Month: November 2021

Tiny Ecology Entry #4

One of the things I have enjoyed so deeply about my sit-spot visits, whether from my front window or sitting out under the plum tree in the elements with my more-than-human relatives, is watching the hummingbirds. One particular species, Anna’s Hummingbird, lives here year-round, without migrating south as others from their family, Trochilidae, do (like Rufous Hummingbird). I have watched in appreciation of this tiny bird’s tenacity, spunk, and fortitude to stick it out here over the winter, in the cold, rainy and snowy months when food supplies are low. They have inspired me to think about hope.

In the face of increasingly dire future climate projections, climate-related disasters unfolding in the present, and a deepening of our understanding and reckoning with the socio-economic structures (e.g., colonialism) from our history that the present is built upon, what hope can we find and hang onto as the going gets tougher? The anatomy of “hope” I mean here, is not one of unchecked optimism, so sure that everything will work out just fine no matter what; rather it is gathering the courage to have a really good look at the evidence and see what is happening, even the really terrifying parts, and with eyes wide open, also look for the good…the opportunities beyond the wreckage. It is shifting the narrative toward stories that acknowledge the problem of climate change, while at the same time, focusing on the work toward solutions and building strong, resilient, self-sustaining communities based on a foundation of kindness (Hull, 2019; Huggins, Skuliski & Gifford, 2020).

Radical hope is based squarely within the plausible futures we face given the GHG emissions we have historically emitted and continue to emit into the atmosphere – it is not a shortcut to some unattainable utopia and does not require it (Hull, 2019). This is hopepunk: the idea that we can live and behave the way we know we should, even when the future is uncertain and we know the severity of the climate issues confronting us. It is taking the punk DIY ethic to transformative change through social disruption, both as an individual and collective act of resistance against the status quo around fear, shame, and guilt-based messages prevalent in communication and conversation related to climate change. It is hope as a motivating force to inspire people to act positively, rather than just in opposition to something else. (Hull, 2019; Diem, 2020; Huggins, Skuliski & Gifford, 2020).

“Be the change you wish to see in the world”.

– quote often attributed to Ghandi

We need to build upon the frameworks of the past and present, taking what is working well and replicating that, while leaving behind what is no longer serving us. Good things should be copied (Huggins, Skuliski & Gifford, 2020). When we can actually see the things that are working well, then we don’t have to start at square one every single time. This is taking a design-thinking approach to climate action, iterating, prototyping, and testing, then sharing with other communities to test and adapt solutions in their own places and spaces. Narratives can be framed around what has already been done, what is currently being done, and what we can do next as individuals, communities, and as a society.

Framing the climate crisis through a lens of hope speaks to our human need for connection and belonging (Diem, 2020). Hope is a self-perpetuating cycle, just as much as despair is. The more hope-inspired things we do together, the more stories we tell that are hopeful, the more we will see the outcome of those actions, which can, in turn, make us more hopeful. When we do something collectively, in community, it helps us tap into our capacity to act with empathy, kindness, and caring (Hull, 2019). I’ve often thought that if there were a silver bullet solution to the world’s problems, it would include a mass culture shift with a curriculum for humans to learn how to become better humans, to enhance our human capacity for empathy, and level up our ability to deal with relational conflict intelligently.

So where could that begin? What societies could we model after? Where might we look for good things that already exist that we could replicate? Indigenous ways of knowing, wisdom, and worldview would be a good start. No need to start at square one. kQwa’st’not Charlene George emphasizes that in the context of embracing change and building a hopeful future, we need to look inward first (Huggins, Skuliski & Gifford, 2020).

“The biggest part of being a warrior is looking at your own self“.

kQwa’st’not Charlene George

We need to learn to see ourselves as human beings as one part of a much larger, more complex whole (Huggins, Skuliski & Gifford, 2020). We need to see ourselves in relation to the rest of nature, not above it, separate and in control. We need to harness our collective ingenuity and use it for good, to help us move forward with more grace and harmony as a species, in service to the land, water, and more than human relatives upon whom we all rely for our survival. We should take the teachings of the hummingbird in winter, with its tenacity, spunk, and fortitude, to do what we know we must in order to push forward and find the opportunities to thrive into the future, against all odds.

“Let everything happen to you.
Beauty and terror.
Just keep going.
No feeling is final.”

