Since June 10, when Wallace J. Nichols, PhD, left this life at age 56, the sea turtles, cetaceans, and all water-dwelling creatures have been mourning the loss of one of their greatest advocates and allies. After beginning his career tracking and implementing strategic plans to save sea turtles, J. went on to develop a Blue Mind movement, serving as coach and board member to so many marine nonprofits. His 2014 bestselling book Blue Mind, which draws connections between neuroscience and peoples’ love of being near to large, wild bodies of water, is celebrating its tenth anniversary reprinting this year. “I Wish You Water,” was the blessing he bestowed upon nearly everyone he met, dropping a blue marble into your palm in his deeply kind and loving way, as a reminder.
Of all the remarkable leaders and innovators we’ve been privileged to host at Bioneers over these 35 years, J. Nichols was one whose presence, voice, and vision always touched me deeply. He was a rare scientist who married an acuity of perception and deep curiosity with a devotional heart and profoundly empathic and skillful relational intelligence. As if that weren’t enough, his strategic creativity in developing and implementing campaigns to transform peoples’ destructive practices and help them become Earth healers made him a profound gift to the oceans, and to advancing water consciousness at large. We will miss you, J., and may your devotional and heartfelt work ripple out far, wide and deep.
-Nina Simons, Bioneers Co-Founder
Celebrating Wallace J. Nichols at Bioneers
We have been honored to welcome Wallace J. Nichols to share his insights and ingenuity with the Bioneers community throughout the years. Below, we invite you to explore his words and wisdom.
I Wish You Water
The cognitive and emotional benefits of healthy oceans and waterways have been celebrated through art, song, romance and poetry throughout human history. Nichols dives deeper and explores our blue minds through the dual lenses of evolutionary biology and cognitive science, reminding us that we are water, in this 2014 Bioneers keynote:
A Brave New Ocean, or an Ocean Revolution?
In this inspiring presentation from the 2007 Bioneers Conference, Nichols explores how new technologies and large-scale research projects have resulted in an explosion of invaluable information about the health of our ocean planet and what we can do to conserve the 80 percent of biodiversity and 90 percent of global habitat that “Mother Ocean” holds. To change our destructive course, he proposes we must harness this knowledge, make it accessible to everyone and creatively communicate how the state of the oceans is central to the future of life on Earth.
Fall In Love With Water: A Million Blue Mind Marbles
Blue Mind tells the story of humanity’s essential connection to water. Combining cutting-edge neuroscience with compelling personal stories from top athletes, leading scientists, military veterans, and gifted artists, Nichols shows how proximity to water can improve performance, increase calm, diminish anxiety, and increase professional success. Enjoy this excerpt from the book.
On Winning in Turtle Conservation
In this 2014 article, Nichols contrasts his personal indifference toward competitive sports with his fervent commitment to sea turtle conservation. He highlights the perseverance, dedication, and collaborative efforts of the global sea turtle conservation community, acknowledging the challenges and ongoing nature of this work.
Swimming Our Talk: Blue Mind, Ocean Heart
Illuminating the magical underwater world, Jacques Cousteau’s 1960s films and TV show caused a sea change by moving the hearts and minds of tens of millions. Nichols, ocean advocates Philippe and Alexandra Cousteau, and the Truckee High School Envirolution Club are featured in this Revolution from the Heart of Nature podcast episode. Their inspiring stories give good reason for hope, including the scientific fact that we have a blue mind born in and of the ocean to guide us.
Your Brain On Water
In this podcast episode, new ways of understanding our relationship with the world’s oceans and the ability of healthy waters to provide health, happiness and creativity are considered by a panel of athletes, scientists, artists, and adventurers, hosted by Nichols.
As we face the existential crises of climate breakdown and worldwide threats to democracy, it is not time to despair. The world is full of insightful and tireless activists, movement-builders and engaged citizens. They are demonstrating that forward movement is possible, even amid these unprecedented challenges, and imploring us all to take part.
Learn from their perspectives and experiences as they discuss topics such as tools we can use to protect and defend our privacy; how best to confront rising neo-fascist political actors nationally and internationally; the challenge of democracy in the context of the existential climate emergency; and the Rojava Revolution — the little-known but arguably most far-reaching social revolution of the 21st century. Featuring insights from Cindy Cohn, one of the nation’s leading civil liberties attorneys specializing in internet law; communications researcher and campaign advisor Anat Shenker-Osorio; Colette Pichon Battle, co-founder of the climate justice organization Taproot Earth, and many others.
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Cindy Cohn: Why The Climate Fight is Digital
With climate advocates subject to surveillance and censorship and giant companies controlling the ways information and knowledge flow around the world, the fight to save our climate is now inextricably intertwined with digital rights. The Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) has long been at the forefront of protecting those rights and has helped environmental activists safeguard their emails from bad actors, including polluting corporations. The EFF understands the surveillance activists are constantly under and has developed “Security Self-Defense” practices. EFF Executive Director Cindy Cohn, one of the nation’s leading civil liberties attorneys specializing in Internet law, explains why EFF’s push for open access to scientific information, net neutrality, open source/patents, “creative commons” licenses, and more, is critical in the fight to prevent climatic unraveling.
What the Hell Should We Be Doing About Rising Fascism?
Amid the current rise of authoritarian leaders, rhetoric, and movements in the U.S., we need to examine contemporary expressions of fascism and how individuals, communities, organizations, and networks can respond and resist. Especially in the context of the 2024 elections, the anti-fascist actions of millions of ordinary people will determine whether our baseline democratic norms and institutions will survive.
We invite you to read an expert discussion featuring communications researcher and campaign advisor Anat Shenker-Osorio, host of the “Words to Win By” podcast and Principal of ASO Communications; and Emily Lee, Executive Director of the grassroots movement-building organization Seed the Vote. The discussion was hosted by Linda Burnham, women’s rights and racial justice activist since the 1960s, co-editor of “Power Concedes Nothing: How Grassroots Organizing Wins Elections,” author of Project2050, and co-creator of the online curriculum Fascism101.
The Rojava Revolution: Women’s Liberation, Democracy and Ecology in North-East Syria
Over the past decade, the most far-reaching social revolution of the 21st century has taken place in Syria’s Kurdish-majority Northeast, commonly referred to as Rojava. Though still largely unknown, today roughly a third of Syrian territory is governed not by a nation-state but through a federation of participatory local councils known officially as the Democratic Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (DAANES). Despite conditions of constant war and isolation, the people of Rojava are building and defending a society rooted in principles of direct democracy, women’s autonomy, cultural diversity, cooperative economics, and social ecology.
We’re delighted to be able to bring you a discussion featuring two writers and activists who recently returned from the region, Anna Rebrii and Arthur Pye of the Emergency Committee for Rojava. They discuss the revolution’s achievements, its challenges, and its enduring relevance for liberatory movements worldwide. Bioneers Senior Producer J.P. Harpignies moderated the discussion, which was co-sponsored with the Emergency Committee for Rojava.
We simultaneously face two related existential crises — climate breakdown and radical threats to democracy worldwide. The climate emergency demands a fundamental restructuring of governance keyed to both biospheric realities and to addressing obscene inequality. Can democracy withstand climate chaos? Is a reformed and stronger democracy our best hope to make it through the long emergency ahead of us? What’s needed? Watch an excerpt from an insightful talk on these questions in this panel discussion featuring Chief Oren Lyons, legendary Indigenous Rights and climate leader, Faithkeeper, Onondaga Nation, Haudenosaunee; Jennifer Riley Collins, Southeast Regional Administrator for the United States Department of Housing and Urban Development; and Colette Pichon Battle, co-founder of the climate justice organization Taproot Earth. The panel was hosted by Ben Davis, of Wend Collective and Civic (Re)solve.
We’re excited to announce that our new season of Bioneers Learning is online, and registration is open! You can register for our first-ever self-paced courses, along with courses covering topics such as the Rights of Nature movement, gender equity, regenerative herbalism, and sacred activism.
Indigenizing the Law: Tribal Sovereignty & the Rights of Nature | Aug. 13-Sept. 17 | This course examines the prominent cases, laws, and legal theories that make up “Federal Indian Law” while exploring the intersections between the movements for Native Sovereignty and the Rights of Nature.
Regenerative Herbalism: The Healing Power of Plants | Sept. 18-Oct. 23 | Explore the magical realm of herbal wisdom with this 6-session online course led by renowned herbalists Penny Livingston and Rosemary Gladstar.
The Four Sacred Gifts: Indigenous Wisdom for Modern Times | Self-Paced | Discover how the Four Sacred Gifts of forgiving the unforgivable, unity, healing, and hope in action provide us with a path to our most grounded, loving, healed, and generous selves.
Regenerative Agriculture: Nourishing the Soil, Healing the Planet | Self-Paced | Be enlightened on the practical applications and impressive potential that regenerative agriculture has to revive healthy landscapes; contribute to human and animal health; create an equitable food system; and help heal the climate.
Nadina Galle, Ph.D., is an ecological engineer and National Geographic Explorer whose work inhabits the rich borderlands between modern technology and deep nature. We live in a world replete with enormous challenges, and one of the biggest might be the increasing societal disconnection with nature and natural systems amidst a booming technological era focused, at least allegedly, on connections and networks. Dr. Galle has just published a fascinating book, The Nature of Our Cities, which explores important questions that could not be more relevant today: how do we ride the line between a technologically mediated dystopian future and a Luddite-esque rejection of the same? Surely there must be some sort of middle path? The book explores the edges of technological innovation that are supporting the re-integration of nature and cities in ways that may not have otherwise been possible. The journey that Dr. Galle is able to take a reader on is one that points towards a type of modern urban allyship with the natural world.
About the Author: Dr. Nadina Galle is a Dutch-Canadian ecological engineer, technologist, podcast host, and keynote speaker, best known for popularizing the “Internet of Nature.” Her contributions have been featured in documentaries by BBC Earth and in print publications such as National Geographic, Newsweek, and ELLE. The recipient of academic and entrepreneurial awards, including a Fulbright scholarship for a fellowship at MIT’s Senseable City Lab, Dr. Galle was honored as one of Forbes’ 30 under 30. Recently, she was named a National Geographic Explorer. Dr. Galle divides her time between Amsterdam and Toronto.
As the book opens, a neighborhood in the Netherlands is seemingly dying following the construction of a four-lane highway. Removing homes, families, and trees proved gravely consequential to the air quality and livability of the neighborhood. To mitigate the hazardous effects of the highway, residents rallied to create a Groene Loper, or a Green Carpet, to tunnel motorists underground, restoring biodiverse greenery above ground. Road safety, noise pollution, and air quality improved after seven long decades of urban misery. Now, a local arborist tasked with caring for this innovative green space faces the challenge of striking harmony between technology and nature yet again — to keep the urban forest alive and save the city.
Building from research into the impact of urban trees on the health of their human neighbors, the massive construction project had one particularly ambitious goal: to increase the life expectancy of the residents surrounding it by five years. To make that happen, its newly planted 1,800 trees needed to thrive.
Tjeu Franssen (whose name was changed for privacy reasons) was tasked with nurturing this new urban forest. An arborist by trade, he accepted the heavy burden because he believed in the mission and valued the ability to work outside, away from a computer, the quality that had attracted him to his career nearly thirty years ago.
I met Tjeu one morning on one of the excursions I’d take around Maastricht to water its neighborhood trees. It was a weekend ritual I enjoyed, an informal way to learn about other Dutch cities while I did research for my Ph.D. in ecological engineering. Wanting to get to know the steward of my favorite park in the city, I eventually mustered the courage to reach out to him and invite him along.
As we strolled down a sunny block in the city’s historic Jekerkwartier district, Tjeu stopped at a small beech tree that tilted over the road as if exhausted. He grabbed one of its dry leaves with a fist, almost crunching it to powder. “This one’s a goner,” he said. He wrinkled his sunburned nose and tensed his chin into a stoic pout.
I nodded.
“I’ll grab the shovel,” he said, leaving to retrieve it from his truck.
I dug my fingers into the soil and pulled up a couple of roots, which snapped, confirming what we both already knew despite my unreasonable hope. There was no saving this tree.
“I’m starting to have the same problem over by the Groene Loper,” Tjeu yelled over the traffic as he walked back. He was shaking his head, rubbing his palm against his white stubble as he swung the shovel in his other arm. I understood the immense stress he must have felt. The Groene Loper was the largest project he’d ever overseen, the kind of historic undertaking that could not only make or break a career but could forever alter the public’s appetite for funding urban forest initiatives.
He drove the shovel into the hard soil with a swift kick of his heel and dug with urgency as if we needed to canvass the whole city in a single day.
I prepared the bag and helped him lift the tree into it.
“Why don’t you try sensors?” I asked.
He paused, then laughed. “Yeah, right,” he said, gathering his composure. “A sensor couldn’t possibly tell me something I can’t see in the field.”
I tried to bite my tongue. I knew Tjeu’s frustration well. I’d had a long streak of terrible luck with the tomatoes I planted in my community garden. I was heartbroken each time I found the plants wilted and dead in the mid-summer. The last time that happened was over a year ago, a few months before an urban farmer introduced me to her soil sensors.
We walked silently for a few blocks until we slowed in front of another parched tree. I couldn’t stop the thought from pouring out of me: “Tjeu, your trees are dying by the dozens—by the hundreds in some sites. What do you have to lose?”
This time, he just shook his head and dug. He gave me the organic waste bag, and I held it open while he heaved the tree inside, its dusty root ball sticking out of the top.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said.
I was glad that Tjeu might consider the idea. Still, his initial reaction exposed a challenge I would become familiar with. As I’d discover, it haunts every ecologist who advocates for technological innovations.
My research colleagues and I worked with Tjeu to set up an experiment to reveal how the new tool could solve their problems. There were two sites—one on the Groene Loper and the other on the outskirts of eastern Maastricht. At the Groene Loper, we installed three soil-moisture sensors, and at the second, none. The soil type, drainage conditions, tree species, and weather were the same across both sites. To make things more interesting, we settled on a bet: if I won, he’d have to buy me a dish of my favorite zuurvlees, a traditional meat stew considered a delicacy in Maastricht. He’d get a week of my free labor during my next summer break if he was right.
We let the tree managers carry on their duties—planting, watering, and pruning—for the rest of the summer. When the sensors we installed registered soil that was too dry, the tree managers received a notification on their phones, alerting them to water a particular tree or grove. The managers could plan accordingly in these locations, organizing their day around where, when, and how much to water.
As we neared the end of August, I assembled the tree managers to see how they fared. Almost a fifth of the trees without a soil sensor had died. At the Groene Loper, not a single tree was lost. Though I’d learned from my tomatoes to expect a result like this, comparing those that survived in the location without sensors to the trees in the other site revealed a surprise: the ones grown with sensors were vastly larger, some of them by up to three times.
Sitting on a bench halfway up the grove in the Groene Loper that had previously suffered perennial tree deaths, Tjeu and I admired the soft, gentle rustling of the Linden canopy above us. Its leaves were broad, heart-shaped, and smooth, with an intense green hue that shimmered below the blue sky, shielding us from the scorching sun.
“This isn’t I told you so,” I said, unable to ignore Tjeu’s awe.
He turned and met my gaze. “I don’t know what to say.” He stood, then laid down on the shady grass, spreading his arms and closing his eyes.
When he rose a few moments later, he said he felt humbled by the results. “I’m proud . . .” he began, “but disappointed.”
I understood what he meant. I felt it, too. We sat in silence, thinking about what all those dying trees meant. The cries for water that went unheard. The thirsty roots that had received too much water in one pour, suffocating them with rot. The people who would have to go without shade. The future generations who would be forced to suffer under increasingly worsening urban heat island effects. Tjeu wondered out loud how many trees had died under his watch. How much money could’ve been saved by making a modest investment in sensors instead of replacing trees every few years? He spun, following a rumbling plane descending across the neighborhood.
When he turned back to me, Tjeu pursed his lips into a narrow smile, and for the first time, I noticed the dimples in his cheeks.
“Let’s install sensors all over Maastricht,” he said.
Several years ago—thanks in part to this experiment and the chain reaction that followed—I started exploring how technology could help us better understand the complex relationship between urban living and the nature we rely on. It drove me to research all the other ways urban ecologists used technology to turn our understanding of the living world upside down.
At the core of my mission was an understanding formed from my own experience and my interaction with dozens of neighbors: that the limited nature in our midst was an essential character in our lives. Painters and documentarians never seemed to direct their attention to pocket parks or streams bubbling under railroad tracks the way they sought to capture the beauty of a rugged mountain peak or a group of wild horses galloping across a field. But as every city dweller seemed to understand, the wildlife we interact with daily is a breed of nature that may be even more important.
I have spent the better part of a decade chasing the insights that Tjeu took to heart during the day we spent together in Maastricht, challenging the false dichotomy between nature and technology. Instead of treating the two as separate systems, locked in a grisly competition that ends with a barren city, I’ve been fighting to show that they can and should complement each other. And even more, if we are to restore the habitats that sustain humanity, we must teach these forces how to be friends.
The division between “natural” and “technological” is nowhere as great as in the urban enclaves where our species predominantly live. For decades, the concept of a “smart city” has dominated the urban planning discourse. While technology has benefits in improving efficiency, safety, and innovation in our neighborhoods, we tend to forget that cities are built on the back of nature, becoming ecosystems that interact with the environment.
To build a truly “smart” city, we must prioritize the health of our environment—and
in turn, ourselves. This requires confronting the trends of modern development that have destroyed natural habitats and caused air pollution and rapid deforestation. It means grappling with the effects of climate change and the severe consequences of our nature-starved environments regarding our health and well-being. But first, it demands a fundamental shift in how we view our place in the world—recognizing that we are not separate from nature but a part of it.
