Living Democracy, Feeding Hope

The COVID-19 pandemic has thrown the world into uncharted territory, with challenges that we have never seen before, but also fresh opportunities. Originally Published on The Progressive, June 2, 2020 In truth, the COVID-19 crisis is just one of many we face—as a nation, and as a planet. In mid-May, as this article went to press, the coronavirus was killing more than 3,000 people worldwide each day, sometimes nearly twice as many. Meanwhile, climate disruption is also exacting a ghastly toll, killing about 150,000 people each year. We need to stop these crises in their tracks. But solutions to any problem require first grasping its roots. So, just how did we get to this frightening place? Fifty years ago, the experts were telling us that a scarcity of food was the cause of global hunger—destined only to get worse. But my untrained eyes allowed me to see the obvious: From plenty, humans were actively creating the experience of scarcity. This “aha” moment led to my first book, Diet for a Small Planet. The shock of being right awakened me. Suddenly, I realized that human beings are uniquely “creatures of the mind.” Our belief systems, carried in stories that we absorb through a cultural ether, determine whether we thrive—and today, whether we survive. These wider stories, unique to each culture, offer essential meaning and direction. They define who we are and what’s possible. As the proverb attributed both to Plato and to the Hopi people says, “Those who tell the stories rule the world.” Thus, in this moment of historic crisis, let’s first identify our culture’s dominant story—and who’s telling it—that has driven us to the edge. The story begins in 1971. We’d just experienced a postwar era in which Americans in every income quintile doubled their real family income, with the poorest gaining the most. In the previous decade alone, the civil rights movement had scored huge victories, and the federal War on Poverty had cut America’s poverty rate by 42 percent. In 1970, the first Earth Day turned out one in ten Americans in an impassioned cry for environmental health. Encouraged that greater fairness and environmental responsibility were possible, these social movements demanded more—more voice, more equity, and more action. But their aspirations struck fear in the hearts of others—especially America’s business elite. Encouraged that greater fairness and environmental responsibility were possible, these social movements demanded more—more voice, more equity, and more action. But their aspirations struck fear in the hearts of others—especially America’s business elite. So, in 1971, the U.S. Chamber of Commerce commissioned attorney Lewis Powell—at the time serving on eleven corporate boards—to prepare a game plan: the now infamous “ Powell Memo. ” His thirty-four-page playbook didn’t pull any punches. With great urgency, he warned that our “free enterprise system” is “under broad attack.” It is in “deep trouble and the hour is late.” Powell, who would soon after be appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court, singles out one particular enemy of freedom: Ralph Nader, who’d recently had the audacity to challenge unsafe practices in the auto industry. In response, Powell called on the business elite to spread a new message: That the very survival of freedom embodied in the “free enterprise system” is threatened by those who seek to extend the power of government, and so businesses must fight back with unprecedented investment and coordination. From grade school to grad school, as well as through think tanks and the media, the anti-government message had to go forth. This “story” was straightforward: Freedom isn’t freedom of opportunity—as social movements had been insisting—but rather freedom from government interference. Government action to promote the general welfare—as in rules protecting clean air or voting rights or fair labor practices—denies freedom. It is also a worldview that assumes a rather tawdry view of human nature: Pulling away the fluff, all we can truly count on is that humans are self-interested, competitive, and materialistic. A few years after Powell’s memo, science reinforced this meme when biologist Richard Dawkins published The Selfish Gene, which one survey later deemed the most influential science book of all time. Such reductionist views encouraged calls to let the “free market” decide whose needs get met, since it’s driven by the only motive we can truly count on: self-interest. A misconstrued Adam Smith soon became the godfather of this philosophy, and by the 1980s, neckties with his image were popular in the Reagan White House. Business got the message. In the decade after Powell’s memo, the number of firms with lobbyists in Washington rose sharply. Today, for every Congressperson that Americans elect, almost two dozen Washington lobbyists pursue the (mostly business) interests of their bosses. Between 2000 and 2016, the fossil fuel industry alone invested nearly $2 billion in lobbying to kill climate change legislation, reports a 2018 academic study. Lobbying was not enough, though. Those determined to defeat “big government” have succeeded in getting a seat at the table as lawmakers craft legislation. In 1973, funded by business interests, the newly renamed American Legislative Exchange Council began working directly with lawmakers to produce model bills, including those loosening environmental standards. Each year across the country, dozens of these bills become laws. So it’s no surprise that an academic study published in 2014 found that America’s economic elites had strong influence on which public policies passed, while the influence of the majority of Americans was “near zero.” Our market—termed “free” but driven by the single-minded logic of delivering the highest return to existing wealth—has led to economic inequality more extreme than that of more than a hundred other countries, and the current pandemic is worsening the divide. No one should be surprised that COVID-19’s toll is disproportionately decimating the lives of low-income Americans, especially people of color. So much for how we got to the edge. Now is the moment to prove that “crisis offers opportunity” isn’t an empty cliche. Both the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic and already-occurring climate disruptions may be cracking a key pillar of the old story—the notion that the market left to itself can best serve life—and clearing the way for a new one. Surely, the months we have already spent facing a common, invisible enemy are leading to a deeper awareness of our connected fates. The great losses heighten our awareness of the need for government as our shared tool in protecting life. So, the big question: Can we begin to imagine truly overcoming COVID-19, preparing for future pandemics, and effectively taking on the even bigger challenge of preventing the climate catastrophe? Possibly . . . if we dig deep enough. One understandable response to these crises is simply to fight with renewed vigor the “mal- efactors of great wealth” that Teddy Roosevelt warned us about. But I believe this approach can’t work on its own. We must also quickly shape a new and life-serving story. Let’s start anew with the question: Who are we? Contrary to a misreading of Darwin’s theory about “survival of the fittest,” humans rose as the dominant species due in large measure to our uniquely strong social capacities—for cooperation, empathy, and a sense of fairness. Darwin himself wrote that in tribal societies “actions are regarded . . . as good or bad, solely as they obviously affect the welfare of the tribe.” Even Adam Smith, whose work is often reduced to the “invisible hand” of self-interest, wrote that humans feel “tied, bound, and obliged to the observation of justice.” And now we experience these prosocial capacities daily, as seen in the self-sacrifice of health workers and in the wider heart-opening to others that the current pandemic reveals. From there, the harder challenge is to identify and create the specific economic and political conditions that bring out the best in us and keep the worst in check. History suggests at least three: the wide dispersion of power, transparency in public affairs, and a culture of mutual accountability. By “mutual accountability,” I mean acknowledging that we all share responsibility for today’s crises, even if only by our inaction. On the first condition—dispersion of power—I flash back to a moment when I publicly challenged the dominant story. In the 1980s, I was invited to the University of California, Berkeley, to debate Milton Friedman, the prime promoter of “free-market” capitalism. “Dr. Friedman,” I said, “if freedom to choose in the marketplace defines freedom, then it grows only as our government sets rules to ensure the ever-wider distribution of buying power.” Needless to say, he didn’t buy it. Indeed, for humans, it’s hard to let go of one way of making sense of our world without a new one clearly in sight. So, how do we create positive economic and social conditions before it’s too late? First we can take tips from how the dominant, destructive story was built via innumerable “little stories” that tell us government always fails and business is always the “juice” of progress. Similarly, let’s focus on identifying and sharing examples of a more compelling, life-serving story—fed less by fear and more by hope. We can spread what I love to call “stories of possibility.” For example, a remarkable upsurge of climate-solution action is underway in cities and states all across America, including red states. Citizens are working with governments to change laws and spawn climate-safe energy, transportation, farming, and more. Texas, known for Big Oil and big egos, has become an international leader in renewable energy. If Texas were a country, it would be the world’s fifth largest producer of wind energy. More than 2,700 U.S. cities, states, businesses, and others in the “ We Are Still In ” coalition have declared their commitment to the Paris climate agreement, despite Donald Trump’s pullout. Thus, many are taking bold action. And we can change the system’s rules to enable these stories to multiply exponentially. One such change toward creating a new climate and economic story is simply to stop rewarding harm with our public dollars. Globally, in 2017, nations spent more than $5 trillion subsidizing fossil