Radical Adaptation
When our choice is between global collapse and a deal with the devil, what is the third way?
I’m reflecting on a video call with my collaborators, Philippe Greier and Marc Thibault. It’s a stormy day in Wellington, and my plans for the year are being cancelled one by one in the face of COVID — 19.
Things are going to get worse. What can I do now? Who can I be?
Taking a Permaculture Design Course in 2016 was my wake-up call to how fragile global human society is; how dependent we are on scarce reserves of fresh water and topsoil, how quickly the loss of biodiversity can lead to any number of crises. The pandemic is yet another unforeseen blow to a fragile, already-collapsing-in-slow-motion social ecosystem.
For three years I have been committed to the unconventional work of building and promoting counter-society structures that are adaptable and resilient.
For three years I have taken this radical path to mitigate disaster before it’s too late.
In these three years, I have grown numb to the pessimism expressed through the voices of those with stakes in the old system; their perception of reality discordant with my updated ‘post-permaculture’ operating system.
It’s easy to laugh when collapse feels impossible.
When someone takes their kids out of school to avoid any chance of infection.
When someone quits their job in finance to learn regenerative farming.
When someone leaves facebook in favour of less user-friendly, p2p internet protocols.
Misjudging risk is a behavioural pattern, symptomatic of a worldview that hasn’t synced to the hard facts of inevitable collapse.
This response is not reality.
It takes courage to leave the herd, to leave the illusion of safety and control.
You might not be ready to take a ‘radical’ step, but how do you respond to those who are?
Only two days after a couple of “paranoid preppers” [sic, teacher’s response] decided to withdraw their kids from school, the school announced it was closing.
Seven years after the regenerative farmer began rebuilding topsoil and creating pollinator habitats in their area, the supermarket shelves were emptied.
In a pandemic, it is not large-scale “business as usual” which can adapt and help us meet our needs when we are most vulnerable.
It is the radical fringe dwellers, the commoners, the mutual aid networks, the open source developers, the prosumer communities, and the indigenous, who are prepared to survive.
This sort of initiative may be lumped together as “community organizing” or similar — the nuance is not well held in the dominant culture, and a lot of it is considered “care work” and unpaid. This makes it extra challenging and uncommon.
But if you don’t design for an alternative future now, who will?
When an old system collapses, the ‘privileged classes’ are just as vulnerable, in some sense more so; having no living memory of tragedy, the illusion of security is more prominent. Having access to the luxuries of the system, normality means entitlement, outsourcing the work means you don’t develop personal mastery of basic life support skills.
In a sense, this pandemic is a blessing in disguise, if the worst is yet to come.
Our systems are failing the test, revealing the gaps in our communities and supply chains where we are too dependent on an extractive economy; too alienated from our local resources, too invested in what’s already broken.
Banks are not too big to fail. They fail billions of people every day.
The human spirit is too enduring to fail. Yet it can suffer in transition.
Ignoring the suffering of marginalized communities who were hit first and worst by the consequences of industrialized, privatized neoliberalism means ignoring critical data about what’s on the horizon for the rest of us; because we are interconnected and interdependent.
What is your response when you come across a social justice campaign, or a rally for ecological conservation? Do you feel involved? Is it significant?
Do you still laugh when someone takes preventative action to reduce suffering? Do you call them idealistic, hippie, radical?
I’m not surprised that many of us don’t pay attention when we have the chance; that the risk of staying the same appears smaller than the risk of change (except in rearview).
It’s uncomfortable to see how fragile you are.
You’d rather not have that vulnerability reflected to you.
It’s easier to excuse inaction; “That’s too hard”, “You’re crazy”, “Let’s talk about something less depressing”.
But when will you make time to audit your dependencies?
When it’s too late, when hospitals are overloaded, when you can no longer receive a wage from the ‘secure’ career choice you couldn’t risk leaving?
“The best time to plant a tree is ten years ago.
The second best time is today.”
-Bill Mollison
Will you be like the baboon trapped with his fist in a pumpkin, unwilling to let go of the bounty in his hand, even as the farmer approaches with his shotgun?
Or will you take a risk to live your life embracing the unknowns head-on, unlearning the lessons in ‘how to keep the system running’ and rejecting the narrative of ‘status quo’ because you see the looming dangers on the horizon and know in your heart that the UN and Microsoft can’t solve these problems decently for every local community on earth?
“Otros mundos son posibles (other worlds are possible)”
-Zapatistas
This pandemic is a harbinger of what’s coming; and it brings the chance to reflect on the narratives we tell ourselves, the excuses about why we don’t prioritize care for earth, care for our fellow humans, and fair share for all beings.
It is a chance to build community and take adaptive action; invest in collective assets like orchards, homeschooling resources/community, utilities, passive solar architecture; learn to weave, learn to forage wild medicines, learn how to compost your humanure.
We are in a global village, and still have time to learn from each other about resilience and adaptation, cultural preservation, ecological restoration. There is time to stress-test our ideals before our losses are cut for us.
Ready to be part of shaping a new culture?
You’re invited to join our conversations during Now What?! 2020, where the Beyond Us collective are hosting an engagement stream, sharing our stories about education and cultural conditioning; preserving cultural wisdom through conscious un/learning, intergenerational dialogue and mutual sovereignty between diverse cultures.
Other worlds are possible, and can be co-compatible, in mutual reverence for the larger earth.
We’re taking things step by step, bringing together many perspectives to prototype new systems of prosperity.
The dominant culture is failing us, people all over the globe.
It’s time to be together in a radically new way.
Our journey starts Monday 30th March (Tuesday 31st in NZ).
Check the time in your own time zone here and email us for a link to the zoom room at globalgrdn@gmail.com (or register for our Engagement Stream when you sign up for Now What?! to receive all invitations).
In solidarity and with great care,