– Rainer Maria Rilke

#hopepunk

References

Diem, R. (2020). Hopepunk and the new science of stress. TOR. https://www.tor.com/2020/03/02/hopepunk-and-the-new-science-of-stress/

Huggins, A., Skuliski, M. & Gifford, R. (2020, May 20). Hope Punk. (Chapter 1). In Scales of change. Future ecologies. https://www.futureecologies.net/dragons#ch1

Hull, A. (2019). Hopepunk and solarpunk: On climate narratives that go beyond the apocalypse. LitHub. https://lithub.com/hopepunk-and-solarpunk-on-climate-narratives-that-go-beyond-the-apocalypse/

Addendum

While I did not directly reference these in my post, the following readings influenced my own thinking and the way I addressed some of the topics in my post.

Kimmerer, R. W. (2014). “Returning the Gift.” Center for Humans and Nature.  https://www.humansandnature.org/returning-the-gift-article-177.php

Kimmerer, R. W. (2017). Speaking of nature: Finding language that affirms our kinship with the natural world. Orion Magazine. https://orionmagazine.org/article/speaking-of-nature/

Tiny Ecology Entry #3

The rain fell not as drops, but in sheets. It splashed and flowed down the concrete pathway toward my house, which sits on a slight downward slope from the road. I sat at the front window, looking down at my sit spot saturated and flooded with water. The force and volume of rainfall eroded the soil in the garden beds surrounding it, cutting little muddy streams through the slope. Heavy rain is common here. Atmospheric river events, colloquially termed “Pineapple Expresses”, are also common here. The meteorologists said one was going to be different, though. And it was. 

That night, with my bedroom window open and the sound of rain relentlessly thundering down outside, I couldn’t sleep. Having a background in the science of geomorphic processes and hazards, (e.g. debris flows, etc.), I knew this event posed risks beyond rivers topping their banks. Bleary-eyed, I took to Twitter to see what was happening elsewhere during this event, and there it was: the first reports were coming in about hundreds of people trapped on a highway between a pair of debris flows on Highway 7 near Agassiz, BC. Highways and roads were getting washed out. Bridges/overpasses were failing. The force of intense rainfall on a huge scale, playing out in steep mountain terrain, steep valleys, massive river systems, all with a ribbon of asphalt cutting through them. And that was the first of many failures.

Five days later, the full extent of impacts from that weather event is still being felt, uncovered, and understood. 

Fear is a normal, human response. It is an appropriate emotion in times like these. Earth’s physical processes are vigorous and powerful, and they carry uncertainty with them in exactly how they play out, where and to what extent, even when we know something is coming. There is nothing inherently bad or terrible about atmospheric rivers, flooding, debris flows, or any other physical hazards. It is when they interact with, adversely affect, and expose the vulnerability of our human-made infrastructure on the land and waters upon which we depend; when they impact something or somewhere that we have an attachment to, or when these processes and hazards pose a risk to our lives, or livelihoods, or our ability to function in the world. 

So there is a place for fear in communication, particularly during a crisis, but it must be used judiciously. It could be used effectively for encouraging safe behaviour and helping others by staying out of harm’s way. Stay off the roads. Evacuate. Don’t make things worse by putting yourself in more danger, which could in turn put more people at risk. In many cases, people’s emotional fear would already be heightened, so amping up doomsday scenario messaging would likely exacerbate existing distress, potentially causing overwhelm, which could lead to numbing out and emotionally shutting down.

Post-crisis, I would argue there is also a place for using fear to communicate the scale of the climate risk we face into the future, using recent crises to ignite people to action, using real events and imagery to connect the dots on what climate change impacts look like in their own backyards. Fear-based communication can leverage recent, lived-experience and tap into emotional states that energize people to act. But once the crisis is perceived as “over”, then some people may want to (try to) just “get back to normal life”, not hear about more scary things coming down the pipe in the future. 

The role of fear in communication about climate change is narrow and limited in both temporal, spatial, and depth of scale; meaning, it can likely only be used effectively over short periods of time, at the right time and place, and is more limited to the issues playing out on the landscape in that time and space.

Fear, in my opinion, is not the fuel for the marathon required for climate action – it’s the fuel for a sprint, a short-term, short-acting accelerant, and its use needs to be considered as such.

Addendum:

For this Tiny Ecology entry, I drew upon my own reflections of the Wallace-Wells (2017) and Solnit (2016) articles and my own experience of the Nov. 14-15 event on the west coast of BC. Even though I didn’t get to the hope discussed in Solnit (2016), it informed my thinking about the limits of fear framing in communication.

