Deforestation, the Environmental Agenda, and the Geographies of Disadvantage (October 20, 2006)

When I was young, global warming had become a pretty big deal. The 1992 Rio Conference put conversations regarding development and environmental sustainability on the map. Climate change was a big topic, and the buzzwords "greenhouse effect," "CFCs," "carbon dioxide output" became more and more commonplace. I remember my 4th grade science fair project modeled the greenhouse effect on plant growth. My argument was that increased carbon dioxide outputs, paired with deforestation, would result in yearly temperature increases of 1-4 degrees Celsius, depending on regional location. So you could say I thought the environment and environmental conservation was pretty interesting.

Then, sometime between 8th grade and high school, just as the most recent debate on the Mexican border and immigration policy/asylum rekindled, some idiot at the Sierra Club said that they could not support calls for asylum because overpopulation was the singlemost environmental threat to sustainability in the U.S. And just like that, I was soooooo over environmentalism.

Over the past few years I have found myself coming back to the (false) tension between environmentalism as a concept of conservation and environmentalism as a social justice issue.

Bear with me as I take you through an even longer walk down my childhood. I spent most of my Bay Area childhood in east Richmond, California. Richmond, for those who do not know, is home to the highest cancer rate in California, the highest number of acute and chronic respiratory diseases, and some of the poorest zip codes in the state. It is a prime case study for industrial development and environmental racism. Coming to terms with the role of industrialization on the health, well-being, and economic vitality of Richmond has opened my eyes to the many ways in which the "environmental agenda" is inherently intertwined with the future of vulnerable communities.

Deforestation in Kenya has been a hot button issue for nearly 20 years now. Rapid deforestation of the country's forests has left it with a bevy of problems that will be difficult to resolve. Many of these trees were cut down for firewood, or furniture, or for some project spearheaded by a local MP or even by sitting presidents. In the 90s, the government's decision to build skyscrapers over Nairobi's Uhuru Park led hundreds of women (led by Wangari Maathai) to strip naked in protest. [in Kenya, especially in Central, seeing a woman nude who is not your wife is that woman's way of cursing you and is seen as a highly powerful act of political protest]. Uhuru Park is still there -- the government quickly retracted its position, one of the only times it recanted under Daniel Moi --, but the rapid deforestation of the state persists. To date, Kenya has lost all of its rainforests save one (Kakamega Forest).

So what does deforestation have to do with people? Aside from contributing to global warming and drought, Kenya now faces a water crisis. In Central Province, sanitation and water pumping has dropped the water table down to crisis levels. Officials are desperately exploring the feasibility of importing water from neighboring provinces and from neighboring countries. That said, even the lush Rift Valley, Nyanza, and Western Provinces - all of which historically have had enough rainfall to merit their very green and prosperous agricultural industries, are finding themselves hard up for rain. Water diversions at major mountain sources are also contributing to a dropping water table, warmer temperatures, wacky rainfall, the loss of topsoil/arable land, and a general decline in agricultural productivity. For a country where the majority of people engage in subsistence agriculture for their daily food this is a case of double jeopardy. Not only do they lose all access to drinking water, but they also lose all access to their food security.

It is no coincidence that this change in resource access is concentrated in poor countries, particularly those that have had a history of dependence or allegiance with the U.S. In neighboring Tanzania, a country whose Socialist-inspired first president - Nyerere - turned down U.S. development aid in favor of promoting a different development plan, the climate is much more stable. The landscape is lush. There are forests of baobab and pine trees (together) lining the roadside. Granted, the overall level of poverty in Tanzania is much more acute than in Kenya. At the same time the economic gains it has seen recently have been more evenly distributed, and many of the local Kenyans I've spoken with believe that Tanzania will have much "smarter" growth. Kenya, meanwhile, has been continually pressured to pursue destructive economic growth policies. These range from mineral exports and mining to the creation of EPZs (export processing zones - effectively regulation free economic production zones). Trucking is a major source of goods transport, particularly to landlocked countries like Uganda, Rwanda, and Burundi. These diesel vehicles, of course, have no standards for emissions regulations. These same growth policies include a lack of a policy. Within this policy vacuum we see a waste management system that eschews providing sanitation services in rural areas in favor of burning all physical waste, including plastics. All of these relieve the cost at the margin, particularly for foreign multinational corporations who enjoy the freedom to pollute at will, and for the government, which saves millions of shillings in public services that, in truth, it cannot afford to provide.

Worldwide, generally, more vulnerable communities will bear the harshest brunt of water scarcity. While everyone will eventually suffer, when water is only available in bottles, only those who can afford those bottles will have the access they require. While subsistence farmers can hardly irrigate their crops here, massive water schemes in the first world divert and irrigate lands that, for centuries, should never have been arable to begin with. I can't help but wonder what the extent of the oncoming environmental violence will be. Can we pinpoint who where the worst victims of climate change and environmental policies will be located? If these communities are situated in at-risk locations, like those residents of the lowland neighborhoods of New Orleans, how many disasters will it take before we change our current policies? By then, will it be too late? Who has to suffer the most before we exercise a modicum of compassion and consciousness? Is a slightly higher profit this quarter worth the cost of human lives and worth the cost of reversing the size of our ecological footprint? When will environmental sustainability become as important as financial sustainability in development programs and funding? Will the push for environmental balance be inclusive of, and reconcile itself with, the needs and demands of those very poor people who development ought to help the most?