Gary Paul Nabhan is a renowned ethnobotanist and author focused on the confluence of cultural and biological diversity. His innovative writings and projects have raised awareness of the economic and social benefits, as well as the culinary pleasures, of local food. He currently serves as Chair in Southwest Borderlands Food and Water Security at the University of Arizona.
Author of more than thirty books, including the upcoming Against the American Grain: A Borderlands History of Resistance, Nabhan recently launched his latest project: The Sacred Plant Biocultural Recovery Initiative. Sacred plants used in spiritual traditions all over the world are at risk from warfare, climate change and overharvesting. The mission of the multicultural, interfaith, intertribal Sacred Plant Biocultural Recovery Initiative is to safeguard, restore and “rematriate” these sacred and ceremonial plants. Arty Mangan, Director of Restorative Food Systems for Bioneers, recently spoke with Nabhan about how he came to this project, what makes a plant “sacred”, and the prospects for conservation and restoration for sacred plants around the world.
ARTY MANGAN: What called you to be a Franciscan Brother, and how does that inform your work as an ecologist, a botanist, author and activist?
GARY NABHAN: I am so very much a person of both science and spirit that I sometimes can’t untangle the two. I’ve just never seen any intellectual or ethical divide between being in love with the natural world and all things spiritual. And fortunately, I have good friends who feel that same way.
I’ve been a Franciscan Brother as a professed member of an Ecumenical Order of Franciscans for 22 years now, but the roots of that spiritual path go back to when I was barely of legal age. I took a backpack and went with a bunch of friends and did a silent three-day retreat, and animals came up to me in every imaginable form, as well as plants that were out of season. I just felt overwhelmed by the mystical experience of being in contemplative silence and seeing the world welcome me.
And within the first 20 minutes of being back in civilization, I saw a Look magazine that had a feature on St. Francis, a beautiful essay about him becoming the patron saint of ecology. There was one line of text that struck me: “All which you used to avoid will bring you great sweetness and exceeding joy.” From then on, I was hooked, and I’ve done silent retreats in Assisi many times since then.
ARTY: That’s absolutely wonderful. In addition to that initial revelation, have you had personal experiences with sacred plants?
GARY: Yes, in a few different ways. I define a sacred plant as any plant that’s used in personal or collective rituals, ceremonies, seasonal rights, or sacramental traditions, so it includes not only psychedelic plants, many of which are sacred in their original traditional settings, but many other species. For example, I have a very special relationship with the cedars of Lebanon.
My family’s Lebanese. My father didn’t speak English until he was about 7. My aunts and uncles were refugees from the Ottoman War, and the first chance I had an opportunity to go to Lebanon on my own, I did a pilgrimage to its famous but endangered cedars. Since then, I have helped in an assisting role with efforts to restore them to the mountain tops of Lebanon in ancient terraces made many decades, if not centuries, ago, places where the terrace microenvironment is almost perfect to buffer the cedars from climate change, so that connection to my own heritage runs very, very deep.
But I’ve also had the blessing of being involved in the rain-making ceremonies of desert peoples here in the Sonoran Desert and in efforts with them to protect the saguaro cactus from damage by construction projects (such as Trump’s border wall).
ARTY: I want to get to that, but first I wanted to ask you what makes a plant sacred.
GARY: What makes a plant sacred is our relationship to it, not the plant itself. In other words, we’re not talking about something in the genetics of the plant per se, but more in how we respond to its fragrance, its texture, its ritual meaning and its position in bringing us peace, so it’s relational, not informational. Also, plants are whole assemblies of communities that are in symbiotic relationships that include people, so that a plant isn’t just a single species. The sacredness of a plant has to do with the complex interactions surrounding it, not in matter itself.
ARTY: People may be familiar with some of the sacred ceremonial plants used in North America, such as psilocybin mushrooms and peyote, and you’ve given another type of example of a sacred relationship with the cedars of Lebanon. Can you give us some other examples in other traditions of sacred plants?
GARY: Let’s go back to a few from the desert here in the Southwest. Saguaros and organ pipe cactus fruit are used by several tribes for rain-making ceremonies and drunk as a sacrament to bring on the clouds that bring the rains that allow desert washes to flow and renew the earth. There are rituals that Indigenous people do in the Sonoran Desert to give the first taste of the first mature fruits to a rare owl that lives in the flesh of the cactus underneath the fruit. So that’s a beautiful relationship that reminds us that the onset of the rainy season is sacred to so many people.
But I’ve also gone to the deserts of the Arabian Peninsula in the hills above the “Empty Quarter” and harvested frankincense, which at one point was globally the most extensively traded plant-derived commodity, all the way to Central Europe. It’s the gum of a tree in the Boswelia family, a resinous sap that comes out of wounds in the plant like tears (in fact, in Arabic, the term used is the same as for tears). It is carefully collected by hand and accumulated in small pouches and bags and then brought into trade networks that have lasted upwards of 3500 years along the same trade routes that were used in ancient times.
I think aromatic plants are often considered sacred because they’re a tangible expression of the spirit being present, even though it’s not a visible presence. You might see a waft of smoke, but we remind ourselves, when we use incense, be it frankincense, myrrh, or the wonderful elephant tree resins used throughout Mexico, that those are a palpable ritual of our connection to the spirit world through the fragrance that soars up into the heavens, so, while I said earlier that the sacredness isn’t in the matter, I meant we can’t save it by saving genes or seeds. It’s in the smoke, it’s in the aromas, it’s in the touch, it’s in the taste.
ARTY: What a wonderful definition of plant sacredness. In the photo that accompanied your press release, there is what looks to me like a priest standing by a frankincense tree. What’s happening in that photo?
Photo by Gary Nabhan
GARY: My wife, Laurie Monti, and I had gone up to a protected area for frankincense that was in really deep canyons, so we had to do a lot of boulder-hopping, like you might do in Northern New Mexico or Southern Utah, to reach the plants. As we came back down from the mountains, we saw an Imam, a Muslim spiritual leader, shooing goats away from a lone frankincense plant that was the tallest of any I’d seen in Oman. It was 14 or 16-feet tall. All the lower branches had been browsed by camels or goats because the foliage is very aromatic. The man in the photo is the protector of these more isolated patches of frankincense in Oman.
It was a very moving for me to see a caretaker of frankincense because my own Arab family came out of Yemen and Oman, and I’ve met distant relatives who were spice traders and frankincense sellers in the souks (the old, traditional market places) of Muscat, Oman. So, ironically, after having an affinity with aromatic plants for decades, I had never learned that in my own family history there were generations of spice and incense traders who deeply revered sacred plants.
ARTY: One of the things that struck me about the photo, like many of the images of the Mideast that I’ve seen – I’ve never been there – is how, unlike the highly diverse Sonoran Desert around the Arizona/Mexico border, the landscape seems really barren, with very little plant growth and biodiversity. Is that an accurate impression of that region?
GARY: Not for the entire southern region of Oman where frankincense grows. I have to say that he was a caretaker because of increased settlement of that area by people, not just from other parts of Oman, but from Pakistan, India, Eritrea, and other places where people grew up with wild foraging skills. Then they became wage workers for wealthy Omani families who, as they gained material wealth, often invested it back into camels, and the higher number of camels than in historic times results in more heavy browsing of frankincense, so I think you’re seeing not a desert that’s characteristic of all deserts where frankincense grows, but one where there’s been overpopulation of not only people but of camels that love to browse the plants. It’s a place that he’s trying to help recover.
ARTY: We need more people like that running around wild places.
GARY: We do. There’s a wonderful pre-Islamic tradition that was embraced by both Muslims and some Orthodox Christians of reserves that are much like the Ethiopian church forest. I’ve recently seen them in Islamic communities in Morocco, where a patch of dense forest near a cave or a canyon where a saint had a contemplative practice and healed people, after the death of that saint was protected for hundreds of years and continues to be protected by the people who revere that saint. There’s a form of conservation done for spiritual reasons that I’ve seen in Southeast Asia, in China, in the Indian subcontinent through Central Asia, and down through the Arabian Peninsula and North Africa that I find deeply touching. Now it’s getting additional support from formal conservation organizations who actually understand that community-based conservation has integrity through time, as a site’s protection is not just dependent on federal budgets.
ARTY: And obviously those people are the experts in terms of being in that place, observing day-to-day, and knowing what’s happening in that environment.
GARY: I agree. I think traditional ecological knowledge and spiritual inclinations go together in a lot of countries. While you and I clearly celebrate our Native American friends and their Indigenous ecological knowledge traditions, we have to remember that there are many other cultures that share those values and have palpable practices that keep some of these plants that may indeed be rare naturally from becoming endangered. In the case of frankincense, it could be a combination of over-harvesting and camel browsing in parts of Oman, but in other places, it’s very well protected.
ARTY: Turning to an area closer to your home that unfortunately hasn’t been well protected—the Sonoran Desert borderlands, the home of the Tohono O’odham—have been dramatically affected by Trump’s wall. What are some of the impacts there on sacred plants?
GARY: There are 14 different linguistic groups with reservations and, beyond the reservations, aboriginal homelands within 20 miles on both sides of the border. Most of them felt a good deal of traumatic stress because the border wall damaged plant populations that they and their foremothers and forefathers have used for centuries. Tens of thousands of saguaro cacti were bulldozed and mutilated in a national park. It was an unbelievable horror to most Native Americans from the desert.
After a Stop-the-Wall rally in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, we went toward the border and saw an elderly O’odham woman lying down next to a saguaro and just weeping and wailing and ululating, and moaning, “Don’t they know that these are people too?” That sense of kinship was the root of an effort by the Tohono O’odham to then give the saguaros sacred personhood as an element that they need for their constitutionally guaranteed expression of their freedom of religion in this country. They feel that the plants are requisite to their practice of their Indigenous spirituality.
According to our friend Melissa Nelson, it’s probably one of the first three or four legislative actions like that in the United States, although we know people in Canada and Australia, and New Zealand First Nations that have taken the same steps, either for plants or animals.
ARTY: That’s such a significant accomplishment. The story of the weeping woman is so poignant. The sense of kinship among Indigenous people for other living entities, such as the saguaro cactus, is genuine and inspiring. It’s an important part of who they are.
GARY: For some people who haven’t had the blessing of immersive contact with Native American friends, I need to say that it’s not a contrivance. There’s no fashion or fad in saying saguaros are people. This has been documented going back before the 1860s or 1870s in the Sonoran Desert — the saguaro cacti are seen as sacred people. That’s what I hear from both elders and youth, and the only new dance is trying to use modern legal frameworks to reinforce what they’re already doing and give it more protection from unknowing construction workers building a pipeline or trying to divert floodwaters away from a road.
In the case of something much more sinister, i.e., Trump’s wall, the O’odham didn’t blame the construction workers who, in many cases, make as little in wages per hour as they themselves do in most of their jobs. They blame the government for not better training those people who may have been first time workers in the desert, and who were simply naïve or ignorant of the deep connection that the original inhabitants of that landscape have with these plants.
From my point of view, as someone who crosswalks between many cultures, both in the Old World and in the Middle East in particular, and in Latin America and the Southwest, I help facilitate their access to those legal frameworks that they want to try out, because in their hearts they’re already protecting them, but they need that reinforcement in the public sphere to keep bad things from happening.
ARTY: So, you’ve launched a new type of response to the kinds of risks and threats you just mentioned—the Sacred Plant Biocultural Recovery Initiative. What is the vision behind that project, and who else is involved in it?
GARY: It’s a multicultural, interfaith and intertribal initiative that works with spiritual elders in the U.S. Southwest, and not only Indigenous leaders, but also Hispanic elders who have folk traditions relating to sacred plants. We want all those elders to have the opportunity to guide youth from their own communities in transplanting those plants that were wiped out on sacred sites, which is not just ecological destruction but also a form of spiritual erasure.
We’ve organized with the National Park Service, the Tohono O’odham Nation, and the Hia-Ced O’odham Alliance (a group of people who are in a tribe but off formal reservations and not fully recognized by the federal government). We’re all endeavoring to do that work around Quitobaquito Springs in Organ Pipe National Monument, a site that was badly damaged, not only by bulldozers, but also by groundwater pumping. It was a place where two Native American youth, Amber and Nellie Jo, sat down in front of bulldozers that were disrupting their prayer vigils at Sacred Springs and were taken to court. And in Amber’s case, the judge said that the government had put an undue burden on her attempt to practice her own people’s spiritual traditions. We now have a court precedent that other tribes, and other faiths for that matter, can also utilize.
We’re in the early stages of doing workshops and getting guidance from tribal elders and seasoned ecological restorationists in best practices for how we can put these plants back in the landscape. We’re not at all thinking about putting them in botanical gardens or seed banks. The goal is to have them in their original sacred places under the care of their original caretakers, and it is our view that a sacred plant is not fully back in its original position until access issues for Native Americans are fully honored by our government.
ARTY: In the Initiative’s press release, you wrote: “There are lessons to learn from the reforestation of sacred cedars of Lebanon in their montane habitat, the rainforest gardening of ceremonial plants of the Indigenous residents of the Amazon, and from the caretakers of church forest and saint forests from Ethiopia to Morocco.” Are those lessons site-specific, or are there some lessons to be learned that are common to most regions and ecosystems?
GARY: It’s a mix of those two. There definitely are site-specific situations, but the plants and their traditional cultures are also facing the same types of threats all over the world in one form or another, whether it’s mining or gas exploration, or tourist development. Also, many of my Indigenous friends are concerned with the cultural appropriation of sacred plants and ceremonies.
There are some wonderful precedents, for example, among the peyote churches, not just the Native American Church of Peyote users, but also people who they’ve trained and whose use of peyote as a sacrament they sanction. Many peyote groups in the United States and Mexico have come together with their federal delegations to say that root-plowing and road development wipe out whole patches of peyote. We want groups to be alerted who can help salvage them and then replant them in either adjacent landscapes or restored landscapes that had been damaged, so that there’s the possibility of access for future generations of legitimate users.
I’m not the one to identify legitimate uses and users for ayahuasca, peyote, psilocybin or anything else; I just know that our deference is for traditional elders who have had serious time with these plants over many decades. We defer to them and help them find the financial resources and the agency agreements to make their work possible in a way that can be transmitted to the next generation of youth, because just as endangered as the plants and habitats is the intergenerational transmission of knowledge, which isn’t just the practical knowledge of how to grow a plant, but all the ethics and the sacramental rituals that goes with it. Those things can’t be learned overnight, so the faster we support these exchanges between youth, who are very interested in these things, and elders of their own cultures, the better off we’ll all be in the long run.
ARTY: You also wrote: “Solutions must divert extinctions of relationships.” Could you expand on that?
GARY: All of us feel some affinity at one level or another for the science of ecology, which is really a science of relationships, of interactions of plants with other plants, with mycorrhizae, with pollinators; as well, of course as predator/prey interactions and how people fit in to it all. And yet, so much of the money in conservation goes to the conservation of things rather than relationships. That’s why we have tended to support zoos and botanical gardens more lavishly than biocultural landscapes where Indigenous people live and knowingly protect those plant and animal relationships.
I do think we’re starting to see a sea change in how conservation is defined now due to the beautiful work of people such as Robin Kimmerer, Melissa Nelson, Lillian Hill and Rowan White, and many more than I can name in the moment. The point is that there’s an intrinsic understanding that those interactions, those relationships, are sacred and that we as people have benefited from them, so we have to invest in those relationships, not just things.
I don’t know if I would ever keep a peyote cactus plant in a pot. My memories of it are out on a landscape in San Luis Potosí where the peyote blended in remarkably in color and texture with the limestone rock of that valley. We can’t protect certain plants without protecting their pollinators, certainly not without understanding and protecting their mycorrhizae and their fungal connections writ large. The most exciting talks I’ve ever heard at Bioneers from Paul Stamets to all our biomimicry friends, to our Native leaders, are about moving conservation into this broader, richer realm of restoring relationships.
ARTY: Absolutely, and a new approach to studying plants called “Plant Humanities” seems to be emerging. What is your perspective on that?
GARY: I first heard the term plant humanities about three years ago, and I immediately wanted to know more about it, and the one who told me more is an extraordinary woman of Greek descent, Yota Batsaki, who directs a plant humanities program at Dumbarton Oaks Historic Botanical Garden in Washington, D.C. that’s affiliated with Harvard.
She trains graduate students and others—artists, historians, humanities scholars in religion, philosophy, ethics and history—to delve into botanical collections, herbarium specimens, botanical illustrations, and boxes full of different seeds and nuts, etc. that have been in museums for decades or hundreds of years, to tease out of those collections the story of those human-plant interactions. Sometimes they’re tragic stories, such as the one of the Native Hawaiian botanists who excelled in knowing both Western scientific and Native Hawaiian names for plants, but whose role was erased when the final publications came out on the flora of Hawaii during the colonial period when efforts to try to name every single plant that grew on newly colonized islands was in full swing.
But, in addition to tragic stories like that, there are other stories of people going through herbarium collections and discovering things that help expand our scientific understanding. My friend Paul Cox noticed a feather still embedded in a flower, and that feather was identified as belonging to an extinct pollinator of a lobelia that is endangered in Hawaii. The reason it is endangered, in part, is because it lost its historic pollinators. That weaves back into the science to find surrogate pollinators for the plants, but it also weaves back into the story of history. Who was perceptive enough to notice that there was a tiny pinfeather inside a flower, and why were they so attuned to that, even though a thousand other people may have actually inspected that specimen before?
Plant Humanities is telling the stories, many of which are about the imperialistic exploration of plants by colonial powers, but some of which are also about the sheer joy of innovators in their own cultures who wanted to make specimens and added their own drawings, songs, and stories along with a photo or a dried herbarium specimen of a plant. I think it shows how intrinsically connected we are to plants, that there are hidden stories in nearly every museum waiting to be told of those deep relationships.
ARTY: On the Ethnobotanical Assembly website, it says: “The pairing of the two words “plant humanities” draws attention to what is occluded of plant knowledge when it is confined to plant scientists.” What’s left out or overlooked when we study plants only through a scientific lens and when mainstream science has a condescending view of other ways of interpreting the world, such as that of Traditional Indigenous Knowledge.
