Tag Archives: the future

The Last Post

In all likelihood, this is the last post on this site. The blog has run for precisely three years, this post aside, and was, in good part, a deliberate but modest exercise for me. During its first year (2013), I set myself the task of writing a post every week, and then did that, before tailing of to a more intermittent schedule. As I wrote in an earlier article, I have blogged as a creative outlet, for myself, because I actually enjoy the art and craft of writing, especially when I can do so on my own schedule.

Photo: Thomas Hawk
Photo: Thomas Hawk

Maybe the writing and posting is little more than the piteous human impulse to leave something behind, after we’re so soon gone: a small stack of notes, initials carved in the trunk of a tree, ‘handprints on the wall of the digital cave.’

My approach has of course meant that the size of the audience for this blog has been limited, to say the least, but I’m not too fussed about that. Its final value for me has lain elsewhere.

Maybe one day it will be appreciated as one small record kept during times which were changing as quickly as they have ever changed for humankind. The disruption of the digital revolution was in high gear back in 2012-13, and it seems to me that it has slowed some in more recent years. Robotic cars are coming on rather more slowly than did smart phones.

These days, it feels more like we are living in a time of reckoning with that technical, social, economic disruption, a time when many people are looking for someone to blame for the more difficult circumstances they suddenly find themselves living in. And, sadly, there are always politicians willing to step up and seize the opportunity afforded by those searchings, politicians like Donald Trump and Marine Le Pen. Clearly there is a price to be paid when change is not so well managed by those with control of the social and economic levers. If we don’t get effective progressive change then we get reactionary change, and reactionary change is doomed to fail, at least in the long run.

The most impactful change has of course been economic, the result of globalization in a capitalist society which makes having more, as opposed to less money ever so much more convenient and status boosting. Median incomes have stalled in the West, given global competition; jobs have disappeared, the kinds of jobs available have changed, and it is so much easier to blame immigration—the visible signs of change—than it is to blame, say, automation, which has been so much more likely to have undermined your economic well being.

What does it mean for the future? It’s always hard to say. Events are by their very nature unpredictable, and unforeseen events can quickly sway historical outcomes in big ways. As the human species continues to overrun the planet, we are going to have to wrestle certain problems—overpopulation, ecological damage (especially climate change), economic inequality—to the ground, or we are in for a rough ride.

Can we do so? It’s certainly possible. All it takes is the right choices, collectively and individually, made by the right people at the right times. Simple, right?

No, not so simple. But then, what we can do individually is restricted, so that makes it a little easier. Educate yourself, sit back, see the bigger picture, make choices for the greater good, rationally rather than out of frustration, resentment, anger or any of those other emotions which we then look to rationalize. Try to be aware of when you are acting selfishly, blaming others, speaking only to those from your own ‘tribe’, however that may be defined, whether by class, race, religion or nationality. Like it or not, we are all in this together. That colony on Mars will never be our salvation.

Maybe, just maybe, this blog has helped someone other than me to do these things, to maintain a wider perspective, clarify, stay calm and choose wisely. If so, bonus. Great. If not, that’s okay too. It’s helped me.

Getting On

Growing older is, thank god, a gradual progression. Relentless, to be sure, but mercifully incremental.

Kris Krug photo
Kris Krug photo

For me, physically at least, it began with the eyes. As a young man, prior to taking up a solitary station on an Alberta Forest Service firetower in the mountains north of Jasper, I’d had my eyes checked. A Forest Service fellow stood in a long hallway outside his office with a geometrically divided black and white disc in his hands and asked me to stand at a distance. He would spin the disc, and I was to tell him where the white dot in one of the black quadrants of the disc showed up each time he did so. Upon the first spin, the dot was easily discernible to me, so he asked me to back away further, down the hallway, and he re-spun the disc. Still easily seen. To abbreviate this petty tale, I soon backed to the far end of the hallway, still able to see the dot, and he waved off the procedure, telling me I had considerably better than 20/20 vision. I didn’t even know such a thing was possible.

So it came as a bit of shock to me when, at age 40, I found myself unable to focus on a written page at arm’s length. This particular event in the gradual process had happened rather precipitously, within weeks it seemed, sending me forthwith over to the local drug store in search of ‘readers.’ I didn’t know whether to feel greater ignominy or anger.

