Why should sustainability, essentially an ecological concept, serve as the centerpiece of a twenty-first-century American grand strategy?

In sum, Mykleby promotes sustainability as a strategic mindset, which looks beyond current risks and threats with a positive focus on converging interests in response to emerging global conditions. A critical approach, it seems, in an ever complex, uncertain global geopolitical playing field. I’ve been working on understanding the systemic role that Failed States (particularly Afghanistan) and corresponding slower pervasive variables play in regional level management of common pool resources. See also earlier post on identifying agents of change in Afghanistan.

Slide from my presentation on Transformation of Failed States at the Balaton Group Meeting

More importantly though, in my mind, is who is responsible? and where are the leverage points? Is a future strategy to be defined by the masses, such as the Occupy movement? or great leaders? I will not make this case here, but see an interesting debate between Juan Carlos Rocha and Henrik Ernstson at Resilience Science Blog on collective action vs. key-individuals. My point is that individual agency (simply to act either as a leader or as part of the crowd) is an impetus we mustn’t forget.

Powerful quote from the paper inspired by Calvino:

So what does this all mean? What is the “ask” of all of us, as citizens? Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities, first written in 1972, frames it quite nicely. In this fictional story, an aging Kublai Khan sits in a garden with Marco Polo, lamenting the demise of his empire. In the course of their conversation, Marco Polo makes an astute observation: “Yes, the empire is sick, and, what is worse, it is trying to become accustomed to its sores.”Clearly, such a comment does not assuage the anguish of Kublai Khan. But it does establish what is wrong. In the end, Marco Polo offers a way out:

“The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.”

Resist the inferno, and keep asking questions!

Myrto Papadopoulos’s photo/film project “The New Plastic Road” portrays the Pamirs as a melancholic place. Her photos tell a story of isolation, despair and vulnerability. This is, certainly, one side of the Pamiri story. A people whose dependency on external input was only strengthened during the Soviet era, now depends almost solely on remittances from Russia, while still trying to rebuild after a violent civil war. Perhaps as scarce as the landscape, is imagination and motivation to pursue a common vision for the future.

But there is another story; one which I think is more representative of the rich nature and culture of the region. The semi-arid steppe ecosystem is a place of scarcity, no doubt, but it is also the very scarcity of the place, which has shaped the rich culture and diversity, with hundreds of apricot and apple varieties, endemic pears, a beautiful mixture of grains, and of course mulberries, a Pamiri staple. Below are a few images which I think tell a story of richness and community, rather than scarcity and isolation. Perhaps through building on hope and pride in Pamiri Culture, we imagine a road other that a Plastic one.

BP’s take home message was: the future is uncertain, so we can only assume that which is certain. One of those key assumptions is that we cannot assume that innovation will occur. Oh yeah, and he prefaced the entire discussion around OECD and non-OECD countries, because he wasn’t comfortable with the term “developing countries” and well, obviously the world revolves around oil.

• I know this is to be expected, but still, coal, gas and oil are coloured green, while renewables are red-toned in all the energy charts…
• Ruehl also compared Europe’s 1970 nuclear political approval and subsidies to today’s renewables sector… fear factor?!
• Convergence and standardization of values is driving the process of reduced energy consumption (as if it is a necessary end of industrialization)
• On the contrary, he promotes diversification among energy sources as a source of resilience. Why the contraction Mr. Ruehl?

I didn’t know much about Failed States, other than having lived in one, so had some reading to do. The Earth Policy Institute recently released a new book “The World on Edge” by Lester Brown, which includes  a Chapter on how to rescue failed states and recognizes a shift away from isolated military action to combat the root causes of State Failure.

