We are all in this together

Toilet paper, huh? It might make no sense, but it does say so much about where we are as a society right now. We are fearful, reactive and encouraged to behave in crazily selfish ways. 

But this behaviour did not come out of nowhere. It has been carefully cultivated through over 40 years of neoliberal economic policies that have made it blatantly clear to people that they are on their own and will absolutely be left to fall if they don’t scramble their way to the top of the heap — supported, if necessary, by their own accumulated rolls of toilet paper.

Read the rest over at Eureka Street.

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Why business as usual is so scary

Shortly after Christmas Day, the sky disappeared. It was only then that I realised I’d always taken it for granted. The sky, and the air. I’d always taken the air for granted too, and now it was hazardous.

Like many parts of Australia, my hometown of Canberra had a truly terrible summer. Surrounded by bushfires, and sitting in a geographic bowl between mountain ranges, the city filled with smoke and choked on it for months.

Read the rest over at Eureka Street.

Biodiversity loss is a flaming tragedy


There are so many details about these unprecedented bushfires that I have no idea how to process. Like so many in Australia, I have spent hours staring in disbelief at the sheer number of fires raging across NSW alone, watching clips showing glimpses of their incredible size and ferocity, and grieving the millions of acres of forest laid to waste in their wake.

As a country, we have cried over the human lives lost, and tried to contemplate the economic and emotional toll of the thousands of homes and properties destroyed, in addition to the massevacuations of people. I doubt we will ever forget those images of evacuees huddled by the water on New Year’s Eve under a deep red sky; or of the brave little boy accepting a medal on behalf of the father he lost so young.

Read the rest over at Eureka Street.

Existential lessons from road kill

It was just after six in the morning when it happened. The sun had barely risen above the surrounding hills, which were white from a rare overnight snowfall, and I was out walking with my dogs. We paused as a mob of kangaroos bounded through the trees. When I thought they’d all passed, we continued on our way.

But I was wrong. About 15 metres in front of us stood a straggler. She quickly ducked behind a eucalypt, melting into the landscape. Sensing her fear, I pulled the dog leads tight and turned to walk in the other direction. Seeing us turn, she bolted out from the tree, heading for the back of the mob. Eyes on us, she veered wide towards the road just as a white station wagon came speeding around the corner.

I screamed as it made impact, but the driver either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. He just sped on.

Scientists have estimated that at least four million native animals are killed on Australian roads every year. That is a lot of animals. A lot of lives. But, what can we do about it?

Read the rest over at Eureka Street.

Building equity into 20-minute city plans

I only left my suburb once last weekend, and it was excellent. As boring as it may sound, it turns out that this highly local lifestyle is not only good for the environment, but is one that appeals to many of us. Rather than spending our time driving between amenities and activities, most of us would like to be able to walk or cycle to most of those things that contribute to living a good life. And governments are starting to take notice.

In recognition of the social and environmental benefits that flow from people staying out of their cars and getting out into their own neighbourhoods, cities around the world have been announcing plans to improve liveability by adopting the 20- (or 30-) minute neighbourhood concept. Plan Melbourne describe this as being ‘all about “local living” — giving people the ability to meet most of their everyday needs within a 20-minute walk, cycle or local public transport trip of their home’.

Read the rest over at Eureka Street.

Nuts and bolts of an Aussie Green New Deal

The Reserve Bank (RBA) cut rates this week to a historic low of 1 per cent in an attempt to stimulate the economy in order to maintain employment growth and increase disposable income (and, thus, consumption). The ALP have argued that 1 per cent interest rates signal a ‘national crisis’ and that successful economic stimulus is going to take more than a rate cut.

In response, they have pushed for the LNP to bring forward its tax cuts and to increase spending on infrastructure. RBA Governor, Phillip Lowe, has a more optimistic take, stating ‘the outlook for the economy remains reasonable’, but has also hinted that more could be done to stimulate consumption. 

Of course, the question of what should be done to stimulate the economy (if anything at all) largely depends on how you frame the problem and, in particular, on how you explain its origins. Debates around the meaning and cause of economic crises are nothing new, and they have been blamed on everything from greed, to regulatory failure, poor economic theory, culture and excessive regulation.

Read the rest over at Eureka Street.

Children speak truth to climate inaction

When I was a young child, I had nightmares about Ronald Reagan. I was terrified he was going to start a nuclear war and destroy us all.

People often laugh when I recount this tale. To many it seems funny, almost cute. Others have described my fears as the product of a childish imagination or parental brainwashing. But the fact is that nuclear war was a genuine possibility. The world was not in safe hands.

Although I was lucky enough to have parents who took my agency seriously, the most overwhelming and depressing aspect of that experience was how little my fears counted. As a child, I had no power and very little voice, despite the fact that the adults in charge were risking our very survival.

Fast forward 35 years, and my own children are faced with a similar predicament in relation to climate change, but now there is a crucial difference: it’s not a genuine possibility, it is a reality. We are already changing the climate and creating devastating changes to the planet. The only question that remains is how devastating will these changes become? How many ecosystems will collapse? How many rivers will run dry, species die out, diseases spread, famines ravage, wars rage?

— Read the rest of the article over at Eureka Street

Of Protest, the Commons, and Customary Public Rights: An Ancient Tale of the Lawful Forest

In this article, John Page and I explore an ancient tale of customary public rights that starts and ends with the landmark decision of Brown v Tasmania. In Brown, Australia’s highest court recognised a public right to protest in forests. Harking back 800 years to the limits of legal memory, and the Forest Charter of 1217, this right is viewed through the metaphor of the lawful forest, a relational notion of property at the margins of legal orthodoxy. Inherent to this tale is the tension that pits private enclosure against the commons, a contest that endures across time and place – from 13th century struggles against the Norman legal forest, through to modern claims of rights to the city.

This article is now available as an Advance copy with the UNSW Law Journal.

The Darling’s dead fish of late capitalism

Humans of Late Capitalism (HOLC) is a social media account that plays on the massively popular Humans of New York (HONY) phenomenon to starkly highlight the reality of what it is like to live on our planet today. Its darkly humorous images serve as an ironic critique of our society and, particularly, our economic system.

Over the last few weeks, Australia has produced two symbolic images that fit well into the HOLC narrative: a massive fish kill in Menindee lakes on the Darling River and Walgett, the town with two rivers and no water.

Water is critical to life on this planet. And yet clean water supplies are dwindling due to the impact of human activity, while demand continues to increase. The United Nations has estimated that ‘by 2050, at least one-in-four people is likely to live in countries affected by chronic or recurring shortages of freshwater’.

Read more over at Eureka Street.

The inequity of this silent killer

When our kids were little, our family moved to Hanoi for my partner’s job. After we’d settled in to our new neighbourhood of Tay Ho (Westlake), we enjoyed walking the streets and admiring the beauty of the city. Hanoi is set around a number of lakes and filled with historic buildings and old winding laneways that are too narrow for cars. It is also surprisingly green. Plants grow on every available square inch, crammed into tiny pockets of dirt and pots.

But we hadn’t been there long until we begun bemoaning the frequency of foggy days and waiting hopefully for the rare clear days when Westlake would shine blue and we could see clearly over the rooftops from our sixth-story terrace.

I can’t remember exactly when I admitted to myself that it wasn’t fog that was obscuring visibility. But once I had fully acknowledged the extent of the airborne pollution, I felt a lot less keen on living in Hanoi with young children.

— Read more over at Eureka Street