6 thoughts on “Political Ecology”

1. As a “critical introduction”, Paul Robbins’ Political Ecology can only aim to do so much, as its already tall order is to introduce a field which, as the book shows, is diverse. To tackle this challenge Robbins divides the volume into four parts: an introductory “What is Political Ecology?”, a summarization of the methods and challenges, an introduction to current instances of political ecology, and a final glimpse toward the future. For me, a potential pitfall of the book lay in the grand claims made for political ecology in the introduction: “The potential power of a popularized political ecology is so great, in fact, that merely shedding a few tightly clasped shibboleths on either side might make way for a very new world…” (4) And while Robbins certainly demonstrates that a political ecology approach can shed deeper light on environmental issues and situations, he seems also to repeatedly demonstrate that each situation is entangled in such inseparable webs of histories that there may be no “correct” way to proceed.

   The first two sections of the book are useful, perhaps more in the abstract, to consider a genealogy of political ecology and to identify some of the general traits of this approach, but the book really engages with the case studies. Particularly intriguing were the discussions of conservation, and the revelation (hand in hand with the idea of constructed wilderness) that popular “conservationism” can easily be given a ideological carte blanche, at the expense of nuanced local histories and realities. Of course a local example was especially poignant, by which I mean Willems-Braun’s analysis of BC’s “nature” depicted as “wilderness”, writing out a history of Native occupation (137-138). This example felt timely in light of the pipeline debate, where opponents seem to have taken up that very trope, of BC nature as “wilderness”, rather than lived space.

   To return to the bold claim made by Robbins in the introduction, throughout the volume and again at the end he seems to cycle back to a slightly more moderate approach, which is to say that political ecology cannot necessarily solve problems rather, it is the “prerequisite to meaningful engagement with problems like these.” (252) Still, in the introduction Robbins states his desire to show political ecology as “something people do.” (4) He certainly demonstrates the importance of looking at situations from the political ecology angle, but in the final chapter he also shows (via looking through a political ecology lens) that action can be a no-win situation. A copper mine in rural Arizona can create temporary jobs, but blight the land and ecosystem permanently, but it is that copper which is necessary for “greener” wind turbines and hybrid cars. Overall I was still left asking, how exactly does one “do” political ecology?

   Question: Robbins, while showing that political ecology is quite a deep and layered approach to problems, still seems to demonstrate that it cannot stand on its own. Is there any value then, in practicing, or attempting to practice, political ecology as a single method? For example, how is or isn’t Lawn People a political ecology approach?

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2. 10/01/2013
   Victoria Padilla
   Reflection
   Forsyth, T. 2002. Critical Political Ecology: The politics of environmental science. London: Routledge.
   Forsyth’s work is a proposition for a variant of Political ecology which he named Critical Political Ecology. The main difference, he argues, is that conventional Political Ecology considers science a given neutral backdrop for the politics of its interest. While a critical approach starts by acknowledging the need to make clear the relationship between environmental science and the socio-political context in which it is produced and legitimized. He argues that by combining the perspectives of Political Ecology and the Philosophy of Science is possible to construct this highly critical assessment of environmental science, policy and politics.
   One of the aspects of his analysis of environmental science as a socio-politically embedded process that I found most interesting is the idea that several of its fundamental notions have a historically specific origin. One of the most clear was the emergence of environmental awareness as concern about the human impact in the biophysical world in the context of new social movements in the 60s. And how this is directly related to the strong criticisms regarding capitalism, industrialization and modernity at the time
   However, what I consider his most important statement has to do with the notion of environmental orthodoxies. In the case of environmental sciences environmental orthodoxies represent a sort of naturalized scientific understanding turned into common belief (mainly about environmental degradation) that is highly contested by existing research. Forsyth argues that by bringing forward the social and political implications of these beliefs it becomes clear that these apparent laws of nature reflect the norms, experiences and politics of the people that formulate them and that reify them. It now seems clear that we need to take into account that the production of environmental science is contingent upon the framing of scientific problems, its purpose, the language used, social groupings such as class or race, and the political use that is made of it.
   This helps to clarify the problem with the perception of science as depoliticized. It brings forward the idea that often what makes these laws seem natural has more to do with scientific networks, politics and economic interests than with the biophysical reality of environmental degradation. What is at stake here is that an uncontested understanding of environmental science is not only detrimental to the advancement of knowledge but also leads to policies that may be actually harmful to the environment and impose crucial restrictions on the livelihoods of local peoples. With this in mind it’s clear that the importance of understanding that the production of any kind of scientific knowledge is a part of the context where it is produced and that it is usually highly politicized and contested cannot be overstated
   A set of possible solutions to the now clear deficiencies of science production presented by Forsyth lie in the increase of public participation in the formulation of science and in the emphasis on the local (as opposed to the global) in environmental science, political ecology and policy making. However, what does this mean for actual research being conducted today? Does this mean than only local research in valid? How do we achieve the democratization of scientific formulation if knowledge is always mediated by these politicized scientific networks? Does Critical Political Ecology lead to a sort of permanent doubt of the validity of the notions and concepts that are fundamental in our own research? How can we get past this and still be critical?