References

Soinit, R. (2016). Hope is an embrace of the unknown: Rebecca Solnit on living in dark times. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/jul/15/rebecca-solnit-hope-in-the-dark-new-essay-embrace-unknown

Wallace-Wells, D. (2017). The uninhabitable earth, annotated edition. New York Magazine. https://nymag.com/intelligencer/2017/07/climate-change-earth-too-hot-for-humans-annotated.htm

Assignment #4: Double Content Remix

Version 1: Text-based “Primer” report for Project Managers and Engineers

Version 2: Voiceover presentation video for the same audience

Addendum for Assignment 4

Audience Analysis:

Project managers, asset advisors, and engineers who design and deliver on the construction of built assets and infrastructure projects in national parks and protected areas in British Columbia. This audience holds specialized technical knowledge and expertise related to conventional approaches to project design and delivery, but may not know how to practically integrate climate considerations into their project planning and design. Demographically, this group works in a male-dominated field that most often have technical and/or professional designations in their respective fields (e.g. Professional Engineer, Project Management Professional, etc.). They use mathematical and scientific knowledge to engineer solutions to problems, have a high threshold for detail, and have worked primarily in the realm of “grey” (human-made, built of concrete and steel) infrastructure.

Communication Strategy

This climate communication product attempts to bridge the gap in understanding by framing Nature-based Solutions around the values (budget, efficiency, effectiveness) of the target audience, using language/terminology that makes sense to them, and offering practical information and knowledge to bring into practice. I see this approach as a first part of the bridging process, so really wanted to keep the cultural/values orientation of this audience in mind and not go too far into territory way outside their comfort zone and lose them altogether.

Addressing Different Accessibility Needs or Preferences

Version 1 is a text-based report with images for my new audience of engineers and project managers. Alt text descriptors have been incorporated.

Version 2 is a video presentation with more emphasis on visuals and audio than text.

Tiny Ecology Entry #2:

Once upon a time, there was a peaceful corner in the front yard of my house where I would sit and commune with the birds. This spot was in view from my front window, so on very cold and rainy days, I would watch from behind the glass. There was a mature ornamental plum tree and numerous shrubs that were common in gardens in the area at the time, some native species, some not. Beyond the sit spot, the front yard comprised mainly of lawn that sprawled from the house toward the road. It was a bit of an ecological dead zone, even when it was lush and green. 

Every day, the birds would visit my peaceful corner, chatting and chirping as they flitted from bush to tree to ground, pecking at seeds from dead flowers, and lichen from the tree trunk. They would move around the perimeter of the yard where the shrubs and trees were. I rarely, if ever saw them on the lawn. Nothing there for them. They would come swooping down during rainstorms, bathing, and frolicking in the showers while plucking any available food from the plants. 

One day, we decided to reimagine the land in our yard, this tiny ecology that we had some ability to influence with our own action. At that time, I already knew the changes to the climate coming…we were already seeing change, but the worst was yet to come. We had just experienced the extreme heat dome of 2021, and that experience woke a lot of people up to the here-and-now-ness of climate change. The imagery of climate change for me had always been more active, violent, and stormy; more about waves crashing on shorelines and hurricanes and even extreme cold from polar vortex winter conditions. In contrast to those imaginings, the oppressive, ominously still, humid, quiet heat was breathtakingly horrible and many people, plants, and animals died that year due to heat-related illness.

The climate projections for our region indicated that by 2050, we would be experiencing warmer winter temperatures, fewer days below freezing, more extreme heat in summers, longer droughts in summer months, more precipitation in fall, winter, and spring, and more intense extreme weather events. At the time, it was hard to imagine what that would look like in our lives, but it didn’t take long for the lived experiences of impacts to keep rolling in. 

One particularly stormy autumn, we had an atmospheric river event that dropped so much rain for days on end, that it overwhelmed the drainage systems around our house and flooded the basement. Not long after that, we had an extreme wind storm, which when coupled with the oversaturated soils and drought/heat-stress from the previous summer, resulted in the toppling of two large old Douglas-fir trees in our neighbour’s yard; trees that were there for nearly a century, wind-firm and adapted to the old climate, but unable to keep rooted in these changing conditions.

