and now for something completely different

One thing that's concerned me in the past few months is how many issues there are that seriously impact our lives and the world, and how little most of us know about many of them. Even for someone like me, who claims to care about these issues and spends a significant amount of time researching them, a look at the big picture quickly reveals the extent of my ignorance.

Take, for example, the topic of pollutants that act as endocrine disrupters. I had never even heard of this particular type of pollution until my friend Maurice (a colleague at Hollywood Jesus, and an environmental toxicologist working directly with water pollutants) was kind enough to educate me on the subject. Granted, it has little to do with energy, which is the main subject of my research, but it's a perfect example of the kind of problem with a whole host of side effects and impacts, most of which we have little or no understanding of as yet. And the fact that there are few regulations in place that address this specific issue was frightening to me. Enough so that I thought I'd take advantage of the opportunity to interview Maurice about it, since he's working on this problem. So here is a little introduction to an environmental issue that's less talked about (than, say, climate change) but no less important.

What are endocrine disrupters, and what do they do?
Basically, they are what they're called: any chemicals that have the potential to disrupt the endocrine system. There are a lot of environmental contaminants that mimic the biological activities of estrogen - from herbicides and pesticides to even some plasticware. Because estrogen is vital for communication between cells and in embryonic development, you can see why screwing with estrogen levels in the environment could lead to many potential problems. Among other things, they are suspects for cancer, birth defects and immune problems. We are already seeing the impact of these chemicals in various fish and alligator populations.

What chemical pollutants currently found in our water have been shown to be endocrine disrupters, and what are some of the sources of these pollutants?
I've mentioned herbicides, pesticides, and plasticizers already. We're also talking about farmland runoff and surfactants (like many of our cleaning agents, such as detergent).

What are the current regulations regarding these types of chemicals?
The EPA is already assessing the threat, and there are a number of projects aimed at trying to find fast and inexpensive ways to test for and monitor environmental estrogen. I don't believe there is anything firmly in place yet, but a lot of companies, environmental groups, and agencies are being proactive about the problem.

How will the project you're currently working on help indicate the presence of endocrine disrupters in water?
We're using a Yeast Estrogen Screen, where yeast cells have been modified for the human estrogen receptor and we expose it, in medium, to potential endocrine disrupters. We can tell relatively quickly whether there are endocrine disrupters present and at what levels. For us, it's still a work in progress.

What steps still need to be taken to address this problem (political, medical, research, etc.)?
Once the EPA guidelines are in place and mandated, companies dumping into streams will have their effluent's estrogen levels regularly monitored. More funding to allow studies of potentially damaged areas would be helpful. As well as for research in how to best remediate the problem once it has been detected.

As a Christian, what concerns you most about this issue?
There is an aspect to Christianity that has gone long unattended, something that I'll refer to as creation spirituality. Thoreau said that "with a keen awareness of the natural world one could find truth". God has created all things and declared them "good" (even "very good"). We've abandoned the a sense of "creation spirituality" from our spiritual walks, so it's little wonder that people return to older religions in an effort to reclaim it.

One of the lessons from the Genesis account of creation is that we were created to be stewards of creation. Yet, we've lost our connection with creation, continuing to develop new ways to either insulate ourselves from it or encroach our brand of civilization into it. Our souls are starved for God's creation; being an environmentalist could be considered spiritual work (and I'll continue to point out that Environmentalism wasn't made into a moral issue in any recent elections).

All spiritual people should enjoy God's creation, embracing it the way God intended for us. We need to recover the mystical part of spirituality, learning to exist in harmony with God, others, and creation.

more on eco-justice

I received an email this morning from Adam at the Eco-Justice Program of the National Council of Churches. He wanted to tell me about a conference they're organizing in March: the Ecumenical Advocacy Days, especially the track specializing in eco-justice. This sounds very cool and I am definitely going to try to go!

