“It’s not just a river,” it is an economy and culture for 70 million people in Southeast Asia. That is how Courtney Weatherby sees the Mekong River. Over the Mekong’s 2,610 miles, it has many different things: culture, tourist attractions, and drinking water.

Over the Mekong’s 2,610 miles, it is also a fishery, source of hydroelectricity, and irrigation for agricultural products. While the Mekong may seem far away to most people, it is a major source of freshwater fish globally. It is also an important regional source of hydroelectricity. The consequences of developing dams on the Mekong will be felt globally.

Map of Mekong River Basin

“It was actually an academic paper” that jump started Courtney Weatherby’s interest, she explained with a chuckle. Courtney was studying abroad in Beijing in the 2010s while China’s environmental record “was hitting the fan.” It prompted a period of intense discussion about China’s impact on climate change and pollution. Courtney now works as a Research Analyst and Deputy Director at the Washington D.C. based Stimson Center. The center hosts the Mekong Policy Project, which analyzes the geopolitical situation in the Mekong. Courtney and her colleagues are working to raise awareness of the dam impacts regionally and globally and assess policy solutions.

Impacts and Interests of Development

In 1995, the Mekong River Commission (MRC) was developed to support sustainable river development by Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, and Vietnam, but not Myanmar or China which are not members. The Commission reviews development projects to assess benefits and concerns. The Commission positions the Mekong region well according to Courtney. Yet, of the three dams it has reviewed, there has been a noticeable decline in the quality of review. Experts like Courtney fear that the Commission’s commitment to quality is fading over time, which poses a threat to the river and the communities that depend on it. 

China controls the faucet of the dam as the country at the head of the river, but Laos is manipulating water levels and pressure through their 16 dams. Over her career, Courtney watched the conversation shift from where each country sits along the river, to how each country’s development projects impacts.

Laos has recently seen the consequences of a lack of information provided to communities and improper development. In July 2018, the Xe Pian Xe-Namnoy dam in Laos near the Sekong River, one of the most important Mekong River tributaries, collapsed. The ensuing flood killed 49 people and caused long-term property damage for 7,000 people. The dam was rebuilt, but the government advised villagers not to return for fear the dam would break again. Despite its poor track record, Laos continued to develop new dams on the Mekong River. 

The Mekong River could power 23 million homes based on the dams’ energy production. The Mekong River provides 70% of Laos’s energy, including energy exports, and significant energy for other countries along the river. Laos is slowly becoming the “battery of Southeast Asia,” by exporting hydropower to other countries.

Development on the Mekong is riddled with irony. A new dam in Laos will impact Thailand, which is just downstream, but that has not stopped the developer, which is Thai owned, from building it. These investments raise concerns about hydro-diplomacy, and the muddled interests of each country. 

But what Courtney made clear is that hydro-diplomacy depends both on positioning along the river and each country’s impact, not just one. 

Costs of Dams Versus the Benefit

According to Courtney, the Mekong is a global common good because it is “the world’s most productive freshwater fishery.”

But that may change as many fish species are gone and remaining fish are harder to find because of the dams. Most of the fish disappeared after the Xayaburi dam in Laos began operating in 2019. Fishers are concerned that there will be no fish in the future, rendering their jobs obsolete. Yet, Courtney has still found fish from the Mekong river in American grocery stores.

The Mekong River at Luang Prabang, Laos

These fisheries are essential to the economic welfare of communities, but they are under threat. The profits from energy production on the river go almost exclusively to the government and developer, but the profits from fishing go to the communities along the river who catch the fish and prepare it. Even if the economic benefits are local, they add up to a significant contribution to many nation’s GDPs. Fish products from the Mekong make up about 12% of Cambodian, 7% of Laotian, 3.1% of Thai, and 1.8% of Vietnamese GDPs. With diminishing fish populations, the GDPs are expected to fall and communities will need to find new industries. 

An Upstream Battle for Solutions

The Mekong Dam Monitor, the Stimson Center project Courtney works on, began as a way to promote transparency by using available dam activity reports, satellite technologies, and downstream sensing to piece together a picture of river activity. Because it uses almost real time data, it allows for data-driven conversations and negotiations within the region and MRC about dam development and water usage. 