GARY: I want to give a shout out to Robin Kimmerer, who last fall had a beautiful article in Science magazine – the most prestigious science journal — that says that it’s time for Western science to embrace the values of Indigenous science. That’s something unsettling to formally trained botanists, but Robin Kimmerer explains how useful the greater respect and even reverence for plants in Indigenous cultures can be in studying them. And one finds those reverential subcurrents in other traditions, such as ancient Western botany and some of the Medieval alchemists. And Rilke and Goethe were extraordinary poets who were deeply engaged in the exploration of the natural world through design, through poetry, and through scientific essays. We’re coming back to that more holistic view of what our engagement with plants may be. I think we’re at a wonderful moment in history where we’re seeing that dance between different ways of knowing, fully sanctioned, at last, rather than being repressed.
Frankly, my only worry is we haven’t all learned from past errors, intentional or accidental, so we risk cultural appropriation with some of the plants that are now the subject of amazing studies about their potential therapeutic help for people with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, memory loss, cancer, and heart attacks. There’s a very difficult balancing act trying to sort out recreational versus therapeutic versus genuinely spiritual relationships to those plants.
You can buy peyote and psilocybin in markets in Oaxaca. You can also buy them on the roadside in Mexico. Are sales of those limiting the availability to traditional users, cultures who have used those plants for centuries or even millennia? Will there be competing demands of rare hallucinogenic plants between recreational users and legitimate medical therapeutic users? And who are the gatekeepers? Or will there be open gates everywhere?
It’s a frightening jolt to all of our sensibilities that some of these plants that have so much potential for opening our minds, hearts and spirits are now becoming scarce commodities because of all the attention being given to them. I have to say, humbly, that I have no answers to those questions. As someone who has been helped by medically direct therapeutic uses of some of those plants, I feel I want to help more people be engaged in forums or dialogues about that, but it’s so complex that I feel I don’t necessarily have the answers, and I defer to other people who have much more experience.
ARTY: We have a lot to learn from the Indigenous perspective. The poignant example you gave of the O’odham woman weeping over the destruction of Saguaro cacti, that level of respect and reverence is needed in the general population as an antidote to over-consumption and exploitation of sacred plants.
GARY: Qualitatively, I measure the generosity of spirit of any faith tradition, Indigenous or otherwise, by how generous they are in extending their love and respect and reverence beyond just people of their own ingroup to those of other cultures and races, and also to other species. The most generous people I know on Earth have that capacity to extend their love to other species. That should be the quest that we’re all on, in any way that we can. What we find out is that when we work together to restore populations of imperiled plants, we’re also being inoculated with something, whether it’s microbial or spiritual, that helps our own health and our wellbeing. That’s what Robin Kimmerer calls “reciprocal restoration.”
Some of my technical studies have shown that when we get kids out into the trenches to heal arroyos and to plant trees and shrubs along the arroyo bottom, they are literally being inoculated with soil microbes that not only help the plants but that reduce those kids’ vulnerability to allergies and hay fever and skin problems because they become active participants in the natural community rather than bystanders.
When we set out to restore a damaged landscape, we’re really trying to re-story it as well. We’re trying to tell a new story about it that connects to the past rather than erases the past. I think that’s a really urgent need at this point in time when so many people feel disconnected from both nature and from traditional cultures.
Amid the current rise of fascist leaders, rhetoric, and movements in the U.S., we need to examine contemporary expressions of fascism and how individuals, communities, organizations, and networks can respond and resist. Especially in the context of the 2024 elections, the anti-fascist actions of millions of ordinary people will determine whether our baseline democratic norms and institutions will survive.
Below is an edited transcript of a panel discussion held at the 2024 Bioneers Conference featuring communications researcher and campaign advisor Anat Shenker-Osorio, host of the “Words to Win By” podcast and Principal of ASO Communications; Emily Lee, Executive Director of the grassroots movement-building organization Seed the Vote; and Tarso Luís Ramos, Executive Director at Political Research Associates, who has been researching and challenging the U.S. right for more than 25 years. The panel was hosted by Linda Burnham, women’s rights and racial justice activist since the 1960s, co-editor of “Power Concedes Nothing: How Grassroots Organizing Wins Elections,” author of Project2050, and co-creator of the online curriculum Fascism101.
LINDA BURNHAM: The premise of this conversation is that we can’t afford to succumb to despair, and we can’t afford to be overwhelmed. Those are real feelings, and we have to feel them, because we do, but then we have to work with them so that we can act while we can. That’s the premise.
First, let’s clarify what we’re talking about when we’re talking about fascism because the term gets thrown around a lot, so I want to talk a little bit about what some of the characteristics of fascism are, so we’re on the same page. Of course, every nation has its own history and set of social circumstances, so when fascism arises, it looks different in every country, but you find some key strands in all of these sorts of movements.
The first thing is that there’s a cult of the great leader. Another characteristic is a reference to a mythic past and an attempt to resurrect that mythic past. The terminology around Make America Great Again is a clear example. There’s a presumption of greatness in the past and there’s a presumption that it can be resurrected by the leader. Another element is hyper nationalism, an aggressive nationalism that disparages certain other peoples and nations, often because of race or ethnicity or religion. That’s definitely there in the MAGA movement as well, as we can see in its terminology around immigrants and migration, using terms such as “vermin.”
Another characteristic is male supremacy and patriarchy. The male leader is like the patriarchal head of the family, the father who knows all and is the legitimate ruler. From that flows the notion that only certain kinds of families are legitimate. In our circumstances, that has combined with a white Christian nationalism that disparages trans folk, LGBTQ individuals and communities, anybody who’s not on the straight end of our very rich gender spectrum. We saw that sort of patriarchy play out in the Dobbs decision, the delegitimizing of the capacity of women to make decisions about their own lives.
Another trait of fascism is the suppression of democracy and of dissent and the legitimization of violence to achieve the dominant group’s goals. From Charlottesville to January 6, we’ve seen the encouragement and glorification of political violence.
Fascism is an ideology of concentrated state power as well as a philosophy and a social movement. So, if we take a temperature check of the U.S. right now regarding fascism, where are we?We’ve got the actors. We’ve got the ideology. We’ve got the movement in many different forms, but they don’t yet have state power. So, the key issue is: What’s standing between where we are presently and a full fascist take-over? And what is it that we can do to stand between where we are now and that possibility?
We have an extremely agitated, flexing-their-muscles sector of the population who would not necessarily call themselves fascist (although a few do), but who are enthralled to a leader with a fascistic ideology and who are intent on taking state power by any means necessary. That’s where we stand at the moment. And we’re here to be in conversation about what can be done about it and what our responsibility is in trying to prevent that state takeover from happening.
ANAT SHENKER-OSORIO: I spend most of my days and my nights doing qualitative and quantitative research. I can assure you that if you’d like to feel good about America, watching focus groups is not the way to do it, but that is, in fact, a lot of what I do — two to four focus groups a week with various configurations of disaffected voters, swing voters in our battleground states for the last four years, so I get to exit the Bay Area bubble with regularity and actually watch real people.
In terms of narratively how fascism works, I agree with everything Linda mentioned, but I would add that the core aim of an authoritarian ideology, whether it’s fascism or white Christian nationalism or any kind of a minoritarian force that sees itself as the legitimate majority, is to erode their enemy’s will to resist. As long as we continue to be in struggle, as long as we continue to push back and fight back, that has an extraordinary cost for them. It requires vigorous energy, it requires large outlays of money —look at Trump’s legal bills alone — so what they want is for us to lay down and capitulate.
So, I understand the despair that you feel down to my bones. You’re not watching voters in Pennsylvania, Arizona, Nevada, Wisconsin and Michigan every night of your lives, so however much despair you think you’ve got, I’m far ahead of you. No matter how many edibles you’re taking, I’ve out-dosed you, but despair can’t be an option because that is giving in to them.
There are certain contours and hallmarks of these movements that we see the world over. The United States is not exceptional in this regard, as much as we’d like to believe that about ourselves. There’s nothing new under the sun. Narratively, these kinds of regimes operate under very, very simple principles. The first one is that they tell their followers: you belong here; you have a place here; you will be unquestioned here, and there is a hierarchy and you deserve to be at the top of it. You have been unfairly displaced from the top of the heap, but your place will be rightfully restored.
The number one predictor of political ideology is something we call tolerance of ambiguity. It’s basically how comfortable you are with unknown outcomes, with things not being black and white, with complexity. And if you’re a fundamentally neophobic individual, then the rapidly changing conditions of modern life feel like a relentless assault. And here’s a movement telling you that if you support it, you’re going to know your place here and your place is going to be at the top.
And it’s offering you an origin story for your problems, because the number one hallmark of these kinds of authoritarian movements—and we see it with Brexit, with Bolsonaro in Brazil, with Orbán in Hungary, with Duterte in the Philippines, etc.—is that the quickest route to an us is a them, a scapegoat, a people who do not look like us, who do not teach their children the “right things,” who didn’t come in the “right way,” the magical immigrant who is both taking your job and not working, the trans person who you can’t understand. The essential element is that they always have to have a scapegoat, who can be presented as the cause of your problems.
If you feel like you’re busting your ass and 20, 30, 40 years ago your family could have made it on one income and had, you know, a decent car and vacation some of the time, and now you can’t anymore, it’s the fault of those scapegoats. Actually, most of us here know that a lot of those structural problems are a result of neoliberalist economic policies, but they switch the blame to easier-to-understand villains, so you blame immigrants instead of Jeff Bezos or hedge funds. This has the advantage of preventing people from coming together across races, places and genders to actually take on the real problems and punch up. If you can convince people to keep punching down, that’s the whole magic trick. We can call it divide in order to conquer, dog whistling, scapegoating. Whatever we call it, it’s a very old trick: there’s nothing new under the sun.
But what do we do about this current rising tide? The first thing is that we shouldn’t do what the left so often does with its messaging. The usual leftist impulse is to have a message that has three components. It goes like this: Boy have I got a problem for you. This is the Titanic, would you like to buy a ticket? And we’re the losing team, we lose often, so you should join us. That is a standard leftwing message, and it is not a particularly effective message. Most apolitical people who could potentially be ideologically aligned with us, they’ve got 99 problems and they don’t want yours, so that’s not really that attractive a sales pitch for them.
What we find works is first and foremost to say what you’re for. The first thing that you should be saying is what you actually want to have happen in the world instead of engaging in arguments: “Can you believe they just said…?” “Can you believe…?” Or: “Immigrants are not taking our jobs;” “Muslims are not terrorists;” “Gender-affirming care is not child abuse,” etc. And that’s all true, but it’s all negation. We have this instinctive negation that we like to engage in over and over.
One concrete example of flipping that on its head happened in Chile at the end of Pinochet’s authoritarian regime in Chile. There was a referendum to prolong Pinochet’s rule, and the government, which controlled all the media, got to advertise every moment of the day, and the “No” campaign got one hour every night or once a week at midnight on one channel. And initially, what they were going to do, because they were going to lose anyway, was to make ads about how bad the regime was, which was not a hard case to make with a military dictatorship, but there was an ad exec who convinced them to run an entirely positive “No” campaign. Their emblem was a rainbow, and their slogan was: “Chile, la alegría ya viene”—i.e., happiness is coming, and the ad featured rainbow-colored people roaming in the fields on horseback and picnicking. And they won.
A more recent example of this same say-what-you’re-for phenomenon, for those of you who don’t know, in October, we won a huge climate victory in Ecuador. The Yasuni tribe, which I’m honored to have gotten to work with, were able to win a public referendum in the face of every oil corporation you can possibly imagine, not just acting against them, but having spent the last few years literally assassinating their leaders. They ran a “Sí al Yasuni” campaign, which presented an affirmative message that was basically “here’s our chance to say yes to this region and to our future; to say yes to the life that we want to have.”
The next point, besides say what you’re for, is that rather than repeat the opposition, you need to call out not just what they’re doing, but why. Ascribe motivation. Narrate the dog whistle. When a magician performs a trick and someone shows you how they did it, the sleight of hand is no longer impressive. What we find over and over again is that when we have a message that actually says most of us believe that people who work for a living ought to earn a living, but today MAGA Republicans want to turn us against each other. They think that by shaming and blaming newcomers, they can get us to look the other way while they steal our Social Security, dismantle the ACA, and take all the wealth our work creates. We see through their lies and we’re going to choose problem-solving over hate peddling. That’s a quick example of an effective message.
And you don’t repeat what they say, but you call out the reason that they’re saying it. A concrete example of that is in Minnesota, a largely white state with a significant Somali immigrant population over the last few decades. And we know many things about Minnesota, not least that George Floyd was murdered there, and the resurgence and uprise of the Black Lives Matter in 2020 happened in Minnesota. You also probably know that Keith Ellison was a member of Congress in the seat that Ilhan Omar now occupies and is now Attorney General of the state.
So, here’s a largely white state in which some of the most prominent politicians are Black Muslims. Think about that. Take a look at the Minneapolis City Council. It’s all women, and most of them are women of color. How did that come to be? Well, there much to the story, but the thing I’m going to focus in on is that in 2018, having seen that the GOP came within around 10,000 votes of winning this purportedly safe blue state—which it’s not; it’s a purple state—the Republicans in the state doubled and tripled down on their dog whistle politics in 2018. They had this whole discourse demonizing Somalis and alleging widespread daycare fraud, so we made a campaign that we called Greater than Fear. We had ads, posters, events, canvassing, and our slogan was: In Minnesota, we’re better off together; vote Greater than Fear. And over and over, we put out the message that they’re just trying to divide us, to distract us because they want to pick our pockets, and we say no. We say we’re going to be better off together, and we’re not going to fall for their lies.
In 2018, we won all of the races that we worked on in that state. In 2020, we won more. In 2022, we created a one vote majority in the state legislature, and they passed 21 pieces of legislation. Those legislators will tell you that they ran saying what they would do, and then they did it. They said they were going to give driver’s licenses to undocumented people, to create more multi-lingual education and govern as progressives. They didn’t try to hide what they were going to do.
The last thing is that it’s absolutely essential to make the contrast with the other side clear. In 2022, in 15 states where Democrats won, turnout was at historic levels, the largest leap in turnout that we’ve had since women were granted the vote. In those 15 states, in most places we ran a clear contrast under the banner—protect our freedoms. We said these folks are coming to take away your freedoms, and you, the voters, need to vote to protect your freedoms. In the 35 other states, turnout was as anemic as predicted when you’re in the incumbency. Those were the places where Democrats tried to run on traditional lines—we’ll also be tough on crime; we’ll also say shitty things about immigrants; we’ll also blah, blah, blah about the economy. And people didn’t turn out. And those 35 states, I’m sorry to tell you, included New York and also California. The contrast has to be absolutely clear. If you want to win a debate, you have to first set the terms of that debate yourself.
LINDA: We’re going to turn now to Emily, Emily Lee, who is the co-founder and Executive Director at Seed the Vote. She’s an expert at building multi-racial alliances, at community labor partnerships, and at multilingual field operations. Seed the Vote recruits, trains and mobilizes thousands of volunteers from across the United States to defeat the right. Their work in swing states contributed to the 2020 defeat of Donald Trump. Emily’s going to talk to us a little bit about the electoral landscape between now and November, and how what we do over the next several months has to do with resistance to fascism.
EMILY LEE: Seed the Vote’s mission is to build grassroots electoral power in battleground states by electing progressive legislators and candidates and blocking Trump and MAGA from getting into office. Very basic. It’s something we just started doing a few years ago, actually, partly because we saw in progressive circles and on the left that there were not enough of us who saw electoral strategy and electoral organizing as key to building power for our social movements.
We are helping to win federal elections, particularly by sending volunteers to door knock and phone-bank in battleground states, so that we can actually be convincing voters face to face, in person, about why their vote is so critical to stopping the takeover of fascism and protecting their freedoms. We also work with local grassroots organizations in these battleground states so we’re not parachuting in. We are working directly with local and state-based organizations who do the work before and after the election cycle, because we’re about building power long-term, so we’re supporting organizations who are directing our strategy on the ground, and we also develop the leadership of young people of color, BIPOC folks, to be doing this work through our fellowship called Generation Rising.
This year, we’re working with other social movement organizations on a strategy called Block and Build, which Linda is very critical to, and that is really just what it says. We are trying to block MAGA’s bid for power at all levels of elections, from local to federal, and we’re building enough independent progressive clout so that our country actually has a vision. We’re not just saying what we’re against but what we are moving towards: a multi-racial, gender-inclusive democracy; an economy that works for everybody; and a sustainable planet. If you want to learn more, check out Convergence magazine. They’re going to be launching a syllabus, a curriculum, about the Block and Build strategy.
I just want to lay out the electoral landscape, but we already know everything we need to know on election day. We don’t need more polls to tell us anything actually. All we need to know is that the outcome on November 5th will be determined, as it was in 2016, 2018, 2020, and 2022, by very narrow margins in six battleground states. The states in play are going to be Arizona, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Nevada. With those states undecided, the electoral vote tally is Trump 235, and Biden 226. We’ve got to win these states to prevent a MAGA takeover of the federal government. They have taken state power in 22 states, where they have governing trifectas, but they haven’t taken federal power. What we are trying to prevent is a federal takeover by MAGA, and we’re mobilizing thousands of volunteers this year to do that work.
Previous elections, since 2016, have shown that when the anti-MAGA majority in this country comes out, we decide elections, we decide what is going to be the future of the country. When there’s a very clear choice on the ballot, it’s the anti-MAGA majority—all of us in this room and then many more who don’t agree with us on a lot of other things, but agree that MAGA should not be in charge of this country, who can control what happens on November 5th.