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3. While reading Critical Political Ecology, I couldn’t help but think of my father. My father is a scientist in a very traditional sense; he works for a large corporation in the energy field. At times, some of his work has put us at odds. The corporation he works for has ties with the Saudi government, for example, and he’s spent time there on a very weird project involving natural gas wells. More recently, some of his work has shifted in the direction of climate change. I can’t discuss specific details, but the project involves collaboration with an NGO. I view the project as a technocratic solution to climate change but I think that those involved see themselves very much as activists. The scale of the project is still quite small, but I don’t think that they have much sense of any of the social implications of what they would like to do. We’ve had several conversations about it, to the point that my father finally said “Look, if I had to think through every potential political or social ramification of what I do, nothing would ever get done.” It’s a point I’ve taken to heart because it’s indicative of how impossible it is to take every possibility into account, especially when scientists are also constrained by their circumstances.

   Throughout the Critical Political Ecology, Forsyth offers clear and succinct definitions of “critical” political ecology. Often these statements present themselves as addressing some sort of need. For example, he states that “critical” political ecology addresses the “need to understand how explanations of environmental degradation evolve in order to make environmental science more meaningful to people who experience environmental problems, and to avoid the inaccuracies and injustices of many “orthodox” environmental explanations” (51). A large part of Forsyth’s project seems to be about how “critical” political ecology can help both scientists and other actors become better stewards of environmental science. At the heart of Forsyth’s “critical” political ecology is a desire to solve environmental problems, while at the same time fostering inclusivity and equality. I think that Forsyth is correct in his assertion that we need to look beyond essentialist understandings of capitalism as the force behind environmental degradation. However, I think his focus on the ecological issues as problems to be solved places a reformed environmental science as a glorified solution to inequality. In his discussion of the co-construction of science and politics, Forsyth argues for the necessity of “looking at how coproduction takes places on a day-to-basis” (51). What would a “critical” political ecology look like on the ground? My father, for example, is committed to the belief that his work on climate change is valuable, but a part of the project is also an inherent need to find a market for a material that he developed as a part of a transnational corporation. Is Forsyth’s analysis as useful when thought through in concrete examples? Or does his movement away from essentialist understandings of capital lead him to ignore economic forces entirely?

   In Lawn People, I found that Robbins’ assertion that turfgrass has agency was less compelling than Wainwright’s comment that the lawn makes demands as a socio-natural assemblage. Yet in Forsyth’s political ecology, I found the absence of any discussion of nonhuman agency to be problematic. At the end of the book, I was left wondering what place there is for the nonhuman in Forsyth’s “critical” political ecology. Following Latour, Forsyth does note that the distinction between human and nonhuman is a false dichotomy and “that any attempt at purification is likely only to reflect questions of social choice” (87). Does Forsyth attempt to move beyond this dichotomy, or is it inadvertently reified?