While the Commission and Courtney’s work both focus on data transparency, they are bound to different expectations. The Commission reports diligently on what member countries allow it to disclose, meanwhile Courtney’s work started from an interest in unreported Mekong River activities that continue to be secretive. China and other countries view dam activity as a state secret. To get around that, non-governmental organizations like the Stimson Center have started to create independent data sets. While China’s residents were growing concerned over environmental impact during her study abroad, Courtney stressed how little concern there seemed to be for the international impacts of China’s activities and inhibiting transparency.

The gap between the technical experts and the communities that need to act on that information isolates the different interest groups. China’s data availability is one of the biggest hurdles to accessibility. There have been “significant steps by China, still insufficient steps, but significant steps forward” to make data more accessible, but projects like the Mekong Dam Monitor continue to be necessary. 

Courtney excitedly told me how the project began as a monitor to oversee dam activity, but has since also grown to include early warnings for communities. Now, when river levels on the Mekong are projected to rise or fall by half a meter, the monitor issues community alerts to enable community action such as moving livestock, preparing crops, and changing fishing itineraries. 

Global Connections

The lack of data transparency has exacerbated tensions because there is no evidence to validate concerns about river level changes and the impact of downstream fishing, agriculture, and livelihoods. Lower basin countries continue to regularly criticize and blame Chinese hydropower development for its downstream impacts. China maintains that its development has a negligible impact on the river itself. As China and Laos, and other countries, continue to develop the river, tensions continue to build.

“The Mekong region is in better hands than many other transboundary river basins” Courtney said half optimistically. Water can be a powerful source of geopolitical tensions. The work of Courtney and the Stimson Center offers a model for other international natural resources under threat from persistent development. What becomes apparent is that transparency and cooperation are essential to good governance. 

Dudley/Brook site flier. Image courtesy of Dudley Street Neighborhood Initiative

A vacant lot on Brook Avenue and Dudley Street in Roxbury, a neighborhood in Boston, MA, is scheduled for redevelopment. Recently, the lot has been a site of drug activity and gun violence. In some parts of Boston, vacant lots like the one on Brook Avenue/Dudley Street are likely to become high-end condos. But that is not what will happen here.

Satellite view of Dudley/Brook site. Image courtesy of City of Boston

The Dudley Street Neighborhood Initiative (DSNI), a community-run non-profit organization in Roxbury, is spearheading the redevelopment of the Dudley/Brook lot. DSNI was formed in 1984 to give Roxbury residents control of development and address issues in their community. At the time, more than 20 percent of the land in Roxbury was undeveloped and at risk of becoming upscale hotels and offices. Today, DSNI has helped create 98 permanently affordable homes, in addition to urban farm sites, parks and open spaces throughout Roxbury. The Dudley/Brook lot is DSNI’s latest project in their ongoing campaign to empower Roxbury residents by expanding access to public services and resources.

I first learned about the DSNI in an article by Yes! magazine. The article described DSNI as the first community-run organization in the U.S. granted the power of “eminent domain” – the power to acquire private land for public use. This power allowed DSNI to advise the city on how to redevelop vacant lots like the Dudley/Brook lot. As a Roxbury resident myself, I was completely moved hearing the remarkable work DSNI has been doing. 

I learned about the Dudley/Brook lot when I attended DSNI’s community meeting on October 18th, 2022. There I met Minnie McMahon, who is a DSNI community organizer. She explained that development without displacement is a big challenge DSNI and other community-based organizations face. “How do we invest in a community with houses, businesses, and parks – all that good stuff without gentrifying?”

McMahon has always been interested in the questions of power and decision-making systems. McMahon went to graduate school at Tufts University for Urban Planning and Public Policy. There, McMahon spent a lot of time organizing and became interested in community land trusts, non-profit organizations that secure land on behalf of a community. In 2018, McMahon started working as the Programs and Operations Manager at Dudley Neighbors Incorporated, a community land trust embedded within DSNI. Then, in 2021, McMahon moved over to DSNI’s Community Organizing team. 

At the DSNI meeting on October 18th, although I had never interacted with DSNI before, McMahon welcomed me with open arms. She facilitated the meeting and eagerly invited participants to share their thoughts. Some questions raised at the meeting included: How do we make sure we have enough information on what the community wants? How do we engage people’s different opinions on how the Dudley/Brook lot should be used?