So, our job is to make it crystal clear to all the voters why they need to drag their butts off their couch, out of their bed, away from their jobs, away from their kids, to actually go vote. We have to do that very convincingly and in great numbers. The outcome in those states will not depend on the margin of error in polls, but by the margin of effort by campaigns, by activists, by the media, and concerned citizens to mobilize America’s anti-MAGA majority. That is us. As the antidote to pessimism and the fear that we all feel, we have to take action, and I’m hoping at least 50% of you join Seed the Vote this year to help us defeat MAGA.
There’s a lot that’s terrible about this administration that’s involved in supporting genocide, that’s way too corporate, etc., but fighting those things, which we have to do, as hard as it is, will be much easier under a Biden administration that under Trump. If we’re all clear on that, then we know the hard work we have to do. We know we have to keep continuing to hold Biden accountable for everything that is happening, but we also have to actually elect whoever the Democratic nominee is, which right now is Joe Biden.
Some of you may wonder why we focus so much on canvassing in a world of remote, when we’re on our phones all the time. Why is it so critical that we actually go in person to swing states? The fact is that it works. People who have never voted before vote and even encourage their friends and family members to vote if you are able to talk to them in person. We hear amazing, incredible stories from our volunteers who go door-to-door. They come back again and again because they know what they’re doing in these swing states works and is impactful. They know they’re not wasting their time, because they’re getting voters who otherwise would have stayed at home to come out and cast that critical vote in these super tight races. I think it’s such a privilege for anyone who can volunteer with us to go out and meet these voters, and support them, and actually be part of the historic turnout that is necessary for all of us.
We provide direct financial aid—so that means housing and transportation—for volunteers, so thousands of them are able to go knock on doors because we pay for their hotel, airline tickets, etc. Of course, people who can support and donate and fundraise themselves, we need that as well. We’re a very grassroots operation. We provide the volunteer infrastructure so that people can recruit, train, and coordinate the thousands of people it takes, moving them across state lines and helping them get trained and feel comfortable. Most of our volunteers have never door-knocked in their lives. These are people who are just like all of us, so we’re training and preparing them. We’re with them every step of the way so they feel comfortable.
We also partner with local leadership on the ground, connecting the volunteers to the local social justice organizations and unions who know that community, know where to send the volunteers and what the message should be. They know what people care about, so they’re the ones directing the strategy and directing the message that we’re communicating to people.
Let me move on to what we’re doing this year. We’re not just trying to block MAGA, we’re also building a progressive front of leaders within Congress, including supporting the “Squad” who’ve been champions on the ceasefire resolution, on climate action with the Green New Deal, etc. We’re focusing on the closest races for the squad, especially the three progressive Black members of the squad—Summer Lee in Pittsburgh, Jamaal Bowman in New York, and Cori Bush in St. Louis. These folks are under attack from PACs that want to take them down the strong positions they’ve taken. They’re getting primaried and these PACs have promised to spend $100 million against them. Defending the squad is one of our number one goals for this year, because we can’t just be defeating MAGA, we actually need to be building up our own people and defending our champions in Congress.
Right now, we are recruiting people to go canvas in Pittsburgh. Summer Lee is doing well in the polls, but last time she ran, she won by 988 votes. That’s too close. She’s the first member of the squad to have a primary this year. Her primary is April 23rd (Editor’s note: Summer Lee handily won her primary; this panel discussion occurred in late March). Next, we really need to make sure that we get a strong showing for Cori Bush, so we’re recruiting for both of those races right now, and the partners we’re working with include the Asian Pacific Islander Political Alliance (they really need Asian volunteers, both English-speaking and speakers of several Asian languages) and Pennsylvania United. In Jamaal Bowman’s district, we’re working with the Working Families Party, and in Minnesota, we are working with Take Action Minnesota; and in Missouri, Action St. Louis and in Michigan, Michigan United. Our immediate goal is to send 200 people right now to Pittsburgh, so please help us get there if you can.
Our goal for the general election is to work in the six battleground states that Anat mentioned, and we’re partnering with a lot of amazing, powerful social movement actors in all of them. We’re also doing down ballot, not just at the top of the ticket. We’re looking at the really close Senate races, the really important state legislator races, at propositions, including several abortion measures on the ballot, so it’s not just about defeating Trump, though that of course is super important; we also need to be building local power in these places.
LINDA: I have a question for both of you. Regardless of who gets elected, we will still be faced with a fascist threat. We’re facing a revived fascist movement that is not going to go away if Trump dropped dead tomorrow, so talk to me about that. How do we think about that?
ANAT: I am in electoral politics, which I think of as a “cadena perpetua,” a life sentence for a crime I don’t recall. Electoral politics is the least interesting part of politics, but I think it’s something we have to do right now. It’s obviously true that Trump wouldn’t have come to power and be so close this time and have this large a following if this ethos weren’t part and parcel of our DNA. There is an almost perfect overlap in those red trifecta states Emily mentioned to the Confederacy, and when you compare how, say, how the Germans handled the post-World War II period, outlawing people who had been members of the Nazi Party from being anywhere near office, with this country, it’s striking. There is no statue in any German city or province of a Nazi war criminal the way we have statues of war criminals from the Civil War. Other than the short, remarkable period of Reconstruction, we’ve never really contended with the reality of the fascist faction that has been with us since our founding.
What do we do about that? Short of actually giving in to separating, which on some days sounds like a pretty sweet idea to me, I think the very first thing we need to do is pass the John Lewis Voting Rights Act and the Freedom to Vote bill. Those are absolutely critical and essential pieces of concrete legislation, along with the codification of Roe, without which we’re perpetually at risk. And then we have to actually confront neoliberalism. Unless people can feel like they don’t have more month than check, they are always at-risk of being “fascism curious,” and that’s not only white people.
It’s really about taking on capitalism and making it so the wealth that people generate actually remains with them so that they can feel good about their lives and not be susceptible to blaming whomever they’re told is at fault for the perceived threat to their status and/or their economic hardship. It’s voting rights and unrigging this economic system. Those are the ways that you actually handle this.
EMILY: I cannot go to the scenario of what if Trump is the next president. We cannot start thinking about how we plan for that day because it will kind of be the end of days to me. He’s laid out very clearly where he wants to go. It’s political violence; it’s authoritarianism, so I don’t think it’s a useful exercise for us to think about what will we do next when he gets elected.
I think we all need to operate on the fact that we are doing every single thing possible this year to defeat Trump, to make sure he is not president. Because otherwise, I personally can’t go down that road. It’s a horrific future, and I know there are other people planning scenarios of mutual aid and what we’re going to be doing, but I think our number one imperative is to do everything in our power to stop that from happening.
But I do think that you’re totally right that our vision can’t just be to keep defeating MAGA. That’s a very short-term thing we have to do in order to actually build power for the long term, but we have to build the political power of our forces and a united front. Defeating fascism requires an enormous united front with people who don’t come to this conference, and that includes people such as Liz Cheney, Republicans who refuse to bow down to Trump, as well as to neoliberal Democrats. It requires us to actually have a really clear, sober understanding of the limited current power we have. The fact is that we don’t have enough power to demand really important legislation that should be happening. To get those things, we need to build up our political strength, because otherwise some of our temporary partners in that united front to defeat Trump will turn on us and try to squash us once Trump is gone, as they’re trying to do with the squad right now.
We have to do several things at the same time, and that includes working with those kinds of really tenuous relationships and accepting some contradictions, but that’s what is required of us to defeat fascism now, but then, to be really clear, the day after we elect Joe Biden, we’re immediately organizing on the left and in progressive movements to hold him accountable to our agenda.
LINDA: We have a couple of minutes for questions. And I also want you to consider, I’m going to pose a question to you, which is how is this showing up in your work; how is rising fascism impacting the work that you do, and how are you seeing resistance to fascism amongst the set that you work with? Right? So you can both ask a question or you can answer that question.
AUDIENCE MEMBER (AM): I’m a labor organizer in Colorado, and this year when a younger person expresses real, sincere, valid frustrations and concerns about voting for Biden, the response, instead of being receptive, is: “You’re just going to elect Trump; it’s going to be your fault.” And I understand that frustration, because we are in this frustrating two-party system, but can you speak to a way to hold those conversations productively.
ANAT: I can answer that since it’s like every day of my life. I’ve seen an entire track of focus groups with the kind of young people that you are describing. The easier thing is to speak to the older person first. Get them alone and ask them: “What’s your theory of change? Do you think yelling at a person for their views is productive?” Because I’ve personally never had the experience of telling someone you’re a fucking idiot and had them had them turn around and tell me: “Please tell me more; I would like to follow your guidance.” If what you’re attempting to do is actually create a voter, then that’s not a solid theory of change, but what do you actually say to the young person?
Now, to be clear, this is what works on the margins. Politics is a game of millimeters. Is this going to work with every young person? No. But this is what we have found to be the most effective of all of the things that we’re trying with this very, very real group of people who are saying they’re going to sit it out, or increasingly among the more sophisticated, skip the top of the ticket. There is an increasing movement to not vote the top of the ticket.
This is what we have been finding. First, this is blanket advice: Don’t start your sentences with “Trump is”—Trump is a liar, Trump is a racist, Trump is a criminal, etc. Shift away from what Trump is to what Trump will do. When you are in the what Trump will do space, people will get into the what Biden will do space, and you’ll be in a better spot.
Better than the first is to not talk about Trump or Biden at all. What we find again and again is that when we shift people away from seeing this election as a contest between two warring individuals toward a fork in the road between two different futures, they flip from being spectators at a sports match where they hate both teams to seeing it as this is going to impact my future. Try not to talk about the candidates. Try to get them to vote for the country they want, not the person they want.
The third thing, specifically with this kind of young person, that we are finding promise with is to say that when you think about every piece of progressive advancement we’ve ever had in this country—Civil Rights, women voting, the Americans with Disabilities Act, marriage equality, the eight-hour work day, stopping child labor, etc., none of those were gained electorally. None of those things were won by voting for the right person. They were all won through outside agitation. Voting is the tool that we use so the other tools can be deployed, but it still matters who is in charge at the top, because one person in charge might let you strike and protest; another might throw you into a gulag.
Obviously, our electoral system is a piece of hot trash. That is obvious. We don’t live in a democracy, so how do we actually get the future we want? It’s using every tool in our arsenal, and if we do not have Joe Biden as president in 2025, all of those other tools will be taken from us. That’s what you say to them.
AM: What about Robert F. Kennedy (RFK)?
ANAT: In our best estimates, six in 10 voters are decided, meaning they are going to vote for Trump or they are going to vote for Biden, and four in 10, which is a massive number, considering this is a rematch between two individuals — you’d think it would be much smaller — are up for grabs.
Among those four in 10, in the six battleground states where the election will be decided, there are 5% who are RFK supporters. The rest of them are basically toggling between I might stay at home, I don’t know, I might skip the top of the ticket, I might vote third party. Is there going to be more of an authentic attachment to RFK? My feeling is that the more that comes out about him, the less attractive he will become.
AM: What about the Biden administration’s actions in Israel?
ANAT: Obviously, the choices that we have before us are bad, but the electoral system that we have, because of money in politics, because of the electoral college, because of gerrymandering, is summarily undemocratic. I think we all agree on that, so the question really is: How do we have the kind of a future that I think probably with some differences most of us want—a future where all people can live in peace, where we have prosperity, where we have sustenance, where we have longevity, where we are not, you know, burning ourselves alive and poisoning our own air and water. How do we get to that? And what does the past teach us? And what are the tools that we have before us? To me, the electoral system is an absolutely vital but absolutely insufficient mechanism. At some point, I genuinely believe that the only way we will have real change in this country is through a general strike. The only way we will achieve change is by withholding our labor. I really don’t think that we can have the things that we deserve and the justice we want without withholding our labor, but we have to be able to live to fight another day, and that means using the electoral system as it is now.
EMILY: In the last six months the amount of pressure that young people, Palestinian Arab movements, Jewish Voice for Peace and other activists within the Jewish community have exerted has actually shifted this administration somewhat, not nearly enough, but somewhat, and that’s credit to the movements and the people, but with Donald Trump our ability to even protest and do civil disobedience will very possibly be taken away from us.
He has already aligned himself with authoritarian and fascist governments abroad, so our work is not about celebrating Joe Biden, it’s about picking Joe Biden as our continued target.
The most significant movements for positive change have often been advanced and amplified by artistic expressions that spotlight injustice and bring ideas for a more equitable society into focus. As we face today’s unprecedented challenges — accelerating climate change, deeply rooted social inequities, a renewed spread of authoritarianism — data and talking points are not enough. To maintain forward momentum, we must tell our stories in the way only art can. A way that can be visual, musical, narrative or poetic — but above all empathic. Through art, we cultivate the understanding to change hearts and minds and the motivation to inspire action.
Explore how some of today’s most resonant artist-activists are producing cutting-edge work that combines creative imagination with social change. Be inspired by Claudia Peña, Executive Director of the artist collective For Freedoms and Co-Director of the Center for Justice at UCLA; the highly acclaimed, socially conscious singer-songwriter Chris Pierce; a multifaceted panel of leading artist/activists; the moving musical duo The Local Honeys; and Peña’s conversation with Erin Matariki Carr, a leading Indigenous legal scholar and Rights of Nature activist in Aotearoa (New Zealand). Help us spread the word by sharing the stories that move you.
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Using Storytelling to Change the Narrative on Mass Incarceration
When Claudia Peña brought the show “Lyrics from Lockdown” to Houston, she saw that the crowd was mostly older white people and worried there could be some walkouts. She even positioned herself in a chair by the door so she could talk to anybody who walked out about why they had done so. But it turns out there was no need. Not only did no one walk out, but the crowd was energized. In this Q&A with Bioneers, Peña talks about the power of stories to change hearts and minds and why she stopped relying on statistics to discuss incarceration and prison abolition.
Peña is Executive Director of For Freedoms, an artist collective that centers art and creativity as a catalyst for transformative connection and collective liberation. She serves on the faculty at the UCLA School of Law and is the founding Co-Director of the UCLA Center for Justice. The Center runs the Prison Education Program, which creates innovative courses that enable faculty and students to learn from and alongside currently incarcerated participants. Check out her 2024 Bioneers keynote here and the link below to read the Q&A.
“Sing strong. Sing cheerful. Even when the shadows of the night fall upon you, look up and do not allow the thief that is fear to enter the treasure room of your heart.” — Chris Pierce
So opened Pierce’s musical performance at the 2024 Bioneers Conference. Pierce, a highly acclaimed, socially conscious singer-songwriter, has been described as “one of America’s most talented, gifted, and affecting artists.” He has played with such greats as Neil Young, B.B. King, Seal, Al Green, Steve Earle, Allison Russell, Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, Rodrigo y Gabriella, Jill Scott, and more. His most recent albums are 2021’s American Silence, widely viewed as one of the best folk albums of that year, and 2023’s Let All Who Will. In addition to his solo career, Pierce performs/records with Sunny War as War and Pierce, with the Americana/roots band Leon Creek, and occasionally with the Black Opry Revue.
Artivism in the Age of Climate Chaos and Societal Instability
“Our battles for the kind of world we want to live in are battles between stories, and the sharpest storytelling tools we have are the arts.” — David Solnit, renowned direct action organizer, author, puppeteer, and co-founder of Art and Revolution
We are currently facing unprecedented challenges as our climate unravels and reactionary authoritarian movements gain in momentum. In the following excerpt from a panel discussion held at the 2024 Bioneers Conference in Berkeley, California, leading artist/activists discuss whether navigating these seemingly perpetual existential crises necessitate new strategies from the “engaged” creative community. It features Devon Bella, co-founder of Art + Climate Action, a Bay Area collective committed to fostering a sustainable and environmentally-conscious arts community; David Solnit, renowned direct action organizer, author, puppeteer, and co-founder of Art and Revolution; Orion Camero, former Brower Youth Award winner and Spiritual Ecology Fellow; and Favianna Rodriguez, world-renowned interdisciplinary artist, cultural strategist, and social justice activist based in Oakland, California.
“We met in college, and we were playing a lot of traditional old-time fiddle and banjo music and playing at lots of local square dances. It was kind of around that time that we started thinking of traditional music and folk music not as something that’s dead and gone, but something that’s a living and breathing entity. You’ve got to breathe life into these old songs, but you also have to tell your own stories.” — Linda Jean Stokley of the duo The Local Honeys
The Local Honeys (Montana Hobbs and Linda Jean Stokley) is a highly acclaimed musical duo from Kentucky that was formed a decade ago. During the duo’s performance at the 2024 Bioneers conference, Stokley spoke to the importance of honoring traditional folk music while also telling your own history. The performance included a rendition of Jean Ritchie’s 1965 song “The L&N Don’t Stop Here Anymore” and The Local Honeys song “Cigarette Trees,” about a coal sludge pond spill that occurred in 2000 and continues to contaminate the drinking water of Martin County, Kentucky. The duo’s most recent album is the eponymous, The Local Honeys, on La Honda Records.
Learning How to “Be” Again with Claudia Peña and Erin Matariki Carr
Through colonization, hyper capitalism, and unaddressed trauma, many of us have forgotten how to play our part in the orchestra of the natural world. In this excerpt from a panel discussion, Claudia Peña and Erin Matariki Carr — two remarkable activists and legal practitioners who work on different continents but share a belief in the power of creative expression — offer ways we can all reconnect deeply to the web of life.
Peña is Co-Director of the Center for Justice at UCLA and Executive Director of the artist collective For Freedoms, and Carr is a leading Indigenous legal scholar and Rights of Nature activist in Aotearoa (New Zealand).
We’re excited to announce that our new season of Bioneers Learning is online, and registration is open! You can register for our first-ever self-paced courses, along with courses covering topics such as the Rights of Nature movement, gender equity, regenerative herbalism, and sacred activism.
Indigenizing the Law: Tribal Sovereignty & the Rights of Nature | Aug. 13-Sept. 17 | This course examines the prominent cases, laws, and legal theories that make up “Federal Indian Law” while exploring the intersections between the movements for Native Sovereignty and the Rights of Nature.