It’s been a steady downhill grade ever since. I mean it just won’t leave me alone. Every time I think I’ve adjusted to the latest decline, settled into a new regime of reduced ability, here comes another. You used to be able to ride that bike for four hours, wield that chainsaw for half that time, with no untoward effect? Not anymore jacko. And just wait until next week when you won’t be able to stand up smoothly if you happen to have sat for more than twenty minutes.

This is the relentless part. There’s no saying, ‘Get used to it,’ because soon enough it’ll be worse.

No, the aging process is not a welcome one, nor is it painless. It’s replete with minor aches and pains piling up like debris in a windstorm, right there at your doorstep.  And unless you’ve let yourself deteriorate into a truly deplorable state of overweight and unfit (where you have the opportunity to temporarily improve), it will never, ever get better. It’s a one-way street, and we all know precisely where it leads.

What’s to be done about this wretched deterioration? Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? There is exactly nothing to be done. Sure, you can eat well, get some exercise, stay busy, but don’t kid yourself, the downward spiral will not end. It will rarely pause.

So we are to accept. Accept the inevitability of aging, with all its vile consequences. We must grow old gracefully. It sounds good, the right path and all, but personally, I’m not quite so ready to accede. I live in a culture which, unlike many others (Native American culture, for instance), doesn’t much revere its elder population. Mainstream Canadian society tends to smile benignly on its older folks, then quietly shuttle them off to a rail yard where the cars sit mostly idle, while newer, more ‘advanced’ models hurtle by, the priority now. I know I am far more capable of creating a successful (in every sense) movie now than I was in my thirties. (This is largely because of the greater skill and knowledge I’ve gained over time, this in turn largely the result of the many mistakes I’ve made over time.) But I also know that I am far less likely to get that chance than I was in my thirties.

This is the way it is, and I am not about to change it. Neither is anyone else I know. But again, I am not ready to assent. I’m with Dylan (Thomas, not Bob); I do not plan on going gently. Expect complaint. Expect rueful, often humorous (I hope), but noisy grievance. As far as I’m concerned, there is no other way. It’s a key part of staying alive.

Death As A Process

We are all hurtling toward oblivion. And none of us want to talk about it, much less think about it.

Alex Proimos photo
Alex Proimos photo

The real problem, however, is that, although we are all careening toward our own personal extinction, modern medicine is doing a bang up job of forestalling the moment. Average life expectancy back in classical Greece was under 30 years; life expectancy in many countries today is over 80. Globally, over the last 200 years, life expectancy has essentially doubled, and the trend continues. A recent Lancet study tells us that life expectancy for men and women has increased by about six years in just the past two decades. It is said that the first person who will live to age 200 has now been born!

‘What’s the problem?’ you may ask. Longer life = a good thing. No?

Well, no and yes. A healthy, meaningful life, free of pain, sure. But, as many of us have seen, the final years, under a miraculous contemporary medical regime, can be contrary to all three of those descriptors.

We used to, more often than not, die at home. Not anymore, although almost all of us will say that we’d prefer to. And again, the trend continues; one study says that in the U.K., by 2030 fewer than one in ten will die at home (and that includes a ‘nursing home’). When the end comes, we are very likely to be within the walls of a cool, clinical institution.

But again, I don’t think that’s the worst of it. We used to die far more precipitously. We got old, we got sick, we died, like dropping off the earthly plane. Now, as stipulated in Being Mortal, Atul Gawande‘s excellent book on this untidy business, the pattern of our death is typically a prolonged series of much shorter drop-offs. We develop heart disease, there are effective drugs for that. Our legs go; here’s an electric wheelchair that can spin around inside an elevator. Cancer crops up, begin chemotherapy. Today’s medical model is an interventionist one; if the problem can be addressed it will be, or at least it should be. And so our lives are repeatedly extended, and each time, the quality is not quite what it was.

What’s more, the final expiry itself is no longer definitive. Our demarcation of death used to be based upon the heart and lungs stopping their involuntary movement. Then, back in the late 60s, given the interventionist aplomb of doctors, we switched to ‘brain dead.’ But now, even that definition isn’t working for us. In a recent National Geographic article, brain death is broken down into five separate stages. (The first is short-term memory loss, and if that’s true, I’m dying as I write this.)

Just above, I used the word “moment” in referring to death, but hang on. As quoted in the same article, Sam Parnia, in his book Erasing Death, refutes that notion explicitly: death is “a process, not a moment.” And doctors can now resuscitate our dying selves well along into that process, up to 30 minutes in with adults, much longer for children, long after we would have been ‘left for dead,’ just a few decades ago.