What are the characteristics of state failure? German sociologist, Max Weber describes a failed state as one which “fails to maintain a monopoly on the legitimate use of physical force within its borders.” Noam Chomsky included in the definition a state which “fails to provide security for the population, to guarantee the rights at home or abroad, or to maintain function of democratic states.” The Fund for Peace& Foreign Policy has created an index system that quantifies a dozen aspects of state failure:
1. Physical control of its territory and erosion of legitimate state authority to make collective decisions
2. Inability to provide reasonable public services
3. Inability to interact with other states as a full member of the international community
4. Extensive corruption and criminal behavior
5. Inability to collect taxes or otherwise draw on citizen support
6. Large-scale involuntary dislocation of the population
7. Sharp economic decline
8. Group-based inequality
9. Institutionalized persecution or discrimination
10. Severe demographic pressures
11. Brain drain
12. Environmental decay

Still, this list of indicators contrasts to indicators of successful societies: education, health indicators and overall “well-being.” How is it that visions of success and failure have become so disconnected? Is it time to re-think what a Failed State is, and what the drivers of failed or successful societies are? The blurry dichotomy between the two is illustrated through a comparative case of Tajikistan and Afghanistan. In Badakhshan province, the two countries share a watershed which is inhabitated by Pamiri people with a common language, religion and culture, separated only by the Amu Darya River and 70 years of a divergent development path. Tajik Badakhshan benefited from Soviet development of infrastructure, education (99.5% overall literacy rate), health care system and access to markets. In stark contrast just across the river, Afghans still walk up to 12 days along donkey trails to the nearest market, and have severely limited access to healthcare (maternal mortality is highest at the world, at 6,507 deaths/ 100,000 births) and education (18% and 36% literacy rates for women and men respectively).

Flying over border between Tajikistan (left) and Afghanistan (right). June 2009

Despite these stark contrasts in development and traditional indicators of success, many Tajiks will say that Afghans are better off, because their livelihoods are independent of external inputs, and they are not affected by global price fluctuations. So success, or failure, depends not only on the scale of analysis, but also on who you talk to. Identifying the systemic role of State Failure requires a break away from the dichotomy presented by these indicators, and asks us to question what are the processes that provide resilience in as system ridden with political rigidity, corruption, and violence.

There are examples of “success”, even within Failed States, which need to be scaled up. One approach to reduce the global risk of failed states may be to identify sources of resilience at the local scale, which may or may not align with conventional indicators of success. Resilience of what to what?

Harvest in Vanj, Tajikistan. Photo by Teo Kaye

Harvest in Jomarj, Afghanistan. Photo by Teo Kaye.

That is also why I came to Cambridge. I came to get, what I thought, would be a solid foundation in some of the more human (or at least Political…though Aristotle wouldn’t differentiate) aspects of social-ecological systems. Specifically, I want to dig deeper into political theory. To my surprise (and utter Dismay) it seems that theory has disconnected from application.

I find most things really interesting. I usually leave a lecture or conference over-stimulated and need to continue the discussion. After everyone having left one night, I once spent half an hour walking around Barcelona after a conference on Risk Management in the Mediterranean recording myself on my iPod (pretending it was a phone), just to spread the word.

So, why, at Cambridge, which is reputedly the Number One University in the world, have I left the majority of lectures, reading groups and dinner tables completely unsatisfied. To the extent that I quite literally wrung my hands in despair cursing academic heavens in futility after a lecture last week by Piers Blaikie who discussed whether or not Political Ecology (PE) should be useful. The main question was “Does PE have the coherence and vitality to transform itself, rather than remain a capacious vehicle for academic hitchhikers? He also asked what PE is doing wrong… EarthScan recently published a book by Blaikie and forced him to take “Political Ecology” out of the title…

I’ve been hesitant to blog publicly about this. As a Gates-Cambridge Scholar… we tend to fall into the ‘public eye.’ Just for the record, Gates Cambridge Scholarships are awarded on the following criteria: intellectual ability, leadership capacity… etc. AND “a person’s desire to use their knowledge to contribute to society throughout the world by providing service to their communities and applying their talents and knowledge to improve the lives of others.” So, I’m at my wits-end with Cambridge failing to provide a base for me to become a change agent! and the Gates Foundation (should a google search of my name bring up this blog post alongside my scholarship page) should know why I don’t think that Cambridge is providing me the knowledge that I so crave. Though, I have to say that the community of scholars has been supportive, stimulating and lovely—and without them, I would undoubtedly be in greater despair.