fuels, including indirect costs like higher health care and climate mitigation. In the United States, these costs have exceeded our defense budget. We can stop. We have to. And we can go further to create life-serving rules. Senator Bernie Sanders, Independent of Vermont, is among those calling for lawsuits requiring industries to compensate us for their damage. If Joe Biden, with a lukewarm record on climate, becomes our next President, it will take a great deal of citizen pressure to ensure he follows through on his commitment to pass new emissions limits with, as he said, “an enforcement mechanism . . . based on the principles that polluters must bear the full cost of the carbon pollution they are emitting.” At the same time, a global citizens’ movement to take big polluters out of policy making is growing, with Boston-based Corporate Accountability a U.S. leader. And, today’s historic pandemic-induced oil industry crisis could open us to a bigger system solution. As The New Republic reports , Carla Skandier of the Democracy Collaborative proposes our “government takes a majority stake in privately owned fossil fuel firms, winding down production along a science-based timeline and giving workers a dignified off-ramp into other well-paid work.” Sound too “socialist”? Note that publicly owned electric utilities already serve about fifty million Americans, from Nashville to Seattle, and at a lower cost than investor-owned companies. The good news is that for the first time a majority of Americans agree climate-change action should be a top national priority. The proposed Green New Deal—mocked by Republicans as too broad and unaffordable—embodies the connectedness at the heart of the emergent story. It holds the promise of America addressing the climate crisis, while simultaneously tackling mass poverty. Maine offers a glimpse of the new story taking shape. Relying on Maine’s “Clean Elections” system of public financing, a young environmental activist named Chloe Maxmin in 2018 defeated a Republican businessman to become the first Democrat ever elected in her state House district. Afterward she led passage of a Green New Deal bill by a vote of 84 to 55. It calls for new, clean jobs with apprenticeships and supports schools during the transition from fossil fuels. “Once you get through differing opinions on policy issues, below that,” Maxmin tells me, “we all share an incredibly deep frustration with our government.” Working at the state level, Maxmin finds “opportunity to rebuild our faith in each other and politics.” Perhaps, decades from now, we’ll see that the new story of such connectedness and mutual responsibility arose first from risk takers in cities and states. Already, polls show, most Americans favor the promises of a Green New Deal but worry over the price tag. So a prime task toward system solutions is to help Americans appreciate the vast sums currently being lost through corporate tax-escape hatches. It’s also possible the trillions being poured into COVID-19-related relief may alter perceptions about what America can “afford.” Certainly, the pandemic is awakening Americans to our nation’s preexisting dysfunctionality, thus strengthening our will to create new rules for a fair economy accountable to the people. But system solutions become possible only as we build a deep foundation: democracy in America. Here again, a reframing is called for. We bury the notion of democracy as a finished structure in which our role as citizens is, well, dull duty: the blah spinach we force down to get to what we really want—our dessert of personal liberties. Instead, we embrace democracy as many in numerous generations have experienced it—as a thrilling journey. What I’m discovering is far from dull duty. Instead I experience an awakening, as Americans passionate about a cause—say, labor, racial justice, or the environment—grasp that without democracy they can’t get far on “their” issue. So together they’re birthing a vibrant “movement of movements,” reflected in the Democracy Initiative . In seven years, it’s brought together seventy-two organizations representing forty-five million Americans, advancing reforms that reduce Big Money’s power over our democracy and ensure every voice is heard. Together, Americans never before engaged are realizing their power, enriching their lives with meaning and connection. In this moment, with life itself at stake, what’s all important is manifesting a “new story” capable of powering rebirth. We can leave behind what I like to call ScarcityMind—that sees only scarcity and separateness—and embrace what ecology teaches us: Life is connectedness, change, and thus ongoing co-creation. In this story, there are no parts, only participants. I call it EcoMind, and within it, even the notion of hope changes. To some, hope is for wimps—naïve, and even dangerous in this moment, as it diminishes a sense of urgency. But from an understanding of life as continuous change, with all in connection to all else, we realize it is simply not possible to know what’s possible. How freeing. Throughout history, humans have proven that to rise to a mighty challenge we don’t need certainty of success, or even high probability. To act boldly, we need only to sense the possibility that our action might make a difference, no matter how small. So, I’m neither a pessimist nor an optimist. I declare myself a dyed-in-the-wool possibilist. Plus, there’s evidence that hope reorganizes our brains toward solutions. So, as we stand at the edge in this do-or-die moment, why not seize hope’s power?

Dispersions of power, transparency, and mutual accountability. By Frances Moore Lappé / January 21, 2021 To save the democracy we thought we had we must take democracy to where it’s never been. (Photo: Small Planet Institute) Originally Published on Common Dreams , January 21, 2021 Celebrating the inauguration of a new president and an end to years of attacks on democracy is a perfect moment to probe together: What do we mean by democracy in the first place? Here’s where I start. Beyond our physical essentials, to thrive every human needs to experience three states of being: First, we need to feel personal agency—to know that our voices count. Philosopher Eric Fromm labeled it as our simple need to "make a dent." Yes, we like to make things happen! Second, we need meaning—a sense of purpose beyond our own survival. And third, people need connection. So, we do best when we experience our power and meaning in communities of common purpose. For me, these three—a sense of personal power, meaning, and connection—enable us to experience dignity. Dignatus is the Latin root of this beautiful concept, connoting a sense of worthiness. And what does dignity have to do with democracy? Everything. I believe that the premise of dignity is what our nation’s deeply flawed—yet insightful—rebel founders were getting at when they asserted it to be “self-evident, that all men are created equal.” And democracy is humanity's only vision of governance—i.e., a way of living with each other and the Earth—holding the potential to enable positive dignity. I say “positive” because I am also painfully aware that our species needs these essentials so profoundly that if we cannot meet them in a constructive way, we turn to destructive strategies. Terrorism, we know, can fulfill these same needs. So, my case for democracy is based on a triad defining its foundations. First, inclusive, distributed power. Second, transparency to keep power accountable to the “general welfare,” as our own constitution’s preamble prescribes as central to our nation’s purpose. Third, democracy requires, and nourishes, a culture of mutual accountability. “Some are guilty, but we’re all responsible,” as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel reminds us. Thus, for me, it is no surprise that it is in the times when we’ve enabled the opposite of these three positive conditions to arise that humanity has experienced its darkest hours. And, in this moment, if we are honest with ourselves, we can see their manifestations—in increasingly concentrated power, secrecy in public affairs, and a shaming-and-blaming culture. Today, when the climate emergency is putting life itself at risk—we have a great gift: clarity. Along with proof of our species’ outsized, long-evolved capacities for empathy, cooperation, and fairness, we also have inescapable evidence of their opposing tendencies: that most of us—not just a few psychopaths—are capable of callousness and even unspeakable brutality. All-important then is the necessity to foster the three conditions—dispersions of power, transparency, and mutual accountability—that, for me, define democracy and have proven to keep the worst within us in check while bringing forth the best. From this framing of humanity’s challenge, it becomes clear that the greatest, most immediate obstacle we face is our failure to grasp this truth—to cling instead to the premise that “those bad people” are what’s doing us in. With clarity, however, that virtually all are capable of evil and thus all are responsible for creating the conditions that restrain us, must come courage—courage to get busy creating these conditions, i.e. democracy. Democracy is of course not a fixed structure we inherit. Its essence is “eternal struggle” that’s “easily lost and never fully won,” said our first Black appellate judge, William Hastie. In other words, to save the democracy we thought we had we must take democracy to where it’s never been. And the stirring news, perhaps for the first time, is that Americans are getting it: that no matter what rips most at our hearts, be it the climate crisis, the evil of endemic racism, or the extreme suffering of needless poverty exposed by COVID-19, none—we know—can be met without democracy. We are joining in new alliances with dignity as our lodestar and John Lewis as our patron saint. At least he is mine. Framed by John Lewis as “good trouble,” together we may discover we can do what we before thought to be impossible. To spread this good news, my Small Planet Institute has co-created with the Democracy Initiative a new online portal— www.DemocracyMovement.US —to this positive uprising. Here we can learn, connect, and act for democracy wherever we are. So, let us ever more consciously cultivate the power, meaning, and connection that can create democracy, enable dignity, and foster courage in each of us.