It’s all very disorderly and difficult, and something we all need to think about, vis a vis our own short lives. As my mother said several times in referring to particularly decrepit friends, “We can live too long.” And yet, as a friend of my own once said, with unsettling accuracy, “We cling to life.” (Well, not my mother. She wasn’t in pain, but, dying of cancer, she asked for, and would have taken, if it had been provided for her, a “euthanasia pill.”)

And a final point here. It is often the family members of the dying, not the dying themselves, who prompt the intervention. We cling not only to life, but to our connection to the dying. And if one thing is clear to me in all this messiness, it’s that the decision to intervene should rest with the dying, not the interventionists, whoever they may be.

Ask your aging loved ones what they want, what they fear, when the end comes. Make sure that you have a ‘Living Will’ in place, that a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ sign will be hung on the end of the hospital bed where you will likely expire, if that is your desire. Make your wishes known to your family members before you’re incapacitated, and the decision has to go to them.

If nothing else, go out on your own terms.

 

 

Global Culture

Cultural industry. It sounds like an oxymoron. ‘Culture’ relating to the artistic or creative, and ‘industry’ describing business interests, on a large scale. At the very least, it seems a rocky marriage.

The term is most often applied to the electronic arts, as they are called: music and motion pictures, the artforms which lend themselves to mass duplication and distribution. No one talks about the dance industry, or the sculpture industry.

The cultural industry I’m most familiar with is the motion picture one, and indeed, someone once referred to the movie industry as ‘too much of a business to be an art, and too much of an art to be a business.’ That just about encapsulates the conundrum.

In Canada, unlike the U.S., the movie and television industries have always needed public subsidy. The costs of production are simply too high, and the Canadian marketplace too small, for the indigenous production companies to survive. That’s been the argument at least.

I can recall, back in the mid-80s, when the Canadian Film Development Corporation, originally founded in 1967 to advance the Canadian movie biz, became Telefilm Canada, charged with promoting and funding the Canadian ‘audiovisual’ private sector, that is television as well as movies. People from the agency were talking about how it was intended to grow production companies from the nascent stage, but then to gradually withdraw its funding as those companies matured and became financially independent.

In the 90s, Telefilm still explicitly required funded productions to be ‘distinctly Canadian.’ These shows were to be stories told by Canadians, set in perceptibly Canadian locales, in which Canadian audiences could recognize themselves. So too were so-called ‘lifestyle’ and ‘industrial’ shows excluded from support; game shows, talk shows, that sort of thing.

downloadAs we rolled into the new millennium, TV shows like Flashpoint, Orphan Black and Rookie Blue made little effort to clarify where their episodes were shot (Toronto), although Rookie Blue did, in its latter seasons, begin to actually use Toronto street names. Rookie Blue also, in its final season last year, received over five million dollars in subsidy from the Canada Media Fund, a public-private partnership administered by Telefilm. That in addition to the considerable monies the production company would also have received via both provincial and federal tax credits. The parent company for Rookie Blue is E1, a multimedia corporation, headquartered in Toronto, with revenues in 2015 of more than $1.5 billion Cdn. You’d have to consider that mature.

And today, when Paperny Entertainment, a Vancouver-based production company owned by E1, produces World’s Weirdest Restaurants for the Food Network, surely a ‘lifestyle’ distributor, that show can access all the same government subsidies that can any other TV show.

At the same time, I don’t mean to sound alarmist bells here. The situation I’m describing is not unique to Canada. It was probably naive to think, back in the 80s, that production companies could be weaned from the public funds which did so much to create the business model by which they grew and prospered. And god knows governments everywhere are competing (some say in a race to the bottom) to offer ever more generous tax credits to attract the industry, given that it pays well, is labour intensive, and relatively non-polluting.

Governments everywhere have also fought to exclude cultural industries from the various free trade-type agreements that continue to proliferate in our times. Ultimately though, the problem is beyond national controls, subject to the same global economic and technical forces which are inexorably interconnecting the planet. As Catalina Briceño, Director of Industry and Market Trends at the Canada Media Fund, wrote in a new report, “[the] globalization of tastes is supplanting cultural differences.”

It’s no surprise then that, especially with dramatic movies and television shows, creators and producers design them to play like home product in several markets. Rookie Blue aired on Global in Canada and ABC in the U.S. Orphan Black premiered on Space in Canada and on BBC America in the United States.