Regenerative Herbalism: The Healing Power of Plants | Sept. 18-Oct. 23 | Explore the magical realm of herbal wisdom with this 6-session online course led by renowned herbalists Penny Livingston and Rosemary Gladstar.
The Four Sacred Gifts: Indigenous Wisdom for Modern Times | Self-Paced | Discover how the Four Sacred Gifts of forgiving the unforgivable, unity, healing, and hope in action provide us with a path to our most grounded, loving, healed, and generous selves.
Regenerative Agriculture: Nourishing the Soil, Healing the Planet | Self-Paced | Be enlightened on the practical applications and impressive potential that regenerative agriculture has to revive healthy landscapes; contribute to human and animal health; create an equitable food system; and help heal the climate.
Through colonization, hyper capitalism, and unaddressed trauma, many of us have forgotten how to play our part in the orchestra of the natural world. Join a conversation between two remarkable activists and legal practitioners from different continents, working in different communities, but who happen to share a belief in the power of creative expression help us reconnect to the entire web of life. They discuss interdependence, forgotten ways of relating to each other and all species, and how well-harmonized songs can bring delight and balance to the human spirit, to trees and plants and to our fellow fauna.
This talk was delivered at the 2024 Bioneers Conference.
Erin Matariki Carr, of Ngāi Tūhoe and Ngāti Awa descent, lives in her traditional homelands in Aotearoa/New Zealand and works in law and policy, with a focus on the interface between Indigenous and Western legal systems and methodologies. She previously worked as Manager of Planning & Design to create and implement policies under the world-first legislation conferring legal personhood to the Te Urewera rainforest. Matariki is currently a project lead at RIVER, where she focuses on the constitutional transformation movement in Aotearoa with a number of other teams, including Tūmanako Consultants and Te Kuaka NZA.
Claudia Peña, Executive Director of For Freedoms, an artist collective that centers art and creativity as a catalyst for transformative connection and collective liberation, serves on the faculty at UCLA School of Law and in that school’s Gender Studies Department. She is also the founding Co-Director of the Center for Justice at UCLA, home of the Prison Education Program, which creates innovative courses that enable faculty and students to learn from and alongside currently incarcerated participants. Claudia has devoted her life to justice work through community organizing, transformative and restorative justice, consciousness-raising across silos, coalition-building, teaching, advocacy through law and policy, and the arts.
Erin Matariki Carr is from the Māori tribal nations of Ngāi Tūhoe and Ngāti Awa, and lives in Tāneatua in the east of the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand. Matariki is a member of RIVER and a lawyer working within the inter-generational movement of Māori resistance that is now surging towards constitutional transformation in honour of the treaty Te Tiriti o Waitangi 1840 between the British Crown and sovereign hapū Māori. An important story in this movement has been the granting of legal personality to Te Urewera rainforest, the homelands of Ngāi Tūhoe. Here, Tūhoe aims to “disrupt the false notion of human superiority over the land” by removing human ownership and management, and providing a new kawa (or law) that starts with “human management for the benefit of the land”.
Like so many of our other industries, the enormous mass incarceration system has wreaked havoc on our society. Our desire for punishment, and the profits made by the incarceration of millions of human beings, consequences be damned, lead to the destruction of the social fabric of countless communities in the short term, and contribute to the ravaging of the larger global environment in the longer term. Our only path forward is to make amends with the land, water and air, one harmful industry at a time, including abolition of the prison industrial complex as we know it.
Over the past decade, the most far-reaching social revolution of the 21st century has taken place in Syria’s Kurdish-majority Northeast, commonly referred to as Rojava. Though still largely unknown, today roughly a third of Syrian territory is governed not by a nation-state but through a federation of participatory local councils known officially as the Democratic Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (DAANES). Despite conditions of constant war and isolation, the people of Rojava are building and defending a society rooted in principles of direct democracy, women’s autonomy, cultural diversity, cooperative economics, and social ecology.
Below is an edited transcript of a panel discussion held at the 2024 Bioneers Conference featuring two writers and activists who recently returned from the region, Anna Rebrii and Arthur Pye of the Emergency Committee for Rojava. They discuss the revolution’s achievements, its challenges, and its enduring relevance for liberatory movements worldwide. Bioneers Senior Producer J.P. Harpignies moderated the panel, which was co-sponsored with the Emergency Committee for Rojava.
J.P. HARPIGNIES: I’m going to start by explaining why we at Bioneers felt this was an important session to include in the conference program, even though it might seem a little unusual and more specifically geopolitical than what we normally cover.
I think that the first reason is that quite a few of us in the Bioneers community come out of movements rooted in ecology, and many of those emerged out of communitarian and eco-socialist and anarcho-socialist kinds of traditions. And right now, in the world, there is no more progressive governance in that type of lineage than what is going on in Northeast Syria, and it’s a really under-told story. It’s actually shocking the extent to which it’s not covered in our media. It’s a very complex situation, as you will see, so we’re not going to attempt to fill in every granular detail. We hope to inspire those of you who become interested to then follow up and learn more.
Anna Rebrii and Arthur Pye are both affiliated with the Emergency Committee for Rojava. Both of them have spent quite a bit of time in Northeast Syria, and they’re going to try to unpack for us a lot of the complexities about the type of governance there; the very progressive, feminist and ecological values informing the movements; and the enormous contradictions, threats, and difficulties in that region. And ideally, we’ll come away far better informed and with many questions.
We’ll open with Anna giving us some background about the history of and situation in Rojava.
ANNA REBRII: Rojava is an area in northeast Syria that’s populated by around five million people and is roughly the size of Belgium. This region gained de facto autonomy from the Syrian government at the outbreak of the Syrian Civil War back in 2012, and once they did that, they set out to transform radically their political, social, economic system based on the principles of direct democracy, women’s liberation, ethnic and religious pluralism, a democratized economy, and ecological sustainability. It’s very ambitious, and it’s hard to believe that it’s happening in Syria.
It’s no longer in the news that much, but this has been an intense war zone for more than a decade. It saw the rise and fall of ISIS just a few years back. So, this is a revolution that’s happening under the most adverse circumstances in just about the least likely place and the least likely time, and yet they’re doing it.
It’s a fascinating story. To understand the story of the Rojava revolution, we have to talk about the Kurds, who constitute a sizable majority in northern Syria. This has been their homeland. They’re an Indigenous people in this area of the Middle East that’s historically been known as Mesopotamia, and the Kurds are one of the world’s largest stateless peoples. Despite being Indigenous, they do not have control over their territory or any political, socioeconomic or cultural rights in the territory that they have lived in for millennia, and that’s because when the Western imperialist powers, after the first world war, decided to carve up the Middle East, what used to be in the just defeated Ottoman Empire, they started drawing artificial borders and creating new states that they wanted to exercise control over. They decided that creating an independent Kurdistan, a Kurdish state for millions of Kurds who used to live under the Ottoman Empire, was not in European interests, so the Kurds were arbitrarily divided between four new nation states—Syria, Turkey, Iran and Iraq. They basically became minorities in their own homeland ruled by other ethnic groups—Turks, Arabs, Persians, respectively.
And they found themselves in this situation of brutal internal colonialism, including genocidal massacres, dispossession, displacement, and forced assimilation, not unlike what happened to Indigenous communities all across the so-called Americas, and, inevitably, they resisted as any other oppressed community across the world would do. They resisted, and it is in that resistance that we see the seeds of the Rojava revolution.
The Kurds in Turkey in the 1970s started organizing a revolutionary anti-colonial national liberation movement, which was part of the global wave to kick out Western colonial powers that had begun after World War 2. Their goal was to establish an independent socialist Kurdistan. They formed a group called the Kurdistan Workers’ Party. Just like other colonized peoples, they saw the need to take up arms to fight against, in their case, Turkish colonialism, but as the years went by, they saw that while some other national liberation struggles had succeeded in abolishing colonialism in their countries, those struggles had failed to bring about real emancipation for their people. Right? In nearly all those cases, the colonial elites were basically replaced by local elites, and oppression, marginalization and exploitation had continued. Based on that, in the late ‘80s and the ‘90s, the movement started rethinking its philosophy. They started rethinking their program for liberation.
In 1999, the movement’s leader, Abdullah Ӧcalan, was captured by the Turkish state in an international operation in which the CIA was involved. He was captured and imprisoned by Turkey on an island where he is the only detainee with thousands of guards. In this prison, his lawyers were able to help him get hold of a wide range of books of philosophers and social and political thinkers, ranging from Foucault, Fernand Braudel, Immanuel Wallerstein, a long list. This included books by Murray Bookchin, a U.S. social radical from New York who spent most of his life in Vermont, who developed a theory called “social ecology” during the ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s. He had been one of the first people to recognize the urgency of the climate crisis and that ecological problems were social problems.
Ӧcalan was very impressed by Bookchin’s ideas and actually tried to get in touch with Bookchin and communicate with him through his lawyers. Bookchin’s ideas helped Ӧcalan rethink the ideology of the Kurdish liberation movement. He even passed the word down to movement members that they should start reading Bookchin’s books. After a while Ӧcalan came out with a new philosophy that represented a radical break from where the movement started out in the ’70s: it abandoned the demand for an independent state because Ӧcalan now argued that all nation states were inherently oppressive. Instead, he advocated the building of a decentralized system of direct democracy in which decision-making takes place through local popular assemblies, so people can come together and decide what they need for their collective affairs rather than go and vote once every few years for representatives who will then make decisions for them.
This new philosophy also centered women’s liberation and ethnic and religious pluralism, which is something one has to grapple with in the Middle Eastern context, where you most often have different communities sharing their homelands. This new program wanted to ensure that all the different ethno-religious groups sharing the same land had the same access to power and resources. Another element was a democratized economy based on cooperatives, in order to eliminate exploitation and inequality. The final important element was the restructuring of the entire society based on the principle of ecological sustainability, something very inspired by Bookchin.
And that’s the program that they’ve been working to implement for the last 12 years now, in Rojava, in northeast Syria. And, miraculously, it’s not just Kurds; it’s Kurds and their allies from other ethno-religious groups working to implement this program. It’s still a work in progress, as they have had to be doing it while also fighting an intense war to defeat ISIS. It’s no longer in the news, but the Kurds and their allies, from Arab, Armenian, and Syrian communities lost more than 10,000 fighters fighting against ISIS. In that context, it’s a miracle that it’s happening at all.
ARTHUR PYE: I suspect many of you are thinking: “Why haven’t I heard more about this.” During the peak of the war against ISIS around a decade ago, a lot of people were hearing that ISIS, the so-called Islamic state, was taking over large parts of Iraq and Syria. At that time there was actually a lot of mainstream media coverage of the conflict and of Rojava. But what was it? A lot of it was pictures of beautiful Kurdish women wearing floral scarves carrying their AK-47s riding into battle against ISIS, conveying a kind of romanticized, othered, simplified image of the people fighting ISIS, the Kurdish people, and the Kurdish women in particular.
But what’s not talked about is the society that they were defending. The truth is that these people were not taking up arms to defend the society that they had been living in previously. They were taking up arms first, of course, to defend themselves and their communities physically. They had no choice at all: they were facing genocide, but they were very much fighting for the chance to build something new, a society that offered alternatives to the state and capitalism and patriarchy. It’s definitely not perfect. It’s not a utopia. Anybody who’s been there can tell you that, but they’re really doing it. It’s a living, breathing social revolution.
Our mainstream media tries to condense everything into sound bites, so it is bound to present a very shallow analysis of things like this, so most Americans don’t perceive the populations of the Middle East as just human beings like us in societies with rich histories and social movements, just like anywhere else.
J.P.: I would just interject one thing, which is that there’s also a problem in the progressive community and its media here in the U.S regarding this situation. One would expect progressives to be an avid audience for news about what’s happening in Rojava, but there are some strange factors, one of which is that the U.S. Army and the military units of Rojava have been collaborating in the battles against ISIS, and for some people on the left, that’s anathema. For them, if the U.S. is involved in any way, it must be bad, so there’s been a weird lack of engagement and coverage from key parts of our own communities.
ARTHUR: I think you’re exactly right. There’s a lot of paradox when it comes to understanding this conflict and its coverage. There are obvious ideological reasons why, say, The Wall Street Journal isn’t tripping over itself to tell you all about this movement that’s trying to make corporations and the state obsolete. They might want you to see this picture of the woman with the scarf and the AK-47; that’s compelling, and it’ll get you to click on their articles, but people talking about how to create a direct democracy to overcome patriarchy and capitalism, that’s another thing. But for left-leaning media, it is more surprising and depressing that we aren’t talking about it much more.
I think it’s important to see this revolution not just as this kind of inspiring thing that’s happening on the other side of the world, and wouldn’t it be nice if things were completely different here and we could have a chance to do that. But whether we say it out loud or not, we kind of assume nothing like that could ever happen here. Well, we want to challenge y’all to see that as maybe a copout and that actually this movement is incredibly relevant to the struggles that we have here. If Rojava gives us hope, it gives us hope for life beyond the state, life beyond capitalism and patriarchy. And I don’t say that in the sense that they’ve figured it all out and those things don’t exist in any form in northeast Syria, and it’s a utopia. No. The truth is, it’s a real living, breathing social revolution with ongoing struggles. It’s reality. And that’s actually what gives us hope, because it means it’s real.
Another thing that makes it relevant is the relationship between crisis and revolution. We’ve been seeing on some of the panels here at this conference that people, for good reason, are very worried about the multiple, interrelated crises we’re facing. We’re staring down the barrel of, not just ecological crisis, but crises of democracy and socio-economic crises. These are very real, and they’re probably not going to get better until they get worse, even in the best-case scenarios.
But what Rojava shows us is that in a country such as Syria, where, something that started as a popular, peaceful protest against a basically authoritarian regime—the Assad government—spiraled out of control, militarized, and escalated into an extremely chaotic and intensely violent situation, something as progressive as Rojava could occur. This teaches us what can happen when a crisis comes in a place and a time when a social movement is prepared to take advantage of that crisis and to turn it into an opportunity.
The Kurdish freedom movement had been organizing for decades in the community, developing their ideas, developing forms of organization, creating local, grassroots organizations through which people can govern themselves collectively outside and against the existing systems in power. So, when those systems crumbled and chaos came, there was an outright power vacuum, and it could have turned out a very different way. But who was waiting in the wings to fill that power vacuum when the Syrian regime could no longer afford to keep its forces in control of the Kurdish region far away from the capital? If the Rojavan liberation movement hadn’t been ready, who would have filled that vacuum? ISIS. And they almost did.
Again, it doesn’t mean the Kurds there were perfect and had everything figured out, but they were organized. They had an understanding of the world that they wanted to live in; they had a set of values to guide them; and they had a practical program of direct democracy that they were able to implement as soon as ISIS and the forces of the Syrian regime retreated. They said, alright, let’s try it. They went into the neighborhoods, and they said, we’re going to set up a commune in every single neighborhood and that’s a directly democratic assembly that everybody in the neighborhood has a right and a responsibility to show up to and participate in, and this new democracy that we’re going to build is going to start there.
The system they’re engaged in building is called “democratic confederalism.” It has its roots in some left anti-state socialist traditions that want power and initiative to flow from the bottom up, so it starts at the neighborhood level and it moves out from there. The neighborhood assemblies are called communes, and every residential home belongs to its respective commune. It’s an extremely intimate form of democracy, and it’s based on, ideally, active participation at the base by everybody in the decisions that affect their lives.
But from there you can’t run a whole society at that micro level, so the local communes have to coordinate with the larger neighborhood, with the city, and with the equivalent of a county, and then with the whole region. The way they do that is to send a delegate; they’ll elect a delegate to go to the next level. And at every level there, women’s participation is institutionalized, more so than anywhere in the world today. Any deliberative body has to meet a 50% gender quorum to be functional. If half of the people in the room are not women, it’s not seen as a legitimate or democratic decision. If there’s a position of leadership that must be taken, a position of responsibility, even down at the neighborhood level, they always elect co-chairs. There have to be two, and one of them has to be a woman, all the way up, in every decision-making body.
They’re also trying to develop alternative justice systems, abolitionist systems rather than incarcerating people. They try as much as possible to solve problems and conflicts at the neighborhood level. The defense of the society is organized with similar values. Some people may have heard of the YPG and the YPJ. These are Kurdish acronyms for the People’s Protection Units, but also even in the military, there’s the YPJ, the Women’s Protection Units, which is an autonomous, all women’s army. They command themselves. A man cannot ever give commands to a woman, even when they’re coordinating together on a military operation.
There’s a larger umbrella called the Syrian Democratic Forces, which includes not just Kurdish self-defense forces, but many other culturally autonomous minority militias that are rooted in different ethnic communities. Every community has its own right to organize its own defense forces, and they federate together under the structure of the Syrian Democratic Forces. There are also a variety of more local autonomous community defense forces at the commune level. It’s an elaborate system that strives to be as democratic as possible at every level.
ANNA: In my overview earlier, I listed some of the intellectual influences on Ӧcalan, but I didn’t explain the influence that Kurdish women had on him and on the leadership of the movement, which ultimately resulted in Ӧcalan’s centering women’s liberation so greatly in the philosophy that he came up with while in prison.
What happened was that back to the 1970s when the Kurdistan Workers’ Party started organizing and taking up arms to fight the Turkish state, they needed as many people to join the fight as possible, and they realized after a while that they needed women fighters, but it’s a very gender-conservative society, and it was even much more so back in 1970s, so this caused some problems. Men in the guerilla army did not want to see women fight, and there was a lot of resistance. Some commanders would just send women who wanted to join the struggle back to their villages.