Because of that, we explored ideas of how to build resilience for ourselves and the ecosystem we were part of; adapting and responding to our climate future with every decision taken on behalf of the land. We selected drought-tolerant, native plants to replace the lawn, creating pollinator-friendly refugia for birds and other critters during the hot dry summers. We planted with food security in mind, so over time, we nurtured a food forest to life in our front yard. At one time there were multiple varieties of edible, native berries and greens that were shared among our human and non-human neighbors and relations.

To accommodate the intense rain events, we incorporated rain gardens that could absorb loads of water, and then used bioswales to direct excess flow away from the foundation of our house. We had a rainwater capture system and a cistern to collect rainwater for summer irrigation. We planted drought-tolerant trees that grew tall and shaded our house from the heat of the summer months, which also provided habitat for birds and other wildlife. We collaborated with our local community, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, sharing ideas and stories of trial and error, building up our knowledge and practice, adapting and iterating as we went along. There were many errors and missteps, but over time, with an attitude of continuous learning, and acting in reciprocity with the land and all the living and non-living beings, we learned how to actively manage for the impacts of climate change, which came faster and with more intensity than scientists expected.

And in the end, as I look out upon that peaceful spot now, it is a different world than it was 25 years ago. The plants that grow here now are different species than the native ones from the past. The birds are different too. The usual residents are still coming around to feed and bathe in the rain, but the colourful migrant birds have shifted their routes and timing, so it’s hard to know who is coming and when anymore. Some years are better than others, and I have seen new visitors from the far south that are now able to reach our latitudes due to the long summers and mild winters. The landscape of our yard is a wilder space than it once was, and it is ever-changing due to the dramatic shifts in our climate. Some things thrive, others have long since died, and the changes remain dynamic and unpredictable.  Adaptation to climate change, for us, has been a continuous, iterative journey filled with gains and losses, grief and joy, and we are so grateful we are still here to tell the story.

* This story was created following the story spine, as detailed by Rotman (2017):

Rotman, S. (2017). “Once upon a time…” Eliciting energy and behaviour change stories using a fairy tale story spine. Energy Research & Social Science,31, 303-310. doi: 10.1016/j.erss.2017.06.033

CALS 501 – Unit 2 Blog Post

Upon reflection of my learning from CALS500: Climate Science, Impacts, and Services, I can say that one idea that intrigued me most was less about the science itself and more about gaining an understanding and appreciation for the differences between Western and Indigenous worldviews related to science; specifically, where science is situated within our respective governing societal structures, and what that tells us about efforts toward climate adaptation and mitigation measures. CALS500 also provided an opportunity for me to deepen my understanding of the science that supports climate action generally, but also emphasized how important it is to focus on adaptation efforts, knowing that while mitigation is still required, it is an insufficient response to the problem on its own (Moser et al., 2017). 

Exploring solutions for a low-carbon, resilient future needs to address mitigating climate change through reducing emissions, and addressing climate hazards of the present and future to support the built and natural systems on which we depend (Moser et al, 2017). For example, we can build a carbon-neutral, energy-efficient LEED-certified building, but if it isn’t built for future climate, it will not be sustainable (Moser et al., 2017; Shuttleworth & MacAskill, 2021). It will not function properly when there are extreme heat events. It will not shed/drain water adequately during prolonged, intense precipitation events. It may be constructed in a location that will increase its risk of flooding; e.g. built on a floodplain, in the coastal zone subject to sea-level rise and storm surge, etc. (Moser et al., 2017; Moudrak & Feltmate, 2019). We need to construct buildings and infrastructure to be responsive and resilient to future climate extremes, yet building codes still utilize historical data to assess the risk of climate-related events; e.g., flood return rates, heat, etc. (Infrastructure Canada, 2020). 

In our western approach to decision-making in the face of change, we tend to wait for the observational evidence to roll in before we act. We can’t afford to do that anymore, as the climate has already started changing in response to emissions from the distant past, and more change and impacts are locked in from those past emissions. We need to find ways to empower action based on the science of future climate projections. The planet is giving us all kinds of information and scientists have translated it, yet decision-makers in government seem unable to look at the potential climate future and make the meaningful, transformative change that is required to support the built and natural environments in closing the resiliency gap (Moser et al., 2017).

In a guest lecture this past August, Gwen Bridge (2021) discussed the differences in how science is positioned in western and Indigenous societies (see Figure 1), and this provided such an “ah-ha” moment for me in understanding why our system isn’t functioning as it needs to.