John Fawcett, one of the creators of Orphan Black, certainly did his best to put a positive spin on the situation in an interview with Entertainment Weekly in 2014: “To be honest, we don’t want to say we’re American and alienate the Canadians, or say we’re Canadian and alienate the Americans. The bottom line is we’re one big happy family. We’re just a little bit further north than you.”

Nice. As culture and industry evolve globally, their marriage begets family. I can get behind that. The family part at least. Happy? Maybe not quite so much.

The Sacred Cow

It begins with this startling fact: the livestock industry (meat and dairy) is responsible for the release of more greenhouse gases than is the entire transport industry combined (cars, trucks, trains and airplanes). According to a 2013 UN report, greenhouse gas emissions originating with the raising of cows, pigs and chickens constitute about 14% of the world’s total; the collective emissions from motor vehicles of all kinds are 13%. Not a vast difference you might think, though, like me, you may well be surprised by this truth, but here’s an even more disturbing fact:

None of the big environmental activist organizations—not Greenpeace, not the Sierra Club, not the Rainforest Action Network, none of them—want to talk about it.

Why? Well, sadly, it comes back to that truism that applies to corporations; these environmental organizations are just that, organizations, not-for-profit ones, but organizations just the same, and just like Shell and GE and H&M and all the other for-profit companies that the environmental groups like to condemn, they are first of all concerned about their own bottom line. To attack the livestock industry would be to damage the inflow of their donations, their membership fees.

p10935874_p_v8_aaThis is all pretty much nailed by the feature documentary Cowspiracy, by the way. A new version of the show is currently available on Netflix.

The harmful impact of the livestock industry is multifaceted of course. Not only do cows fart prodigious amounts of methane, a greenhouse gas many times more destructive than carbon dioxide, the industry is also the leading cause of species extinction, largely through habitat destruction, and water pollution. What’s more, animal agriculture is currently consuming water at an absolutely unsustainable rate. The growing of feed crops for livestock alone accounts for more than half of all the water consumed in the U.S. And water, in the coming days, is going to be increasingly scarce in many populated areas, courtesy of climate change.

I’m reminded of the time, years ago, when I was producing a documentary about a group of men with severe spinal cord injuries trying to leave the institution they lived in, trying to establish an independent group home. This was during the time that Rick Hansen was travelling the globe by wheelchair, raising awareness everywhere of the rights and prospects for those with spinal cord injuries. I naively supposed that Rick Hansen’s organization would be encouraging of our efforts; after all we were supporting the same cause, but no, I was surprised to learn that individuals within that organization (not the man himself) were badmouthing us and our project. And then it occurred to me—the Rick Hansen organization’s prime cause was the Rick Hansen organization, not spinal cord injury sufferers per se.

It’s a distressing reality. All organizations seek first of all to augment themselves, and individuals within any organization seek above all to further their own careers, to add to their own bank accounts.

But the larger issue here is indeed the unsettling certainty that, in future, we all should eat less meat and dairy, a lot less meat and dairy. And the large environmental organizations are right; few of us want to hear that. We enjoy eating meat and fish and eggs and cheese, and, more fundamentally, we don’t appreciate anyone, organization or individual, telling us we shouldn’t. Guilting us. It’s a lifestyle change that isn’t easily managed, but like any habit, it’s one that is most easily changed incrementally. Think of it this way: ‘meatless Monday’ eventually needs to become ‘meat Monday,’ the one day of the week when you eat meat guilt-free, but for now maybe it can be meatless weekdays, or maybe meatless days beginning with S or T.

Whatever. It’s a discomforting secret that we all need to wake up to. If we are to collectively escape the worst effects of climate change, as Michael Pollan has so rightly recommended, we need to eat “mostly plants.” And it seems that, for the foreseeable future, we are all going to have to do so without the help of the very organizations who claim to be most concerned about climate change.

 

Discrepancies

Pete Muller photo
Pete Muller photo

This photograph was published in the July 2015 issue of National Geographic magazine. It was taken in a village in southern Guinea, during the recent Ebola outbreak which had its epicentre in that part of Africa.

The young girl sitting on the blanket looks distinctly uneasy. Before her, the caption tells us, a traditional “healer” is preparing to exorcise the “malign spirits” which may have caused the girl to contract the Ebola virus. We see the healer’s face encrusted in white; a bit of green vegetation is wrapped around one wrist; he carries a kind of sceptre, a decorated stick.

