Radical Community Agriculture

SUBHEAD: Reconnecting people to growing of their own food may prove to be a radical means of healing.

By Jared Spears on 22 July 2022 in Resilience -
(https://www.resilience.org/stories/2022-07-22/the-radical-roots-of-community-supported-agriculture/)


Image above: Photo promoting education in organic farming.  (https://www.bestcolleges.com/blog/organic-farming-degrees-careers/).

Community-Supported Agriculture (CSA) is one of those rare ideas which combine transformative potential with an elegant simplicity. The CSA model of funding and sustaining locally-rooted agriculture has grown exponentially around the globe over the past four decades. Since the first formal CSA at Robyn Van En’s Indian Line Farm in South Egremont, Massachusetts in the early 1980s, CSAs have become a household fixture across the US and elsewhere; the most recent estimate by the USDA (2012) counted approximately 13,000 CSA farms in the US alone.

The success of community-supported farming has coincided with rising demand for organic food since the late 1970s. But the model’s popularization has meant that, sometimes, CSAs can be misrepresented as ‘just another way’ for consumers to purchase fresh, seasonal food. Important elements embedded into the CSA model, such as that of shared risk among members, make the arrangement more than merely transactional. In fact, the origins of the CSA movement in America have radical roots, drawn from the prominent environmental movement and a subculture dissatisfied with the prevailing economic system.

A 1985 paper newly digitized from the Schumacher Center archive, “Community Supported Food Systems”, clarifies the deeper motivations which brought CSAs to the US in their present form. It is a timely reminder of the transformative potential the broader concept of Community Supported Industry still holds today – especially in light of our urgent need to dramatically reduce carbon emissions and foster resilience in our supply chains.

Given renewed interest in the concepts of local food security and food sovereignty as principles of climate action and economic justice, it is worth revisiting the transformative potential of the CSA model as grasped by those who first put the idea into action.

Importing the CSA model from Switzerland

The community-supported farming movement popularized in the 1980s had multiple antecedents around the globe. With examples of localized farming initiatives from Chile, to Japan, to rural Black communities in the Southern US, this movement may be best thought of as a spontaneous, distributed reaction to the conditions of globalized food markets. At the same time, growing concern around the health impacts of chemical pesticides, as well as the environmental costs of fossil fuel-based fertilizers, added impetus to the organization of organic farming at a more human scale.

That said, the formalized CSA model which subsequently spread across the US and beyond was pioneered in the Southern Berkshires, in the state of Massachusetts. And as the “Community Supported Food Systems” paper shows, its character was highly informed by models developed earlier in Switzerland. The ethos and organizing principles of these Swiss examples were documented and brought to Massachusetts by one Jan Vander Tuin.

Vander Tuin, a champion of pedal-powered transport and car-sharing, would later go on to make his mark advocating for appropriate technology in transportation. But before all that, he was a disillusioned farm laborer looking for alternatives. As Vander Tuin recalled in a 1992 article in RAIN Magazine, he went to Switzerland in the early ‘80s from the US having “felt burned economically… with an eye open for alternatives to market agriculture.” As he described the attraction of Switzerland at that time:

The early 1980’s were inspiring years for Swiss activists. The youth were rebellious, and citizens at large asked questions of the nation that epitomizes capitalism. I saw many evolving solutions to problems that I, coming from the States, had written off as unsolvable.”

After some time working first-hand on an organic farm outside Zürich, Vander Tuin was directed to a successful producer-consumer food co-op in Geneva, which had been inspired by the cooperative movement in Chile during the Allende administration. Vander Tuin called the project the most radical food co-op group he had ever encountered: it “addressed almost every problem I’d encountered in modern farming.” This project’s philosophy went beyond ecologically sustainable practices and pesticide-free produce, addressing the steep economic challenges faced by organic farming in an era of big, corporate agri-business. 

The basic notion that consumers personally cooperate with producers to fund farming in advance, he wrote “makes for more efficient use of land… and much less stress for farmers…” In short, Vander Tuin recognized that this model made organic farming for local consumption not just economical, but also more elegant and communitarian – in a word, more beautiful.

What drove Vander Tuin, as expressed in the paper, is “the feeling that existing food infrastructures are hopelessly entangled in the societal/cultural systems, especially the ‘free’ market.” Rather than wait for planners and experts, Vander Tuin noted how, in the Swiss examples, “concerned consumers and frustrated food workers” decided to provide responsibly-grown organic food for themselves. Shared values such as organic growing and energy-conscious distribution were identified from the outset. Everything down to how shares were calculated – based on the amount of produce the average non-vegetarian consumes per year – underscores the ambition for local self-reliance in food production.

The document also highlights a strong desire for economic fairness at every step in CSA practices. The costs of start-up investment and land would “ideally…be divided up equally (or by sliding scale).” 

 In the Swiss example, wages for farm labor were to be estimated at “the average wage of worker in region – not banker unfortunately” Vander Tuin added with a dose of humor. “The emphasis in all economic thinking,” it concludes, “was not to work the maximum profit principle but on the need/cost coverage principle. This meant more trust and more participation.”

Finding like minds in the Southern Berkshires

Vander Tuin documented these practices, eager to bring them back to the US for implementation. He caught wind of a group in the Southern Berkshires who had set up a sort of buying club for locally-grown produce, including a handful of local growers meeting the demand. The Self-Help Association for a Regional Economy (S.H.A.R.E.) was a community micro-loan program which grew out of the activities of the E.F. Schumacher Society (precursor to the Schumacher Center) in South Egremont. 

Vander Tuin became aware of the group, according to Schumacher Center co-founder Susan Witt, after reading a news article about their novel SHAREcropper initiative. Community-members would pool to list requests for locally grown produce in the SHARE newsletter, enabling them to identify farmers to grow the food locally. Those growers, in turn, secured demand for their crops in advance.

In other words, SHAREcroppers was managing, in an ad-hoc way, what Vander Tuin envisaged as a systematic alternative to corporate, mono-crop agriculture.

When Vander Tuin presented his proposal to members of S.H.A.R.E., they promptly sent him down to the road to meet one of their growers: Robyn Van En, who ran Indian Line Farm. Robyn not only held equally radical ambitions, but possessed the roll-up-her-sleeves attitude needed to make them a reality. With a community around them dedicated to the cause and willing to help see through the implementation, they could set to work.

Having moved to the Southern Berkshires several years earlier from California, Van En was pursuing her own alternative vision for growing at Indian Line. She brought deep ethical convictions about humanity’s relationship with nature to inform the early CSA movement. She later articulated the ‘Ideals of Community Supported Agriculture’ for a CSA manual in such terms:

Agriculture… is the mother of all our culture and the foundation of our well-being. Modern farming…driven by purely economic considerations, has driven the culture out and replaced it with business: agriculture has become agribusiness… Our ideals for agriculture come to expression in the biodynamic method of farming which seeks to create a self-sustaining and improving ecological system in which…everything has its place in the cycle of the seasons… The community involvement in the rhythms of the seasons and the celebrations connected with them will also enable us to find our proper spiritual connection to nature again.”

With a new agricultural ethic clear from the start, Van En also recognized early on a need for a new economic approach as well. As she later described: “I knew there had to be a better way…something cooperative, that allowed people to combine their abilities, expertise, and resources for the mutual benefit of all concerned.” 

 When S.H.A.R.E. members introduced her to Vander Tuin in 1985, they “only had to talk for a few minutes,” according to Van En, to know that what he’d brought back from Switzerland articulated just the sort of community framework she’d been looking for. As she later summarized:

The prices we pay for food may be cheaper than ever, but the hidden costs… are being paid [in other ways]. Unlike agribusiness, which has the motto: ‘The end (profits) justifies the means (exploitation)’, CSA’s motto is: ‘The means (community) assures the end (quality food).’”

Planting the seeds of the CSA movement

The group’s first venture in 1985 involved shares for apples and cider from the orchard adjacent to the present-day Schumacher Center. After the growing season, shareholders were invited to the autumn harvest in a spirit of celebration. (Vander Tuin reportedly even designed and built a pedal-powered cider press for the occasion). Producers and consumers were brought together in relationship with the land and its produce, creating space for community while proving the viability of the CSA model.

The following season, Indian Line Farm became the first fully-fledged CSA in the US. Credit for the success of the model in the Southern Berkshires goes to the many members of the community who supported Indian Line in various ways. 

But it was only the beginning for Van En: an educator by training, she would go on to become a tireless advocate of the CSA model and biodynamic farming and a vocal critic of industrialized agribusiness. The propagation of the CSA model across North America in the following decades owes much to Robyn’s conviction and endurance.

A final aspect of the CSA concept, originally outlined by Vander Tuin, remained only a theory until Indian Line Farm came on the market in 1998, one year after Van En’s untimely passing. At that time the Community Land Trust in the Southern Berkshires and two area farmers formed a partnership with a local Nature Conservancy chapter to purchase the farm. Placing the land into the Community Land Trust in perpetuity was yet another innovation. 