McMahon told me that this is something DSNI is constantly thinking about. It involves earnest attempts to do outreach – in a variety of ways – to get the community’s inputs. For the Dudley/Brook project, DSNI organized block events throughout the year where they told community members about the lot and gathered residents’ opinions through surveys. 

McMahon explains that this process often takes years. For example, in creating permanent affordable housing, DSNI first gets input from the community on what type of housing is needed. DSNI then tells the city what the community wants. The city drafts and sends out a “request for proposals,” a request for developers to build the housing. Developers respond with their proposals. The city then selects the developer and DSNI leases them the land. 

To McMahon, being a community organizer means “facilitating people coming together in learning, developing campaigns and relationships, and bringing together resources to do what they want to do.”

This work is not easy. With more people becoming active on social media, McMahon mentions that DSNI struggles to meet people’s varying needs. “Some people are like ‘what’s a computer?’ and some people are like ‘what’s a paper flier?’ There is such a range on how we get all the information.”

COVID has exacerbated DSNI’s challenges with outreach. “COVID definitely has made an impact,” McMahon explains, “People are more online now and isolated and are not joining groups in the same way.” DSNI recently hired a full-time communications person, who they hope will fill in this gap.

As part of their outreach efforts, DSNI plans to integrate art to diversify the voices represented in their projects. McMahon emphasizes, “All ways of thinking, various identities, race, culture, class, we need all of this, and this is important.” Currently, the DSNI uses a quota system to promote racial and ethnic diversity on their community board, which includes African American, White, Cape Verdean, and Latinx members. McMahon acknowledges that this may not represent the whole community and that DSNI is considering restructuring the board.

For the Dudley/Brook project, DSNI is working on how to best illustrate the community’s hopes for the lot. Some ideas shared by residents included a community center, open space, and affordable housing. The next step would be to draft a request for proposals. To do this, DSNI will compile the top two suggestions into a vision statement. 

“There is always going to be disagreement about how something is going to be used,” McMahon points out, “And that’s exactly our work, trying to figure that out with people and do good processes as best as we can, and take feedback and criticism to do a better job the next time.”

As McMahon states, DSNI’s work is ongoing. “There are basic things we know, like wanting to use social media and knocking on doors. Can we do this in multiple languages, not just in one language? Can we make sure we’re doing multiple opportunities to engage, not just one event? Can we be clear about the process, so we can also keep it moving forward?”

Picture this.  It’s a chilly February night. You and your partner are out for a stroll around a New England neighborhood, headed towards a sugar shack to make your own maple syrup. When you get there, you’re greeted by the warm atmosphere of local farmers, the smells of their maple syrup infused whisky floating through the air. This is the story of how Christine Schell first came across the wonderful organization of the Natick Community Organic Farm – a beautiful local community that boasts education as their greatest crop!

The farm is nestled down a humble side street next to a school. At 4pm when I arrived at the farm, I felt the buzz of post-school energy before I even saw the children running around. I arrived a few extra minutes early to look around and take it all in. I began walking down a path (pictured above), and proceeded into an area filled with picnic tables – farmhouse on the right, fields on the left. 

Unlike the vast, never-ending fields that come to mind when most people picture “farmland”, this atmosphere was homey, almost cozy in a way – different from the image of endless fields that often define American agriculture . Just nearby a group of children huddled together under a tree. You could instantly tell by walking in that this was a space built to cultivate both the crops and the community.

During my visit, I sat  down at one of the picnic tables to talk with the Interim Assistant Farm Director, Christine, to get a better sense of the work they do for the community. What first appeared to me as  unstructured play was actually a collection of carefully curated after-school programs.

The farm is deeply entrenched in the community. Its programs began in the early 1980’s, and still offers many of the same programs today. These range  from volunteer opportunities and robust summer programs to high school age work programs and more.  There are opportunities for all ages, from infants to high schoolers

What I saw when I entered the farm was a bunch of kids happily enjoying the farm’s atmosphere – the school year programs that families sign their kids up for were in full swing. The youngest kids can be involved in the forest gnome program, which is based off of a successful German/Danish school in the woods model. From small children just beginning to experience the world around them, to highschoolers on track to continue agricultural work in the future, the farm offers a multigenerational environment, and the environmental learning opportunities are abundant for each age level.  