What’s most remarkable about the photo is to be seen in the background, among the small group of villagers who have gathered to watch the exorcism—two young men hold up their phones, videoing the process.

The elements of the discrepancy seem almost too much to set side by side, and yet, there they are. A rankly superstitious practice which tracks right back to a mention in the Dead Sea Scrolls (i.e. before Christianity), smack up against the latest in 21st century communications technology. How is this possible?

The fact is today’s world is rife with such discrepancies; it’s only that they’re usually further removed from one another. In whole villages in rural Afghanistan not one person may be able to read and write. In the city of Helsinki, with a population of almost one and a half million, you will be hard pressed to find anyone over the age of 15 who cannot read and write. (The literacy rate In Afghanistan is 28%, among females less than 13%; in Finland the rate is 100%.)

Carlos Slim, the Mexican business mogul, has a net worth of more than $77 billion U.S. The average hotel receptionist in Mexico brings home $4260 U.S. in pay over the course of one year.

In California, it is illegal for mental health providers to engage in “reparative therapy” for LGBT minors. In Uganda, you may be sent to jail for up to 14 years for failing to report a suspected homosexual.

More than half of new lawyers in Canada are women. In Saudi Arabia, women cannot drive a car, vote, or leave home except in the company of a male chaperone.

In all these cases, the divergence is just too great. And no one, anywhere, should attempt to justify these differences via the notion of ‘culture.’ They remain in place because it is to the advantage of the privileged group that they do so.

Does digital technology close these gaps, or drive them ever wider? The answer is complex. Certainly those phones held up by the two young men in Guinea offer them opportunities for information-gathering and commerce that are unprecedented historically, potentially meaning that their lives are ‘lifted’ economically, educationally, socially. But at the same time, the very persistence of superstition, illiteracy, and poverty means that, if those two young men rise up, the gap between them and those next to them who believe in the power of exorcism will grow.

The rising tide of digital technology most assuredly does not lift all boats, any more than the growing wealth of the economic elite trickles down, in any effective way, to those living at the bottom of the financial hill. Any time the separation between two sets of people grows too great, whether it be the Mayan priests ruling over Palenque in the 7th century, or Marie Antoinette and her husband ruling over France during the final years of the 18th century, it does not bode well for us.

In today’s global village, the discrepancies which exist internationally present problems on a scale not seen before, and I mean that quite literally, because we are more aware of these problems than we have ever been before. We no longer have to wait for an emissary to return to court, after a year-long mission, to know about the conditions of a far-off land and its people. But, at same time, today’s problems are of a distressingly familiar order.

Those at the peak of today’s societal pyramid are doing just fine, thanks. What’s called for are measures to assure that the pyramid does not get any higher, that it in fact flattens, delivering greater equality of rights, education, health care, and economic opportunity to all people everywhere.

I’m sounding frighteningly socialistic to some I know, but the lessons of history are there for all of us to observe, and we ignore them at our peril. It is in our own interests to help those being left out or behind, wherever they live, because the discrepancies of today’s world are a threat to us all.

Television’s Last Stand

I nearly cut the cord last week. I wanted to do it earlier, when the hockey and basketball playoffs ended, but some members of my household wanted to watch the FIFA Women’s World Cup, then it was the Pan Am Games…

Which is to say that, in our home at least, live sports is the last remaining reason to pay for cable TV.

It’s a good one, mind you. A hard-fought elite-level sports contest is simply the best entertainment around, involving strong characters, intense pressure, great achievements, profound loss, and far less predictability than 98% of the dramatic storytelling currently out there.

It’s also an incredibly lucrative business, especially for the pro players (not that I don’t think the money should go to those who play the game, as opposed to those who own the teams). Our appetite for professional sports continues to grow—the industry in the aggregate is now said to be worth more than $500 billion globally—and so the scope of the salaries earned by [mostly] men to play games has become patently absurd. The average salary of a Major League Baseball player, for instance, will exceed $4 million this year (That’s the average salary mind you; ‘A Rod,’ the New York Yankees star third baseman, may earn as much as $50 million this year, including marketing bonuses). If Joe Average Baseball Player were to play every minute of every game this summer (and he won’t), he will earn $8230 per hour of playing time. Patently absurd, given the utter lack of intrinsic social value attached to the work he does. Incidentally, Joe is also allotted $100 a day in meal money when he is on the road. Wouldn’t want him to feel the pinch in those expensive hotel restaurants.