Effectively decommodifying the land on which community food was grown while permitting the leaseholder to own the value of improvements, the move made good on an idea which, in Vander Tuin’s original proposal, appeared speculative: “community influenced land stewardship in the form of a ‘Community Land Trust’,” he wrote, seemed “applicable and desirable” compared to “normal ‘property’ arrangements.”

Today, the CSA model articulated by Van En and Vander Tuin remains a vital, community-based alternative to the host of health, environmental, and economic issues posed by industrial agribusiness. No wonder that the growth of CSAs has reportedly surged since 2020. Growing healthy, ecologically-sound food locally is, for a multitude of reasons, the most economical way for a community to provide for this most elemental of needs. 

Cutting out intermediaries and import dependency is a cornerstone of community food security and food sovereignty, as marginalized communities around the country and the world increasingly recognize. Combined with agro-ecological farming methods, relocalized agriculture holds great potential in our efforts to address climate change: reducing carbon emissions and helping to sequester carbon already in our atmosphere. And by layering on the innovative Community Land Trust model, affordable access to farmland can be secured for future generations of growers as well.

At the most human level, reconnecting people around the growing of their own food may prove to be among our most effective means of healing our widespread sense of disconnection from nature and community. It offers the promise for any community to rediscover how working in harmony with nature, rather than merely seeking to exploit it, can be as economical as it is beautiful.

.

Strength from Grief

SUBHEAD: For Aborigines healing from trauma is a cultural and spiritual process tied to land.

By B. Williamson, J. Weir & V. Cavanagh on 23 Jan 2020 in Yes! -
(https://www.yesmagazine.org/environment/2020/01/23/australia-bushfire-aboriginal/)


Image above: Group of Australian aborigines who practice land management. From original article.

How do you support people forever attached to a landscape after an inferno tears through their homelands: decimating native food sources, burning through ancient scarred trees, and destroying ancestral and totemic plants and animals?

The fact is, the experience of Aboriginal peoples in the fire crisis engulfing much of Australia is vastly different from that of non-Indigenous peoples.

Colonial legacies of eradication, dispossession, assimilation, and racism continue to affect the lived realities of Aboriginal peoples. Added to this is the widespread exclusion of our peoples from accessing and managing traditional homelands. These factors compound the trauma of these unprecedented fires.

As Australia picks up the pieces from these fires, it’s more important than ever to understand the unique grief that Aboriginal peoples experience. Only through this understanding can effective strategies be put in place to support our communities to recover.

Perpetual grief

Aboriginal peoples live with a sense of perpetual grief. It stems from the as-yet-unresolved matter of the invasion and subsequent colonization of our homelands.

While many instances of colonial trauma were inflicted upon Aboriginal peoples—including the removal of children and the suppression of culture, ceremony, and language—dispossession of Country remains paramount. Dispossessing people of their lands is a hallmark of colonization.

Australian laws have changed to partially return Aboriginal peoples’ lands and waters, and Aboriginal people have made their best efforts to advocate for more effective management of Country. But despite this, most of our peoples have been consigned to the margins in managing our homelands.

Aboriginal people have watched on and been ignored as homelands have been mismanaged and neglected.

Oliver Costello is chief executive of Firesticks Alliance, an Indigenous-led network that aims to reinvigorate cultural burning. As he puts it:

Since colonization, many Indigenous people have been removed from their land, and their cultural fire management practices have been constrained by authorities, informed by Western views of fire and land management.

In this way, settler-colonialism is not historical, but a lived experience. And the growing reality of climate change adds to these anxieties.

It’s also important to recognize that our people grieve not only for our communities, but for our nonhuman relations. Aboriginal peoples’ cultural identity comes from the land.

As such, Aboriginal cultural lives and livelihoods continue to be tied to the land, including landscape features such as waterholes, valleys, and mountains, as well as native animals and plants.

The decimation caused by the fires deeply affects the existence of Aboriginal peoples and, in the most severely hit areas, threatens Aboriginal groups as distinct cultural beings attached to the land. As The Guardian’s Indigenous affairs editor Lorena Allam recently wrote:

Like you, I’ve watched in anguish and horror as fire lays waste to precious Yuin land, taking everything with it—lives, homes, animals, trees—but for First Nations people, it is also burning up our memories, our sacred places, all the things which make us who we are.


Image above: native Australians protest in support of their sovereignty. From original article.

For Aboriginal people then, who live with the trauma of dispossession and neglect and now, the trauma of catastrophic fire, our grief is immeasurably different from that of non-Indigenous people.

Bushfire recovery must consider culture

As we come to terms with the fires’ devastation, Australia must turn its gaze to recovery. The field of community recovery offers valuable insights into how groups of people can come together and move forward after disasters.

But an examination of research and commentary in this area reveals how poorly non-Indigenous Australia (and indeed, the international field of community recovery) understands the needs of Aboriginal people.

The definition of “community” is not explicitly addressed, and thus is taken as a single socio-cultural group of people.

But research in Australia and overseas has demonstrated that for Aboriginal people, healing from trauma—whether historical or contemporary—is a cultural and spiritual process, and inherently tied to land.

The culture-neutral standpoint in community recovery research as yet does not acknowledge these differences. Without considering the historical, political, and cultural contexts that continue to define the lives of Aboriginal peoples, responses to the crisis may be inadequate and inappropriate.

Resilience in the face of ongoing trauma

The long-term effects of colonization has meant Aboriginal communities are (for better or worse) accustomed to living with catastrophic changes to their societies and lands, adjusting and adapting to keep functioning.

Experts consider these resilience traits as integral for communities to survive and recover from natural disasters.

In this way, the resilience of Aboriginal communities fashioned through centuries of colonization, coupled with adequate support, means Aboriginal communities in fire-affected areas are well placed to not only recover, but to do so quickly.

This is a salient lesson for agencies and other non-government organizations entrusted to lead the disaster recovery process.

The community characteristics that enable effective and timely community recovery, such as close social links and shared histories, already exist in the Aboriginal communities affected.

Moving forward

The agency in charge of leading the recovery in bushfire-affected areas must begin respectfully and appropriately. And they must be equipped with the basic knowledge of our peoples’ different circumstances.

It’s important to note this isn’t “special treatment.” Instead, it recognizes that policy and practice must be fit-for-purpose and, at the very least, not do further harm.

If agencies and non-government organizations responsible for leading the recovery from these fires aren’t well-prepared, they risk inflicting new trauma on Aboriginal communities.

The National Disability Insurance Agency offers an example of how to engage with Aboriginal people in culturally sensitive ways. This includes thinking about Country, culture, and community, and working with each community’s values and customs to establish respectful, trusting relationships.

The new bushfire recovery agency must use a similar strategy. This would acknowledge both the historical experiences of Aboriginal peoples and our inherent strengths as communities that have not only survived, but remain connected to our homelands.

In this way, perhaps the bushfire crisis might have some positive longer-term outcomes, opening new doors to collaboration with Aboriginal people, drawing on our strengths and values, and prioritizing our unique interests.


.

The Commons and Climate Change

SUBHEAD: Our best recourse is to fortify our commons as a failsafe against the future.
By David Bollier on 8 January 2020 for Bollier.org -
(http://www.bollier.org/blog/commons-and-climate-change)


Image above: "Summer" by Peter Breugel II depicting a village working the fields. From (https://pl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plik:Pieter_Brueghel_(II)_-_The_four_seasons,_summer_(Bukarest).jpg).

There is much to be said about the relationship of commons to climate change, but let me offer this short glimpse into the clash of worldviews that must be negotiated. Whatever the outcome in ongoing arguments with capitalist climate-deniers, our best recourse will be to build and fortify our many commons as a failsafe against the earthly reckoning that is coming.

A recent editorial in The Daily Telegraph (UK) resentfully noted the toll that climate collapse is wrecking on human civilization:

“As if climate change does not engender enough worries about flooding, storms and bush fires, there is another consequence we often fail to appreciate -- the impact on financial services and pensions in particular.” 

The editorial went on to conclude: “In the end, in spite of what Greta Thunberg believes, it is the capitalist system, the economic growth it generates and investment in green technologies that will make it possible to move to a carbon-free future without triggering a global recession.”

Just another day in the Anthopocene Era: a self-absorbed denial of the encompassing realities of the living Earth.

Michael Dunwell, a painter who works with Transition movement in Bristol, England, took issue with this myopic, anthropocentric attitude – the idea that, as if flooding, storms, etc., were not enough, the financial system is being affected!

To which Dunwell indignantly replied: “As if! As if climate change was some purely arbitrary and isolated event that for some unknown reason menaces the basic necessity for our existence on the planet of our financial services!”

He continued:

“I am continually taken back to the story of the enclosure of the commons, which perfectly illustrates the problem of the market and the environment. 

There is no denying that you can make more money by putting a fence round a piece of land and grazing sheep, when the market for wool is thriving, than you can by letting a group of men who have helped you conquer that territory pursue a subsistence living on it, with their families. 

“This ‘fact of life’ justified the conversion of half the land in England, over three or four centuries, from common land to private property, and instilled in the minds of everyone the ‘necessity’ of an economy based on productivity for the market. The massive increase in productivity and wealth produced by the industrial revolution simply emphasised what had already been effected by enclosure, i.e., the marketisation of land and labour. 