We can act now with proven tools to cut greenhouse gas emissions and store vastly more carbon in plants and the earth. By Frances Moore Lappé / April 19, 2021 Photo source: North Texas Municipal Water District Originally Published on The Boston Globe, April 19, 2021 Life on our fast-heating planet faces an existential threat. This we know. We’re now on track for the worst-case melting of polar glaciers and the resulting sea rise. During the last 15 years, temperatures in the Arctic have reached levels not predicted for another 70 years. When we’re facing any seemingly overwhelming threat, despair can be our greatest enemy. It can feed denial and stymy action. But we can escape this deadly enemy. First, we must recognize that it is too late to save those species we’ve already wiped out at the rate of nearly 150 each day . It is too late to prevent even worse drought, flooding, and generally more extreme weather. But it’s not too late to save at least some of the million species now facing extinction. We can avoid the worst — if we act now, quickly, with proven tools, to cut greenhouse gas emissions and to store vastly more carbon in plants and the earth. It’s a message of hope — hope of a certain kind: honest hope that takes it all in. In fact, hope organizes our brains toward solutions. Hope is a form of power. How, then, do we quickly build such truth-grounded, energizing hope? Because we humans are social creatures who take our cues from one another, we can spread stories of everyday Americans stepping up to confront the climate crisis. I put it this way because our country is a prime climate culprit. Over time, the United States has emitted more CO2 than any other country — since 1751, adding roughly a quarter of total historical emissions. Today, China and the United States emit almost half of the world’s carbon dioxide : In 2020, China released almost 30 percent and the United States 15 percent. But per person we are much worse: Each American adds more than three times her or his share of the world average. Our sad status reflects a damaged democracy and a particularly brutal form of capitalism. Still, numerous states and cities — including unlikely heroes — are seizing the climate challenge. As of late 2020, more than 1 in 4 Americans — over 100 million of us — lived in places committed to using 100 percent clean electricity. These places include over 170 cities and towns, more than 10 counties, and eight states, plus Washington, D.C., and Puerto Rico. All states with clean energy laws now on the books have set mid-century targets for carbon-neutral electricity. To succeed, timetables must be yanked forward, but it is a beginning. I grew up in Texas, where oil is king, and my home state’s leadership on clean energy is an energizing surprise. Yes, it’s true that Texas still produces over a third of the nation’s crude oil; and its continuing dependence on oil and gas brought havoc, even death, during this winter’s deep freeze. But in the 1990s, an alternative opened when eight utilities used a deliberative opinion poll to shape their direction: Randomly selected citizens were invited to come together to learn about and then weigh energy options. The results surprised many. Respondents upped their commitment to renewables and efficiency. Then in 2002, the Texas Legislature not only amended the state’s utility code to allow competition among retail electricity companies but also enacted state Renewable Portfolio Standards . These “standards” — a term more friendly to Texans than “regulation” — required enough clean energy that by 2009 electricity providers collectively supply consumers to power about a third of a million homes. When it became clear the goal would be met three years early, the Legislature more than doubled the requirement. Today, Texas leads the nation, generating almost 30 percent of total US wind-powered electricity. If it were a country, Texas would be the world’s fifth-largest wind energy producer. An additional plus? Because wind turbines use only 2 percent of the area of a typical farm, Texas farmers collectively earn about a fifth of a billion dollars yearly by leasing bits of land to the wind industry. Some see wind as “ a stable cash crop that is policy and drought resistant .” Imagine the possibility. Just three states — Texas, Kansas, and North Dakota — have wind power potential exceeding the electricity used annually by the entire nation. Another state probably not linked with green energy innovation in the minds of many is Georgia. Although it was reliably “red” for nearly 20 years, in less than a decade Georgia has risen to place in the top 10 solar-powered states , providing 76,000 clean energy jobs. To make it happen, the Sierra Club and the state’s Tea Party collaborated, and the unusual partnership has been dubbed — get ready — the “Green Tea Party.” Georgia’s solar power is now on track to provide by 2024 about a fifth of the state’s capacity. In tackling climate chaos, cities matter greatly — since they produce three-quarters of the world’s carbon emissions. In the United States, over 170 cities and towns have committed to 100 percent green energy — with 47 already drawing all their electricity from green, renewable sources. One surprise for me was Washington D.C., which in 2017 became the world’s first LEED platinum-certified city. LEED — Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design — is the globally recognized green-building rating system. That year Washington also ranked number one in the nation for “green roofs.” The city has 3 million square feet of vegetative roofs that capture carbon while mitigating runoff and flooding. These advances have required smart policy tools. State Renewable Portfolio Standards — what worked for wind in Texas — have been successful across the board. Adopted by 30 states and D.C., the approach gets credit for almost half the country’s 2002-2019 renewable energy growth. State collaborative commitments are also helping. An example is the Northeast Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative involving Massachusetts and nine other states. In the initiative’s first decade, beginning in 2005, CO2 emissions from power plants in member states fell by 50 percent , “outpacing the rest of the country by 90 percent.” In facing the climate emergency, there’s a lot to build on. True, we can’t turn back the clock, but we can press utilities and government at every level, and with all our might, for the Greenest New Deal. To act, we humans don’t need certainty of success. What we do need is to see others like ourselves in action and to glimpse even a possibility that we can make a difference.