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4. Robbins does an excellent job in convincing the reader that political ecology often represents a good option to understand and describe the complexity of environmental phenomena. His historical description of the different theoretical framework to understand environmental degradation effectively shows that “politics is inevitably ecological and that ecology is inherently political.” The numerous examples of the different dominant narratives in political ecology – from the degradation and marginalization thesis to the political objects and actors thesis –illustrate that environmental problems form a web of complex interconnected issues. I believe Robbins successfully argues that political ecology offers the necessary tools, especially in the form of a framework that considers the interactions of multi-scalar forces, to critically explain socio-environmental systems and criticize the taken for granted “apolitical” explanations. This introduction to political ecology definitely convinced me of the discipline’s strengths and potential for my own research.

   That being said, reading this book also left me with unanswered questions. Firstly, Robbins acknowledges that most political ecologists come from a Western ‘first world’ perspective. However, most of their work involves interaction with marginalized indigenous people communities’ with completely different worldviews. Much criticism has been made on Western research, often qualified as ‘outside research’ or ‘white research’. As Linda Tuhiwai Smith (1999, p. 42) explain about indigenous people’s opinion of Western science: “from an indigenous perspective Western research is more than just research that is located in a positivist tradition. It is research which brings to bear, on any study of indigenous peoples, a set of values, a different conceptualization of such things as time, space and subjectivity, different and competing theories of knowledge, highly specialized forms of language, and structures of power.” This discourse reminds me of Dr. Mario Blaser’s argument that Euro-Canadians are unable to understand Innus’ worldviews by applying their Western ontology. For our society, a caribou is a caribou; for Innu communities, a Caribou is Atîku. Dr. Blaser referred to this deep divergence in worldviews as a “radical alterity”. One can feel that Robbins is confident that political ecologists are very careful not to fall into an empiricist approach to research. Yet he does not really discuss how political ecologists objectively evaluate the mindset and worldviews of other cultures. Any observer, notwithstanding their methodology or training, is influenced by his “cultural lens”, which can be defined as “common knowledge, general cognitive frameworks, and values that are (more or less) shared by the members of a social group and that help them make sense of their world (Weeks et al, 2001).” Consequently, what permits scholars in political ecology to escape the western paradigm and effectively reflect on their own social location? What intercultural criteria of comparison permit political ecologists to objectively evaluate and compare different worldviews and effectively grasp indigenous people’s culture and livelihood? Is it possible to achieve that said objectivity?

   Secondly, based on the examples found in Robbins’ book, I personally feel that political ecology generally fails to propose and engage in a concrete dialogue about policy alternatives. I strongly believe that one of the most important roles of scholars (and probably the hardest), especially when they are financed by public fund, is to foster a better and more sustainable future with their research. Studies in political ecology bring a wealth of understanding on the drivers of environmental degradation and often permit to identify and elucidate processes that generate injustices and marginalization of large groups of individuals. Therefore, political ecology has the potential to play an important role in identifying “explicit alternatives.” However, I feel few sound solutions to current practices stem from these studies (at least from what is presented in Robbins’ book). Understanding “environmental problems, struggles, crises, and opportunities” by “being able to read and write the contradictions, the ironies, the winners and losers, and the simultaneously real and represented nature of the world (p. 252)” represents an important step in triggering global changes. However, these changes will not occur if the “political ecology texts” are not translated into suggestions for policy improvement. I acknowledge that my critique might be grounded in my limited knowledge on studies and initiatives arising from political ecology. Also, Robbins’ book did not aim at exploring policy advocacy but at giving an introduction to the various theoretical approaches in the field. An interesting point made by Robbins is that the biggest portion of work in political ecology probably originates from policy advocates in non-academic spheres. I would therefore be very interested in learning to what extent scholars vulgarize their studies and share their results with these organizations and the larger public.

   Questions

   What intercultural criteria of comparison permit political ecologists to objectively evaluate and compare different worldviews and effectively grasp culture and livelihood? Is it even possible to achieve that said objectivity?

   How do political scientist insure that their personal beliefs and political engagement do not affect their research. What tools of political ecology permit to insure effective researcher reflexivity?