The resulting woes of social injustice and environmental ruin now confront a global economic culture in an entirely new way; it is no longer just a matter of inequality and differing values, but of survival. If we cannot reclaim land and labour from the market it will devour us. 

“But the neoliberals now in power complain that not enough people realise that climate change has an impact on their core institutions! In Opposition we complain that the neoliberals are in denial of the impact of an unregulated economy on all the natural and social systems in the world. It looks inevitable that the breakdown of these systems themselves will be more likely to settle the argument than any rational debate, in the course of the next decade. So what do we do in the meantime? 

“We get together in groups that have already shown signs of resilience through their awareness of the danger of the growth economy. We plan for food and energy security on local bases regardless of existing policies – or lack of them. 

We sustain ourselves with the love and comradeship we have experienced in the Transition and XR movements. We do not wait for politics to change; we just concentrate on reconnecting with our human instinct of collaboration. 

We are about to say goodbye to a lot of luxuries we can manage without, and re-discover the principles of the biosphere.”

.

Some of the Lights On

SUBHEAD: We should be redefining Energy Security as keeping at least "Some of the Lights On".

By Kris De Decker on 10 December 2018 for Low-Tech Magazine -
(https://www.lowtechmagazine.com/2018/12/keeping-some-of-the-lights-on-redefining-energy-security.html)


Image above: Keeping some of the lightbulbs on is better than all or nothing. From (http://www.womeninaction.co.za/be-different-to-make-a-difference/).

What is Energy Security?
What does it mean for a society to have “energy security”? Although there are more than forty different definitions of the concept, they all share the fundamental idea that energy supply should always meet energy demand. This also implies that energy supply needs to be constant – there can be no interruptions in the service. [1-4]

For example, the International Energy Agency (IEA) defines energy security as “the uninterrupted availability of energy sources at an affordable price”, the US Department of Energy and Climate Change (DECC) defines the concept as meaning that “the risks of interruption to energy supply are low”, and the EU defines it as a “stable and abundant supply of energy”. [5-7]

Historically, energy security was achieved by securing access to forests or peat bogs for thermal energy, and to human, animal, wind or water power sources for mechanical energy. With the arrival of the Industrial Revolution, energy security came to depend on the supply of fossil fuels.

As a theoretical concept, energy security is most closely related to the oil crises from the 1970s, when embargoes and price manipulations limited oil supply to Western nations.

As a result, most industrialised societies still stockpile oil reserves that are equivalent to several months of consumption.

Although oil remains as vital to industrial economies as it was in the 1970s, mainly for transportation and agriculture, it’s now recognised that energy security in modern societies also depends on other infrastructures, such as those supplying gas, electricity, and even data.

Furthermore, these infrastructures increasingly interconnect and depend on each other.

For example, gas is an important fuel for power production, while the power grid is now required to operate gas pipelines. Power grids are needed to run data networks, and data networks are now needed to run power grids.

This article investigates the concept of energy security by focusing on the power grid, which has become just as vital to industrial societies as oil. Moreover, electrification is seen as a way to decrease dependency on fossil fuels – think electric vehicles, heat pumps, and wind turbines.

The “security” or “reliability” of a power grid can be measured precisely by indicators of continuity such as the “Loss-of-Load Probability” (LOLP), and the “System Average Interruption Duration Index” (SAIDI). Using these indicators, one can only conclude that power grids in industrial societies are very secure.

For example, in Germany, power is available for 99.996% of the time, which corresponds to an interruption in service of less than half an hour per customer per year. [8]

Even the worst performing countries in Europe (Latvia, Poland, Lithuania) have supply shortages of only eight hours per customer per year, which corresponds to a reliability of 99.90%. [8]

The US power grid is in between these values, with supply interruptions of less than four hours per customer per year (99.96% reliability). [9]

How Secure is a Renewable Power Grid?
In the current operation of infrastructures, the paradigm is that consumers could and should have access to as much electricity, gas, oil, data or water as they want, anytime they want it, for as long as they want it.

The only requirement is that they pay the bill. Looking at the power sector, this vision of energy security is quite problematic, for several reasons.

First of all, most energy sources from which electricity is made are finite – and maintaining a steady supply of something that’s finite is of course impossible. In the long run, the strategy to maintain energy security is certainly doomed to fail. In the shorter term, it may disrupt the climate and provoke armed conflicts.

The International Energy Agency (IEA), which was set up following the first oil crisis in the early 1970s, encourages the use of renewable energy sources in order to diversify the energy supply and improve energy security in the long term.

A renewable power system is not dependent on foreign energy imports nor vulnerable to fuel price manipulations – which are the main worries in an energy infrastructure that is largely based on fossil fuels.

Of course, solar panels and wind turbines have limited lifetimes and need to be manufactured, which also requires resources that could come from abroad or which can become depleted. But, once they are installed, renewable power systems are “secure” in a way and for a period of time that fossil fuels (and atomic energy) are not.

Furthermore, solar and wind power provide more security concerning physical failure or sabotage, even more so when renewable power production is decentralised. Renewable power plants also have lower CO2-emissions, and the extreme weather events caused by climate change are a risk to energy security as well.

However, in spite of all these advantages, renewable energy sources pose fundamental challenges to the current understanding of energy security.

Most importantly, the renewable energy sources with the largest potential – sun and wind – are only intermittently available, depending on the weather and the seasons.

This means that solar and wind power don’t match the criterium that all definitions of energy security consider to be essential: the need for an uninterrupted, unlimited supply of power.

The reliability of a power grid with a high share of solar and wind power would be significantly below today’s standards for continuity of service. [10-14]

In such a renewable power grid, a 24/7 power supply can only be maintained at very high costs, because it requires an extensive infrastructure for energy storage, power transmission, and excess generation capacity.

This additional infrastructure risks making a renewable power grid unsustainable, because above a certain threshold, the fossil fuel energy used for building, installing and maintaining this infrastructure becomes higher than the fossil fuel energy saved by the solar panels and the wind turbines.

Intermittency is not the only disadvantage of renewable energy sources. Although many media and environmental organisations have painted a picture of solar and wind power as abundant sources of energy (“The sun delivers more energy to Earth in an hour than the world consumes in a year”), reality is more complex.

The “raw” supply of solar (and wind) energy is enormous indeed.

However, because of their very low power density, to convert this energy supply into a useful form solar panels and wind turbines require magnitudes of order more space and materials compared to thermal power plants – even if the mining and distribution of fuels is included. [15]

Therefore, a renewable power grid cannot guarantee that consumers have access to as much electricity as they want, even if the weather conditions are optimal.


How Secure is an Off-the-Grid Power System?
Today’s energy policies related to electricity try to reconcile three aims: an uninterrupted and limitless supply of power, affordability of electricity prices, and environmental sustainability.

A power grid that is mainly based on fossil fuels and atomic energy cannot achieve the aim of environmental sustainability, and it can only achieve the other goals as long as foreign suppliers do not cut off supplies or raise energy prices (or as long as national or international reserves are not depleted).

However, a renewable power grid cannot reconcile these three goals either. To achieve an unlimited 24/7 supply of power, the infrastructure needs to be oversized, which makes it expensive and unsustainable.

Without that infrastructure, a renewable power grid could be affordable and sustainable, but it could never offer an unlimited 24/7 supply of power.

Consequently, if we want a power infrastructure that is affordable and sustainable, we need to redefine the concept of energy security – and question the criterium of an unlimited and uninterrupted power supply.

If we look beyond the typical large-scale central infrastructures in industrial societies, it becomes clear that not all provisioning systems offer a limitless supply of resources.

Off-the-Grid microgeneration – the local production and storage of electricity using batteries and solar PV panels or wind turbines – is one example.

In principle, off-the-grid systems can be sized in such a way that they are “always on”. This can be done by following the “worst-month method”, which oversizes generation and storage capacity so that supply can meet demand even during the shortest and darkest days of the year.

However, just like in an imaginary large-scale renewable power grid, matching supply to demand at all times makes an off-the-grid system very costly and unsustainable, especially in high seasonality climates. [16-18]

Therefore, most off-the-grid systems are sized according to a method that aims for a compromise between reliability, economic cost and sustainability. The “loss-of-load probability sizing method” specifies a number of days per year that supply does not match demand. [19-21]

n other words, the system is sized, not only according to a projected energy demand, but also according to the available budget and/or the available space.

Sizing an off-the-grid power system in this way generates significant cost reductions, even if “reliability” is reduced just a little bit.

For example, a calculation for an off-the-grid house in Spain shows that decreasing the reliability from 99.75% to 99.00% produces a 60% cost reduction, with similar benefits for sustainability. Supply would be interrupted for 87.6 hours per year, compared to 22 hours in the higher reliability system. [16]

According to the current understanding of energy security, off-the-grid power systems that are sized in this way are a failure: energy supply doesn’t always meet energy demand.

However, off-gridders don’t seem to complain about a lack of energy security, on the contrary. There’s a simple reason for this: they adapt their energy demand to a limited and intermittent power supply.