These women had joined the movement because they felt oppressed as Kurds, but the attitudes within their own movement highlighted how much they were also oppressed as women, not just by the Turkish state, but also by their fellow Kurdish men, so that’s where this emphasis on women’s liberation comes from, because women pushed from within the movement until they got their own women’s army. This had already happened before Rojava, within the ranks of the PKK in Turkey. That’s where the co-chair system—one woman/one man in every leadership position originated. That’s how they got the 50% quotas in any decision-making bodies, but it was a real fight. There was a lot of push-back, and there’s still a lot of push-back, but that’s basically the system that got transplanted from Turkey’s Kurdistan region to Rojava. It was the starting point to the empowerment of women in northeast Syria.
And this is not just about military and political participation. There’s a form of multi-disciplinary women’s studies at university level in Rojava that has been developing theoretical frameworks for looking at millennia of women’s exploitation, women’s oppression, women’s marginalization and what can be done to liberate women. And that subject, which they call genealogy, is a mandatory subject from elementary schools to the university. And if you’re going to join any institution that’s part of this government in northeast Syria, including the self-defense forces, you have to take a workshop in women’s liberation. You can’t get a weapon unless you learn about why women’s liberation matters and how you should contribute to it.
Another really important aspect of the movement that we started to discuss earlier is ethnic and religious pluralism. As we’re seeing the genocide unfolding in Palestine, it reminds us that oppression, dispossession and genocide have been the case for many communities in the Middle East, especially in the modern era because of Western imperial interference and of the imposition of artificial nation-states. That’s why Ӧcalan and the Kurdish movement gave up on the idea of creating an independent Kurdish state. They realized that an independent Kurdish state would necessarily entail marginalizing, displacing other communities that also call Kurdistan their home—Armenians, Arabs, Syrians. It’s such a mosaic. This region historically has been a mosaic.
This long history of instrumentalization of ethnicity and religion in this region goes back a long way, most recently to the Ottoman Empire, then the Western imperialist powers, then to the new nation state elites following independence. They all have used a divide-and-rule approach, pitting these communities against each other, sponsoring ethno-religious violence and genocides. And as a result, if you go to the region now, these communities that had lived together for so long, most of the time peacefully, now view each other with distrust and often with open hostility because of this history of being pitted against each other.
If you talk to Kurds, they do not trust Arabs because they have been oppressed by the Arab Nationalist Syrian government. Arabs do not trust Kurds because they have been taught by the Syrian government to view Kurds as foreign agents who are dangerous to the unity of the country. If you talk to the Armenians or Syriacs, they blame Kurds for the early 20th Century genocide, that was really directed and carried out by the Ottoman elites, but with the participation of some Kurds.
So, this new system in Rojava is an attempt to get away from the history of inter-ethnic violence of their region. It’s conceptually similar to the different safeguards and mechanisms they have in place to ensure women’s full participation. They try to achieve proportional representation for the main four ethnic and religious groups depending on their makeup in a specific area, so the co-chair system doesn’t just work for gender. Depending on which part of the territory you’re in, you will often encounter one co-chair who’s an Arab and the other a Kurd, or one Armenian and an Arab, etc.
And all these different communities have been encouraged, very intentionally, to create their own self-defense forces, not to rely on other communities to defend them. That was very critical in the war against ISIS, and now, they’re again under attack by Turkey. Each minority group, each mixed community, is encouraged to establish its own autonomous bodies to represent their collective interests and to prevent future marginalization/oppression by other groups in this region.
One of the other core values of the movement is ecology but that aspect of the revolution has been the one on which the least progress has been made because the need to struggle to survive has superseded it. A major contradiction is that they rely on their local oil resources, for fuel, electricity and as a much-needed source of income. That’s an obvious contradiction to the founding philosophy of this movement that wants to restructure the entire society and to rebuild its economy based on the principle of ecological sustainability, to be in harmony with non-human nature. But, for now, they just don’t have any other alternatives. There’s a lot of solar potential in that hot desert region, but they’re under an embargo from Turkey, so they can’t import any equipment or materials to build solar panels. Turkey has made it difficult to import even foods and medicines, the most basic necessities.
J.P.: Let’s explore a little further the contradictions and the paradoxes facing the revolution and the military situation that threatens the very existence of Rojava, so, Arthur, take a stab at it…
ARTHUR: It’s true. It’s a situation full of challenges, full of problems and paradox, both external and internal. This is a movement that is having to learn as they walk. They don’t have time to kind of figure it all out and then implement their system. They’re fighting a war on several fronts just to survive. They’re under embargo. There are a lot of constraints on what they can do, even if they had it all figured out, and because they’re a living, breathing social revolution that’s having to figure things out quickly, they’re not getting everything right, and they’re stumbling along the way, and they’re encountering the kinds of challenges that exist with any revolution once it achieves a certain degree of success or power and has the chance to build a new system of governance.
One big issue is that they quickly realized that it’s one thing for us to have, on paper and in theory, this very robust program of direct, local democratic governance and to have forums and structures that we can put in place everywhere in our territory, but that requires that people show up. Do people really want that system? The way they put it to me one time is that you can’t have a democratic forum without a democratic culture. And some people might prefer a state that tells them what to do, or aren’t motivated enough to participate in their own governance.
And what happens when a village or town says that we really like this idea of local governance, but in our village, we don’t think women should participate in politics. Allowing that would violate a core principle of gender equality but then the locals feel that you’re imposing your views on them, which isn’t really local autonomy, so the situation is often dynamic. It’s moving, it’s flowing, it’s full of paradox.
And yes, they have a lot of really great ideas and structures for the peaceful coexistence of all people, for a genuinely pluralistic democracy, but if people hate each other and want to kill each other, encouraging them to create their own autonomous, local militias could have very bad results. So, at every step of the way you see that the struggle to create a kind of profoundly democratic society is not just a structural one; it’s not just a question of power. It’s a question of values, a question of consciousness, of a way of life, and that doesn’t change overnight, even if the government goes away and you create a confederated assembly system.
And one of the problems that they’re having, even amongst the people who agree with these ideas, is just getting folks to show up and participate. A lot of people, even in the Kurdish community, who were loyal to the movement for many, many years, who love these ideas, don’t turn up for meetings. A lifelong committed militant Kurdish community organizer complained to me: “It’s easier to get these Kurds to go pick up a gun and die on the frontline than to show up to an assembly meeting.”
That really paints the picture of the problem. You’ve got to get people to show up and participate, but they can’t wait for people to show up to keep the trains running on time, so to speak. They need to feed and defend the society and make governance decisions, so when people aren’t showing up, if local committees are not functioning like they should be, whatever kind of co-leadership they elected to the next level has to carry out that work, but every step of the way, they’re begging people at the base to solve their own problems as much as possible.
JP: We don’t have a lot of time, and just so people understand how precarious the military situation is there and that it’s an open question as to whether Rojava’s autonomous region will be able to survive, let’s unpack that a little bit.
ANNA: Yeah. It’s a very, very precarious situation that Rojava is in. They defeated ISIS, miraculously, but Turkey’s a much greater enemy they have to face. It’s a NATO member with the second largest army in that alliance. It’s been waging war on Kurds with the complicity of the international community, the United States in particular, for decades. And, as I mentioned, the Kurds have been divided between four nation states, and the biggest Kurdish population by far is in Turkey, which has long brutally repressed the Kurds within its own territory, and now it has been doing the same to the Kurds in northeast Syria because they’re afraid that a successful revolution in Rojava, an autonomy for Kurds in Rojava, would serve as a very inspiring example for the Kurds in Turkey, and they do not want the Kurds to rise up.
Turkey has invaded with ground forces twice, in 2018 and 2019, and it took over chunks of northern Rojava with the help of some of its jihadi proxies, who people on the ground told me are worse than ISIS and are engaged in ethnic cleansing. They have displaced around 500,000 people in total in these two invasions, mostly Kurds, and they are being replaced by Arabs from other parts of Syria and even beyond Syria, a sort of intentional demographic engineering to prevent any sort of Kurdish project from succeeding in the border area between Turkey and Syria.
And the war has gone on. Turkey has been bombing regularly in the frontline areas and carrying out drone assassinations of political and military leaders of Rojava, killing the best people who are leading this revolution, targeting in particular women leaders who were the pioneers of this whole project. Most recently, last year in October, Turkey started carrying out the systematic, large-scale bombardment of civilian infrastructure, deliberately targeting oil facilities, water and power stations, factories, hospitals, schools.
Turkey really wants to invade again, and more massively this time, but it can’t at the moment because of the geopolitical situation in Syria, in which different powers, including the United States, Iran and Russia have a say in what can happen in the region. But, being unable to invade for the moment, they have basically pursued a strategy of trying to make the region uninhabitable through whatever means it can, and military attacks are just one aspect of that strategy.
Turkey has weaponized water, damming the downstream flow of the Euphrates River, leaving millions of people with barely any water or electricity. That’s one of the biggest factors that discourages people from participating. Daily life is really difficult, especially in the summer when it’s so hot, and you don’t have electricity or water. It’s very demoralizing, and that’s what Turkey wants.
But Turkey’s President Erdoğan really does want to invade and destroy Rojava, and that brings us to a contradiction that was brought up earlier, the presence of roughly 900 U.S. troops in the region that were allied with the Kurds and their allies in Rojava in the brutal fight against ISIS, and are still there ostensibly to prevent the resurgence of ISIS, which has lost its territory, but is still there as an underground force and still engages in quite frequent attacks against the autonomous administration in northeast Syria.
Those few troops serve as a buffer against a unilateral Turkish invasion. Turkey cannot invade unilaterally. There has to be permission from the United States, and sometimes we encounter this discomfort among certain circles in the American left that are so opposed to American military deployments that they won’t support the revolution in Rojava.
ARTHUR: Those U.S. troops are Special Forces and they only coordinate with the Syrian Democratic Forces on operations against ISIS, but it’s true, whether we want to admit it or not, that if they leave, the next thing that’s going to happen is a fascist state with NATO’s second largest army, Turkey, will invade and will occupy more territory, possibly crushing the whole of this region currently being governed under their feminist democratic form of governance. It could crush the revolution. This is an existential question for them.
I’m a long-time committed leftist. I got into politics, protesting the Iraq War. I want to see the United States get out of the Middle East, and frankly so does the movement in Rojava, eventually. But to advocate right now that the U.S. troops should pick up and leave, which by the way just means that they’d move from one side of the Iraqi border to the other, that’s not going to contribute to ending U.S. imperialism, and if NATO’s second largest army invades and crushes the most promising anti-state socialist revolution in the world, is that a victory for anti-imperialism? I don’t think so.
So, they’re in a tough place, but every revolution in history has had to make complicated, tricky decisions to secure its own survival. No survival, no revolution. It’s a tough question, but at the same time, I think it’s really important that people understand that it was an accident of history that the U.S. and the Kurdish-led forces found a common enemy in ISIS at a point when the Kurds were threatened with total annihilation and desperate and would have accepted weapons from anybody.
But, overall, the United States has overwhelmingly supported the enemies of Rojava and of most Kurds. First of all, the United States and NATO, through their actions in Afghanistan and Iraq, created the very conditions that led to the rise of ISIS in the first place. Also, they have, for decades, been arming and politically supporting a fascistic dictatorship, which is oscillating between different political forms but has always been a fiercely anti-Kurdish ethno-state in Turkey, turning it into NATO’s second largest military, so when Turkey drops bombs on Kurdish hospitals and schools and community centers and assassinates political leaders, they use F-16s made in the United States provided by the U.S. government, paid for by U.S. tax dollars, something we’re complicit in and need to reject. In fact, Congress recently approved the sale of an entire new fleet of brand-new U.S.-made F-16s to Turkey. What are they going to use them for? To bomb Rojava.
The United States has long registered the Kurdistan Workers’ Party as a terrorist organization. We need to be calling for them to be delisted. Many of you know Nelson Mandela was on the terrorist list for decades. We need to see this in a similar light. The U.S. even has a bounty on the heads of the men and women who are in leadership positions of the Kurdistan Communities Union, which is the biggest umbrella organization of the Kurdish freedom movement, so to look at this situation and only zoom in on these operations against ISIS and to condemn the Rojavan movement for being “allied with U.S. imperialism” is silly. The vast power of the U.S. has overwhelmingly supported the destruction of Kurdish liberation movements, and the joint operations against ISIS constitute a rare exception.
And if you sit down with leadership there and have a chai, you will quickly find out that they have zero illusions about the intentions of the United States military. They understand that they’re there for their own cynical imperialist interests, but that doesn’t change the situation either. If the U.S. Special Forces leave, Turkey will invade with massive force…
J.P.: It’s important to acknowledge the contradictions in life. In the French Resistance, there were royalists and communists. Sometimes you have to work with enemies and compromise to defend your lives against a more immediate threat.
ARTHUR: Mazloum Abdi, the general commander of the Syrian Democratic Forces said that if we are forced to choose between compromise and genocide, we will choose our people every time. I couldn’t say it better than that.
Q&A:
J.P.: We have about 14 minutes left, so let’s open it up to a few questions, and please, think haiku, not Tolstoy, i.e., ask an actual short question, if possible.
Audience Member (AM): Are there any mutual aid models or groups that you’re aware of in the United States that are modeling community-based action on this sort of commune model found in Rojava?
ARTHUR: Great question. I think there definitely are movements here that are inspired by the Kurdish freedom movement and other movements with that kind of that lineage. The most noteworthy example that comes to mind is Cooperation Jackson. Are people aware of Cooperation Jackson?
J.P.: They were here at Bioneers a few times.
ARTHUR: It’s a grassroots organization based in the Black community in Jackson, Mississippi, and they’re very much trying to implement this idea of directly democratic local assemblies in the community. They’re also trying to build cooperative economic structures.
We didn’t have time to get into that today, but the Rojava revolution is also an anti-capitalist revolution. A big part of their work is to develop what they call the social economy, which is basically a socialist economy. And they’re mainly doing it through cooperatives and unions. It’s mixed so far because of the complicated situation, but that’s another way that they’ve inspired communities here in the United States.
But frankly, when I think about movements in the U.S. and the influence of Rojava, I think what we see is a lot of patchwork inspiration and patchwork projects. There are small dispersed mutual aid networks or cooperatives, or neighborhood groups here and there; there’s a lot of promising organizing amongst tenants and rank-and-file workplace organizing, but the part that we’re not getting yet is the integration of these things into a bigger picture. What does it mean to build a coherent program and an organized mass movement with the ability to build something new, and even within the shell of the old, to build momentum towards that something new? I think, frankly, most of the answer is that we’re not there yet, and that’s on us.
AM: What’s the relationship between Rojava and the current Syrian ruling government?
ANNA: Not good for Rojava. They have a vision for a federated Syria and ultimately want to reform the entire country, and that’s, of course, not something that the Assad regime would accept. There have been attempts by the autonomous government in northeast Syria to negotiate some sort of settlement with the Assad regime, but the regime just won’t accept any of the basic demands that the movement puts forward, so that has been at a dead end for years now. And the Assad regime is supported by Russia, so they’re not in a position of weakness at this point, and so they can afford to push back and just keep the relationship as it is, letting Rojava have its autonomy as well as it can, maybe until the next Turkish invasion.
The movement in Rojava wants the international community to ensure that these five million people in what’s a third of the surface area of Syria are represented in any peace talks with the Syrian government. So far, they have been excluded. There is a peace negotiation format sponsored by the U.N that’s kind of dysfunctional at the moment, but what’s important for us is that the autonomous administration of northeast Syria has been excluded, even though they represent such a big number of Syrians, while groups close to Turkey that do not represent anyone, basically, have been included. So that’s something that the international community has to put pressure on to make sure that there is that sort of inclusion.
AM: Can you talk a bit more about their approach to restorative justice issues, and how they can handle it when sometimes there may be really egregious violations of people, between people within the community.
ANNA: That’s an interesting aspect of the revolution. The movement has set up a new justice system, a community-based justice system, so each commune, as Arthur explained, has a conflict resolution committee, which is actually not something new; they just basically institutionalized a pre-existing form of conflict resolution, a pre-state form still practiced in many of the communities in the Middle East. It’s usually the elders in the community or people with moral authority who are called upon to attend to an issue. In this model, the people who serve on these conflict resolution committees are usually elected by their communes. The basic idea is that it’s the people who live in a neighborhood who are better positioned to take care of any conflicts, any issues within their neighborhood, rather than state institutions or external actors like judges or lawyers, etc.
That said, there is still a court system that kind of exists parallel. If an issue is not resolved at a community level, it goes to a higher instance, and the approach they use is mediation. They try to get two sides to agree to a solution rather than impose a solution from above, with the ultimate goal of restoring these relationships within the community, but they have not completely got rid of the court system.
The long-term desire of the movement is to develop people’s consciousness and conflict mediation skills to such a degree that it will make the courts and prisons obsolete. They have very far to go till they get to that point, but that’s the idea.
AM: Are there any relationships between Rojava and other countries?
ARTHUR: There isn’t a single nation state in the world that recognizes the democratic autonomous administration of North and East Syria as a legitimate governing body, even the United States, who’s working with their military structure. I think there’s a relationship with the Parliament of Catalonia that has recognized the autonomous administration as kind of the legitimate governing body of their region. There have been a few relationships between movements, including Barcelona En Comú, a social justice/community rights-oriented political party in Barcelona. They’ve had a relationship with the Zapatistas and with a few other revolutionary movements. There’s a growing dialogue with the democratic resistance in Myanmar right now. But, of course, the naked truth is that for their survival, it is incredibly important that they receive more formal political recognition.
That’s one of the things that we at ECR, the Emergency Committee for Rojava, are demanding, is that the United States give political recognition to the autonomous administration. And that’s something we encourage everybody to support.
J.P.: The relationship with Catalonia is really interesting. I think Arthur wrote an article that mentioned this recently. He mentioned Rojava as a kind of modern iteration of the Catalonian anarcho-socialist movement that George Orwell famously wrote Homage to Catalonia about. The periods when these sorts of movements actually governed a region are rare in human history. There was the Makhnovist movement in Ukraine, which certainly had its problems, and, along with Rojava, those are about the only three instances of actual large-scale anarcho-socialist governance of any kind that I can recall.