But we fans have only ourselves to blame. We’re the ones who fill the stadiums, tune into the games, and yes, pay those cable TV fees, regardless of the cost. We’re the ones who seem to think that our team winning or losing somehow reflects well or poorly on us as individuals. In fact we use terms like “WE won” when a team of players whom we will never meet, and who are only rarely from our home town, never mind our home country, outscores another team that we don’t label ours. It’s more than a little odd.

What’s interesting though, is where the video marketing of big league sports is going. Surely with broadband expanding steadily, and video streaming gaining popularity by the day, it is only a matter of time before these sports franchises begin to control and market their games online, in high quality imagery. Forget ESPN or Rogers Sportsnet. These teams will find ways to make even more money by charging you directly to watch their games via their own internet channels, say in packages featuring certain opposing teams, maybe all home games, or of course with ‘tickets’ for individual games. How can it possibly not go this way?

Well, one possible way is for government agencies to prevent this sort of ‘vertical integration’ of the marketplace, akin to the 1948 antitrust case which prevented Hollywood studios from owning and operating their own theatres, to which they would grant exclusive rights to their movies. Like that case, will we see governments move to forestall undivided control of the production and distribution of sports entertainment?

It remains to be seen; the conventional TV networks have proven to be more resilient than many believed they would be in finding new revenue models (like money from Netflix), but the trends are there. TV viewing declined roughly 10% in the last year, and it’s not like the major sports franchises have to go out and build their brand. It’s there now for them, bigger and better than ever, primed for exploitation via a new medium.

5805107962_48e85060aa_zI’ll likely simply try, at some point, to renegotiate my deal with my cable TV provider. I’ll do my damndest to cherry pick just those channels which carry the games of the teams I like to follow, and my cable provider will do their damndest to ensure that I’m obliged to pick up as many channels as possible in order to do that. Shaw Cable, my provider, for instance and in most obnoxious fashion, spreads the Vancouver Canucks games over four or five of their various channels, then places those various channels in different packages, each of which costs more.

My desire for big league sports entertainment may be a passion which adds meaning to my life, or it may be a pathetic identification with a bunch of rich strangers. Either way, and even if the medium changes, one thing is certain: meeting that desire is not likely to get any cheaper.

Climate Change

The problem with climate change is that it sounds so innocuous. So the planet is going to warm by a few degrees. To plenty of people in Canada that sounds like a good thing. The oceans are going to rise. Surely we can deal with that. Look at Holland; isn’t about half the country below sea level? Is it really such a big deal?

Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but yes, climate change is a very big deal, easily the greatest threat we collectively face today. And not only is it grave, it’s a complex problem, highly difficult to contend with. Here’s what Jeffrey Sachs, in the just-published The Age of Sustainable Development, has to say about the complexity of the climate change problem:

“There has never been a global economic problem as complicated as climate change. It is simply the toughest public policy problem that humanity has ever faced.”

Drought in Kenya 2004 Brendan Cox/Oxfam photo
Drought in Kenya 2004
Brendan Cox/Oxfam photo

What far too many of us don’t realize is that the biggest threat from climate change comes from the falling food production which will result. And that falling food production, as the result of higher temperatures, will come in some already unstable areas, like sub-Saharan Africa. (Also in the Mediterranean basin, southwestern United States, and parts of China.)

It’s not hard to imagine that the current Mediterranean refugee crisis, with record numbers of people fleeing North Africa for southern Europe, is but the smallest harbinger of what would ensue with crop yields dropping off by as much as 50% in sub-Saharan Africa, a scenario which is entirely possible, if current temperature trends continue.

A few salient facts, courtesy of Mr. Sach’s fact-packed book: Since the Industrial Revolution, the average temperature on the planet has risen by 0.9° C. If we were to stop putting greenhouse gases into the atmosphere today, because of the inertia built into the natural system absorbing and releasing carbon pollution, temperatures will continue to rise by another .6° C. That’s a total of 1.5 °C. If we continue to pump greenhouse gases into the air at current rates, the temperature rise will reach 4 – 7° C by the end of the century. An increase of 4° C is where the 50% drop off in food occurs.

It’s all a little unsettling, to say the least. The real resultant danger with climate change is mass hunger, mass migration, and ultimately of course, revolution and war. New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman makes that linkage quite explicitly in his recent writings, pointing to the four-year drought which immediately preceded the appalling breakdown of Syrian society that we are now witnessing.