In their 2015 book Off-the-Grid: Re-Assembling Domestic Life, Phillip Vannini and Jonathan Taggart document their travels across Canada to interview about 100 off-the-grid households. [22]

Among their most important observations is that voluntary off-gridders use less electricity overall and routinely adapt their energy demand to the weather and the seasons.

For example, washing machines, vacuum cleaners, power tools, toasters or videogame consoles are not used at all, or they are only used during periods of abundant energy, when batteries can accommodate no further charge.

If the sky is overcast, off-gridders act differently to draw less power and have some more left over for the day after.

Vannini and Taggart also observe that voluntary off-gridders seem to feel perfectly happy with levels of lighting or heating that are different from the standards that many in the western world have come to expect. Often, this shows itself in concentrating activities around more localised sources of heat and light. [22]

Similar observations can be made in places where people – involuntarily – depend on infrastructures that are not always on.

If centralised water, electricity and data networks are present in less industrialised countries, they are often characterised by regular and irregular interruptions in the supply. [23-25]

However, in spite of the very low reliability of these infrastructures – according to common indicators of continuity – life goes on.

Daily household routines are shaped around disruptions of supply systems, which are viewed as normal and a largely accepted part of life.

For example, if electricity, water or Internet are only available during certain times of the day, household tasks or other activities are planned accordingly. People also use less energy overall: the infrastructure simply doesn’t allow for a resource-intensive lifestyle. [23]
 
More Reliable, Less Secure?
The very high “reliability” of power grids in industrial societies is justified by calculating the “value of lost load” (VOLL), which compares the financial loss due to power shortages to the extra investment costs to avoid these shortages. [1][10] [26-29]

However, the value of lost load is highly dependent on how society is organised. The more it depends on electricity, the higher the financial losses due to power shortages will be.

Current definitions of energy security consider supply and demand to be unrelated, and focus almost entirely on securing energy supply.

However, alternative forms of power infrastructures like those described above show that people adapt and match their expectations to a power supply that is limited and not always on. In other words, energy security can be improved, not just by increasing reliability, but also by reducing dependency on energy.

Demand and supply are also interlinked, and mutually influence each other, in 24/7 power systems – but with the opposite effect. Just like “unreliable” off-the-grid power infrastructures foster lifestyles that are less dependent on electricity, “reliable” infrastructures foster lifestyles that are increasingly dependent on electricity.

In their 2018 book Infrastructures and Practices: the Dynamics of Demand in Networked Societies, Olivier Coutard and Elizabeth Shove argue that an unlimited and uninterrupted power supply has enabled people in industrial societies to adopt a multitude of power dependent technologies – such as washing machines, air conditioners, refrigerators, automatic doors, or 24/7 mobile internet access – which become “normal” and central to everyday life.

At the same time, alternative ways of doing things – such as washing clothes by hand, storing food without electricity, keeping cool without air-conditioning, or navigating and communicating without mobile phones – have withered away, or are withering away. [30]

As a result, energy security is in fact higher in off-the-grid power systems and “unreliable” central power infrastructures, while industrial societies are the weakest and most fragile in the face of supply interruptions.

What is generally assumed to be a proof of energy security – an unlimited and uninterrupted power supply – is actually making industrial societies ever more vulnerable to supply interruptions: people increasingly lack the skills and the technology to function without a continuous power supply.

Redefining Energy Security
To arrive to a more accurate definition of energy security requires the concept to be defined, not in terms of commodities like kilowatt-hours of electricity, but in terms of energy services, social practices, or basic needs. [1]

People don’t need electricity in itself. What they need, is to store food, wash clothes, open and close doors, communicate with each other, move from one place to another, see in the dark, and so on.

All these things can be achieved either with or without electricity, and in the first case, with more or less electricity.

Defined in this way, energy security is not just about securing the supply of electricity, but also about improving the resilience of the society, so that it becomes less dependent on a continuous supply of power.

This includes the resilience of people (do they have the skills to do things without electricity?), the resilience of devices and technological systems (can they handle an intermittent power supply?), and the resilience of institutions (is it legal to operate a power grid that is not always on?).

Depending on the resilience of the society, a disruption of the power supply may or may not lead to a disruption of energy services or social practices.

For example, although our food distribution system is dependent on a cold chain that requires a continuous power supply, there are many alternatives.

We could adapt refrigerators to an irregular power supply by insulating them much better, we could reintroduce cold cellars (which keep food fresh without electricity), or we could relearn older methods of food storage, like fermentation.

We could also improve people’s skills in terms of fresh cooking, switch to diets based on ingredients that don’t need cold storage, and encourage local daily shopping over weekly trips to large supermarkets.

If we look at energy security in a more holistic way, taking into account both supply and demand, it quickly becomes clear that energy security in industrial societies continues to deteriorate. We keep delegating more and more tasks to machines, computers and large-scale infrastructures, thus increasing our dependency on electricity.

Furthermore, the Internet is becoming just as essential as the power grid, and trends like cloud computing, the Internet of Things, and self-driving cars are all based on several interconnected layers of continuously operating infrastructures.


Because demand and supply influence each other, we come to a counter-intuitive conclusion: to improve energy security, we need to make the power grid less reliable. This would encourage resilience and substitution, and thus make industrial societies less vulnerable to supply interruptions.

Coutard and Shove argue that “it would make sense to pay more attention to opportunities for innovation that are opened when large network systems are weakened and abandoned, or when they become less reliable”. They add that the experiences of voluntary off-gridders “provide some insights into the types of configuration at stake”. [30]

Arguing for a less reliable power supply is sure to be controversial. In fact, “Keeping the lights on” is a phrase that is often used to justify energy reforms such as building more atomic plants, or keeping them in operation past their planned lifetimes.

To achieve real energy security, “keeping the lights on” should be replaced by phrases like “keeping some of the lights on”, “which lights should we turn off next?”, or “what’s wrong with a bit more dark?”. [31]

Obviously, a less reliable energy supply would bring fundamental changes to routines and technologies, whether it is in households, factories, transport systems, or communications networks – but that’s exactly the point. Present ways of life in industrial societies are simply not sustainable.

Sources
[1] Winzer, Christian. "Conceptualizing energy security." Energy policy 46 (2012): 36-48. https://www.repository.cam.ac.uk/bitstream/handle/1810/242060/cwpe1151.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y

[2] Sovacool, Benjamin K., and Ishani Mukherjee. "Conceptualizing and measuring energy security: A synthesized approach." Energy 36.8 (2011): 5343-5355. https://relooney.com/NS4053-Energy/00-Energy-Security_1.pdf

[3] Kruyt, Bert, et al. "Indicators for energy security." Energy policy37.6 (2009): 2166-2181. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0301421509000883

[4] Cherp, Aleh, and Jessica Jewell. "The concept of energy security: Beyond the four As." Energy Policy 75 (2014): 415-421. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0301421514004960

5] Energy security, International Energy Agency. https://www.iea.org/topics/energysecurity/

[6] Lucas, Javier Noel Valdés, Gonzalo Escribano Francés, and Enrique San Martín González. "Energy security and renewable energy deployment in the EU: Liaisons Dangereuses or Virtuous Circle?." Renewable and Sustainable Energy Reviews 62 (2016): 1032-1046. https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Javier_Valdes4/publication/303361228_Energy_security_and_renewable_energy_deployment_in_the_EU_Liaisons_Dangereuses_or_Virtuous_Circle/links/5a536f45458515e7b72eab26/Energy-security-and-renewable-energy-deployment-in-the-EU-Liaisons-Dangereuses-or-Virtuous-Circle.pdf

[7] Strambo, Claudia, Måns Nilsson, and André Månsson. "Coherent or inconsistent? Assessing energy security and climate policy interaction within the European Union." Energy Research & Social Science 8 (2015): 1-12. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S221462961500047X

[8] CEER Benchmarking Report 6.1 on the Continuity of Electricity and Gas Supply. Data update 2015/2016. Ref: C18-EQS-86-03. 26-July-2018. Council of European Energy Regulators. https://www.ceer.eu/documents/104400/-/-/963153e6-2f42-78eb-22a4-06f1552dd34c

[9] Average frequency and duration of electric distribution outages vary by states. U.S. Energy Information Administration (EIA). April 5, 2018. https://www.eia.gov/todayinenergy/detail.php?id=35652


[10] Röpke, Luise. "The development of renewable energies and supply security: a trade-off analysis." Energy policy 61 (2013): 1011-1021. https://www.econstor.eu/bitstream/10419/73854/1/IfoWorkingPaper-151.pdf

[11] "Evolutions in energy conservation policies in the time of renewables", Nicola Lablanca, Isabella Maschio, Paolo Bertoldi, ECEEE 2015 Summer Study -- First Fuel Now. https://www.eceee.org/library/conference_proceedings/eceee_Summer_Studies/2015/9-dynamics-of-consumption/evolutions-in-energy-conservation-policies-in-the-time-of-renewables/

[12] “How not to run a modern society on solar and wind power alone”, Kris De Decker, Low-tech Magazine, September 2017.