ARTHUR: Zapatistas.
J.P.: And yes, of course, the Zapatistas. We have two minutes left, so if you want to offer some closing thoughts, go for it.
ARTHUR: We want you. We want you in our organization; we want you in this movement.
ANNA: Yeah. We work on different fronts. One big area is to actually build bridges between progressives here in the United States and people in Rojava. We are facilitating that, so if you are part of any organization, be it a union, cooperative, some environmental, ecological project, they want to talk to people outside; they want to learn. I mean, we didn’t really go into this, but a lot of the constraints and failures that they’ve experienced are because they don’t have experience in many of the things that they’re trying to practice, such as cooperatives, for example. We would love to stay in touch and explore what kind of conversations, what kind of exchanges, what kind of mutual solidarity projects we can develop.
ARTHUR: You can go to DefendRojava.org to find out more. We ask you to please sign up to our email list where we’ll give you updates not only what’s happening in the region, but opportunities to attend events, whether it’s in person or online; and how you can participate in our kind of scrappy but hopefully meaningful advocacy efforts to increase pressure on the U.S. state to stop arming Turkey, to offer political recognition, to delist the PKK, and things like that.
Get in touch and tell us about the movement work you’re doing and how we might build bridges together and help you build bridges with the movement itself.
With Colette Pichon-Battle and Jennifer Riley Collins
We simultaneously face two related existential crises — climate breakdown and radical threats to democracy worldwide. The climate emergency demands a fundamental restructuring of governance keyed to both biospheric realities and to addressing obscene inequality. Can democracy withstand climate chaos? Is a reformed and stronger democracy our best hope to make it through the long emergency ahead of us? What’s needed?
This is an excerpt from an insightful Bioneers 2024 panel discussion featuring Chief Oren Lyons, legendary Indigenous Rights and climate leader, Faithkeeper, Onondaga Nation, Haudenosaunee; Jennifer Riley Collins, Southeast Regional Administrator for the United States Department of Housing and Urban Development; and Colette Pichon Battle, co-founder of the climate justice organization Taproot Earth. The panel was hosted by Ben Davis, of Wend Collective and Civic (Re)solve.
University of British Columbia Professor of Forest Ecology and bestselling author Suzanne Simard has been at the forefront of research on plant communication and intelligence. Simard is globally renowned for her work on how trees interact and communicate using below-ground fungal networks and has authored more than 200 peer-reviewed articles as well as the bestselling book “Finding the Mother Tree.” But with this recognition has come some pushback. Simard discusses resistance to her work in this excerpt from an interview with Bioneers Senior Producer J.P. Harpignies.
JP: Could you discuss the growing recognition of intelligence in nature and its implications for forest ecosystems, particularly in relation to the concept of the mycelial network and the idea of forests as intelligent and adaptive systems?
SUZANNE: Sure. In biology, we’ve always employed anthropomorphic language to describe natural phenomena. Take, for instance, the concept of plant families, which has been a staple in our discourse for centuries. Similarly, in forestry, terms like “parent trees” have long been used to describe influential trees within ecosystems. When I began referring to these influential trees as “mother trees,” it was to emphasize their crucial role in forest regeneration. Despite facing backlash for this terminology, it’s worth noting that terms like “parent tree” are already common in genetics and have been for some time.
Our language is saturated with anthropomorphic expressions, and that isn’t necessarily negative; it aids comprehension by enabling us to relate to complex concepts more easily.
Regarding the intelligence of forests, it’s important to consider language again. Historically, intelligence has been predominantly associated with humans, reflecting a deeply ingrained anthropocentric worldview prevalent in Western culture. This bias leads to skepticism about the existence of intelligence in nature, as it doesn’t align with our perception of ourselves as the pinnacle of creation. However, when we examine the traits commonly associated with intelligence, such as decision-making and adaptability, it becomes apparent that these qualities are prevalent in natural systems. For instance, in mycorrhizal networks, we observe intricate patterns reminiscent of biological neural networks, suggesting a sophisticated level of organization and decision-making. The collaboration and coordination seen in ecosystems further underscore the intelligence inherent in nature. Despite debates surrounding anthropomorphism, the forest exhibits all the hallmarks of intelligence.
JP: The landscape has shifted in mainstream science. Intelligence used to be a bit of a touchy subject, with some scientists preferring terms like “smartness” or “cleverness” to avoid stirring up controversy. But times are changing. After your book’s success, did it give you more clout, especially with politicians and the media? Did it make people sit up and take notice when you spoke?
SUZANNE: It definitely brought me closer to government decision-makers. It wasn’t necessarily because they sought me out, but rather because the public, inspired by the book, started asking questions. That increased engagement propelled me into higher-level discussions than I’d ever had before, which I see as a positive outcome.
As for the book itself, my goal was to convey the latest research findings to the public. I felt it was crucial for people to understand the implications of our forestry practices, which were jeopardizing the very essence of forests. For instance, a plantation is not equivalent to an old-growth forest. I believed people needed to be aware of these distinctions. Ultimately, a well-informed public is more inclined to protect nature.
JP: Your book’s success and widespread reach undoubtedly opened doors for you, which is a positive outcome. However, as you mentioned earlier, it’s also prompted a significant backlash. Interestingly, this backlash seems to extend beyond the environmental sector, permeating various fields, including social justice and corporate realms. We’re witnessing instances where even Wall Street firms, once vocal about diversity and inclusion, are now retracting their stances. This trend appears pervasive across disciplines.
In your case, what forms has this backlash taken, and to what do you attribute it?
SUZANNE: It’s a bit complex to pinpoint the exact impact in my situation, but I see it as part of a larger dialogue. Anything challenging the status quo of the last century, like the practices of forest companies profiting from converting old-growth forests into plantations, tends to stir up resistance. While these companies may prioritize profits over preserving ecosystems, my research highlights the importance of maintaining complex ecological relationships for a thriving ecosystem. This poses a threat to extractive practices.
Interestingly, the opposition I face doesn’t primarily come from industry players like Weyerhaeuser or other major forestry corporations; rather, it’s more prevalent within academic circles, which is an intriguing dynamic.
JP: Do you think there’s a sophisticated network at play here? We’ve seen PR firms, once aligned with the tobacco industry, transition to working for fossil fuel companies. This suggests a powerful infrastructure geared towards protecting vested interests. I’ve come across scientific critiques of your work authored by individuals with ties to mainstream forestry and fossil fuel industries. Considering this, do you believe there’s a deeper connection driving these criticisms, perhaps beyond direct involvement from companies like Weyerhaeuser?
SUZANNE: It’s an important aspect to consider. Funding in universities often involves diverse sources, including industry partnerships. Federal grants increasingly require co-funding, which may come from industries like forestry or fossil fuels. While researchers may not be fully aware, this funding dynamic subtly influences their work. Collaborating with industry funders can impact research directions, albeit unintentionally. This influence has gradually permeated scientific endeavors, particularly in applied sciences, shaping outcomes even without researchers’ explicit recognition.
My book offers an alternative perspective on forests, diverging from mainstream forestry ideologies. Traditional forestry promotes the notion that replacing old forests with managed plantations, utilizing techniques like tree breeding, pesticides, and fertilizers, leads to enhanced productivity. However, I advocate for a different approach, one that prioritizes working with natural systems rather than imposing industrial methodologies. Comparisons between naturally recovering ecosystems and managed ones consistently reveal the superior condition of the former. Embracing this natural approach challenges the decades-long research supporting the industrial model, presenting a significant paradigm shift in forestry practices.
JP: So, it seems to me that what you’re advocating for is a holistic, whole-systems approach rather than a reductionist efficiency model. This appears to be more than just a debate within forestry; it seems like an ideological struggle spanning various fields. It’s almost as if it’s a battle for the soul of our civilization.
SUZANNE: Yeah, managing a complex adaptive system is much more challenging than simplifying it into rows of trees. However, the long-term consequences of the latter approach are far more difficult to address. A holistic systems-level approach involves considering multiple scales of interaction, cross-scale dynamics, energy flows, and socio-ecological principles. It’s a comprehensive approach that integrates bottom-up and top-down perspectives, rather than imposing a predetermined model on the forest.
The industrial model might seem easier, with its clear-cutting and uniform planting, but it often leads to unfavorable outcomes. Working within complex systems, despite their challenges, holds the key to addressing climate change and biodiversity loss. This requires collaboration with those who intimately understand these systems and their interconnections, as well as employing sophisticated strategies that respect both cultures and ecosystems.
JP: From my perspective, embracing a holistic worldview offers a much richer and more diverse way of understanding the world. However, delving into philosophical concepts, metaphors, and ethical considerations has long been frowned upon in the scientific community. Yet, to garner support for holistic science, it’s crucial to engage with the broader public using language that’s more accessible and less metaphorical. Striking the right balance is tricky because veering too far risks facing criticism and backlash. It’s a challenging dilemma to navigate.
SUZANNE: It’s true. The backlash can be unpredictable and come from unexpected places. But despite the challenges, I see it as part of the broader societal change process. The first responders to new ideas often face resistance, but they pave the way for further progress and open up new conversations. I’m encouraged by the shift I’ve witnessed in discussions over the past decade. Now, we recognize forests not just as ecosystems but as ecocultural systems. This marks a significant departure from the mindset prevalent when I began my forestry journey, where culture was rarely considered. So, while some may bear the brunt of initial pushback, it sets the stage for future advancements. If that’s what it takes to move forward, then so be it.
JP: And what about the ramifications for the forestry industry’s products, such as lumber for construction and everyday items like toilet paper? Decades ago, there were significant campaigns led by organizations like the Rainforest Action Network aimed at shaming companies for harvesting old-growth trees for products like toilet paper. Is this area within your purview, or do you collaborate with groups focused on reducing demand for forestry products that contribute to such practices?
SUZANNE: I can only do what I can do, but I support people who focus on that aspect. Canopy Planet, for example, works to reduce demand and promote more sustainable alternatives. So I endorse those efforts, although I’m not directly involved myself.
We need to consider the entire chain of events and identify pressure points. I concentrate my efforts where I can make an impact and support initiatives aimed at reducing demand for wood products. The forest industry has been driven by this demand for profit, leading to the unsustainable exploitation of our forests. We need to shift this demand and reduce consumption.
Changing how we perceive forests is crucial. We’re still depleting old-growth forests for various products like shingles, sawdust, and wood pellets for overseas burning. This practice needs to stop. I’m involved in reevaluating the value of forests. While I’m not an economist, I endorse emerging markets that value forests for their ecosystem services such as water provision, carbon storage, biodiversity preservation, and cultural significance, including the protection of indigenous peoples’ rights. These markets represent a shift towards recognizing the forest’s true worth beyond solely timber products.
JP: One thing we often fail to anticipate in the environmental and social justice movements is the intensity of the reaction from vested interests. It’s shocking. The attacks on you are part of this broader pushback. People get excited about holistic science and rich, fungi-filled soils, then they’re surprised when the mainstream business community doesn’t adopt these practices.
In the environmental movement, we say each victory is temporary and each defeat is permanent. Once they clearcut and destroy a landscape, it’s gone.
I don’t want to be pessimistic. We just have to keep doing what you’re doing: putting out the best research and promoting a richer worldview. We hope the functionality and aesthetics of this approach will eventually triumph because they offer a better model.
SUZANNE: Yeah, and it’s important to remember that these ecosystems are regenerative. When we cut an old growth forest, we’ve destroyed that specific forest, but a new one will grow in its place. It takes a long time to regain what was lost, and the new forest might be different, but we shouldn’t lose hope. It just means more work for us to help these forests rebuild. These ecosystems are resilient and can bounce back in different ways. They’re designed to do that.
Throughout history, the most significant movements for positive change have nearly always been accompanied by powerful artistic expressions that shed light on injustices and offer visions of a more equitable society. We are currently facing unprecedented challenges as our climate unravels and reactionary authoritarian movements gain in momentum. In the following panel discussion, held at the 2024 Bioneers Conference in Berkeley, California, leading activist/artists discuss whether navigating these seemingly perpetual existential crises necessitate new strategies from the “engaged” creative community.
This panel discussion was moderated by Arturo Méndez-Reyes, a cultural producer, curator, visual artist, musician, and community organizer advancing cultural equity in San Francisco. It features Devon Bella, co-founder of Art + Climate Action, a Bay Area collective committed to fostering a sustainable and environmentally-conscious arts community; David Solnit, renowned direct action organizer, author, puppeteer, and co-founder of Art and Revolution; Orion Camero, former Brower Youth Award winner and Spiritual Ecology Fellow; and Favianna Rodriguez, world-renowned interdisciplinary artist, cultural strategist, and social justice activist based in Oakland, California.
Note: This is an edited and shortened version of the session’s transcript.
FAVIANNA RODRIGUEZ: Hi everybody. I’m thrilled to be here. Welcome to the homelands of the Ohlone. I am an artist and a cultural strategist, and I was born and raised in Oakland in a very polluted community, and I grew up during the era of the height of the “war on drugs,” so I witnessed and experienced all kinds of violence, including from the state, and also, of course, the invisible violence that is pollution. I also experienced the birth of hip hop, so early on I learned that art and culture can show us the light, can show us what’s possible. It inspires us. It shapes our imaginations. Culture is a very important part of any kind of social change.
Growing up I could see how the narratives around who was perceived as criminal shaped the war on drugs. I learned very early on that people who shape culture also shape policies, so that we need to shape our own culture. If we want to win on anything—on reproductive justice, climate justice—we need our stories and our art.
I grew up in the ‘80s, a time when Reagan had dismantled the National Endowment for the Arts. The rightwing and the forces of colonialism and white supremacy have long tried to crush our artistic practice. It has made it so that most of what we have seen in the world—films, TV, visual art, musical performance, everything, the entire cultural sector—has been dominated by white men with a particular worldview. And my work is around changing worldviews through art. It’s not just about one issue. It’s about an entire worldview shift, because the climate crisis is a product of colonialism, and colonialism is about the exploitation of all of life. Art and culture can change our imagination. We need to change entirely the way we relate.
What has facilitated the extractive economy is a set of stories that has allowed the exploitation of all life—human life, animal life, ocean life, forest life—for the consolidation of wealth and power. We need to change the core story, and that is the work that artists can do. Engaged art is a necessity, one we urgently need because our reality is so overwhelming and so harsh for so many people that we need the power of the imagination to make us feel that real positive change is possible. It gives us courage. It moves our emotions.
Data doesn’t move people. There’s a lot of data on the climate crisis. That doesn’t move people. Art and culture can move people. When we don’t see any genuine representation of groups that have been shunned, such as Black trans people or Immigrants, it facilitates their dehumanization. When we create culture and stories about all that is alive, and we value the biodiversity of humans and of all life, there will be a worldview shift.
That’s what I believe the work of art is. It’s what I do as an individual artist, and I also have created an organization, the Center for Cultural Power, to build the field of artists working to end systems of oppression. Because we’re not just artists; we need to be organizers and activists to confront these huge systems. We have to undo the stories that have gotten us here, and we have to create the new stories. And so that’s the work that I do. I look at how we can support artists, especially those from the most impacted communities, around being able to actually win on policies, but I also know that policies take a long time to catch up to cultural change. Our behaviors and values and the way we see each other can be shaped faster, and then politics will catch up…
DAVID SOLNIT: I grew up in the Bay Area and in Portland, Oregon. When I was in high school, the government told men turning 18 that we had to register for military draft, and we were pretty sure at the time there was going to be a war for oil, so that introduced me to activism. My life has been sort of going back and forth between reactive battles to try and stop our government’s wars around the world, and proactive efforts to try and create an ecological, just world for everybody. And that’s sort of where I’m stuck.
In high school, I loved making art and wanted to be an artist. I got to work with a lot of amazing people, but I also entered activism, and it made me think about the role of art. If I’m going to be successful and have a gallery show and somebody buy my pieces and hangs them over their couch, is that going to stop nuclear war or the arming of death squads in El Salvador, etc.? So, instead of trying to be an artist, I chose to spend most of my adult life as a carpenter doing construction to support myself and using that to feed my full-time organizing, direct-action habit. But, after 15 years or so, I realized that our demonstrations and the way we communicated weren’t inspiring us, let alone others, and that we actually needed artists, performers and musicians, so I started to recruit some of them to start to rethink how we communicate as movements. After years of recruiting puppeteers and artists and musicians, I realized that I wanted to do that part too.
I’ve come to believe that, as Favianna was saying, we need new stories. Our battles for the kind of world we want to live in are battles between stories, and the sharpest storytelling tools we have are the arts. If we don’t use art, we will lose the battle, and a lot of people will die unnecessarily, and our communities will suffer.
I’ve spent the last 13 years working primarily on climate justice struggles, trying to support communities both here in refinery corridors and around the world. Some of it is reactive, just trying to stop fossil fuel projects and pipelines, but a lot of it is actually getting all the movements to work together to weave a positive vision of how the world could be.
And then after October 7, I shifted to trying to throw down to stop the war on the civilian population in Gaza, realizing that, as climate activists, we can’t get what we need to be done to protect our communities and our ecology if most of our resources are going towards war and militarism. We live in an empire and the resources we need to protect our communities and the planet are being spent on 700 military bases in 130 other people’s countries. So as climate activists, we have to figure out how to undo the empire, and what a blessing that were if the empire is a bulldozer, we have the luxury of being in the control cab where the steering wheel and the keys are. We’re actually in a really wonderful and privileged place to shut down the empire and free up those resources.
People around the world know what to do. People in our communities know what to do. If we can get our government’s knee off our own communities and the world’s neck, we will be able to live in a far more just world and save our climate.