I threw myself into the community; I ran for Graduate Union Environmental Director (and won), I row on The Cam, I participate in philosophical debates and half a dozen societies, I’ve given a guest lecture on Resilience to the Engineers for Sustainability seminar series… the list goes on. I’ve been busy day and night with reading, writing, and socializing in Cambridge style.

Still. The feeling of wanting to quit is overwhelming. Why? Not because it’s too hard, or too much, or that I find Cambridge drab and boring (it’s not!)

Quite simply—I could be learning more elsewhere. I have some burning questions. I can try to answer them here; but quite frankly, it would be easier to work towards solutions with proper guidance and mentorship, with people who share a common vision.

I was afraid of voicing my opinion too loudly—since I realize my position is unique, and privileged… (particularly as a grateful scholar supported by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation).  But, it appears I’m not the only one thinking like this: Phillipa Young, in The Guardian, describes why she ditched her Master’s degree at Oxford to get a better education elsewhere. While I really do admire Phillipa Young’s courage and steadfast position in quitting her Master’s, I have chosen (after a number of sleepless nights and incredible support from friends …thank you!!) to stay on at Cambridge and milk this place for what it’s worth. I began writing this blog with the utmost approval of Phillipa’s disposition: the collegiate system has failed me, the history and tradition is more often smothering and lends to ineffectiveness rather than stimulating creativity, and agree WHOLE-HEARTEDLY that the University is not offering cutting-edge knowledge (I learn more at an-over-tea-time glance at Twitter), but, I would like to contend that intellectual exploration is still possible.

I am awful at math. But see the beauty and utility of differential equations. I am not a physicist, and never will be. But maybe the way galaxies collide, or the mechanics of the accretion disk that surround the black hole can provide interesting insight into the way that institutions form around a violent norm…

The problem is, nobody is sitting at the dinner table holding a sign saying “I do Pure Mathematics… let’s talk to see how it might be relevant to the system you study.” Initiating and finding these dialogues is difficult. The usual answer after asking “Why do you do pure maths?” is a slightly (or very) awkward blank stare and “…because it’s easy and fun.” That’s when I reach for another glass of Port.

I’m a nerd, and choosing where to study is a pretty big deal. There were colour-coded matrices, long discussions with mentors, professors, consultants, diplomats and friends and family. All things weighted, Cambridge won. But then, why has nothing ever felt so wrong? My external academic, professional and informal change networks are what are keeping me going.

It’s hard for people like Phillipa (I presume) and myself to come to Oxford, or to Cambridge or to any other traditional institute with high expectations. I have been extremely privileged (and yes I’ve worked for those opportunities too) to be part of networks of truly inspiration scholars, leaders and thinkers. Having discussions with Buzz Holling, dreaming and acting towards a sustainable and happy future with the Balaton Group and feeling the energy of Donella Meadows through her friends and colleagues, listening to fascinating debates about cutting edge science at the Stockholm Resilience Centre, or tackling global issues of violence with the European Climate Forum, or learning from a Medicine Man in the Pamir Mountains… I have high hopes and aspirations that we can collectively change the world for the better.

So yes, hands down, no doubt about it, I would learn more this year of what excites me most, if I quit my Master’s at Cambridge and spent more time with these networks; with these people. But, I’m Here. Now. So what can Cambridge give me? Space. To take a step back and learn the basics. I write about Institutions. But, I haven’t read the full seminal works by Coase, or North, or even Ostrom. I quote them extensively. But I haven’t really read them. So, having dropped my expectations that Cambridge is going to provide any type of stimulating discussion on Global Earth Governance, Resilience, Systems Dynamics… or any other topic I am intrinsically interested in, I will fall back to the theory, try to hide from the OH SO stimulating world that is passing by   while I try to create my own academic reality. Plus, it can’t be as bad as Kabul… right? (and RyanAir is only a 40 minute train ride away…)

So, I’m not dropping out—but, I would recommend to others, as alternative education choices… check out an institution like CEMUS in Uppsala, Sweden. Or just go hang out with some of your academic idols and listen to them. Or, learn how to farm and bake bread.