[13] Nedic, Dusko, et al. Security assessment of future UK electricity scenarios. Tyndall Centre for Climate Change Research, 2005. http://citeseerx.ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/download?doi=10.1.1.461.4834&rep=rep1&type=pdf

[14] Zhou, P., R. Y. Jin, and L. W. Fan. "Reliability and economic evaluation of power system with renewables: A review." Renewable and Sustainable Energy Reviews 58 (2016): 537-547. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S136403211501727X

[15] Smil, Vaclav. Power density: a key to understanding energy sources and uses. MIT Press, 2015. https://mitpress.mit.edu/books/power-density

[16] Landeira, Cristina Cabo, Ángeles López-Agüera, and Fernando Núñez Sánchez. "Loss of Load Probability method applicability limits as function of consumption types and climate conditions in stand-alone PV systems." (2018). https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Cristina_Cabo2/publication/324080184_Loss_of_Load_Probability_method_applicability_limits_as_function_of_consumption_types_and_climate_conditions_in_stand-alone_PV_systems/links/5abca9fa45851584fa6e1efd/Loss-of-Load-Probability-method-applicability-limits-as-function-of-consumption-types-and-climate-conditions-in-stand-alone-PV-systems.pdf

[17] Singh, S. Sanajaoba, and Eugene Fernandez. "Method for evaluating battery size based on loss of load probability concept for a remote PV system." Power India International Conference (PIICON), 2014 6th IEEE. IEEE, 2014. https://ieeexplore.ieee.org/abstract/document/7117729

[18] How sustainanle is stored sunlight? Kris De Decker, Low-tech Magazine.

[19] Chapman, R. N. "Sizing Handbook for Stand-Alone Photovoltaic." Storage Systems, Sandia Report, SAND87-1087, Albuquerque (1987). https://prod.sandia.gov/techlib-noauth/access-control.cgi/1987/871087.pdf

[20] Posadillo, R., and R. López Luque. "A sizing method for stand-alone PV installations with variable demand." Renewable Energy33.5 (2008): 1049-1055. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S096014810700184X

[21] Khatib, Tamer, Ibrahim A. Ibrahim, and Azah Mohamed. "A review on sizing methodologies of photovoltaic array and storage battery in a standalone photovoltaic system." Energy Conversion and Management 120 (2016): 430-448. https://staff.najah.edu/media/published_research/2017/01/19/A_review_on_sizing_methodologies_of_photovoltaic_array_and_storage_battery_in_a_standalone_photovoltaic_system.pdf

[22] Vannini, Phillip, and Jonathan Taggart. Off the grid: re-assembling domestic life. Routledge, 2014. http://lifeoffgrid.ca/off-grid-living-the-book/

[23] "Materialising energy and water resources in everyday practices: insights for securing supply systems", Yolande Strengers, Cecily Maller, in "Global Environmental Change 22 (2012), pp. 754-763. http://researchbank.rmit.edu.au/view/rmit%3A17990/n2006038376.pdf

[24] Pillai, N. "Loss of Load Probability of a Power System." (2008). https://mpra.ub.uni-muenchen.de/6953/1/MPRA_paper_6953.pdf

[25] Al-Rubaye, Mohannad Jabbar Mnati, and Alex Van den Bossche. "Decades without a real grid: a living experience in Iraq." International Conference on Sustainable Energy and Environment Sensing (SEES 2018). 2018. https://biblio.ugent.be/publication/8566224

[26] Telson, Michael L. "The economics of alternative levels of reliability for electric power generation systems." The Bell Journal of Economics (1975): 679-694. https://www.jstor.org/stable/3003250

[27] Schröder, Thomas, and Wilhelm Kuckshinrichs. "Value of lost load: an efficient economic indicator for power supply security? A literature review." Frontiers in energy research 3 (2015): 55. https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fenrg.2015.00055/full

[28] Ratha, Anubhav, Emil Iggland, and Goran Andersson. "Value of Lost Load: How much is supply security worth?." Power and Energy Society General Meeting (PES), 2013 IEEE. IEEE, 2013. https://www.ethz.ch/content/dam/ethz/special-interest/itet/institute-eeh/power-systems-dam/documents/SAMA/2012/Ratha-SA-2012.pdf

[29] De Nooij, Michiel, Carl Koopmans, and Carlijn Bijvoet. "The value of supply security: The costs of power interruptions: Economic input for damage reduction and investment in networks." Energy Economics 29.2 (2007): 277-295.

[30] Coutard, Olivier, and Elizabeth Shove. "Infrastructures, practices and the dynamics of demand." Infrastructures in Practice. Routledge, 2018. 10-22. https://www.routledge.com/Infrastructures-in-Practice-The-Dynamics-of-Demand-in-Networked-Societies/Shove-Trentmann/p/book/9781138476165

[31] Demand Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, seventeenth edition. Jenny Rinkinen, Elizabeth Shove, Greg Marsden, The Demand Centre, 2018. http://www.demand.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/Demand-Dictionary.pdf


.

More native shrubs are essential

SUBHEAD: Shrubs grow much faster than trees and are powerful carbon sequestration engines in their own right.

By Adrian Fisher on 27 December 2018 for Ecological Gardening
(https://www.ecologicalgardening.net/2018/12/native-shrubs-and-why-theyre-essential.html)


Image above: Sand prairie merging into shrubland in southeast Wisconsin. From The Prairie Botanist

“Shrubbiness is such a remarkable adaptive design that one may wonder why more plants have not adopted it.” (H. C. Stutz, 1989)

In light of the newest IPCC and US climate change reports, coupled with reports of the ongoing declines of wild species—birds, insects—you name them, just so long as they aren’t human, I have turned to thinking about shrubs.

It is precisely their adaptive characteristics that give shrubs their potential to be powerful players in soil carbon sequestration and ecosystem regeneration in certain parts of the world, such as the Midwest.

Although alarming, the reports are not surprising to anyone who’s been keeping track. The IPCC report says human global society has 12 years to reduce carbon emissions to 45% below 2010 levels if there is to be any hope of holding overall average global temperature rise to 1.5 degrees C (2.7 degrees F).

The US report, searchable by region, adds fairly detailed, equally dire scenarios for this country. No place on earth will be immune to the destructive consequences of our failure to act.

Since the world has already warmed approximately 1 degree C, even if we are able to keeping warming to 1.5 degrees—an almost insanely optimistic proposal, given the array of forces, from active malice to blind inertia, all backed by money, power and influence poised against success—there will still be massive, destabilized weather patterns and disruptive, destructive weather events similar to and worse than what we are already experiencing.

The resultant ecological destruction and human misery will only increase with each half a degree beyond 1 degree until large parts of the earth are literally uninhabitable by humans. We are, right now, on track to warm roughly 3.3 degrees by century’s end.

Despite the official reports’ newly grim tone, there are no new solutions. As we’ve known for decades, staving off disaster requires both cutting greenhouse gas emissions and helping earth’s biological systems regenerate, pull massive amounts of carbon from the air, and store it in biomass and soils.

For an overview of how all of this can be achieved, the book and companion website “Drawdown” remains an excellent compendium of strategies and tactics.

The IPCC report offers four scenarios by which rapid decarbonization and carbon sequestration could be achieved. Three of them rely heavily on so far non-existent or extremely small-scale technological carbon capture and sequestration methods.

Possibly the worst of these from an ecological point of view is BECCS (bioenergy with carbon capture and storage), a technique involving growing and burning massive amounts of trees, shrubs and grasses while “magically” capturing and sequestering the resultant carbon emissions.

Relying on salvation by means of a fix we don’t actually have the ability, money or time to accomplish is a distracting, destructive form of magical thinking. Practiced at scale, BECCS would require appropriating farmland, destroying forests and wrecking ecosystems.

An analogous illustration of its potential for upending ecosystems and ways of life would be the destruction palm oil plantations have wrought in Borneo, devastation turbo-charged in part by an American law meant to get us off dependence on fossil fuels and well documented in the New York Times Magazine.)

Natural carbon solutions offer the most realistic way forward
The IPCC scenario that best comports with current reality and a genuinely sustainable, resilient future describes what carbon farmers, holistic managers, scientists, environmentalists and many others have been touting and practicing for 50 years.

That is, while we ramp up renewables, increase energy efficiency, and decarbonize our life styles, we should also do everything possible to enable worldwide carbon sequestration through biological processes.

We should restore and vastly augment our forests, grasslands and wetlands and overhaul agricultural practices along agroecological lines. Here in the US, the recently published paper “Natural Carbon Solutions for the United States” quantifies how much carbon can be sequestered through improved landscape and coastal wetlands management practices.

The authors calculate potential sequestration to be about 21% of total US emissions, or enough to equal taking all cars and trucks in the US off the road.

Unlike purely mechanical carbon sequestration methods, or schemes such as BECCS, natural carbon solutions would simultaneously help get global temperature rise under control while improving and enriching ecosystems’ functioning—thus helping ease the crisis of ecological destruction now sweeping the planet.

While nearly everyone has a pretty good idea of how to cut emissions, fewer are aware of how they themselves could implement natural carbon solutions beyond planting a tree or two. But simply plopping some trees in a lawn or along a parkway is not enough.