There are other severe consequences to climate change—the acidification and rising of the oceans chief among them—but again, the most dire threat comes with the prospect of wide-scale famine as food supplies drop with increased heat and aridity in already warm and dry areas, areas already historically subject to drought. Our global agriculture and fishing industries are maxed out now (and agriculture especially is contributing hugely to environmental degradation everywhere), so any prospect of growing food insecurity should be taken very seriously by world leaders. Unfortunately our world leaders have twice now agreed to do something about carbon pollution—in Rio in 1992 and in Kyoto in 1998—and both agreements have been miserable failures. Total greenhouse gas emissions have been increasing significantly in recent years, largely for two reasons: 1) the burgeoning Chinese economy, with its heavy industrial base driven by coal power, and 2) the political power of the oil and gas industries worldwide. One last interesting fact from Sachs’s book: seven of the ten largest companies in the world are in the traditional energy sector.

At the G7 summit in Germany this year, member countries finally agreed upon the need for a no-carbon economy, but not until the year 2100. It’s a significant step, but no one should feel too encouraged. It’s estimated that to remain within the 2° C ‘safe’ zone of rising global temperatures, current greenhouse gas emissions will have to be cut by more than 50% by 2050. Sound easy? I didn’t think so.

So the next time you hear the words climate change, don’t think, ‘Coupla degrees warmer. Not so bad.’ Think instead of these two words: food riots.

Rewilding Galiano

When the British writer George Monbiot moved in 2007 to a small town in Wales located on the edge of the Cambrian Mountains, he was excited about the chance to explore this largely uninhabited ‘wilderness area.’ The Cambrian Mountains Society describes it as an “unspoiled landscape with a rich cultural history and vibrant natural beauty.”

'The Cambrian Desert?" Brother Magneto photo
‘The Cambrian Desert?”
Brother Magneto photo

When he ventured out onto this landscape, however, Monbiot instead found what he quickly came to see as “the Cambrian Desert,” an ecological disaster area with a severe paucity of wild animals and a much degraded diversity of plantlife. Where a variety of trees and flowering plants once grew, there was now mostly just heather. Few birds were to be seen; even insects were hardly present. The suburban cityscape Monbiot had left behind, he discovered, was in fact richer in wildlife than his new locale.

Why? Well, animal husbandry, by and large. The area had originally been cleared for crops and pasture lands. Sheep and cattle had replaced the previous fauna, and over time these domesticated ungulates grazed the land into a condition of enduring ecological impoverishment.

Monbiot is one of the chief proponents of ‘rewilding’ parts of our world, an intriguing concept which calls for the reforestation of large tracts of land and the reintroduction of now extinct megafauna—bison, elephants, wolves, etc. A number of rewilding projects have been successfully carried out in Europe, as well as in North America (the reintroduction of grey wolves to Yellowstone National Park is a prominent example; here’s video on that success), but, as you can imagine, it remains controversial. Such efforts in the U.K., for instance, have been effectively curtailed by agricultural interests.

Living on Galiano, I know of what Monbiot speaks. The condition he describes in Wales begins as a result of our hunting the ‘apex predators’ in a region to extinction. Evidence suggests that, as we humans moved out of Africa and into all other areas of the world, millennia ago, we went about eliminating these predators at a prodigious rate, and not always for reasons of safety or the provision of food. We did it because we could.

As I’ve written about elsewhere in this blog, on Galiano there are no wolves or cougars, and so the deer proliferate in great numbers. They seem to build up in number until some sort of plague breaks out, they die off in significant numbers, and then the cycle begins again. This because, on Galiano, there is no ‘trophic cascade,’ no predation from the apex on down.

The westcoast rainforest is too vigorous for the deer to degrade in the way sheep have the topography in Wales, but nevertheless, as a gardener on Galiano, I’m fully aware of how limited a vegetative palate can survive their constant grazing, at least not when those plants are small. Nothing like an introduced shrub or flowering plant (with the blessed exemption of daffodils) can survive their appetites, except within a tall fence.

And the native vegetation which survives them is indeed restricted. The leathery leaves and smothering underground creep of salal thrives. Ferns get a severe haircut but manage to persist. But there’s not a lot of variation in the undergrowth beyond that.