   Are there many examples of political ecologists who actively engage in policy advocacy? What approach do they adopt to share their research with the non-academic sectors?

   References

   Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples: Zed Books.

   Weeks, P., Parckard J., and M. Martinez-Velarde, “Cultural lenses and conservation biology: collaboration in tropical countries,” in Protecting Biological Diversity: Roles and Responsibilities, C. Potvin, M. Kraenzel, and G. Seutin, Eds., McGill-Queen’s University Press, Montreal, Canada, 2001.

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5. Thoughts on Tim Forysth’s Critical Political Ecology: The Politics of Environmental Science

   Colin Sutherland

   Tim Forsyth’s extensive look at environmental science reviewed, somewhat mechanically, how even environmental science is constrained, pushed and bound to politics. His unpacking of the environmental orthodoxies through various theoretical paradigms allowed me to gain a deeper appreciation for how even science and politics are bound together in a never-ending exchange of mutual construction. I came away with two main feelings from his book. First, his analysis not only encouraged me to be critical of environmental science but particularly how science can be used to reassert political dominance of one group over another. Second, it reminded me of how I have found myself in similar situations battling orthodoxy with regards to the public’s understanding of environmental issues.
   While I found his analysis looking at how science is written and influenced by those with power (or those influenced by those with power) striking, I did find myself reflecting on how the framing of environmental issues can harm others. I found myself asking how my sense of environmentalism has impacted those for which my framing of good environmental actions potentially harmed. I was challenged by this reading to see how my personal framing of environmental action could harm someone else. One example that came to mind upon reflection is my feeling towards parking on campus. In many respects I think parking on campus only fuels the fire of environmentally disastrous consumption through the use of the automobile. With the environmental threats that cars are associated with aside, there are a number of good reasons someone might depend on that parking on campus. Perhaps they can only afford to live outside of the city, perhaps they work a number of jobs to support their education and must commute while also going to class, or perhaps they have children and the single-centric bus transit system excludes them. The point is that my framing of environmentalism is often based on actions that I see possible within the context of my identity and I sometimes unfairly maintain my framing of good environmental practices based on this identity.
   The second thought that stayed with me from reading this book was the concept of environmental orthodoxies. In the past I have worked with various park systems in Canada as an interpreter, sharing a regions “natural history”. A few summers ago I found myself giving a presentation to around 150 people on forest fire ecology in Ontario. As a province with a number of regions where fire has been shown to be a natural process, I found that a number of people were very much surprised that I had chosen to give a talk on this subject. Meanwhile further north homes were in danger, firefighters were fighting the fire, and in cases where the cause was unknown people searched for the cause of destruction. While reading this book I could not help bus see how policy has still not fully embraced the idea of a naturally burning forest and how science has not really gotten behind the cause. Forsyth brings this up when he complains that there are many within political circles that still maintain that conception of an equilibrium state. I found myself almost contesting the very system I worked for when I tried to explain that there were even ecosystems where human induced fire was in fact good for biodiversity. Particularly with respect to the first half of this book, this theme of environmental orthodoxies, I found that I identified with the struggle to combat these now widely accepted “truths”. At the same time I find myself struggling to completely accept looking at environmental issues in a human-centric way. In many respects this is something that I think should be valued in environmental science. I think Forsyth is right to contest this thinking but I cannot help but question, who will speak for the environment? Perhaps questioning this suggests I did not really comprehend Forsyth’s argument, but I am not convinced that completely ignoring the idea of a human free environment is completely out of the question. Clearly this approach would still be tied to politics because as we saw in Lawn People, even the environment can have a degree of agency.

   How can you promote the interests of those excluded from the construction of environmental science?

   Whose responsibility is it to call scientists and policy makers out? Is it only the political ecologists that have this responsibility or should others have it as well?

   Is there something to be said for a science that strives to look out for the political interests of non-human subjects?