As I’ve written previously, serious natural carbon sequestration, at whatever scale, requires regenerative landscape management practices such as putting in a biodiverse palette of native trees, flowers and grasses and stopping the use of pesticides and synthetic fertilizer.

Shrubs can be crucial to this kind of planting, especially in terms of the other ecological benefits they offer. Wherever there is a lawn, a tree and possibly a small garden, or even a tiny strip along the foundations of a building, there should be a native shrub or two, or possibly more.

Large properties and farms have nearly unlimited possibilities in the form of hedgerows, shelterbelts or even reconstituted shrub prairies.

Shrubs are a necessary part of landscaping for carbon sequestration
From a landscaping perspective, shrubs are sort of like the middle children in a very large family: necessarily adaptable, but little thought of or noticed.

This is true even scientifically. “Natural Carbon Solutions” explicitly omits shrublands from the calculations, and a 2016 review of scientific literature in “Why Be a Shrub” states that the least studied landscape types are shrublands, while the least studied plants are shrubs.

Yet shrubs flourish virtually everywhere and shrublands are increasing across the globe, possibly due in part to climate change.

In the American West the new severity of wildfires makes it difficult for forests to regenerate. The replacement is shrubland, or, to use an old term, “barrens.” Is the lack of notice and study because shrubs are so common and ubiquitous, but lack the majesty of trees and the show-offy beauty of flowering annuals and perennials?

This lack of notice carries through in our designed landscapes. The default for parks and private property alike is often faux open woodland or savanna, with widely spaced trees and plenty of grass—and few shrubs.

Farms are faux prairies where shrubs that formerly would have flourished wild and later in hedgerows and fencerows and along waterways have been largely extirpated.

What shrubs there are might be a few non-native ornamentals ranged in a row along a building foundation, kept as a low hedge along a sidewalk, or grouped in a small island of mulch.

Humans love these savanna-ish landscapes that now cover millions of acres. For us, they are comfortable and attractive. They look very green on Google Earth and from the air to migrating birds.

But for birds and other animals, they function as “death traps,” as a US Fish and Wildlife employee once told me. Birds looking for habitat in such a place find it inhospitable. There is neither ground-level shelter, nor, for some kinds of shrub-dependent birds, good nesting habitat.

Nor is there much in the way of flowers for pollinators or host plants for insect herbivores or caterpillars, which means few of the native insects and berries that birds forage for in massive quantities for their own needs and to feed their young.

Finally, what should be a complex underground web of fungal species and soil dwelling microbes is, instead, simplified and depauperate.

Because they are missing shrubby layers, what seem to humans like well structured environments are, in fact, missing the complex structure that creates the capacity for higher order ecological relationships—that is, the relationships among three or more species (including plants, animals, fungi and bacteria) that tie an ecosystem together and enable carbon sequestration.

The adaptive characteristics of shrubs
Shrubs are the woody plants with multiple stems that branch close to the ground and may be erect but might sprawl. Usually they are less than 15 feet in height; anything taller than that is usually, but not always considered a tree. In general, deciduous shrubs are spring (sometimes fall) flowering and yield small fruits such as berries, drupes or nuts.

Crucially for wild landscapes of all types, their adaptability means they can re-sprout easily after fires or other disturbances, grow to mature size much faster than trees, and have self-spreading habits such as suckering or rooting where branches touch the ground.

It’s often hard to kill a shrub without digging out the roots. Their many leaves and stems make them efficient photosynthesis factories, pulling carbon out of the air, and their roots hook up with the underground biome as contributing partners.

They share nutrients and information with other plants, engage in the carbon-sugars-for-nutrients trade with fungi, shelter microbes in return for nitrogen and other nutrients, and thus contribute to a healthy, biodiverse, carbon-sequestering soil system. Some kinds of shrubs even act as nurse species, so that young trees grow better in their company.

The Midwest was once a very shrubby place
It’s hard to visualize what the landscape in the Midwest looked like prior to the European invasion down through the first half of the 19th century.

There were, of course, towns and trade routes, especially along the rivers, but it was a land with few fences or readily marked boundaries in the sense that we know them.

A broad area of the country around the western Great Lakes and running south to Texas functioned as the transition zone between the Eastern forest and the Western prairies. It was a landscape of great diversity, an intricate mosaic of landscape types, all of them highly dependent on fire to maintain their distinctive characteristics.

Overall, the land ranged along a continuum from mostly treeless open prairie to shrub prairie to savanna to woodland to, rarely, closed-canopy forest. The native peoples used fire as a management tool and maintaining and shaping the diversity.

Yet this management was holistic, non-linear, intuitive, spiritual, and tended to enhance biodiversity, unlike most of the control-prioritizing methods we employ today.

Surveyors’ notes from the early 19th century often include mentions of shrubs such as American hazelnut. A typical comment might read, “scattering timber, principally burr and white oak, hazel and hickory undergrowth.”

That is, they were traveling through shrub prairies and savannas where shrubs intermingled with trees and prairie plants.

Other noted shrub species included New Jersey tea, four species of dogwood, wild crabapple, wild plum, sumac species, roses, prairie willow and prickly ash.

Species prevalence depended on soil type and moisture availability, but all—more than thirty species— were adapted to fire, with the shrubby adaptive ability to easily spread vegetatively and to rapidly regenerate post-fire.

In areas of very frequent fires where shrub barrens developed, even some species of oak took on a shrubby form. The vanishingly few modern examples of shrub prairie also demonstrate their value as wildlife habitat.

These remaining landscapes tend to be on moist, sandy soil and include not only some of the species listed above, but also chokeberries, huckleberries, blueberries, grasses such as big bluestem, and flowers such as prairie violet. They are home to shrub-dependent birds, pollinators and wildlife such as herptiles, amphibians and mammals, including some rare or endangered species.

Disappearing native shrubs
Our cultural landscape amnesia is so great that, during the time much of this landscape was being physically erased by farms and towns, memories of it were concurrently erased, or if spoken of, were disputed or even disbelieved.

Unless we learn otherwise, we tend to think that the current landscape is how it should be. I’ve talked with farming people who have lost their history, can’t call native shrubs and prairie plants by their names and think of them as weeds to be mown down. Conventional farming policy and practice exacerbates this tendency.

 Only very old people, mostly long dead now, have told me of hedgerows full of shrubs in bloom, and remembered homemade wild plum preserves, gooseberry pies and elderberry wine.

Today, as a result, wild native shrubs are in decline in the Midwest. To the knowledgeable eye it is odd, even jarring to see farmhouses landscaped with nursery standardized non-native barberries and privets in one of the great shrub producing regions of the world.

It is sad to realize that shrubs with scant to no ecological value are favored over the Midwest species that could be such a boon to wildlife, soil health and to the farmers themselves.

And our cities, suburbs and towns are no better for many native shrubs, which don't easily conform to the constraints imposed by extremely manicured landscapes. Luckily, this has been slowly changing as cultivars have been selected and developed.

Viburnums and hydrangeas have long been of value and these days, many residential street have their serviceberries, chokeberries, dogwoods and oak leaf hydrangeas.

Even in natural areas, often created in less desirable, less farmable land than the great open prairies, fire suppression ensured that what were shrub prairies and savannas rapidly became woodlands and sometimes forests.

Only in the late 20th century were these last two landscapes rediscovered as entities in and of themselves.

A former savanna can often be recognized by the presence of old bur oaks with the characteristically wide-spreading shape they develop when open-grown, surrounded by younger, straighter, narrower trees. In modern restoration, savannas have often been prioritized.

Conversely, shrub species such as gray dogwood, though native, have frequently been put on lists of less desirable plants in need of control. Only in this century have wild native shrubs’ value been reconsidered as necessary understory species and as major landscape components in and of themselves.

Wild native shrubs for carbon sequestration
In the Midwest (and possibly other regions in the world), reforestation and afforestation as a major carbon sequestering and ecological resilience strategy does not mean recreating the deep forests of the Eastern and Southeastern US.

What is required is figuring out how lessons from the old patchwork-mosaic, fire-dependent landscape can be relearned and applied in new ways.

Existing natural landscapes should be examined for their carbon-sequestering, water management and ecological resilience functions and the data used as inspiration for how best to conduct the necessary rewilding, recomplexifying efforts in the landscapes where humans live, work and farm.

We need to expand the army of ecologists, restorationists, landscape managers, farmers, and public and private landowners already at work and create new, potent alliances of land managers.

I believe it will be found that recreating a diversity of landscapes along the prairie to forest continuum, including shrub prairies and wetlands, in accordance with given soil types and water availability, will best make use of conditions here--even as the climate changes.

The possibilities are manifold.

• Where can gray dogwood and other spreading, suckering shrubs be encouraged in their proclivities?
  
• Where can huge wetland restorations be undertaken, where swamp roses and black chokeberries, buttonbush and swamp dogwood are allowed to run riot?
  
• Where will wild plums be allowed to form their dense, thorny thickets, or hazelnuts and bladdernuts be encouraged to grow among the oaks, their rightful companions?
  
• Who can persuade farmers that allowing these species back on their less productive land will improve the resilience of their farms—and the health of themselves and their children?
  
• How can park district and municipal officials and other urban/suburban land owners and managers learn to see native shrubs as worthwhile companions to trees?

