My team at the Institute for Sustainable Communities last month put on a building energy retrofit + green job creation "Green Boot Camp" in partnership with Living Cities, a consortium of foundations and financial institutions. It brought together teams of up to 7 people from each of 16 leading-edge cities to discuss and work on their challenges to scaling up energy retrofits: policy and outreach, funding, creating job opportunities, and creating systems to coordinate long-term activities. A lot of time was spent developing a peer-learning and team-building environment. The biggest obstacle really was that city departments tend to be silo-ed. Some folks from the same city government had never met each other, particularly the energy folks and workforce folks.
We have feedback forms a few weeks after the event that told us that some of the teams have continued to meet to work on this initiative together, which was to us a huge success indicator. One event wasn't going to solve the problem of how to scale up energy retrofits in such leading cities as Seattle and Chicago, but if the event brought the folks together who need to coordinate such an effort, then there's more of a chance that it will be solved.
http://greenbootcamp.livingcities.org/
Friday, July 17, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Be human!
I'll post on my work life soon, but I would like to return to the original purpose of this blog for a moment - philosophical, spiritual and emotional musings on climate change.
I have been following the Waxman-Markey Bill with great interest. I also followed the G8. I have found the news particularly depressing lately. There should be few political impediments to progress (at least compared to the Bush years), and yet the debate is a sickening combination of puerile and vitriolic. With success so possible, it is infuriating to think it might be just beyond our reach.
We environmentalists can get pretty down on our species. We tend to care about other species, and humans can be pretty mean to them. Extinction rates alone are horrifying, never mind what we do to their habitat - our habitat. Oooh, I'm in a ranty mood tonight. But I'm actually trying to get to a positive point. Bear with me.
I just read The Well-Dressed Ape: A Natural History of Myself, by Hannah Holmes. I'm a fan of Hannah Holmes. She does a great job of putting humans in our place - yet another mammal in the great animal kingdom. In this most recent book she examines herself and our species as a naturalist would any other species, discussing our range, territoriality, diet, reproduction, etc. Her style is humorous as well as scientific. At the end of the book, one cannot help but conclude the obvious: humans are animals, just like any other animals. When given the opportunity, we kill off our predators and competitors, we expand our territories and we reproduce unchecked. Is this really any different from what any other species would do in our place? Unlikely. What is different is that we occasionally stop to think about it.
Holmes discusses our recent behavior towards wolves and cougars: "Whoa, Let's review for a moment: Would a troop of chimpanzees move into the territory of their sworn enemy and then decline to kill them off when given a free shot? No. Would orcas? Um, no. How about wolves? Unlikely. No, it's only our species that can pin a dangerous predator to the ground, then engage a moral muscle and release the enemy." (p. 269).
She continues, "That any humans at all would take the side of a competing predator is something of a marvel." Likewise, that any humans at all (several of them contribute to this blog) will take the bus for an hour to work (when the drive takes 15 minutes), drive no more than 55 miles an hour, pay more for clean energy, quit beef or forgo a lavish lifestyle is remarkable, particularly since the reward (a healthy climate) may not materialize. If it does materialize, it will be very difficult to credit it to these small acts. It may materialize in the distant future, perhaps beyond our lifespans. Many would call us irrational. (See my earlier post in praise of irrational behavior). I prefer to think of us as human.
In Holmes' discussion of our species, many of the conventional dividing lines between humans and non-humans fall away. Prairie dogs, for example, not only have specific calls for a broad range of approaching animals, but they also vary their call based on details such as the color of a shirt or shape and size of the humans researching them. They appear to invent new words. "The better we humans become at deciphering animal language, the less unique our own version looks." (p. 244). It's a similar story with tool use: "Now we know that chimps use leaves as toilet paper. Capuchin monkeys treat their fur with a spa's worth of medicinal leaves and fruits. Various birds throw stones to break eggs, use moss "sponges" to carry water, steal fish off human fishing lines, deploy bark as a lever, exploit a bewilderment of sticks, grass, pine needles, and bark to pry food from small places, and in the famous case of Betty the captive crow, manufacture a metal hook to extract treats." (p. 218)
If humans wish to elevate ourselves above the rest of the animal kingdom, let our crown be our "moral muscle." What makes us unique is not our beastly abuse of our habitat and the others that share it, but rather the ability of some of us, if not all of us, to step above our mammalian urges, to forgo immediate rewards for some greater purpose, to have the means to eat beef every day, to have the option to drive a massive car, but to choose not to for the good of others, some yet to be born. I issue the same challenge to our politicians. Do you have the "moral muscle" it takes to distinguish yourselves from the birds and the fishes? I'm hopeful, but I have my doubts.
In So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, author Douglas Adams describes a satirical world in which "The people hate the lizards and the lizards rule the people." Arthur, the main character, protests that if the world is a democracy, "Why don't the people get rid of the lizards?"
The cynic in me loves the analogy. But I don't necessarily agree with it. I have hope that a few humans may have infiltrated our government as lizards in disguise.