By Anna Lappé For decades, data on pesticide exposure has been vague and non-existent. Anna Lappé talks to the researchers who have put hard numbers to unintentional pesticide poisonings and fatalities globally. Originally Published on Earth Island Journal , March 25, 2021 Last December, four researchers from Germany, Malaysia, and the United States published the results of a systematic review estimating the number of unintentional pesticide poisonings and fatalities globally. The conclusion was startling: An estimated 44 percent of farmers, farmworkers, and pesticide applicators experience at least one incident of acute pesticide poisoning on the job every year, and 11,000 die annually from accidental pesticide poisoning. We’ve been hearing more and more about the impact of pesticides on insects, other wildlife, and ecosystems , but this research puts a magnifying glass on another huge concern about the explosive use of pesticides around the world: their impact on people. When I learned about this study, I thought: finally . For years, I had been tracking the global estimates for pesticide poisonings and fatalities. Over this time, I had noticed something strange—the numbers I saw reported in various outlets had stayed the same, about 1 million pesticide poisonings and about 200,000 fatalities, annually. The fatality figure made headlines most recently in 2017 when the United Nations released a report on pesticides and human rights, and one article after another repeated the figure like it was breaking news: “U.N. report estimates pesticides kill 200,000 people per year,” read one headline . But dig behind these headlines and you would find these numbers were old—really old. The poisoning and fatality estimates that we’d been hearing for years actually came from a 1990 World Health Organization (WHO) report . In other words, we have not had solid global data on how many people are getting sick and dying every year from pesticide exposure for decades—and even that 1990 figure was more back-of-the-napkin math than systematic review. This new study—based on a review of more than 170 studies from 140 countries—finally provides up-to-date estimates for occupational pesticide poisoning incidents and unintentional fatalities. The conclusions should alarm us all and kick policy makers into gear on long-standing commitments to crack down on the world’s most toxic pesticides, like the insecticide chlorpyrifos still widely used even though it’s a known brain-damaging chemical with no safe level of exposure for children. I had a chance to dive into the study with two of its authors, Wolfgang Boedeker, an epidemiologist and board member of Pesticide Action Network-Germany, and Emily Marquez, a staff scientist with the Pesticide Action Network-North America. Boedeker shared what this study reveals about how widespread pesticide poisonings are and Marquez helped highlight what can do about it, particularly in the United States. Let’s start with a definition: systematic Your paper looks at unintentional acute pesticide poisoning (UAPP). What qualifies as a UAPP? Boedeker: WHO defines acute pesticide poisoning as when one or more symptoms—such as headaches or dizziness, developing a rash, or feeling dizzy or nauseous—have been reported by workers or farmers within 48 hours of contact with these chemicals. In most cases, these poisonings are experienced as unspecific symptoms after you’ve used pesticides in your field. They may show up a couple of hours after applying pesticides, then be gone again. What you found about the prevalence of UAPPs was shocking: You estimate that 44 percent of all farmers are poisoned by pesticides every year. But what about the person who may ask, “So what? A farmer feels a little sick in their field, why should we care about these illnesses—and not just mortality?” Boedeker: If you get intoxicated by pesticide poisoning, you get sick, you often can’t work, you lose income. And, every acute exposure can lead to long-term, chronic disease. Acute intoxication is an unacceptable sign of an exposure to dangerous chemicals. We have to take it very seriously. This is one of the key messages in this paper: not just to look to the fatal intoxication, but enlarge our perspective to the non-fatal intoxication because these poisonings are an expression of dangerous exposure to chemicals. Many of these acute exposures can lead to chronic illnesses, like cancer. We didn’t include an investigation into that literature because it would have made this study much more complicated, but we need a systematic review on the chronic effects of pesticides, too. And while in this study, we didn’t include the public health effects of the uptake of pesticides via food either, we know there are residues in food and drinking water—and that’s another important issue that needs systematic review. systematic You estimate 11,000 fatalities every year from unanticipated pesticide poisonings, a much lower figure than the previous one from WHO, but notably, yours does not include fatalities from intentional poisoning. And, your paper notes how widespread that is: An estimated 14 million people have died by suicide using pesticides since the advent of the Green Revolution in the 1960s. Boedeker: Right. Our fatality figure is lower but as you say we don’t include suicides. Suicides by pesticide poisoning have been investigated for a long while now, and yes, the numbers are alarming. One reason for the number of poisonings is that pesticide use has skyrocketed: up 81 percent in the past 35 years. In certain regions, you note, that increase has been dramatic. South America saw almost a 500 percent increase while Europe saw just a 3 percent bump. Boedeker: Yes, the profile of pesticide use has changed dramatically in these 35 years. The amount of pesticides used has grown and the size of rural populations has become larger, so more people are being exposed to more pesticides. What did you find in terms of geographic hotspots for pesticide poisonings? Boedeker: Countries in the Global South are most affected, which is to be expected: Not only are these regions where pesticide use is high, but also where there are fewer protective measures against exposure. What did you hope for the report’s impact? Boedeker: Our first aim was to have a more reliable figure on pesticide poisoning. The old figure was still cited in every policy paper when it comes to the public health impacts of pesticide use. We wanted to widen the scope beyond fatal poisoning. Secondly, our hope was to show that even after decades of policy interventions, pesticide poisoning is still a big problem. While our number of fatalities is smaller than the old figure, our UAPP figure is so much higher. Our analysis shows that this is a big public health problem and there is urgent need to address it. What are policy approaches that could address this crisis? Boedeker: There was a push years ago to stop the export to the Global South of highly hazardous pesticides, or HHPs, but then it got quiet. [There are nearly 300 HHPs on the market, these are pesticides that are known to be highly toxic to humans, linked to cancer or endocrine disruption or those that have shown to be particularly damaging to the environment]. We have a new push for this discussion based on this data. In Germany, for instance, we have governmental discussions on the prohibition of the export of HHPs and we are hoping to see this throughout Europe. Marquez: Pesticide Action Network-North America got its start campaigning on the export of HHPs banned in the United States but sold in other countries where they weren’t banned. It’s important to keep watchdogging this, as PAN Germany , PAN Europe , and other partners in PAN International like Public Eye do with their “double standards” campaigns. Right, there’s been organizing around HHPs for a long time. In your paper, you mention a 2006 United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization recommendation for a progressive ban on highly hazardous pesticides, so what happened?

By Frances Moore Lappé / October 11, 2018 Frances Moore Lappé marching in Democracy Spring from Philadelphia to the Capital steps. April 2016. Originally published on Common Dreams, October 11, 2018. This is the 4th of Frances' Thought Sparks Video Series as she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time & shares her often-surprising takes on themes of hope, democracy, and courage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Trust in democracy is tumbling. In 1995, one in fifteen Americans said they’d approve of military rule. By 2014, the share had swollen to one in six. Note this frightening crash of confidence preceded the compromised 2016 election and a president who seems particularly fond of autocrats. Whoa. It sure seems like the right time to re-center on one truth: Only democracy can meet essential human needs, even beyond the physical. That’s a huge claim so here’s my case. In addition to our need for water, food and shelter, plenty of evidence suggests that—to fully thrive and for some of us to thrive at all—our species needs three things: One, a sense of agency: knowing we have a voice—real power in our lives. After all, we evolved as do-ers and problem solvers. Social philosopher Erich Fromm in his illuminating The Anatomy of Human Destructiveness , calls this trait simply our need to “make a dent.” Autocratic governments, by definition, deny citizens opportunity to make that dent—to create our own futures. Two, we need meaning —to feel that our lives count for something beyond our own survival. Autocracy can offer us limited meaning through identifying with a “strong man,” but only democracy enables citizens to create their own meaning within communities they choose. Three, we need to feel connected to others. Without community most of us whither. So, in our deeply compromised democracy the plague of loneliness has become a greater health threat than obesity. Unlike autocracy, real democracy encourages citizens’ coming together in their communities, including for common action to challenge and strengthen their democracy. Bottom line, only democracy enables us to experience a sense of personal power, meaning, and connection in ways no other system of governance can. Of course, by “democracy” I do not mean a finished state. It is forever a work in progress. And, here’s the really great news: The very work of furthering democracy enables us to experience these positives as well. That’s why I’ve ditched the notion of democratic engagement as my dull duty, drummed into me as a “you should” in a high school civics class. No, the work of democracy is a “we can!” It’s not a chore—stuffing down the blah spinach in order to earn my yummy dessert of personal freedoms. No, engaging in quickening the path of real democracy—where we each have a voice—is thrilling. In in every corner of our country a rising Democracy Movement is opening avenues to experience that thrill--advancing voting rights and limiting the power of money in politics. So, both democracy as a form of governance democracy as an unending journey toward its realization--even beyond the political--make it possible to experience these human essentials: personal power, meaning, and connection. Together they are the essence of human dignity. In a word, then, democracy is dignity. It doesn’t surprise me, therefore, that eight of the ten countries ranking highest in electoral integrity , a key measure of democracy, also score highest in happiness . So, democracy as a choice among options. It is the only pathway to meeting essential human needs, and thus our only choice for creating the world virtually all of us want. No matter how dark the moment, this truth is for me an ever-shining lodestar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Note: Don’t miss watching the companion video to this article - one of Frances Moore Lappé’s Thought Sparks Video Series in which she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time. Each week for nine weeks or more, her Small Planet Institute will release an informal 2-to-5-minute video in which Frances shares her often-surprising, liberating takes on hope, democracy, and courage.