It is widely stated that this is the Number One University in the world. 61 nobel prizes. Newton, Bacon, Darwin, Watson and Crick…the list of course goes on. The memory engrained in this institution in truly incredible. A condensed 800 years of academic brilliance. It makes me wonder whether innovation can be transmitted through old stone walls…

I was told today by my Senior Tutor that Academic Excellence at Cambridge is not because of the Institution, but in fact, despite of it.

• Self-check out at the library? How would librarians ever keep track of where books are if students could check out books themselves?
• A unified online student account management system? Nope. 6 user ID and passwords later…
• Power point lectures? No such thing, but do expect hundreds of sheets of paper (generally not posted online) with the professor’s notes.
• Sign-up for a discussion group online? Please find sign-up sheet outside room 8A East Wing of CRASSH building.
• Looking for stimulating events? Twitter or Facebook hasn’t made it here yet, but don’t worry, your inbox will be filled with 50+ emails a day from different student societies.

The biggest achievement has been in education, with 2.4 million girls in school, although there is still a high drop-out rate and the numbers going on to secondary school are small. But the fact is that the conservative nature of rural Afghanistan has not changed fundamentally. Over the past 10 years a colossal $57 bn has been spent in aid in Afghanistan, but it has not had any impact on the entrenched attitudes shaping women’s lives.

It’s time we take a serious look at why women like Hamida Barmaki, a lawyer and human rights activist was killed with her family in an attack at a grocery store which was supposedly targeting a Blackwater Security executive. If we fail to protect women like Hamida, then what hope for the future does Afghanistan have? $57 bn in aid certainly hasn’t been leading the transformation we need to see. Maybe it’s time we re-think what a successful society means, and what kind of support is necessary. It brings up a larger suggestion of the systemic role of failed states, the way they suck up resources globally, and the way global interventions are — so far — failing to support the real agents of change. Here’s a brief summary of this discussion we recently had at the Balaton Group.

Two months ago in Kabul, 40 young women took the streets to protest street harassment against women. My friend Heidi Carrubba was there to document.

Protesting against street harassment against women in Kabul, July 2011. Photo: Heidi Carrubba

Inevitably, after 10 years of huge investment and such a patchy record of achievement, next month’s anniversary will provoke a lot of soul searching in aid agencies about what went wrong in Afghanistan.

Perhaps one of the most complex aspects of the conflict has been the blurring of boundaries between development and military occupation. The coalition’s provincial reconstruction teams have been involved in building schools and clinics, reducing the neutral humanitarian “space” in which NGOs can work.

But there is an equally important and complex issue surrounding how a western NGO can effect change in entrenched social attitudes. There are success stories from other parts of the world. Oxfam points to itssupport for a coalition of grassroots organisations in India and Bangladesh which has campaigned against domestic violence and helped shift the popular understanding of what is acceptable. But the key requirement for any success is that both women and men have to see the advantage of change. In Afghanistan, this model of change has failed. Attempts to develop a comparable campaign around honour killing have petered out.

Many NGOs now fear that, after western forces withdraw, it will become almost impossible to work in the country. Ten years on, the anniversary of the invasion is likely to be a sombre event, and it is very unlikely to talk much about women. Used as a rationale for invasion, the plight of women’s rights is increasingly an embarrassing failure.

“There is a principle specific to environmental ecology which states that everything is possible–the worst catastrophes, or the smoothest developments.”

I just returned from a self-imposed ‘writing recluse’ with my co-author for the little book Bo dastoni khud – With our hands: A book of food, and life, in the Afghan and Tajik Pamirs.  There, in a lovely Swedish summerhouse on the Baltic Sea, I found the space to read a few long- overdue classics– including The Three Ecologies, by Guattari.