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6. Reflections on Political Ecology, 2nd Edition (2012) by Paul Robbins

   I thought this was an incisive, pragmatic, personal and humble book, and I found it very valuable. In taking on the daunting task of writing a (kind of) core text for a disparate field, Robbins is very pragmatic. He pays his dues to the ‘classics’ while outlining/advancing what he feels are core concerns defining political ecology (PE), and situating its intellectual genealogy (‘critical tools’) within the historical contexts of common property theory, Marxist political economy, critical environmental history, feminist and postcolonial critique, and through to more recently trending topics around governmentality and non-human agency. At core of his PE imaginary is the distinction between apolitical and political ecology – it is the job of political ecologists to problematize hegemonic narratives (with our intellectual ‘hatchet’) while opening space for alternate pathways (the ‘seed’). After describing the PE toolkit, he lays out three genres of challenges for PE – problems in understanding ecology (dynamic landscapes, hysteresis, complexity etc), problems in social construction (nature matters?) and then – as a new addition to this edition apparently – problems of explanation in the context of ‘land change science’ and arguments for causal inquiry. Robbins then proceeds through five dominant narratives in PE, drawing on the toolkit as necessary, to both test and interrogate how these tools work out in the field. He uses personal reflections on methodology (which I found helpful) to illustrate practical concerns with epistemology, and he is also (refreshingly, since textbooks are often of back-patting nature) a bit critical toward some developments in PE. When reading the book, three issues resonated in particular: the role of ‘ecology’ in PE, the debates about causal explanation, and the ‘agency’ of the non-human.

   WHERE IS ECOLOGY? I’m glad Robbins wrote this book, given his interest in things environmental. I am also very interested in environmental science yet I hesitate to self-identify with PE because to me it feels more like a ‘political economy of things which might be somehow environmental’. This relates to the second and third points below. In many PE accounts, environmental science is often hatcheted but not often healed (or seeded!) and to me this is a significant concern. To the extent that PE is a kind of ‘institution’ which wants to do work in the world, we should think about ‘what kind of ecology for what kind of politics’ much more seriously. We need propositions, not just critiques.

   IDEOLOGY, CAUSATION AND ‘POLITICAL ECONOMY REDUCTIONISM’ I found the new chapter on land change science and causal explanation fascinating because they seemed so… specific. But I realise they are points that have emerged from other communities of practice (or within PE, as in Vayda/Walters) about how the book presents PE’s prospects. V/W critique PE as arriving on any scene with answers in hand – that the PE toolkit is ideological and thus the answers it produces are always the same. To me this resonates powerfully because I imagine that if you did a Wordle of much PE work, some of the most common words would be things like ‘capital accumulation’, disposession, territorialism, etc. The critique argues that we should be concerned with actual place-based material causation and not simply treat local places as sites to apply our (generally western) theory. Robbins contrasts two very different explanations of the ‘land degradation’ thesis which I think illustrates this very nicely – how can we compare the effectiveness of a ‘state territorialisation’ versus a ‘capital accumulation’ explanation of Amazonian deforestation? Robbins makes a strong counter case though, that non-directly-causal things matter, like enabling discourses and so on (plus who decides what is material causation?). I also feel a bit alienated from PE identification because I am not a political economist, but I am interested in ecology. I get the sense that in much PE work we can predict fairly easily what the analysis will look like… perhaps this is a legacy of PE’s origin in Marxist dialectical materialism… I just wonder to what extent this is constricting future pathways or understandings.

   AGENCY OF NATURE. I found Robbins’ critical assessment of this work quite refreshing (and given Lawn People, a bit surprising). As noted last week, I am quite skeptical about claims of the ‘agency of non-humans’. In my view, there has emerged a political economy to these kinds of phrasings. I get the reason for the political project to inscribe ‘vitality’ or symmetry to non-humans, but I do not think that many analyses actually do this justice. Bears have certain properties, are important parts of how we imagine and value bears. Does this mean that bears *themselves* have agency, or merely that they have properties which are relevant for human cognition and action? To get around this, the ‘surprise’ discourse of agency generally asserts that nature has agency when it behaves against our wishes or expectations. But to me this is still unsatisfactory – a cat behaving like I expect a cat to behave should still have agency… right?

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