And, though some of the needed work is ongoing even now, much more needs to be done, faster.

All of this should be possible and will be necessary as the indisputable benefits of nurturing species complexity in the service of biological diversity and soil carbon sequestration become more widely acknowledged during our climate emergency.

Shrubs grow much faster than trees and are powerful carbon sequestration engines in their own right.

They could play a huge part of the Midwest’s potential carbon sequestration and resilience strategy. It’s time for these middle children of the plant world to come into their own.

.

The Big Picture

SUBHEAD: Each day of relative normalcy that remains is an occasion for opportunity and action.

By Richard Heinberg on 17 December 2018 for Resilience -
(https://www.resilience.org/stories/2018-12-17/the-big-picture/)


Image above: This Hubble Space Telescope image by NASA of the cluster Westerlund 2 and its surroundingswas been released in 2015 to celebrate Hubble's 25th year in orbit. From (http://time.com/3833015/hubble-telescope-photo/).

Humanity has a lot of problems these days. Climate change, increasing economic inequality, crashing biodiversity, political polarization, and a global debt bubble are just a few of our worries.

None of these trends can continue indefinitely without leading to a serious failure of our civilization’s ability to maintain itself. Taken together, these metastasizing problems suggest we are headed toward some kind of historic discontinuity.

Serious discontinuities tend to disrupt the timelines of all complex societies (another name for civilizations—that is, societies with cities, writing, money, and full-time division of labor).

The ancient Roman, Egyptian, and Mayan civilizations all collapsed. Archaeologists, historians, and systems thinkers have spent decades seeking an explanation for this pattern of failure—a general unified theory of civilizational collapse, if you will.

One of the most promising concepts that could serve as the basis for such a theory comes from resilience science, a branch of ecology (the study of the relationship between organisms and their environments).

Why Civilizations Collapse: The Adaptive Cycle
Ecosystems have been observed almost universally to repeatedly pass through four phases of the adaptive cycle: exploitation, conservation, release, and reorganization. Imagine, for example, a Ponderosa pine forest.

Following a disturbance such as a fire (in which stored carbon is released into the environment), hardy and adaptable “pioneer” species of plants and small animals fill in open niches and reproduce rapidly.

This reorganization phase of the cycle soon transitions to an exploitation phase, in which those species that can take advantage of relationships with other species start to dominate. These relationships make the system more stable, but at the expense of diversity.

During the conservation phase, resources like nutrients, water, and sunlight are so taken up by the dominant species that the system as a whole eventually loses its flexibility to deal with changing conditions.

These trends lead to a point where the system is susceptible to a crash—a release phase. Many trees die, dispersing their nutrients, opening the forest canopy to let more light in, and providing habitat for shrubs and small animals. The cycle starts over.

Civilizations do roughly the same thing. In their early days, complex societies are populated with generalist pioneers (people who do lots of things reasonably well) living in an environment with abundant resources ready to be exploited. These people develop tools to enable them to exploit their resources more effectively.

Division of labor and trade with increasingly distant regions also aids in more thorough resource exploitation. Trading and administrative centers, i.e., cities, appear and grow. Money is increasingly used to facilitate trade, while debt enables a transfer of consumption from the future to the present. Specialists in violence, armed with improved weaponry, conquer surrounding peoples.

Complexity (more kinds of tools, more social classes, more specialization) solves problems and enables accumulation of wealth, leading to a conservation phase during which an empire is built and great achievements are made in the arts and sciences.

However, as time goes on, the costs of complexity accumulate and the resilience of the society declines. Tax burdens become unbearable, natural resources become depleted, environments become polluted, and conquered peoples become restless.

At its height, each civilization appears stable and invincible. Yet it is just at this moment of triumph that it is vulnerable to external enemies and internal discord. Debt can no longer be repaid. Conquered peoples revolt. A natural disaster breaks open the façade of stability and control.
Collapse often comes swiftly, leaving ruin in its wake.

But at least some of the components that made the civilization great (including tools and elements of practical knowledge) persist, and the natural environment has opportunity to regenerate and recover, eventually enabling reorganization and a new exploitation phase—that is, the rise of yet another civilization.

Energy Is Everything
Global industrial civilization shows significant signs of being in its conservation phase. Our accomplishments are mind-boggling, but our systems are overstretched, and problems (including climate change, inequality, and political dysfunction) are accumulating and worsening.

However, our civilization is different from any of its predecessors. Unlike the ancient Romans, Greeks, Egyptians, Shang Dynasty Chinese, Incas, Aztecs, and Mayans, we have built a civilization that is global in scope.

We have invented modes of transportation and communication previously unimaginable. Thanks to advances in public health and agriculture, the total human population has grown to many times its size when Roman armies marched across North Africa, Europe, and Britain. Have we perhaps outgrown the adaptive cycle and escaped natural checks to perpetual expansion?

In order to answer the question, we must first inquire why modern civilization has been so successful. The rise of technology, including advances in metallurgy and engineering, certainly played a part. These provided better ways of obtaining and harnessing energy.

But it’s the rapid shift in qualities and quantities of energy available to us that really made the difference.

Previously, people derived their energy from annual plant growth (food and firewood), and manipulated their environment using human and animal muscle power. These energy sources were inherently limited. But, starting in the 19^th century, new technologies enabled us to access and harness the energy of fossil fuels. And fossil fuels—coal, oil, and natural gas—were able to provide energy in amounts far surpassing previous energy sources.

Energy is everything. All terrestrial ecosystems and all human societies are essentially machines for using (and dissipating) solar energy that has been collected and concentrated through photosynthesis. We like to think that money makes the world go ’round, but it is actually energy that enables us to do anything at all—from merely getting up in the morning to launching a space station. And having lots of energy available cheaply can enable us to do a great deal.

Fossil fuels represent tens of millions of years’ worth of stored ancient sunlight. They are energy-dense, portable, and storable sources of power. Accessing them changed nearly everything about human existence.

They were uniquely transformative in that they enabled higher rates of harvesting and using all other resources—via tractors, bulldozers, powered mining equipment, chainsaws, motorized fishing trawlers, and more.

Take just one example. In all previous agrarian civilizations, roughly three-quarters of the population had to farm in order to supply a food surplus to support the other 25 percent—who lived as aristocrats, traders, soldiers, artisans, and so on. Fossil fuels enabled the industrialization and automation of agriculture, as well as longer-distance distribution chains.
 Today only one or two percent of the U.S. population need to farm full-time in order to supply everyone else with food. The industrialization of food systems has freed up nearly all of the former peasant class to move to cities and take up jobs in manufacturing, marketing, finance, advertising, management, sales, and so on.

Thus urbanization and the dramatic expansion of the middle class during the 20^th century were almost entirely attributable to fossil fuels.

But fossil fuels have been a bargain with the devil: these are depleting, non-renewable resources, and burning them produces carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases, changing the climate and the chemistry of the world’s oceans.

These are not small problems. Climate change by itself is far and away the most serious pollution dilemma any human society has ever faced, and could lead to crashing ecosystems, failing food systems, and widespread forced human migration.human needs and desires can be satisfied by self-reproducing machines.

Denial comes in shades, some of them quite benign. Many thoughtful and informed people acknowledge the threats of climate change, species extinctions, soil depletion, and so on, and insist that we can overcome these threats if we just try harder. They are often on the right track when they propose changes.

Elect different, more responsible politicians. Donate to environmental nonprofit organizations. Drive an electric car.

Put solar panels on our roofs. Start solar co-ops or regional non-profit utility companies that aim to source all electricity from renewable sources. Eat organic food. Shop at local farmers markets.

These are all actions that move society in the right direction (that is, away from the brink of failure)—but in small increments. Perhaps people can be motivated to undertake such efforts through the belief that a smooth transition and a happy future are possible, and that renewable energy will create plentiful jobs and lead to a perpetually growing green economy.

There is no point in discouraging such beliefs and their related actions; quite the contrary: they should, if anything, be encouraged. Such practical efforts, however motivated or rationalized, could help moderate collapse, even if they can’t prevent it (a point we’ll return to below). But an element of denial persists nonetheless—denial, that is, of the reality that the overall trajectory of modern industrial society is beyond our control, and that it leads inexorably toward overshoot and collapse.

What to Do?
All of the above may help us better understand why the world seems to be running off the rails. But the implications are horrific. If all this is true, then we now face more-or-less inevitable economic, social, political, and ecological calamity. And since industrial civilization is now global, and human population levels are multiples higher than in any previous century, this calamity could occur on a scale never seen before.

Although no one can possibly predict at this point just how complete and awful collapse might actually be, even human extinction is conceivable (though no one can say with any confidence that it is likely, much less inevitable).

This is more than a fragile human psyche can bear. One’s own mortality is hard enough to contemplate. A school of psychology (“terror management theory”) proposes that many of our cultural institutions and practices (religion, values of national identity) exist at least in part to help us deal with the intolerable knowledge of our inevitable personal demise.

How much harder must it be to acknowledge signs of the imminent passing of one’s entire way of life, and the extreme disruption of familiar ecosystems? It is therefore no wonder that so many of us opt for denial and distraction.