DEVON BELLA: I’m here on behalf of Art & Climate Action, which is a nonprofit artist-run, artist-led initiative. And before I begin, I just want to thank everyone for joining us this afternoon and to thank my fellow panelists. I’m just in awe of the work you all are doing on the ground as artists, as community members. It’s really a privilege to be here with you and to be in community with you.
I’m a curator and an arts organizer, and much of my career has been shaped by working with, collaborating with, and learning from artists, particularly artists who have been historically underrepresented in Western art. I’ve learned a lot from them and their practices, and it’s helped me take a deep, critical look at the infrastructure and institutions of the art world and how they control which artists get presented to large audiences.
We’re a collective of arts professionals—arts workers, art handlers, art advisors—and we got together during the peak of wildfires here in California under orange smokey skies, and it no longer seemed rational to sit indoors and do nothing. A fellow arts producer sent out a call asking what the art sector could do to have a positive impact. During the pandemic we had been having conversations over Zoom, and that evolved into Art & Climate Action. We had started to really think about the art world’s infrastructure—our institutions, our museums, our galleries—and their environmental impact, their climate impact. What could we do to clean up our own house?
We started knocking on doors, reaching out to our connections in institutions and spending a lot of time in listening sessions, learning from one another and from other initiatives like ours across the U.S. and the world, some in countries far ahead of us. We consulted climate scientists and engineers because we were very knowledgeable in art history and artistic practices but didn’t know the first thing about our carbon footprint.
Once we got a more solid grounding in the science, we started to bring this information to museums, institutions and arts organizations to help them better understand their carbon footprints and the steps they could take to start improving in this area, including getting detailed energy audits. We also started to offer workshops online for artists to show them how to take practical steps in their everyday practice, including as regards the materials they were using.
Some of the biggest shocks for me when I first started this work was discovering that: museums were just as energy intensive as hospitals and skyscrapers, if not more so; nearly all art materials are petroleum-based and extremely toxic; the emissions generated by the global art market from the incredible amount of transporting art all over the world is far from negligible. Fortunately, there are now starting to be more and more artist-led initiatives looking at those systems, interrogating them, questioning them, and exposing how they operate.
And a really great movement has emerged of artists who are thinking about alternative, regenerative materials and uplifting practices to try to design waste and harmful materials out from our practices. There’s an initiative in the Netherlands called the Future Materials Bank in which individual artists experiment and tinker and create new materials and recipes, and they put them into an open-source archive, where everything is there for sharing and you can even contact each artist if you need advice on how to use one of these products or processes.
ORION CAMERO: It’s so great to see everyone here and be in the community of such powerful human beings in this ensemble story. I am an arts organizer and cultural strategist. I was born alongside the San Joaquin River in Stockton, California, east of here, and I came into the Climate Justice movement through struggles in my region over water privatization. I went to hearings of the local Water Board, and I could see that major decisions were being made without future generations in mind. I was one of the youngest people in these rooms, and I was wondering what I could do to have an impact and make a difference.
So, I decided to make art about these really boring but intense battles around water, and that sort of led me into the climate justice movement as I began to see the connections between social, ecological, and economic injustice. In downtown Stockton we have a dried-up riverbed, and a number of folks in our unhoused community are in it, struggling to survive. We have the same culture of disposability for our ecosystems and for human beings, and it’s something we need to interrogate together.
Art can be a universal language where all shapes of the human imagination meet. It’s one of the closest things in the world to magic. I would venture to say it is really magic. It creates the capacity to create empathy across identities. It soothes our nervous systems. It allows us to weather the difficulties of life’s challenges and to be able to have a story that mirrors our experience. And it permits us to feel things together and to give us the hope that we’re going to be able to make it through together. Arts and culture have continuously been a medicine for our emotional and spiritual illnesses across the centuries of human existence.
I feel that creativity at its core is about divergent thinking, thinking outside of the status quo, beyond the lines and norms we’ve been given. It can give us the ability to serve as bridges and catalysts between sectors, between people, between identities, so we can gather the collective ingredients we need to build the mosaic of collective liberation that we need right now.
I feel called to that intersectional work, and a lot of my pieces showcase the different but interrelated issues that I’ve tried to tackle during my decade-plus of organizing. One of my pieces, Learning Liberation, highlights mass incarceration, but through an ecological and youth-centered frame, and it uses a wide range of imagery to inspire the possibility of an exponential liberation cycle. Much of my work is created to contribute to specific campaigns, whether trying to expose the corruption behind the big corporations’ push to privatize water resources in our state or in support of the California Youth vs Big Oil campaign, and I’ve organized around the U.N. climate negotiations for a long time, and we worked with Greta Thunberg on an action to center Indigenous and frontline struggles at the most recent COP meetings. I really believe we can use art to shift our culture’s direction and begin to build a world we want to live in.
ARTURO MENDEZ-REYES: I’m a cultural producer who’s been living in San Francisco for the last eight years. I’m originally from Mexico, where I started my activism with a big student movement in 2012 that gave me the opportunity to travel around the country talking to people who were doing politics in their colleges, so I learned a lot about different forms of organizing, and that led me to collaborate with the Zapatistas who really showed me that it’s important to break the overused models that have been presented as alternatives.
I started an organization called Arts.Co.Lab, where I train artists to apply for grants and funds, because none of these big visions can happen without some money. To date we have trained 170 artists and secured around $1 million for their individual projects, which is not nothing. This has allowed me to see that art-making should be a human right. Art-making gives us the opportunity to contextualize ourselves, to look around and see what’s happening, what our society looks like, what our reality is, and then to speak back with our art, to address our reality through our work.
With that idea in mind, I created a “zine” called Urban Prophets Illustrated, Art Will Set You Free. Its concept is that we, the artists, are the urban prophets. We dedicate our lives to witness society, and then we speak back in the form of art, and those are our prophecies, and in them, we see, and say what is broken and rotten to the core, and we point to where we can go when we come together to work for a dignified future.
For the most part people are disengaged from the political process and really from reality. Our phones and all of this technology that we’re surrounded by are giving us a very easy way to turn away from reality. And the only way to really support people to engage is by opening spaces where they can reclaim their sense of dignity.
An example of that is an altarpiece I made, one inspired by the Olmec cosmovision, an altar to fire, to the direction of the south, that’s on display here at the conference, and that’s designed to help us reconnect with our ancestors and empower future generations. When we engage in ritual, we’re creating a rip in time and space and connecting to others who have practiced these same rituals for thousands of years. This is a space where people have been embedding their love, their energy, and we can come and contribute to and receive some of that energy. It’s really important to tap into that part of people. We have to re-awaken our bodies and our spiritual senses.
When we’re just reciting talking points and citing data, it becomes a battle of warring egos. You have to admit that you’re wrong and that I’m right, but art can move people spiritually and engage their emotions and awaken their deeper values.
I would like to ask our panelists what their thoughts are about how to engage people who are overworked, trying to survive, suffering, alienated? Can art do anything to reach such folks and encourage them to take action?
FAVIANNA: I think we need to make room for the people who are most impacted by these systems of oppression to share their stories. We saw how MeToo created a space for survivors to share their stories, and that in turn helped start a whole shift, and I think that creating spaces is something that art can do so well. It can get people to talk about what they’re experiencing and then make something to share that reality with the wider world.
Art can’t just be about the “no;” it also has to be about the “yes.” We know what we are against, but then what does yes look like? How do we move towards that vision of a better world? In some of the workshops I do, I provide art images and words, and I encourage people to create a picture of what their yes looks like in terms of an issue that really matters to them. Providing spaces for people to actually make things is so fun and empowering, and when you do it in groups and you create a space for storytelling, it’s very healing.
ORION: Most human beings love music, movies, and ways to engage and cultural artifacts that reflect back people’s stories. Anybody who has performed at an open mic and had something vulnerable they wanted to say and felt really nervous but then felt so good when they shared it understands that impulse. We all have that impulse. There’s so much in our lives that we want to give witness to. As cultural workers our role is to invite that portal and that opening for people and whole communities to have that experience, and then to connect those experiences to broader systems that we’re impacted by together, and then through noticing those systems together, being able to build the infrastructure, the relational networks that can enable us to be able to take action to solve those issues.
I work for a group called Narrative Initiative, and we talk a lot about the differences between stories and narratives. Stories are individual experiences. Narratives are collections of stories that all together tell a bigger collective story and make us see the world in a particular way. We work to try to unmask harmful narratives that impact all of us. Imperialism, colonialism and capitalism are all built on powerful but destructive narratives. We need to help people understand that the fact that you can’t pay rent or put food on the table is part of a system of oppression. Your story connects to a bigger narrative. How do we witness those narratives and then do everything that we can to uplift and prop up the helpful narratives—the revolutionary and imagination-based narratives that show us the possibility of a better world? It’s not about storytelling anymore; it’s about story shaping to help create the conditions for change.
DEVON: We have to identify the barriers to participation, the obstacles in the way of someone being able to tell their story. And one future-forward solution is to have more artists involved in all levels of decision making. Art should not just be sectioned off in its own sector. It’s so important to have that lever in the system, because artists can be not only great problem solvers but creative thinkers, and they’re also often deeply connected to the communities they’re coming from. They can provide much-needed interconnectivity, which is often the missing ingredient in terms of moving forward.
DAVID: I think of making art with our hands or a song as like a prayer, and as I get older, I see less and less difference between when I’m at a faith-based ceremony or service, or a demonstration, or a performance. In all those places we’re all trying to shift consciousness. And just like we don’t want to create a professionalization of people who engage in decision making, there’s certainly a role for people who do art as their full-time thing and build up their skills, but actually, everybody can sing and perform and make art, and they should. And the most powerful art is often very simple, made by ordinary people expressing themselves.
I work with a lot of big movement organizations, and some of them have 50 or 100 staff, and I ask them: “Do you have anyone that does arts or cultural work?” And they say no, so I ask if any of their organizers can lead an art build or lead a song or put together a theater skit? And the answer is almost always no, so we also have to really transform what our social movements look like. I wonder if artists and performers had been leading our organizations and movements against the big oil industry that hired PR firms and advertising agencies to confuse people about climate, maybe we’d be 10 or 20 years ahead of where we are.
ARTURO: First and foremost, art provides us with tools that go beyond the essential, the visual, the evident, so when artists are called to step up and sit at tables where decisions are being made, they can bring a lot to the discussion because the artistic process often requires us to be honest about our lived experiences and that of our communities.
And another thing art can do in these heavy times is to make space for joy, to help us replenish ourselves to continue this journey, because it’s not easy, so my next question for the panel is: Where do you go to replenish your joy, your rest, your self-care? Is there any spiritual practice you’re engaged with?
FAVIANNA: I’m a board member of Amazon Watch, and we work with land protectors in the Amazon. And just before I came here, I was with some of the women land defenders from Brazil who are here at the conference, and one thing they say a lot is that we need to reforest our minds. We are deeply connected to our Mother Earth, and colonization severed that connection. Indigenous wisdom teaches us to be stewards and to relate to all that is alive, to tap into our deep connection to the whole web of life.
As I mentioned, I live in a very polluted community, in the Fruitvale. The 880 freeway has been polluting my community since 1970. I was born in 1978, so my entire life it’s been polluting my neighborhood, and I feel sometimes very powerless because people in my community live eight years less on average than people up above the 580. The 580 doesn’t have the level of emissions that our freeway has because white people organized to not have trucks go through their communities.
But in the last five years, I’ve learned how to garden. I got some corn seeds from the Zapatistas in Mexico (where, by the way, they just actually, finally, made GMO corn seeds illegal). It’s helped me really lean into knowing that for this time that I’m on the planet, I can connect, I can heal, even surrounded by cement and toxic industries. I can heal my body in connection with healing the land, because the land needs healing too. She needs us to pay attention to her, and putting my hands in the dirt, gardening is a good place to start. And I have rituals where I try to connect to all types of life and redouble my commitment to protecting the planet.
Another really important thing for me has been to get away from extractivism, which is the norm. We live in an economy based on extraction, and we extract from people too, so I try really hard not to extract from the people who work for me in my art studio. How do I regenerate instead? We need to work like that with each other, to help support each other over the long term, and that’s why I’m really down with the growing CARE movement, folks caring across generations when the state is leaving us to die, as they did in Katrina, in Hurricane Maria. How do we create systems of mutual aid and support that include all the species. That’s part of what that expression of “reforesting our minds” means to me.
ORION: It’s a hard world we live in. There are so many crises, and they are blocking our view of a liberated world that we know is possible. Some of the ways that I try to connect to joy is to try to integrate instead of dissociating. Some of the hardest parts of ourselves, some of the most difficult struggles we have personally are reflections of a deeply broken and deeply blessed world, and we have to work to mend those broken pieces.
And for me, I experience a lot of grief, but I try to hold space for it and create practices that help me honor that grief instead of running away from it or being scared of it. I think we live in a world where we go through so many emotions at once looking through social media feeds. You’ll be happy one minute that your cousin got a puppy and then you’ll see the bridge in Baltimore collapse, and then you’ll see that one of your friends was diagnosed with cancer. We move through emotions so fast we don’t have time to process and reflect, so I advise us all to try to integrate and not dissociate.
Another helpful approach is to remember that we’re part of an ensemble story. We all carry pieces of collective liberation, and we need to include ourselves in those collective liberation visions but also to recognize that we just carry a piece of it, and many people carry it with us. If we can anchor ourselves in that mindset, it can help us dismantle the individualist culture that we’ve been conditioned to accept. That can help take weight off your shoulders.
ARTURO: As we reach the end of our time together, I would like everyone here on the panel to just name one idea that you’re keeping from this space.
DAVID: For artists,I encourage you to find practices you can do with other people and partner with movement organizations fighting the good fight. For activists, try to figure out how can you integrate the arts into every stage of your organizing.
DEVON: Build relationships, take the time to slow down to really afford yourself the opportunity to get to know the person sitting next to you and who you’re in community with and actively listen to their story.
ORION: Our creative projects are living beings, and so we should tend to them to reflect the worlds that we want to live in.
In the vast expanse of the ocean, beneath the gentle sway of waves and the dance of sunlight filtering through azure depths, sperm whales are engaging in a dialogue that has long captivated human curiosity. These oceanic giants, with their intricate social lives and complex communication, embody a world of mystery and wonder that continues to intrigue scientists and researchers.
Among them is Shane Gero, an author of a recent study by Project CETI that used machine learning to decipher sperm whale vocalizations. Gero, the biology lead for Project CETI, discussed this fascinating field of research at the 2023 Bioneers Conference. The project’s recent study, which was published in the journal Nature Communications, identified variations in sperm whale calls that show they are more expressive and structured than previously believed, forming the backbone of a phonetic alphabet. The findings open a window onto the deep underwater world of sperm whales and could be a key to someday deciphering their language.
Sperm whales are social beings, forming tightly knit communities and bonds that transcend generations. Within their pods lies a society rich in culture and tradition. Long-term studies have unveiled a matrilineal hierarchy, where knowledge and customs are passed down from grandmothers, mothers and aunts to calves, shaping the fabric of their existence.
At the heart of this society is their language, which is made up of short bursts of clicks of varying patterns, known as codas. These sequences of sounds are the threads that bind sperm whales together, conveying a wealth of information that scientists have been observing, recording and cataloging for decades. But until now, researchers have been able to take only baby steps toward anything remotely close to comprehension.
The new findings from the purposefully broad and interdisciplinary team of scientists gathered together by Project CETI are providing tantalizing glimpses of progress toward a deeper level of understanding. By using machine learning to analyze thousands of sperm whale calls, researchers found that variations in the codas were contextual rather than random, forming the basis of a phonetic alphabet capable of complex communication. The findings challenge previous notions about the simplicity of sperm whale communication and the paradox it represented.
The Paradox of Sperm Whale Communication
Complex societies, whether among human or non-human species, typically depend on advanced communication systems to navigate intricate social dynamics, including tasks such as strategizing and teaching. In the case of sperm whale societies, where researchers have documented cooperative hunting and foraging strategies, the transmission of intergenerational knowledge, and cultural diversity among pods, one would expect the complexity of their communication to parallel the sophistication of their collective behaviors.
However, despite a wealth of knowledge regarding sperm whale behavior and social dynamics, researchers have encountered a puzzling paradox regarding their communication systems. While the societal complexity of sperm whales hints at a rich and nuanced language akin to human languages, historically, researchers have not been able to identify the same level of complexity within sperm whale vocalizations.
This discrepancy has raised questions about the nature of their communication and the potential existence of undiscovered layers of complexity within their vocalizations. Unraveling this enigma promises to shed light on the intricate world of sperm whale communication and deepen our understanding of the parallels between human and non-human intelligence.
Deciphering the ‘Sperm Whale Phonetic Alphabet’
The study by Project CETI, which utilized recordings from the Dominica Sperm Whale Project, reveals a fascinating complexity within sperm whale communication — one that is much more in line with what would be expected of a complex society. The study illuminates a previously unseen depth in sperm whales’ vocal repertoire.
By analyzing the different codas, or click patterns, of the Eastern Caribbean sperm whale clan, the researchers were able to identify specific variations in the codas. For any given coda, the whales might slow the clicks down, speed them up, or add an extra click or clicks on the end.
With the ability to analyze thousands of codas, the project leveraged machine learning to discover that rather than being random, the variations were sensitive to the conversational context in which they occurred. In short, the codas give the sperm whales their own phonetic alphabet, and with it, the ability to convey meaning. Just as humans can combine the same sounds in different patterns to create various words and meanings, the codas represent a tool the whales could use to describe their world.
As we continue to learn more about the mysteries of the ocean and its inhabitants, the symphony of sperm whales serves as a reminder of the vastness of life forms and their unique methods of expression. The journey to decode their language is far from over, but with each new insight, researchers inch closer to unraveling the depths of connection and communication among these oceanic giants.
Shane Gero, one of the report’s authors, has recently discussed Project CETI’s sperm whale research with the Bioneers audience in these fascinating discussions: