Reflections on Issue Twenty-One
Water the Climate Connector
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Thank you to everyone who had a chance to read Issue Twenty-One over the past week. For those who have yet to read it, the reflections from other readers below may be a good starting point, or you can read “Water the Climate Connector” first.
The Understory reflections between issues are intended to share thoughtful comments from subscribers that expand upon and challenge parts of the previous issue. In the same spirit that us-two wrote Issue Twenty-One, the following reflections are also a collaborative effort. In Sand Talk Tyson Yunkaporta talks of a unique form of kinship that comes from pairing-up people in a knowledge-sharing process. When us-two look back at the flow of ideas and conversations during the synthesis of Issue Twenty One, we, like Water, followed the path of least resistance. We allowed the gravity of the issues to dictate the direction and pace. From two sides of the Atlantic—looking across and looking within—we found the connective power of Water which defies our known and unknown limits.
Throughout the writing process, us-two were acutely aware of our differences and tried to avoid the essay becoming fragmentary and subjective. What made the experience even more resonant is that a day before publication, the Zulu King, iSilo samaBandla Onke uGoodwill Zwelithini kaBhekuzulu passed away. Prof. Nogwaja Zulu from the University of KwaZulu-Natal, echoed our narrative in Times Live (18 March 2021) when he said, “when a king is buried, it is believed that he is being planted because he is going back to where he came from—that reed”. After days of celebration, Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini was planted with the hope that a new king will germinate out of his reuniting with the soil. This act symbolizes the oneness we all have with the living planet.
Us-two are immensely grateful for the comments added this week both publicly and privately, and hope they provide further value in your own thinking about the connective possibilities of Water.
As Shared by Mark Moulton
“Dear us-two: thank you for stringing pearls of image-wisdom from every culture. This article sings with intuitive awe and scientific speculation. You portray the nature of our balancing act here in this world. We exist. The void of space surrounds our atmosphere, gifts us with breath and body. Always a good story to tell, seldom better told.”
One of the joys of collaboratively writing this issue was bringing two communities together whose cultural, scientific, and geological conditions dramatically differ, and yet could be celebrated together. It is in the complexity rather than the simplicity of perspectives where we have the chance to look between; to see the space of difference as an invitation for dialogue, contemplation, and collaboration. These are the virtuous circles of cooperation that can bridge what can be misunderstood as barriers of difference. Us-two see ourselves as stewards and guides for meaningful conversations on climate action. This is not because we have all the answers, but rather because we are driven by the need to connect and bring together those who are willing to put in the necessary work required for the much-needed action.
See Mark’s comment in its entirety and add your reflections to his
As Shared by Alexis Morgan
“I liked the note about the humility of water, and I think your note about human control is poignant. The future will involve much of those elements: letting go of the notion of control, having humility to relearn our connection to nature and how water works, silently and sometimes rather violently, to shape and reshape other systems which we depend upon. The symbiosis of water and nature are at the core of what we are going to need to embrace as we prepare for the instability of the climate of tomorrow. But having humility is at the core of it, because nature and water love to create redundancy, and have great ‘wisdom’ (more so than the US Army Corps of Engineers).”
To hear the call of greater humility from a self-professed “water geek” who has worked for more than a decade on Water is very reassuring. Undoubtedly there are many instances where humility feels like a luxury that our densely constructed civilization cannot afford. When it comes to entire communities like those of southern Louisiana being completely underwater or floods resulting from hurricanes and typhoons submerging large swaths of states and even countries like Bangladesh, there is little room remaining for tolerance. And yet society seems most motivated to act in times of crisis rather than in the preparatory stages when crises are foreseen but not imminent.
On March 22nd World Water Day will be celebrated around the globe. Into these global conversations we might bring forward this humility to celebrate Water not for what it can only do for us, but for its vitality as a life-sustaining element of Earth. We can expand the conversational question of “how is water important to your home and family life, your livelihood, your cultural practices, your wellbeing, your local environment.” While Water is essential to all of those things, Water deserves greater reverence. Can we have the humility to celebrate Water for itself? What does Water ask of us?
As Shared by Monique Morden
“I was struck by the case for the $50B project which is a massive price tag but the cost of not taking action is much greater. It really made me think about the cost of reparations. Reparations to segments of humanity that have been wronged but also to Mother Earth. Since the world is currently based on economics and capitalism (rightly or wrongly), perhaps we need to get better at speaking that language and pressing the case for action in dollar terms and being innovative in how we present those cases. There are starting to be lots of HBR type environmental examples we could use to persuade the money-driven segment of society.
I listened to a podcast on the different types of reparation models that could be applied to Black Americans for slavery. It included the costs which was really interesting to get past the concept and to tangible ways to actually do it. As well as the long-term benefits in dollar terms of such a program.
Are there economists working on this for climate issues? There must be. I would think the models would need to be broken down into more components of the climate issue or more tactical elements to show the benefits on a case-by-case basis.”
From the World Economic Forum to central bankers like Christine Lagarde and Mark Carney, there are myriad economic consortia, institutions, and initiatives quantifying climate impact. The reparations are multi-faceted, some of which have been touched on in previous issues: from the costs to replace the planet’s usurped “natural services” (Paul Hawken Issue Two) to the carbon inequality on those who will suffer most from its effects (Issue Eleven) to the legal rights of nature (Issue Thirteen).
While reparations have direct economic effects, they also have profound effects on our understanding and discourses of history. There were a number of missed opportunities here in South Africa on how the question of reparations was handled by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), the State and by extension, the ruling party in government. Economic utility can provide people with dignity, validation, value, agency, power, and freedom. However, the atrocities brought on by slavery, colonialism, and apartheid were devastating and continue to be part and parcel of every aspect of our lives to this day in more ways than one. Simply imposing a one-off wealth tax on former oppressors does not even begin to address the issues of socio-economic maldistribution; the suffering of the people and all the injustices they suffered.
Perhaps the bigger question that Monique raises is in the intersection between reparations and consciousness. Can a process of considered reparation create the spaces for healing of those directly harmed? Can reconciliation commissions create national dialogue that shifts broader public and policy perspectives with an enduring consciousness? Apartheid South Africa, Aboriginal genocide in Australia, slavery in America, First Nations Residential Schools in Canada—truth and reconciliation commissions open up deep historic wounds of moral harm to peoples and places that most contemporary societies would rather forget. The same could be said for our harm to the living planet. What would a truth and reconciliation commission for Nature look like in our contemporary society? Who would be held accountable? Who would be the witnesses? How would reparations be distributed?
See Monique’s comment in its entirety and add your reflections to hers
As Shared by Peter Tavernise
This is a stunning fact to sit with, given our entire tech economy's reliance on such metals, not to mention the human cost and exploitation to mine them: ‘When it comes to gold specifically, Neville Bergin did the calculations and found it took over 10 megalitres of Water (that’s 10,000,000 litres) to produce one pound of gold.’
Following suggestions from Manda Scott (Accidental Gods) I have adopted the practice these last few months of seeking to recognize, thank, and praise Water (spirit of Water—the miraculous fact of water) whenever I encounter it. Rainfall. What comes out of the tap. Washing dishes by hand. The absolute wonder of a warm shower. What I found is initially I would not remember until well after I had, for instance, washed my hands. Ten minutes later.. ‘oh, I should have thanked Water.’
Over the weeks, the window of recollection became smaller and smaller until finally I remembered last Saturday while I was actually still standing under the shower, and I burst into tears at the depth of my awe, reverence and gratitude for the humble, most basic fact that we are Water, require Water, it is our first and primary nourishment along with the air itself. It is what bathes us in the womb, and what washes us our first day and our last day in this life. How can we not honor Water every moment we touch it? To have lost touch with this conscious connection is just one more recoverable aspect of what was misplaced/displaced by our mechanistic dominant culture. It need not be so any longer.”
In reading Peter’s continuous acknowledgement of Water, it brought to mind how our contemporary mechanistic culture has largely hidden water out of sight. Water comes into and out of our homes through pipes tucked away neatly in walls and cabinets. The gutters that run along rooflines typically channel water directly into pipes directly connected to the sewer system—its transport without even an auditory queue. Our water treatment plants are often at the edges of our cities or outside of them altogether, invisibly processing our discards.
Historically our relationship with water was more visible. Of course, a much greater portion of the population was involved in agriculture whose interdependence on Water was evident. This connection was also more visceral for urban dwellers. When visiting many old cities, there are relics and even sometimes functioning public fountains that echo the water commons mentioned by Vandana Shiva. The medina in Fez, Morocco, has over sixty seqqâya—many nearly one thousand years old—each uniquely tiled as a kind of invitation to revere water. Fountains were often the centre of the urban public sphere, typically ornamented with sculptural representation of mythological narratives further connecting us with a lineage. The spans of stone arched aqueducts dotted the Roman Empire, providing a kind of visual scaffold to their cities. And before the advent of sewers in the 19th century, streets were laden with Water, which were intentionally designed with curvature into the centre to channel water (ineffectively) away. My wife reminded me that this is why ladies were given the distinguished lane on the outside of the city street.
John O’Donohue writes about the hidden and the visible relationship to Water in the context of our tears:
‘In many lives there are hidden banks of tears. Things have been suffered but then buried and successfully forgotten. And yet there is great relief to be found in tears, for tears release great burdens. In some strange way pain washes itself out of the body through tears. Despite the pain felt in the weeping, the result can be a greater sense of peace and balance. It is the unseen, the kept tears that often cause the most destruction.’
Thank you, Peter, for showing us that with a little effort, we too can have our own moments of reverence that return peace and balance to our relationship with Water.
See Peter’s comment in its entirety and add your reflections to his
We hope this week between issues provides the space for further discovery and reflection. Go forth and make a difference in the week ahead. See you next Saturday with Issue Twenty-Two.
Adam & Musa
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Why I Write The Understory
We have crossed the climate-change threshold from emerging to urgent, which demands a transformative response. The scale of the issue demands not only continuous focus but also the courage to take bold action. I've found that a persistence of climate consciousness improves resilience to the noise and distractions of daily life in service of a bigger (and most of the time invisible) long-term cause.
The Understory is my way of organizing the natural and human-made curiosities that capture my attention. Within the words, research, and actions of others lies the inspiration for personal and organizational journeys. I hope that my work here will help to inform not just my persistent consciousness, but yours as well.