If we presume that the distinguishing characteristic of our species is its "moral muscle," then any one of us, even politicians, at any moment, can renounce a reptilian lifestyle and choose to be human. Take the moral path, make what may be an uncomfortable choice (at least according to the Heritage Foundation and the oil and coal lobbies) and protect our children and grandchildren. Protect our Earth and the other species that share it. It's the human thing to do.
I have been following the Waxman-Markey Bill with great interest. I also followed the G8. I have found the news particularly depressing lately. There should be few political impediments to progress (at least compared to the Bush years), and yet the debate is a sickening combination of puerile and vitriolic. With success so possible, it is infuriating to think it might be just beyond our reach.
We environmentalists can get pretty down on our species. We tend to care about other species, and humans can be pretty mean to them. Extinction rates alone are horrifying, never mind what we do to their habitat - our habitat. Oooh, I'm in a ranty mood tonight. But I'm actually trying to get to a positive point. Bear with me.
I just read The Well-Dressed Ape: A Natural History of Myself, by Hannah Holmes. I'm a fan of Hannah Holmes. She does a great job of putting humans in our place - yet another mammal in the great animal kingdom. In this most recent book she examines herself and our species as a naturalist would any other species, discussing our range, territoriality, diet, reproduction, etc. Her style is humorous as well as scientific. At the end of the book, one cannot help but conclude the obvious: humans are animals, just like any other animals. When given the opportunity, we kill off our predators and competitors, we expand our territories and we reproduce unchecked. Is this really any different from what any other species would do in our place? Unlikely. What is different is that we occasionally stop to think about it.
Holmes discusses our recent behavior towards wolves and cougars: "Whoa, Let's review for a moment: Would a troop of chimpanzees move into the territory of their sworn enemy and then decline to kill them off when given a free shot? No. Would orcas? Um, no. How about wolves? Unlikely. No, it's only our species that can pin a dangerous predator to the ground, then engage a moral muscle and release the enemy." (p. 269).
She continues, "That any humans at all would take the side of a competing predator is something of a marvel." Likewise, that any humans at all (several of them contribute to this blog) will take the bus for an hour to work (when the drive takes 15 minutes), drive no more than 55 miles an hour, pay more for clean energy, quit beef or forgo a lavish lifestyle is remarkable, particularly since the reward (a healthy climate) may not materialize. If it does materialize, it will be very difficult to credit it to these small acts. It may materialize in the distant future, perhaps beyond our lifespans. Many would call us irrational. (See my earlier post in praise of irrational behavior). I prefer to think of us as human.
In Holmes' discussion of our species, many of the conventional dividing lines between humans and non-humans fall away. Prairie dogs, for example, not only have specific calls for a broad range of approaching animals, but they also vary their call based on details such as the color of a shirt or shape and size of the humans researching them. They appear to invent new words. "The better we humans become at deciphering animal language, the less unique our own version looks." (p. 244). It's a similar story with tool use: "Now we know that chimps use leaves as toilet paper. Capuchin monkeys treat their fur with a spa's worth of medicinal leaves and fruits. Various birds throw stones to break eggs, use moss "sponges" to carry water, steal fish off human fishing lines, deploy bark as a lever, exploit a bewilderment of sticks, grass, pine needles, and bark to pry food from small places, and in the famous case of Betty the captive crow, manufacture a metal hook to extract treats." (p. 218)
If humans wish to elevate ourselves above the rest of the animal kingdom, let our crown be our "moral muscle." What makes us unique is not our beastly abuse of our habitat and the others that share it, but rather the ability of some of us, if not all of us, to step above our mammalian urges, to forgo immediate rewards for some greater purpose, to have the means to eat beef every day, to have the option to drive a massive car, but to choose not to for the good of others, some yet to be born. I issue the same challenge to our politicians. Do you have the "moral muscle" it takes to distinguish yourselves from the birds and the fishes? I'm hopeful, but I have my doubts.
In So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, author Douglas Adams describes a satirical world in which "The people hate the lizards and the lizards rule the people." Arthur, the main character, protests that if the world is a democracy, "Why don't the people get rid of the lizards?"
"'It honestly doesn't occur to them,' said Ford. 'They've all got the vote, so they all pretty much assume that the government they've voted in more or less approximates to the government they want.'
'You mean they actually vote for the lizards?'
'Oh yes,' said Ford with a shrug, 'of course.'
'But,' said Arthur, going for the big one again, 'why?'
'Because if they didn't vote for a lizard,' said Ford, 'the wrong lizard might get in.'"The cynic in me loves the analogy. But I don't necessarily agree with it. I have hope that a few humans may have infiltrated our government as lizards in disguise.
If we presume that the distinguishing characteristic of our species is its "moral muscle," then any one of us, even politicians, at any moment, can renounce a reptilian lifestyle and choose to be human. Take the moral path, make what may be an uncomfortable choice (at least according to the Heritage Foundation and the oil and coal lobbies) and protect our children and grandchildren. Protect our Earth and the other species that share it. It's the human thing to do.
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