Watch this You Tube ad for it; you'll want to come too.

the ecology of justice

I was reading this morning in John Chryssavgis's Beyond the Shattered Image about the concept of eco-justice, which Chryssavgis defines as the concept that "all ecological activities...are ultimately measured and judged by their effect on the poor" (6). He goes on to explore Wendell Berry's assertion that "there is an uncanny resemblance between our behavior toward each other and our behavior toward the earth" (49). Such a reflection puts the importance of Christian environmentalism in a whole new light. Environmentalism isn't just about being good stewards, as though the earth were here only for our use. We may be the image of God, but we are still only a small part of the great picture of creation. Our relationship to the earth, like our relationships to each other, is just another step in the dance. But it's a step that reveals a great deal about us and our motivations. Often, this step of our relationship to the earth is the step on which the dance flies or stumbles.

And in light of this relationship between our concern for the earth and our concern for the poor, I found this article particularly interesting. In it Sharon Astyk questions the success of the green revolution, especially in regard to overall food production. The green revolution refers to the agricultural shift in the 1940s and 1960s from small, biodiverse farms to industrial, monoculture farms. It is commonly viewed as having enabled a huge increase in worldwide food production, due mainly to increased technology and heavy reliance on petrochemical fertilizers. But Astyk questions that statistic. She points out that the increase in grain yields was offset by an unmeasured decrease in more diverse crops, many of which were previously grown in home gardens or small farms and were not included in production numbers.

There are (as the energy bulletin editor points out at the bottom of the article) some holes in Astyk's argument, especially since she doesn't have any hard numbers to back up her claim. But I think the question deserves closer consideration. It may not be possible to statistically analyze the real profit and loss in terms of calories and production caused by the green revolution. But there's plenty of evidence that overall nutrition and diversity in diets, especially among the poor, were seriously harmed. The chemicals that enabled an increase in wheat or rice production often destroy the worms and other organisms that enrich the soil; land that is dedicated to monoculture is taken away from other crops that would provide a more nutritious and balanced diet. The result, as Vandana Shiva writes, is that "global markets record more commodities for trading because food has been stolen from nature and the poor."

Which reminded me of a story I heard recently from a speaker named Chris, who works with an organization that provides community development services in the poorest areas of the world. Chris described an event that occured while he was in Venezuela working with street children. They were playing soccer in a field when he saw one of the street kids he knew--a boy named Juan--running toward them, full speed as though his life depended on it. Chris waved at Juan, expecting him to come and join them, but Juan didn't even pause. He kept running right past them, and then he disappeared into the crowded street on the other side of the park.

Chris only had a minute to wonder what was going on, because almost immediately he saw another person--a young man, probably a college student--who was running full tilt after Juan. It was only then that Chris realized there'd been something unusual about Juan: he was wearing the ragged clothes that were all he owned, but he'd been carrying a new leather jacket.

Of course the situation was obvious: Juan had stolen the coat. As a Christian service worker, Chris had one easy response to the situation, and so he began to pray. But as soon as he tried, he realized that he didn't know how to pray, or what to pray for. Should he pray that Juan would be caught, perhaps sent to jail? That he would return the coat? Or should he pray that Juan would escape? Chris knew the back alley where Juan slept. He knew how cold the streets could get at night. He could understand why Juan would want to steal a coat. And yet he believed that stealing was wrong, and that it wouldn't ultimately help Juan succeed in life. And so he didn't know how to pray.

But in that moment, a thought came into his head, and it was as though God were speaking to him. But the words didn't make sense. What he heard was this: "What you've just seen was not a thief."

But clearly a theft was committed, so how could Juan not be a thief?

"What you've just seen was two thieves." Chris was still confused, but the message went on. "Juan stole a coat. But the coat was stolen to begin with. Didn't I tell you that if you had a second coat, you should give it to the one who has none? All those extra clothes in your closet--they are stolen from the poor. Juan shouldn't need to steal them; they should have already been given to him."

Which, of course, brings me guiltily back to my closet full of clothes, but it also bring me back to the global food market, and to the midwestern storehouses overflowing with corn. It's easy to dismiss the admonition to "eat your vegetables, because people are starving in Africa" with the flippant reply, "then let's send them my spinach." Because, of course, you can't send the uneaten spinach off your plate anywhere, not even the local homeless shelter. But then again, maybe you can.