By Frances Moore Lappé / September 19, 2018 Democracy Initiative lobbying for voting rights on US Capital front lawn. September 2015. ( Greenpeace Greenwire - Greenpeace USA ) Originally published on Common Dreams, September 17, 2018 This is the 2nd of Frances' Thought Sparks Video Series as she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time & shares her often-surprising takes on themes of hope, democracy, and courage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yeah, I know. “Hope” gets shoved into a corner called “nice” where weaklings huddle who can’t face hard realities. In fact, hope and power don’t often show up in the same sentence. Truth is, though, hope is a tap root of power. First, note that the word derives from the Latin, “to be able.” It is our capacity to act. So understood, power seems rather impossible without its partner, hope; for most of us have a hard time acting without at least a bit of it. Then consider the work of Harvard’s Srini Pillay, who grapples with hope’s power from the world of psychiatry and neuroscience. In Life Unlocked he explains that hope has the power to help reorganize our brains toward solutions. “When the brain thinks that something is possible, it sketches out the route for achieving it.” “Hope is not an answer," he underscores, but because it stimulates the imagination "hope helps us to pose the right questions.” And, I’ve learned that asking the right questions is foundational to achieving just about any goal. And then Pillay adds the kicker. Because "hope seems to travel in the same dungeons [parts of the brain] as fear, it might be a good soldier to employ if we want to meet fear." That sure sounds like power to me. And there’s yet another way hope wields power. It is the power to attract. When I sense hope in someone, immediately I am attracted. I want some of that! And, in an era of multiplying threats, don’t all of us, more than ever, want others near us? Given our nation’s mounting democracy crisis, with a president violating norms and rules that we long thought had protected us, don’t we want others—in fact, millions more—joining together in the good work of fixing our democracy’s system flaws that allowed this sad turn? Don’t we want citizens closing the doors to big, secret money drowning out the voices of regular citizens? Yes. Yes. Yes. We want to attract strangers—people who’ve never ever been engaged in public actions—to join the work of hope that is the Democracy Movement . Hope, I’m convinced, is one key to the birth and speedy growth of Democracy Initiative , an organization that in just five years has attracted nearly 70 national organizations—from labor to the environment to racial justice—representing 40 million Americans committed to pursuing reforms together to make democracy work for all of us. A scowl of anger or despair won’t draw in more new faces.Hope will. Hope is contagious, and that’s a really good thing. So, let us drop any thought that hope is a weakling. No. It’s pure muscle. Hope ignites our brains toward solutions. It gets us asking the right questions. It counters fear. It attracts others.Wow. Yes, hope is power, what we need now more than ever to fortify us to act boldly. Yeah, I know. “Hope” gets shoved into a corner called “nice” where weaklings huddle who can’t face hard realities. In fact, hope and power don’t often show up in the same sentence. Truth is, though, hope is a tap root of power. First, note that the word derives from the Latin, “to be able.” It is our capacity to act. So understood, power seems rather impossible without its partner, hope; for most of us have a hard time acting without at least a bit of it. Then consider the work of Harvard’s Srini Pillay, who grapples with hope’s power from the world of psychiatry and neuroscience. In Life Unlocked he explains that hope has the power to help reorganize our brains toward solutions. “When the brain thinks that something is possible, it sketches out the route for achieving it.” “Hope is not an answer," he underscores, but because it stimulates the imagination "hope helps us to pose the right questions.” And, I’ve learned that asking the right questions is foundational to achieving just about any goal. And then Pillay adds the kicker. Because "hope seems to travel in the same dungeons [parts of the brain] as fear, it might be a good soldier to employ if we want to meet fear." That sure sounds like power to me. And there’s yet another way hope wields power. It is the power to attract. When I sense hope in someone, immediately I am attracted. I want some of that! And, in an era of multiplying threats, don’t all of us, more than ever, want others near us? Given our nation’s mounting democracy crisis, with a president violating norms and rules that we long thought had protected us, don’t we want others—in fact, millions more—joining together in the good work of fixing our democracy’s system flaws that allowed this sad turn? Don’t we want citizens closing the doors to big, secret money drowning out the voices of regular citizens? Yes. Yes. Yes. We want to attract strangers—people who’ve never ever been engaged in public actions—to join the work of hope that is the Democracy Movement. Hope, I’m convinced, is one key to the birth and speedy growth of Democracy Initiative, an organization that in just five years has attracted nearly 70 national organizations—from labor to the environment to racial justice—representing 40 million Americans committed to pursuing reforms together to make democracy work for all of us. A scowl of anger or despair won’t draw in more new faces.Hope will. Hope is contagious, and that’s a really good thing. So, let us drop any thought that hope is a weakling. No. It’s pure muscle. Hope ignites our brains toward solutions. It gets us asking the right questions. It counters fear. It attracts others.Wow. Yes, hope is power, what we need now more than ever to fortify us to act boldly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Note: Don’t miss watching the companion video to this article - one of Frances Moore Lappé’s Thought Sparks Video Series in which she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time. Each week for nine weeks or more, her Small Planet Institute will release an informal 2-to-5-minute video in which Frances shares her often-surprising, liberating takes on hope, democracy, and courage.

By Frances Moore Lappé / September 26, 2018 Volunteers delivering more than 85,000 signatures on a 2015 ballot initiative to strengthen Clean Elections in Maine. State House, Augusta ME. Originally published on Common Dreams, September 26, 2018 This is the 3rd of Frances' Thought Sparks Video Series as she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time & shares her often-surprising takes on themes of hope, democracy, and courage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In earlier reflections on hope, I’ve declared that hope isn’t an assessment, it’s a stance toward life. Now I want to convince you that in this stance I’m on really solid ground. I start with an observation about our species. We humans have been around long enough to know one thing for sure about ourselves: It is not the magnitude of a challenge that crushes the human spirit. It’s feeling powerless that does us in, for humans are problem solvers. We like to get things done. So, here’s my big claim: Time and again humans have stepped up with grit and even glory to accomplish what seemed to be impossible. And what may seem impossible right now? Well, for one, democracy in America in which we each have a real voice. In today’s America, social scientists’ hard data reveal that there is “near zero” relationship between what most Americans want and public policies Congress enacts. By contrast, they find a strong correlation between what is desired by the wealthy minority and choices made in Washington. With the bedrock of democracy so violated, what does it take for citizens to step up? Well, here’s my second claim: All it takes for humans to leap into action is that enough of us believe just three things, each based in real evidence. One. That our cause—in this case, democracy—is essential. Just as a parent would rush into a burning building if necessary to save a child, we must believe that our action for democracy is the only way to achieve democracy, without which we can’t tackle life-destroying climate change, deepening economic inequality, and so much else. Two. That success is at least possible. Certainty is not required. Three. That we ourselves can make a difference. And guess what? Right now, in our struggle for real democracy, more and more of us embrace these truths, and with good evidence. Let’s look at each. One. Democracy is essential to meeting our biggest threats. Why? Because it’s the only form of governance proven capable of creating the conditions shown over our long history to bring out the best within us while keeping the worst in check. Those conditions are: the wide dispersion power, transparency in public affairs, and an ethic of mutual accountability in which know we’re all on the hook—the opposite of today’s endless blame game. As often is the case when faced with loss, Americans increasingly appreciate the necessity of these three positives as their opposites are so evident and surging. Second. Democracy is possible. Of course, I do not mean perfect democracy, but democracy as an unending journey toward the ever-greater realization of these three conditions. And how do we know? So much evidence …. In America, in earlier decades when big money had much less power over our democracy—from the 40s to the 70s—our nation created new tools to protect the environment, such as the EPA, and new rules to protect civil rights and dignity. During these decades we all gained economically as well, not just the elite as is true today. Median household income doubled , but the poorest families gained the most. Other evidence? We know that it’s possible to achieve advances in democracy by simply looking abroad. In measures of electoral integrity , dozens of nations score higher—some much higher—than we do. In creating fair voting districts (the opposite of gerrymandering), for example, virtually every country in the world ranks higher than the US. Only Malaysia is rated below us. Such findings are upsetting; yet, infinitely more discouraging would be to learn that the US scores high when we know the reality is so bad. The very fact that others are doing so much better itself proves possibility. Finally, the third requirement for hope? That we know we ourselves can make a difference. Check! Here, too, is strong evidence. Today, a citizens’ movement is already offering proof that we each can contribute to achieving effective system reforms. Because years ago citizens in Maine , Arizona , and Connecticut stepped up to pass public financing for qualified candidates in state races, two-thirds or more of legislators in Maine and Connecticut today have not had to depend on big private donors to win their seats. And, similar approaches are working elsewhere, including New York’s City Council. A national version , introduced by (D-MD) John Sarbanes, has 162 House cosponsors. Plus, thirteen states and the District of Columbia have authorized Automatic Voter Registration , making it possible for more people to register and therefore to vote. In addition, six states have charged independent redistricting commissions with the job of replacing rigged district lines with those moving voters toward the status of “equal citizens” that we’ve been taught to believe democracy promises us. There we have it. Grounds are forming for each of the three realizations most humans need for eyes-wide-open hope triggering heroic action. More and more of us now appreciate that democracy is essential. It is possible, and, our actions do count, big time, in the rising Democracy Movement . So, now’s our chance. Just as humanity has done time and again, we can become heroes to ourselves, and what could feel better than that? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Note: Don’t miss watching the companion video to this article - one of Frances Moore Lappé’s Thought Sparks Video Series in which she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time. Each week for nine weeks or more, her Small Planet Institute will release an informal 2-to-5-minute video in which Frances shares her often-surprising, liberating takes on hope, democracy, and courage.