Rewilding Galiano with the reintroduction of wolves or cougars, thus to encourage the development of a more diverse ecology? ‘Not likely’ hardly begins to describe that prospect. Cougars have been known to hunt smaller children, of which there are a fair number running about on the Island.

One of the related phenomena Monbiot describes in his book Feral: Rewilding The Land, The Sea and Human Life is termed “The Shifting Baseline Syndrome.” It’s a process whereby we judge whatever condition we grew up with to be the norm, the original condition. But, as Monbiot points out, what we grew up with may well already have been seriously reduced. We just weren’t around to see that happen.

Certainly this would seem to be the case with the ocean waters which surround Galiano, where sea life is reportedly not nearly as rich or plentiful as it once was. Regardless, it’s a concept we should all be aware of and appreciate. The sad fact is that, because of our seemingly irresistible urge to meddle in the ecosystem which encompasses us, we are all now living with loss.

Full Circle

There’s some interesting reading to be found in a paper released by the Canadian Media Production Association last week. It’s titled, Content Everywhere: Securing Canada’s Place in the Digital Future, and it offers up an effective survey of the current media landscape. At first glance, suffice it to say that recent trends continue:

* Video progressively rules on the internet—YouTube now has more than one billion unique viewers every month, with 100 hours of video uploaded every minute.

* ‘Cord cutting’, that is escaping the tyranny of cable ‘bundling,’ continues for consumers—an American who owns an iPad now has a 65% likelihood of being a member of the cord cutter tribe.

* As the market penetration of the so-called OTTs (‘Over The Top’ online streamers like Netflix, Amazon and Hulu) continues to grow—one of the OTTs now reaches almost half of all American households; over 60% of the 18 – 24 demographic—they are moving increasingly into the financing of original content.

The ‘old boys’, the established television networks, know all about these trends of course, and so they have, in recent years, moved actively, if still hesitantly into the digital realm. In Canada, Bell Media launched Crave TV in 2014, Rogers and Shaw finally birthed Shomi, and CBC now has an online comedy channel called Punchline. (Conventional TV’s great strength increasingly remains of course in the provision of live events, mostly sports, but also news, and of course the odd award show, although it’s interesting to note that ratings for the Oscars this year were down about 15%.)

Ben Templesmith photo
Ben Templesmith photo

Overall, the evolving picture is of the online media industry maturing, in all the good and bad that that entails. Perhaps most disconcerting is a subtitle within the paper which reads: “Many things about OTT look like TV.” AOL greenlit 16 original series in 2014, all of them featuring major celebrities or movie stars. Pitch meetings with the big-league OTTs are usually booked through agents or entertainment lawyers these days. And we can all be sure that when David Fincher, after House of Cards, pitches his new series, he’ll be strolling into the Netflix offices past a long line of waiting, lesser-known producers who once hoped that the web would provide them with new and different opportunities. Sigh.

And of course, as the paper, points out, creators for the web face a unique set of additional challenges, even as the process morphs into something distressingly familiar. Chief among them are ‘discoverability,’ and an overcrowded marketplace. The gatekeepers for the online game may no longer be the same, but the smaller players still face a huge disadvantage when it comes to putting bums in the seats. They simply don’t have the resources to compete with the big guys at marketing, or at perhaps hiring the talent which comes with a built-in audience.

And finally, if you’re a Canadian hoping to succeed with online content, you face an added problem with financing, because as slow as the big broadcasters have been to move into the online space, the established ‘legacy’ funders, like Telefilm Canada and the tax credit programs, have been even more lead-footed. Because online revenues have been so difficult to realize, these agencies have been extra adept at shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact whenever, for instance, documentary filmmakers with an online-only audience in mind have come calling.

I’m reminded of the final scenes in George Orwell’s classic Animal Farm, when the pigs move into the farmhouse, begin to walk upright and wear clothes. Or of Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson’s incisive explanation of Why Nations Fail, describing how it is that, following revolutions, tyrants like Robert Mugabe replace tyrants like Ian Smith, how Joseph Stalin replaces Csar Nicolas II. The digital revolution may not have yet completed itself, not yet come right round in what Acemoglu and Robinson term “the vicious circle,” but the streets have gone quiet again. It may be that no one has been sent off to a “knacker” or to the gulag, but if you were among those who dreamed of a better world, or maybe even who manned an online barricade, well, purchase a ticket and get in line. It seems that all along, the digital revolution was for sale, to the highest bidder.