It's difficult to physically send food to needy areas, and it's only a temporary solution anyway--as is pointed out in the old adage about teaching a man to fish. But it's becoming less and less difficult to take steps that counteract the movement toward the industrialization of agriculture. In the global economy, everything is market-driven: if there is a market for something, then it will thrive, and if the market disappears, then it will eventually die. Maybe you can't teach sustainable agriculture to farmers in the third world, but at least you can help remove some of the motivation behind a market that enables American farmers to export corn to Mexico at a price that undercuts Mexican farmers (pushing them, incidentally, to grow more commercially viable crops, such as cocaine). You can't always change the world, but you can change your neighborhood. As Ghandi said, you can "be the change you wish to see in the world," by ending your own dependence on a monocultural system that effectively steals from the neediest to give surplus to the richest.

For me, it's a dance that moves forward one step at a time. I'm now entering my second season as a member of a community garden. I didn't grow much I could eat in the past season, but it was winter, and I'm still learning. I've just committed to joining a community supported agriculture group, which means I'll get a basket of fresh produce from a local farm every week starting in April. And I'll be planting a second garden when I move to my new apartment in a month. I'm working, slowly but surely, to wean myself off the system that supports industrial farms, onto a system that supports local, biodiverse farmers. And hey, with two gardens and a CSA, maybe I'll even have some extra produce this summer--something I can donate to a local soup kitchen.

energy independence

Charles Krauthammer of The Seattle Times argued in his opinion column this morning that the ethanol solutions Bush offered in his State of the Union address do not offer a real path to energy independence. I agree with him, for a whole variety of reasons beyond the increasing demand that he touts as the main obstacle to ethanol. Ethanol's EROEI (energy returned on energy invested) can't compare to gasoline's, and cellulosic ethanol is theoretically a good idea but practically still just a pipe dream. Krauthammer argues that the real solutions are to tax gasoline, drill in the Artic, and go nuclear. All of which have some (limited) possibility, though the latter two both open up a whole new range of environmental problems. A gas tax is by far the most promising of these solutions, not only because it doesn't automatically cause more environmental problems, but also because it offers a real economic incentive toward the most important solution of all: conservation.

It strikes me as a linguistic oddity that the very word "conservation" has become mostly unmentional in conservative circles. They are, after all, closely related. But conservation is widely seen as uncapitalist and therefore un-American. The very idea of choosing to use less of something that's cheap, convenient, and available is simply not acceptable in a society that's motivated entirely by economic means.

But conservation is not only in many ways the simplest solution to energy problems; it is also one of the most Christian solutions. To conserve something is to preserve it, to save it, to guard it. Behind the idea of conservation is an concept of balance, a sense that one should not take advantage of blessings or use them all for one's self. Something should be saved; something should be left behind for others. It is a rejection of selfishness.

And many of the Christian disciplines are supported by a principle of conservation. Fasting requires eating less than what is available or convenient, often for the purpose of sharing with others. Giving is a kind of conservation of money, a laying aside of a portion of your wealth to store it in a place where it cannot be wasted. And the church calendar is a way of conserving time, a way of guarding and preserving each season and its unique meaning. Perhaps it is because of our culture's rejection of any kind of self-denial or conservation that many churches no longer celebrate these disciplines beyond a mere lip service.

And even though it's not mentioned much in energy discussions, the truth is that conservation is a surprisingly easy solution. Ride a bike. Use low-energy light bulbs. Buy local food. Take public transportation. The Center for a New American Dream is running an online campaign that shows the difference small decisions like these can make. No, it won't solve the whole problem, but it will make a dent in it. And once you get used to the discipline of conservation, it's really not even that difficult.

introduction

In the past few years, the evangelical Christian community has been growing more and more green. This blog will reflect on various environmental issues, concerns, and events from a spiritual perspective.