By Frances Moore Lappé / November 21, 2018 Fear can be a seedling for change. Green Belt Movement tree nursery in Tumutumu Hills, Kenya. (Photograph by Ariel Poster) Originally published on Common Dreams, November 19, 2018 This is the 7th of Frances' Thought Sparks Video Series as she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time & shares her often-surprising takes on themes of hope, democracy, and courage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tough, brave, fearless.Don’t these words capture what courage means? Maybe not. For me, courage is simply doing what I thought I could not do. It’s acting for what I care about most, not because I’m fearless but …fear that my action isn’t enough, that I’ll be alone, or that it’s all futile, anyway, and my failure will be humiliating. I used to think fear was a stop sign that read: “danger ahead.” And to that danger I assumed had evolved three useful, even life-saving responses. Freeze, fight, flee. But humans, it turns out, are not trapped in pre-programmed responses. And that’s the really good news. It’s possible to rethink fear, to relearn its meaning. And, as the stakes for our planet rise along with sea levels, now’s the moment for this exciting work. On this rethinking, my daughter Anna and I found our lives forever changed during a conversation in Kenya years ago with the Rev. Timothy Njoya , a close friend of our hero and Nobel Peace Laureate, the late Wangari Maathai and founder of the Green Belt Movement . She’d invited him over to meet us. We were pleased but not sure what to expect. Then, a slight, agile man with a crisp blue shirt and white priest’s collar arrived. As we sat in easy chairs, Rev. Njoya began to share his life story. Soon, he rose and acted out a lesson about fear. One night, he told us, several men sent by the dictator to kill him, and armed with swords, arrived at his door. A brutal attack ensued and as he lay on the floor with his gut ripped open—believing death was near—Rev. Njoya wasn’t wailing. Instead, he began gifting his treasures to his assailants, including his library and even his favorite Bible. As Rev. Njoya spoke, my heart began pounding wildly. I just couldn’t grasp what I was hearing, so I blurted out: “But how is this possible? Isn’t humanity’s fear response automatic? How, in pain and fearing death, could anyone express kindness?” To answer my question, Rev. Njoya posed as a lion that had spotted its prey. The lion, he told us, doesn’t just react. It recoils and postures itself, and then it leaps. Acting out the scene, he explained that, like the lion, we can harness and harmonize our fear. It is a source of energy we can use. I’d always been afraid of fear. But, now I had to imagine what would happen if I thought of fear as pure energy, energy I can use how I choose. Anna and I lay awake into the night talking about what it would mean if we could live understanding of fear. Ah, what freedom, we realized. Since that night, I continually remind myself that fear doesn’t necessarily mean “danger”: stop or fight or run. Maybe my pounding heart or cold sweat is telling me that I am on the brink of possibility, that I am, right in that moment, simply in the unknown where most growth and creativity are possible. Later I discovered a little trick. It’s kind of corny, but I’ll share it. For most of my life, when I felt insecure, fearing I’d sound silly or be criticized for my words or actions, I would try to subdue my pounding heart by condemning it: “You wimp!” I’d say to myself. But, with the smile of Reverend Njoya in my mind’s eye, one day I decided, no more. From then on, I began saying to myself, “Way to go, that pounding in my chest is really my inner applause cheering me on.” Yes. Understanding fear as energy we can use to increase our power for good in our broken world is life changing. It’s a lesson I keep learning and…relearning. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Note: Don’t miss watching the companion video to this article - one of Frances Moore Lappé’s Thought Sparks Video Series in which she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time. Each week for nine weeks or more, her Small Planet Institute will release an informal 2-to-5-minute video in which Frances shares her often-surprising, liberating takes on hope, democracy, and courage.

By Frances Moore Lappé / November 30, 2018 Lady Liberty getting arrested. "Being 'good'—kind and honest with those we touch directly—is admirable and desirable, but we need more," writes the author. "It's time to elevate another virtue: courage." (Democracy Spring - April 2016) This is the 8th of Frances' Thought Sparks Video Series as she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time & shares her often-surprising takes on themes of hope, democracy, and courage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My headline is provocative, so let me quickly explain, starting with a huge claim about what’s unique about our world in this moment. Then I ask, Our era has been dubbed the Anthropocene because for the first time we humans are making our mark on the entire planet. Isn’t it high time we nail down the most basic traits of this master species—traits that will determine how it might handle responsibility of such magnitude…a ? Let’s start with a common observation that humans are self-absorbed, too self-absorbed…and challenge it: Maybe we got that one wrong, very wrong. Humans are pack animals. Just like wolves and elephants, we’re social. Anthropologists make the case that we are the most social of primates. We are, above all, obsessed with staying inside the pack. We know our preservation depends on its preservation. So our crisis might be understood this way: Life on earth as we’ve known it is in grave danger because humanity’s hyper-pack—defined as those whose members have the greatest destructive power on our earthly habitat—is heading right over the proverbial cliff. That cliff is climate chaos. That cliff is murderous conflict generated by fear of non-existent scarcity. That cliff is life-destroying inequality so extreme that now eight homosapiens control wealth equal to half all 7.6 billion of our species. Yet, relatively few defy or even call out the anti-life rules and norms driving us over this cliff. In such a moment, what is the primary moral virtue needed? Being “good”—kind and honest with those we touch directly—is admirable and desirable, but we need more. It’s time to elevate another virtue: courage. We can be “good” within our pack, but can we break with the pack? Can we stand when we’re the only one standing? I recall a moment I didn’t. In 2004, I canvassed door to door in the suburbs of Philly for Democrat Lois Murphy , a distinguished attorney running for a seat in Congress against Republican Jim Gerlach . One evening the community gathered in the social hall of a synagogue to hear the candidates debate. Taking our seats, we all fell silent as Murphy asked Gerlach to apologize before they began. Robo-calls from his campaign had linked Murphy to the Taliban, and she believed he should accept responsibility. I then recalled earlier in the day canvassing at the door of a man with a threatening dog. He asked: “Are you with the Taliban lady?” As I stood speechless, I remembered that on top of Murphy’s strong legal background, she’d made her mark defending women’s rights. What twisted irony to be linked to the Taliban. Gerlach refused to apologize, and the debate proceeded. But burned in my memory is self-recrimination. Why didn’t I simply stand up and declare that I’d remain standing until an apology was forthcoming? Others would have quickly risen with me, I’m sure. But I didn’t even think of it. Later, I had approached Gerlach and told him his ads were scandalous. For that, I lightly patted myself on the back, but, honestly, I felt crushed by what I had done. My point is that in that moment an obvious action didn’t even occur to me because I am, like most of us, programmed to go along with the group, not to make a fuss, not to stand out. Much later, in another situation in which I was out of synch with the group, I recalled how I’d failed that night in Philly. The still-raw regret stoked my courage, and I did get my hand up to make the challenge. My point is simple. It’s now time to focus on courage. It makes all other virtues possible. “Courage is the most important of all the virtues,” the poet Maya Angelou has said , “because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently.” Whatever it takes, let’s fortify our backbones as part of a rising Democracy Movement . Making pledges not only to ourselves but to others can help. Acknowledging we’re social animals—that’s a given—let’s discover the thrill of risking hostility, humiliation, and failure to say and to do what we know is necessary to create democracy bringing out the best in us. In the process, we create new “packs” with willing to risk on behalf of life. Goodness without courage is no longer good enough. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Note: Don’t miss watching the companion video to this article - one of Frances Moore Lappé’s Thought Sparks Video Series in which she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time. Each week for nine weeks or more, her Small Planet Institute will release an informal 2-to-5-minute video in which Frances shares her often-surprising, liberating takes on hope, democracy, and courage.