Figure 1: Adapted from Gwen Bridge’s lecture: Evolving toward ethical space: the authority of Earth knowledge (science) in Western and Indigenous societies (2021)

I hadn’t fully considered how due to its position at the bottom of that societal system, science in our Western context, seems destined to inform but never drive meaningful change in decision-making because it has to push up from the bottom. Conversely, Indigenous frameworks generally hold the Earth and science/ecological information second only to the Creator, which means that it drives behaviour and decision-making around management and how to live. This was such a powerful distinction that provided great insight into both understanding the problem we face, as well as potential solutions. The importance of understanding not just the contents, but also the structure of societal systems, led me to wonder about what that would mean for mitigation and adaptation efforts and actions. 

Transformational change will require people to challenge their dominant worldviews and culture…to find the space where there is overlap between different ways of knowing, ways of doing things, and then explore respectfully within that overlap. Prioritization of efforts to deeply understand various underlying societal systems broadly and at community levels will be necessary and helpful to inform and stretch our collective imaginations to co-create new ways of organizing and operating within planetary boundaries, as dictated by nature and science. We may not know the exact details of our climate future, but we know how things are trending (Bush, et al, 2019). We know things are already changing beyond the stable climate normals from the past that continue to be used as a basis for things like building codes and infrastructure planning decisions (Infrastructure Canada, 2019). By using climate projections and feeding those into different scenarios, it becomes easier to paint the picture of various futures for people. To paint pictures that are relevant to people, we must ensure climate projections and scenarios are tailored to local contexts to inspire action.

In terms of how we have integrated some of this thinking into our team design challenge, the key considerations were related to scoping our audience, and taking local knowledge, impacts, physical conditions, etc. into account as a first step; appreciating the local experience of impacts, while linking climate change as a global phenomenon that plays out in the context of local and regional settings. We will need to bring forward an understanding of the regionally downscaled climate models and scenarios to make them locally relevant and scoped to each particular audience. Talking about sea-level rise in the coastal zone to a farmer in the prairies isn’t likely to inspire action. Talking about the loss of ice in northern communities may generate concern from someone living in an urban centre, but is unlikely to empower them to take action in their communities. 

As such, our approach to the design challenge shifted from a national, multi-sectoral audience, to a community-based audience that would work with the local conditions, concerns, circumstances, and desired outcomes of each community using a design-thinking approach to affect change from within. By working outside the confines of our Western societal governance structure that positions science at the bottom (see Figure 1), we can take the science to communities and use it to inform and generate the stories, principles, and ways of living that will increase their resilience to climate futures, modeling the Indigenous societal governance structure. We can give science a more prominent position in our decision-making process while putting pressure on the existing Western structure of governance to make the required changes to support adaptation measures and make climate-informed decisions when planning things like building construction/retrofitting and infrastructure development at a local government level. Then hopefully, it will trickle UP.

References

Bridge, G. (2021). Evolving towards ethical space: the authority of Earth knowledge in Western and Indigenous societies. CALS500 Lecture, Royal Roads, August 12, 2021.

Bush, E., & Lemmen, D. (Eds.). (2019). Canada’s changing climate report. Government of Canada. http://publications.gc.ca/collections/collection_2019/eccc/En4-368-2019-eng.pdf

Infrastructure Canada. (2020). Climate-Resilient Buildings and Core Public Infrastructure Initiative. https://www.infrastructure.gc.ca/plan/crbcpi-irccipb-eng.html

Moudrak, N. & Feltmate, B. (2019). Weathering the Storm: Developing a Canadian Standard for Flood-Resilient Existing Communities. Prepared for Standards Council of Canada and National Research Council of Canada. Intact Centre on Climate Adaptation, University of Waterloo. https://www.intactcentreclimateadaptation.ca/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Weathering-the-Storm.pdf

Moser, S.C., Coffee, J., Seville, A. (2017). Rising to the Challenge: A Review and Critical Assessment of the State of the US Climate Adaptation Field. Kresge Foundation. https://kresge.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/rising_to_the_challenge_together_linked_0.pdf

Shuttleworth, A. and MacAskill, K. (2021). Net-zero adaptation—a review of built environment sustainability assessment tools. Environmental Research: Infrastructure and Sustainability. 1. https://iopscience.iop.org/article/10.1088/2634-4505/ac1c5e