Guattari wrote this paper in 1989. This week, as I found myself in tightening thought circles writing about the apparent ingenuity gap of the Pamir people after the fall of the Soviet Union, I found myself in an even tighter circle thinking that Guattari wrote these words when I was two years old. And well, it was one of those slightly disconcerting moments where I was reminded that I’ve been spending my entire life trying to articulate thoughts which have already been succinctly and firmly stated before I could even speak.

Many of the discussions we have on the recession and economic growth are spent questioning alternative growth mechanisms within the current economic paradigm when Guattari stated 22 years ago that we should use “our expanded understanding of the whole range of ecological components to set in place new systems of value.” Guattari told us that Capitalism could be challenged, or at least made to incorporate methods of valorization based on existential production. He called for an active offensive, rather than a mere defence of nature. A future in which we fashion ethics appropriate to a future which is at once fascinating and terrifying. (Thank you to David Barry and others, who have recently opened a socially equitable, environmental community bank (E3 bank in the US) against all odds.)

Guattari blames much of the inaction on reductionism that necessarily accompanies the privileging of information which supplants story-telling. So, now, I am going on a bit of limb from my otherwise overly pragmatic self, and am writing a book based foremost on story-telling through which we hope to detract from the abstract, and focus on a memory with a strong sense of self and to form an identity to form a base from which to look forward to the future. The culture of food is a link from the past to the present and beyond. The question is how to maintain that culture—that sense of Pamiri-self—and move forwards. We hope our book creates such a bridge. To invoke memories of the past, record the present, and help provide a rich context for the future.

The question I’m currently tangled up in, is what the future of this region looks like to Pamiris? And what is their ability  to imagine the future, because perhaps even more severely than most, their memories have been eroded by history. In a time of transforming lifestyles and landscapes, our book presents food as a powerful lens through which to invoke visions of the future rooted in memories.

In a recent post in the Resilience Science Blog a quote from Andreas Hussyen’s book states

“At stake in the current history/memory debate is not only a disturbance of our notions of the past, but a fundamental crisis in our imagination of alternative futures.”

Over the coming weeks, and months, I’ll be posting recipes, stories and photos here to give a taste of the coming book!

“We’ve created a… wartime economy” that is a “huge distortion” of Afghanistan’s revenue production, US Senator John Kerry told The Washington Post.

The main issues highlighted in the Report (as summarized in this Financial Times Article) are:

• Inflated local wages

The single most important thing the US could do, the report said, was to stop paying “inflated salaries” to Afghans working for foreign governments or international organisations, which were up to 10 times the market rate. This had “drawn otherwise qualified civil servants away from the Afghan government and created a culture of aid dependency”.

• Dependence on foreign contractors

The two-year study described how misspent foreign aid fuels corruption and actually contributes to insecurity. It also criticised the excessive use and poor oversight of contractors. And although it provided examples of successful projects, it slammed the way that a measure of success is how quickly projects spend their funds.

• Conflict areas are rewarded (to the point that some communities stage conflict to attract aid…)

One of the biggest criticisms of such spending is that it penalises peaceful districts and rewards violent ones. “The evidence that stabilisation programmes promote stability in Afghanistan is limited. Some research suggests the opposite,” the report said.

• Development projects have  been largely counter productive

foreign aid – which accounts for 97 per cent of Afghanistan’s economy – could “fuel corruption, distort labour and goods markets” and undermine Kabul’s control over resources.

It seems major foreign powers are stuck in a Catch 22. To withdraw now, means handing over the country to terrorists.

… Ryan Crocker, the Obama administration’s nominee to become the new ambassador in Kabul, said the US could not afford to abandon Afghanistan and let it fall back into the hands of terrorists (FT).

But  according to the Congressional Report published yesterday, foreign military and aid efforts are doing a lot more damage than good. So if the US and others are here to stay, how can they modify their aid to actually contribute to the long term sustainable development of the country?

Development efforts in Afghanistan are not doomed to fail. There are plenty of successful examples of community-driven development in Afghanistan which have been operating for over a decade. Let’s focus on those, and rethink handing over bags of cash to provincial governors.