By Frances Moore Lappé / December 11, 2018 A crowd gathers in Leipzig, Germany to commemorate the 70,000 people who courageously joined together in 1989 to peacefully demand freedom and democracy, a catalyst for the fall of the Berlin Wall. (Image: LTM/PUNCTUM ) Originally published on Common Dreams, December 11, 2018 This is the 9th of Frances' Thought Sparks Video Series as she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time & shares her often-surprising takes on themes of hope, democracy, and courage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ No matter how many times we hear of one person’s act of conscience igniting sparks that light up the sky, too many of us hold tight to the notion that our own acts don’t mean much. Aren’t we the proverbial drops in the bucket, nice but never spectacular? Or, as it dawned on my daughter Anna and me while writing Hope’s Edge for many of us it’s even worse. We feel more like drops in the Sahara, evaporating before we even hit the sand. One reason for blindness to our own power could be that we can’t see the bucket that our “action drops” are filling up--that is, the big, system-changes our individual choices inch forward. I do know that every time in my life that I have been able to catch even a glimpse of such a bucket, my life has changed. Most recently it happened as I marched more than a hundred miles with Democracy Spring in 2016 to sit on the Capitol steps, demanding money out of politics. Knowing that I was part of the rising Democracy Movement, I could feel my “drops” splashing into a powerful bucket. But a metaphor of “filling up” from the top down still misses a lot, for in our world where “there are no parts, only participants” (the lovely phrase of my departed friend, physicist Hans Peter Duerr) our energies radiate horizontally. It happens because in our interconnected world, almost always is noticing. Even if it’s one person. On that note, I love a story author Rebecca Solnit tells about a rainy day in the early 1960s when a handful of members protested above-ground nuclear testing in front of the Kennedy White House. They reported feeling “foolish and futile,” she writes. Then, years later one of the protesters learned that Dr. Benjamin Spock had driven by that day and thought to himself, if these women “are so passionately committed, he should give the issue more consideration himself.” The world famous “baby doctor” then became one of the most ardent and effective national leaders opposing above-ground nuclear testing, and by 1963, President Kennedy had signed a test ban treaty. Sometimes sparks from individual acts ignite a positive firestorm. Some years ago, after speaking at a university in Leipzig, Germany, students led me on a quick tour of their beautiful city. Soon one young guide pointed to the church of St. Nicolai. “That’s where it began,” she told me. That church played a key role in bringing down the Berlin Wall. What? I had never heard that Leipzig, much less this church, had been part of the fall of the Wall, on November 9, 1989, leading to the collapse of the Soviet Union and changing the world forever. Oh, yes, she went on, this is where people began to gather--by early October, some 70,000. In other German cities, similar protests took off. Later, I read a real-time account by 14-year old Markus Laegel, telling of his and his parents’ experience in that moment: Thousands of people gather. They’re here to pray. They’re praying for peace. The prayer is set to start at 6 p.m. The idea is to use the Nicolai church, but that’s already full and it’s still only four o’clock. We go down to the church of St. Thomas. That’s full too, but we manage to find a space. Mum, Dad and me. We’re a family. Not just us, but everyone. Everyone in every church at that moment. Markus then quotes a minister’s words to describe what is unfolding: When you hold a candle you need both hands. You have to guard the flame… You can’t hold a stone or a club at the same time… The army patrols and police were drawn in, started conversations and retreated. And Markus continues: Thousands of people … lay their candles at the feet of the armed soldiers and police. The steps of the Stasi [state security] building—the organization that spied on, abused and sold people out—are now awash with candles. It looks like a river of peace and light. Exactly four weeks later, the Berlin Wall fell. Soon thereafter a leader in the collapsed East German regime, Horst Sindermann, acknowledged : “We had planned everything. We were prepared for any eventuality. Any except for candles and prayers.” I share Markus’s story because we each need to believe that the potential for courage—civil courage—is in each of us; and that our individual sparks may ignite conflagrations. Without acting, we will never know, and even if we act, we probably never know how we’ve changed history. One thing, however, is certain. Civil courage is the capacity to do what serves the common good, even if one must stand alone: for, while ultimately tens of thousands did join in these extraordinary actions, they depended on the courage of the first few willing to step up, to be different. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Note: Don’t miss watching the companion video to this article - one of Frances Moore Lappé’s Thought Sparks Video Series in which she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time. Each week for nine weeks or more, her Small Planet Institute will release an informal 2-to-5-minute video in which Frances shares her often-surprising, liberating takes on hope, democracy, and courage.

By Frances Moore Lappé / September 10, 2018 (Photo: Samuel Corum/Getty Images) Originally published on Common Dreams, September 10, 2018 Frances Moore Lappé is launching Thought Sparks Video Series ! Each week, for nine weeks or more, her Small Planet Institute will release an informal 2-to-5-minute video in which Frances shares her often-surprising takes on themes of hope, democracy, and courage. She opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time. The first is: Possibility Creates Hope . And below is her companion blog. Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I’ve been called a hope fiend, and I cop to it. More than ever, hope isn’t just a “nice” feeling we’re lucky to experience from time to time. No, hope has become a requirement, as despair is our worst enemy. So, let me share a few things this fiend has learned about hope. First, it’s work. Yes, I know that hope and effort don’t seem to go together. But think about it: A lot of good things in life--from a good meal to a good marriage--entail work, sometimes a lot of work. Yet, when we pause to savor them, we know it’s been worth it. So, what the work of hope? To be clear, I don’t mean the effort of pushing out the bad news. Hope is not blind faith. Neither is it the cheery note struck by Harvard professor Steve Pinker, who in Enlightenment Now , for example, encourages us not to worry because things are really getting better. I’m not convinced. But here’s the good news. I discovered that hope starts with one realization: Given that the nature of life is continuous change in which we’re all connected--so that every action affects the whole, moment to moment--it is simply not possible to know what’s possible. It is in this very knowing that hope lives. Precisely because I cannot be certain, I am free. I am free to go for the world I really want. Thus, I don’t have to be an optimist, and surely I’m not a pessimist. Rather, . I have no need for certainty of success, or even strong probability. Hope is a stance, not an assessment. As long as I can see even the possibility that my actions now can make a difference in tackling our root crisis--the assault on our democracy along with citizens’ weakening confidence in democracy—I’m going for it. I can continue eagerly throwing my energies into the rising movement for real democracy in America. To stay in a sense of possibility, however, I do have a “secret tool” I’ll share. I keep a mental list of big, positive leaps that I would have given zero chance of ever happening…until they did. Here’s one. In the early 1950s our nation was gripped by McCarthyism. Now, that was a real “witch hunt,” and the lives of several of my parents’ friends were wrecked. (Merely belonging to the Unitarian church my folks had helped to found in Texas made them suspect.) It was a dark era, but with the passage of time and acts of courage our culture learned. Just over one decade later, I became a warrior in the federal War on Poverty. I was paid by the government to go door-to-door in Philadelphia’s poorest neighborhoods to help people who’d been abused by slumlords and callous welfare officers to understand their rights and to find strength in solidarity. Thus, in only slightly more than one decade, our country went from fear and finger-pointing to a shared determination to confront the devastation of poverty. Ronald Reagan later quipped that in this war on poverty, poverty won. He was wrong. Americans cut the rate of poverty by half in just over decade. Get the idea? Try coming up with your own list. The fall of the Berlin Wall? Barack Hussein Obama elected US president...twice? Marriage equality? Or, note that it was Republican Richard Nixon who established the EPA and signed the 1970 Clean Air Act, making it possible since then to cut levels of six major air pollutants by more than 70 percent , even though our economy has grown three-fold. I rest my case. Today, I declare myself a hard-core, died-in-the-wool possibilist. Sure, it takes work, but hope is the great reward. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Note: Don’t miss watching the companion video to this article - one of Frances Moore Lappé’s Thought Sparks Video Series in which she opens her heart about what fortifies her in this scary time. Each week for nine weeks or more, her Small Planet Institute will release an informal 2-to-5-minute video in which Frances shares her often-surprising, liberating takes on hope, democracy, and courage.

