Human shelter and clothing were derived from plants and animal parts too, and thus also from sunlight.

Population densities stabilized at the level which local sunlight could sustain, growing slightly when we developed herding and farming practices, which more efficiently converted sunlight into food.

Then we discovered what he calls “ancient sunlight:” coal, a material derived from plants that had stored sunlight for hundreds of millions of years. As coal replaced wood as a main source of heat, forests in turn could be cleared for food production, and global population jumped: from 500 million people around 1000 A.D. to one billion in 1800. And then we discovered another form of ancient sunlight: oil.

So while it took us 200,000 years to produce our first billion people, with the discovery of oil, it took just 130 years for our second billion, and a paltry 30 years for our third billion. Then, leveling off from exponentials into more linear growth—14 more years until we hit 4 billion, 13 more years to 5 billion, and 12 additional years to hit 6 billion in 1999. And growing.

And now there’s almost no more ancient sunlight left. Experts differ on the exact amounts remaining, but everyone is clear we’ll be totally OUT within the next 40-60ish years at current rates of usage– and increased use is predicted. Since demand and population is still growing, and since even our alterative energy technologies require oil (to produce photovoltaic cells, for example), and since we’re running out of all sorts of other things (water, metals, trees) we obviously need to Get Smart now.

Then Hartmann switches tacks entirely, in order to introduce us to the people who may hold the answer to effective resource management: the Older Cultures, such as the San, Kogi, Ik, Kayapo. He spends a lot of time debunking our Younger Culture’s prevailing narratives about these primitive peoples, and questioning our Younger/Dominant Cultural values. What is enough? What is wealth? What is growth? Who really attains leisure or contentment? Whose culture is deeper?

There are so many gems in this book that my copy is riddled with dog-eared pages, underlined passages, asterisks and exclamation points. There are far too many to convey here, so I’m just going to ask very nicely—maybe even beg you—to read the book yourself, and believe what he conveys about transformation rippling from the individual to the community to the global level, and how individual acts of grace, generosity, and gratitude can change humanity’s trajectory.

FutureFuel Reads Inevitable Surprises

I’ve been reading a ton of books about climate change and clean energy as part of my work with Van Jones and Green For All. I thought I’d start sharing my gleanings from and reactions to those books here.

Inevitable Surprises, Peter Schwartz

Wunderkind Peter Schwartz has been crafting predictions about the future—chiefly on behalf of his huge corporate clients, and for Hollywood productions like “Minority Report” and “War Games”—since the mid-1980s. And he’s been right a lot of the time, which is why I found myself reading—and re-reading—his book carefully.

Since he’s not only paid by corporate power, but is also a venture capitalist, often investing in the projects he’s describing as the Next Big Thing, I also found myself taking him with a big ole lick of salt, particularly when I read things from him that nearly every other scientist and observer gainsays, like “pollution is diminishing. Species are harder to extinguish than they seem.”

Among the things he predicts, which I note here without any editorializing:

Significantly-increased lifespans, with corresponding larger numbers of working, playing, procreating and consuming Elders.

Massive population migrations.
One specific approaching shift he points to is based on the fact that cultural preference for male children in China has resulted in a skewed ratio of male-to-female births, which “translates into ½ million ‘excess’ males coming into the population each year for the next 20 years.” He predicts this will lead to a diaspora of Chinese males seeking wives, and tremendous immigration of non-Chinese women to China.

Economic growth over the long haul, mostly due to increased productivity, globalization, and global infrastructure.

Ongoing terrorist acts by a set of “disorderly nations,” augmented by the impulsive behavior of the “rogue superpower” United States. Religious wars. The disconnectedness of 14 million parentless children growing up in Africa. Huge numbers of AIDS cases in China, India, and Russia.

Total and virtually inescapable surveillance, facilitated by retinal scans and nanotechnology. Human control over biological processes such as fertility. Bioindustrial processes (e.g. growing steaks in steel vats). Regenerative medicine: grow a new one of whatever you need. Computers that are a hundred million times as powerful as today’s. Space travel, eventually, possibly.

Posssibly, information theory as underlying reality: the idea that “there is a code that determines what happens when atoms and other small entities come together, and it is possible to crack that code….Reality, in short, is a giant computer, and it conceivably could be programmed if we knew how to input the right ‘data.’”

Population growth levels off. Green energy prevails—including nuclear. Global climate change, and with it: severe shortages of water, flooded coastal communities, tropical diseases’ spread to northern climates, and the resulting migration of populations.

A hugely devastating global plague—from a newer disease like Ebola or (airborne?) AIDS, or the return of an oldie now drug-resistant, like staph, the flu, or tuberculosis. And finally, equally cheerily, an asteroid hitting the earth and potentially destroying human civilization as we know it.

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Although at first I was tempted to fully discount Schwartz’s views as biased by his own economic interests, subsequent readings have also made me perceive my own biases and my wishful thinking. Reading Inevitable Surprises, I’m left with a mix of hope and despair not far from the ratio I already hold, but comprised of different ingredients. You might want to read this book, just in case.