There’s no question that collapse is a scary word.

When we hear it, we tend to think immediately of images from movies like Mad Max and The Road. We assume collapse means a sudden and complete dissolution of everything meaningful. Our reasoning shuts down. But this is just when we need it most.

In reality, there are degrees of collapse, and history shows that the process has usually taken decades and sometimes centuries to unfold, often in stair-steps punctuated by periods of partial recovery. Further, it may be possible to intervene in collapse to improve outcomes—for ourselves, our communities, our species, and thousands of other species.

After the collapse of the Roman Empire, medieval Irish monks may have “saved civilization” by memorizing and transcribing ancient texts. Could we, with planning and motivation, do as much and more?

Many of the things we could do toward this end are already being done in order to avert climate change and other converging crises.

Again, people who voluntarily reduce energy usage, eat locally grown organic food, make the effort to get to know their neighbors, get off the consumer treadmill, reduce their debt, help protect local biodiversity by planting species that feed or shelter native pollinators, use biochar in their gardens, support political candidates who prioritize addressing the sustainability crisis, and contribute to environmental, population, and human rights organizations are all helping moderate the impending collapse and ensure that there will be more survivors. We could do more.

Acting together, we could start to re-green the planet; begin to incorporate captured carbon not only in soils, but in nearly everything we make, including concrete, paper, and plastics; and design a new economic system based on mutual aid rather than competition, debt, and perpetual growth. All of these efforts make sense with or without the knowledge that civilization is nearing its sell-by date.

How we describe the goals of these efforts—whether as ways of improving people’s lives, as ways to save the planet, as fulfilling the evolutionary potential of our species, as contributing to a general spiritual awakening, or as ways of moderating an inevitable civilizational crash—is relatively unimportant.

However, the Big Picture (an understanding of the adaptive cycle, the role of energy, and our overshoot predicament) adds both a sense of urgency, and also a new set of priorities that are currently being neglected.

For example, when civilizations collapse, culturally significant knowledge is typically lost. It’s probably inevitable that we will lose a great deal of our shared knowledge during the coming centuries. Much of this information is trivial anyway (will our distant descendants really suffer from not having the ability to watch archived episodes of Let’s Make a Deal or Storage Wars?).

Yet people across the globe now use fragile storage media—computer and server hard drives—to store everything from music to books to instruction manuals. In the event that the world’s electricity grids could no longer be maintained, we would miss more than comfort and convenience; we could lose science, higher mathematics, and history.

It’s not only the dominant industrial culture that is vulnerable to information loss. Indigenous cultures that have survived for millennia are being rapidly eroded by the forces of globalization, resulting in the extinction of region-specific knowledge that could help future humans live sustainably.
Upon whom does the responsibility fall to curate, safeguard, and reproduce all this knowledge, if not those who understand its peril?

Act Where You Are: Community Resilience
We at Post Carbon Institute (PCI) have been aware of the Big Picture since the founding of the organization 15 years ago. We’ve been privileged to meet, and draw upon the insights of, some of the pioneering ecologists of the 1960s, ’70s, and ’80s who laid the basis of our current understanding of resilience science, systems thinking, climate change, resource depletion, and much more. And we’ve strived to convey that understanding to a younger generation of thinkers and activists.

Throughout this time, we have continually grappled with the question, “What plan for action makes the most sense in the context of the Big Picture, given our meager organizational resources?”
After protracted discussion, we’ve hit upon a four-fold strategy.
Encourage resilience building at the community level. 

Resilience is the capacity of a system to encounter disruption and still maintain its basic structure and functions. When it is in its conservation phase, a system’s resilience is typically at its lowest level throughout the entire adaptive cycle. If it is possible at this point to build resilience into the human social system, and ecological systems, then the approaching release phase of the cycle may be more moderate and less intense.

Why undertake resilience building in communities, rather than attempting to do so at the national or international level? It’s because the community is the most available and effective level of scale at which to intervene in human systems.

National action is difficult these days, and not only in the United States: discussions about nearly everything quickly become politicized, polarized, and contested. It’s at the community level where we most directly interact with the people and institutions that make up our society. It’s where we’re most affected by the decisions society makes: what jobs are available to us, what infrastructure is available for our use, and what policies exist that limit or empower us.

And critically, it’s where the majority of us who do not wield major political or economic power can most directly affect society, as voters, neighbors, entrepreneurs, volunteers, shoppers, activists, and elected officials.

PCI has supported Transition Initiatives since its inception as one useful, locally replicable, and adaptable model for community resilience building.

Leave good ideas lying around.
Naomi Klein, in her book The Shock Doctrine, quotes economist Milton Friedman, who wrote:

“Only a crisis—actual or perceived—produces real change. When that crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are lying around. That, I believe, is our basic function: to develop alternatives to existing policies, to keep them alive and available until the politically impossible becomes the politically inevitable.”

Friedman and other neoliberal economists have used this “shock doctrine” for decades to undermine regional economies, national governments, and indigenous cultures in order to further the project of corporate-led economic globalization. Klein’s point is that the key to taking advantage of crises is having effective system-changing plans waiting in the wings for the ripe moment.

And that’s a strategy that makes sense as society as a whole teeters on the brink of an immensely disruptive shift.
What ideas and skills need to be lying around as industrial civilization crumbles?

One collection of ideas and skills that’s already handily packaged and awaiting adoption is permaculture—a set of design tools for living created by ecologists back in the 1970s who understood that industrial civilization would eventually reach its limits. Another set consists of consensus group decision-making skills. The list could go on at some length.

Target innovators and early adopters.
Back in the 1960s, Everett Rogers, a professor of communications, contributed the theory of the Diffusion of Innovations, which describes how, why, and at what rate new ideas, social innovations, and technology spread throughout culture.

The key to the theory is his identification of different types of individuals in the population, in terms of how they relate to the development and adoption of something new: innovators, early adopters, early majority, late majority, and laggards.

Innovators are important, but the success of their efforts depends on diffusion of the innovation among early adopters, who tend to be few in number but exceptionally influential in the general population.

At PCI, we have decided to focus our communications on early adopters.

Help people grasp the Big Picture.
Discussions about the vulnerability of civilization to collapse are not for everyone. Some of us are too psychologically fragile. All of us need a break occasionally, and time to feel and process the emotions that contemplating the Big Picture inevitably evokes.

But for those able to take in the information and still function, the Big Picture offers helpful perspective. It confirms what many of us already intuitively know. And it provides a context for strategic action.

Pro-Social, Nonpartisan
I’m frequently asked if I have hope for the future. My usual reply is along these lines: hope is not just an expectation of better times ahead; it is an active attitude, a determination to achieve the best possible outcome regardless of the challenges one is facing. PCI Fellow David Orr summed this up best when he wrote, “Hope is a verb with its sleeves rolled up.”

However, if that’s as far as the discussion goes, merely redefining “hope” may seem facile and unsatisfying. The questioner wants and needs reasonable grounds for believing that an outcome is possible that is something other than horrific. There is indeed evidence along these lines, and it should not be ignored.

Steven Pinker, in his book The Better Angels of Our Nature, argues that we humans are becoming more peaceful and cooperative. Now, it could be argued that any decline in violence during the past few decades can be seen as yet another indication that civilization is in a conservation phase of the adaptive cycle: we have attained a balance of power, facilitated by the wealth flowing ultimately from fossil fuels; perhaps violence is simply being held in abeyance until the dam breaks and we head into the release phase of the cycle. Nevertheless, evolution is real, and for humans it occurs more rapidly via culture than through genes. It is entirely possible, therefore, that we humans are rapidly evolving to live more peacefully in larger groups.

Earlier I explained how the findings of neuroscience help us understand why so many of us turn to denial and distraction in the face of terrible threats to civilization’s survival. Neuroscience also offers good news: it teaches us that cooperative impulses are rooted deep in our evolutionary past, just like competitive ones.

Self-restraint and empathy for others are partly learned behaviors, acquired and developed in the same way as our capacity for language. We inherit both selfishness and the capacity for altruism, but culture generally nudges us more in the direction of the latter, as parents are traditionally encouraged to teach their children to share and not to be wasteful or arrogant.

Disaster research informs us that, in the early phases of crisis, people typically respond with extraordinary degrees of cooperation and self-sacrifice (I witnessed this in the immediate aftermath of wildfires in my community of Santa Rosa, California). But if privation persists, they may turn toward blame and competition for scarce resources.

All of this suggests that the one thing that is most likely to influence how our communities get through the coming meta-crisis is the quality of relationships among members. A great deal depends on whether we exhibit pro-social attitudes and responses, while discouraging blame and panic. Those of us working to build community resilience need to avoid partisan frames and loaded words, and appeal to shared values. Everyone must understand that we’re all in this together.

The Big Picture can help here, if it aids people in grasping that the collapse of civilization is not any one group’s fault. It is only by pulling together that we can hope to salvage and protect what is most intrinsically valuable about our world, and perhaps even improve lives over the long term.

Hard times are in store. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing we can do. Each day of relative normalcy that remains is an occasion for thankfulness and an opportunity for action.

.