Soil policies should be driven by science—not agrochemical companies By Kendra Klein and Anna Lappé Originally Published in The Magazine of the Sierra Club on May 17, 2021 The last time soil health was perceived as a pressing public concern was at the peak of the Dust Bowl in the 1930s. Now, for the first time in nearly a century, it has once again piqued policymakers’ interest as awareness grows that the ground beneath our feet is a crucial carbon sink, making the soil a potentially powerful tool to fight the climate crisis. Speaking at an Earth Day summit last month, President Joe Biden said , the “soil of our Heartland [is] the next frontier in carbon innovation,” reflecting the momentum behind an idea known as “regenerative agriculture.” But just as the nation is waking up from its long slumber about the importance of soil, new research shows that the pesticides so commonly used in American agriculture are devastating the very organisms that ensure dirt becomes healthy soil and not just dust. As a set of chemical poisons, pesticides pose an undeniable hazard to the life of soil. This new study—from Friends of the Earth, the Center for Biological Diversity, and the University of Maryland—is the first comprehensive review of the impact of pesticides on soil organisms. Researchers (including one of us) analyzed nearly 400 studies focused on the effect of pesticides (a term that includes insecticides, herbicides, and fungicides) on 275 species or groups of soil invertebrates, from beetles and earthworms to mites and ground-nesting bees. In 71 percent of cases, pesticides either directly killed the organisms being tracked or significantly harmed them; for example, by impairing their growth and reproduction or decreasing their abundance and diversity. These findings parallel previous research that illustrates pesticides’ impact on vital soil microorganisms like bacteria and fungi. Other research reveals troubling trendlines: A recent study found that pesticides’ toxic impact on many invertebrates has nearly doubled in the past decade because of the increasing use of two specific classes of pesticides: neonicotinoids and pyrethroids. Some neonicotinoids are 1,000 times more toxic to bees than the infamous pesticide DDT, and they linger in the environment for months or years, creating a compounding toxicity in the environment. Another study found that since neonicotinoids were first introduced in the 1990s, US agriculture has become 48 times more toxic to insect life . Scientists warn that the loss of invertebrates threatens the collapse of ecosystems —and that biodiversity loss is a crisis on par with climate change . The findings of this new study should alarm us not only because they further underscore the starring role pesticides play in the decline of insect populations, but also because the life of soil is at the heart of its ability to capture and store carbon. What do we mean by the “life of soil”? Plants breathe in carbon from the air, then store it in their bodies and exude it through their roots. Hidden from our view, a teeming ecosystem of microorganisms transfers carbon from roots to soil. Invertebrates such as earthworms and springtails feed on fallen plants, breaking them down and excreting carbon-rich casts and feces, mixing organic matter into the soil as they go. The aliveness of soil also bolsters farmers’ resilience in the face of climate-change-driven weather extremes like droughts and floods. Invertebrates are ecosystem engineers: With their tunnels and burrows, they craft soil structures, enabling the flow of nutrients, air, and water below ground. This allows the land to readily absorb water during intense rains and retain it during times of drought, much like a massive sponge. With their tunnels and burrows, invertebrates craft soil structures, enabling the flow of nutrients, air, and water below ground. This allows the land to readily absorb water during intense rains and retain it during times of drought, much like a massive sponge. In short, healthy soil is living soil. So it should be no surprise that chemicals designed to kill are at odds with the objectives of regenerative agriculture. Research shows that the very farmers who are not using hazardous pesticides are among the most successful at capturing carbon. Organic farmers—who are expressly prohibited from using over 900 agricultural pesticides and who have long championed regenerative approaches like cover cropping, crop diversification, and composting—can sequester up to 25 percent more carbon in soi l and achieve deeper and more persistent carbon storage than farmers using chemical approaches. Yet some of the loudest voices in the national conversation on soil are the companies behind the world’s most toxic pesticides. Last month, pesticide giants including Bayer-Monsanto and Syngenta were among the prominent backers of the reintroduced Growing Climate Solutions Act (GCSA), a bill that would channel interest in regenerative agriculture into soil carbon markets. That means farmers would be paid to sequester carbon—and then those “carbon credits” would be sold to polluters, allowing them to keep polluting. There’s no doubt that farmers should be supported in shifting to regenerative methods. But the evidence shows that using carbon markets to do so is an oversimplified and dangerous approach that will “ let big polluters off the hook and fail the needs of family farmers , ” says the National Family Farm Coalition. Carbon markets have repeatedly failed in their primary goal of reducing greenhouse gas emissions. They have been plagued by fraud , and in many cases they have worsened pollution in low-income communities and communities of color, even resulting in human-rights abuses across the globe. Moreover, measuring soil carbon in a uniform way to ensure integrity in soil carbon markets will likely remain an elusive goal because soil carbon fluctuates based on the seasons, and samples taken even from the same field can lead to very different results. Some of the loudest voices in the national conversation on soil are the companies behind the world’s most toxic pesticides. In light of this new study’s findings, another fundamental flaw of carbon markets is particularly concerning: They can be gamed by powerful players. Hence, the support from pesticide giants. Bayer, for instance, is pushing the passage of GCSA because the company stands to win big. If the bill passes, the US Department of Agriculture (USDA) would facilitate farmers’ participation in private schemes like the new Bayer Carbon Initiative . Farmers would enroll in Bayer’s digital agriculture platform, Climate FieldView, and implement certain practices—dictated by Bayer—to receive compensation. Bayer would then sell credits for farm-sequestered carbon to polluters. But programs like Bayer’s are designed to accommodate the largest industrial-style farms and depend on use of the company’s patented seeds and toxic pesticides like glyphosate, a weed killer with known impacts on soil organisms like earthworms. Even more perverse, Bayer may pay farmers in the form of credits to be redeemed in the Bayer PLUS Rewards Platform —credits that are most efficiently spent on more Bayer products. While we celebrate that the conversation about soil and climate change is becoming mainstream, it’s imperative that the resulting policies are driven by science, not by the interests of agrochemical companies. The successful conservation programs that emerged from the Dust Bowl era can show us the way. Rather than spend billions of federal dollars creating market mechanisms that will enrich pesticide corporations and further entrench their power at the expense of family-scale farmers, the environment, and our health, we can invest in long-standing but under-resourced programs like the USDA’s Conservation Stewardship Program, Environmental Quality Incentives Program, and National Organic Program. And, we can update these programs to facilitate equitable participation of BIPOC farmers and to reflect the latest science on ecologically regenerative practices. During the Dust Bowl, the crisis was visible: Plumes of dust from the plains swept across the country and darkened the skies in Washington, DC. Today, the soil story is hidden in the ecosystems beneath our feet, but the crisis is just as pressing. This study is an urgent missive that the renewed national interest in healthy soil must result in policies that support truly regenerative efforts that build healthy, living farming systems.