For children who grew up with the programs and develop a deep love for farm work, there are apprenticeships and work opportunities they can participate in as high schoolers. According to Christine, the farm’s goal is to cultivate the involvement of young families in the hopes that they will grow up through these programs. In doing that, they ensure that the children develop a reverence and an understanding of the natural world around them.

I was also interested in what brought Christine into the world of environmental education. Although she is passionate about her work in environmental education now, her original career interests lay elsewhere. She worked for two decades teaching English in high school and working as an arts administrator before moving to  the farm, where she develops  curriculum and teaches about agriculture and environmental science.

When Christine discovered that sugar shack on that cold February night, she was stumbling upon something that would shape the lives of her and her family for decades to come. Her initial involvement with many family and education programs has grown into a much more intimately experience with the educational mission of the farm. It is clear from Christine’s experience working with the farm that all the ‘small stuff’ – variations within outdoor curriculums, the connections made by the kids, and different aspects of the farm’s ecosystems – has substantial impact. The sum of the small parts is what allows people like Christine to help kids see themselves as a part of the natural world – and with any luck, develop the kind of care and compassion for it that this world needs.

When Sharon Lavigne buried two of her closest friends over the course of one weekend, she knew exactly where the blame lay. For her community in St. James Parish, Louisiana, these deaths–and their cause–was nothing new. In fact, Lavigne knows 30 people that have died in the past 5 years, most from cancer or respiratory diseases. The culprit? Air pollution. 

This air pollution comes from smoke stacks from over 200 chemical companies and fossil fuel refineries that span the 85-mile community running along the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. In this distance that takes about an hour and a half to drive, 25% of U.S petrochemical production is made. This same 85-mile stretch has cancer rates twice as high as the rest of the country, which is why it’s been morbidly called “Cancer Alley.” Lavigne has talked about how these fumes burn her skin and eyes, a reality for many like her living in this dense hub of chemical plants and fossil fuel refineries.

Cancer Alley is also majority Black, with higher percentages of Black residents in areas zoned for industrial development.  Take for example, St. James District 5 where over 90% of residents are African American. District 5 was rezoned in 2014 to allow for even more industrial development next to residential spaces. Immediately after this new zoning change, the St. James Highschool in District 5, where Lavigne worked for almost 40 years as a special education teacher, was shut down to make way for a new plastics factory owned and operated by Yuhang Chemical Inc,  a subsidiary of Koch Industries.  This new factory–before Lavigne successfully campaigned to halt its construction–was  projected to be one of the largest in the world, releasing the most carbon dioxide out of all oil and gas related projects in the US, and doubling air pollution in the area. 

Lavigne’s story and that of Cancer Alley, although shocking, is not unique. It is just one example of a phenomenon as old as America itself: environmental racism.

Although it may be easy to put environmental issues and racism in two distinct circles, they are actually experienced simultaneously for many in the U.S., existing within the same overlapping space of the Venn diagram. As a result of racism and white supremacy, those most vulnerable groups are Black and Brown communities. 

When thinking of solutions to any societal problem, it’s important we understand its full scope. In this case, it’s understanding that it’s impossible to separate race, environment and health, which all merge together in the same toxic soup. In other words, anti-racism work is health care advocacy is climate protection. Our advocacy needs to address each aspect, or it is incomplete and inadequate. 

This overlap of racism and pollution is not lost on Lavigne. “The same land that held people captive through slavery is now holding people captive through this environmental injustice and devastation” said Lavigne in a recent interview with Rolling Stone Magazine. “They pollute us with these plants, like we’re not human beings, like we’re not even people. They’re killing us.”

And it’s not just St. James Parish. People of color are exposed to more air pollution than their white counterparts across the U.S., with Latinx communities breathing up to 75% more pollution than their white counterparts. This can cause and accelerate the onset of health problems such as heart attacks, miscarriages, and yes, cancer. 

It doesn’t stop there. The single strongest factor in predicting where a toxic-waste dump will be sited is not geography or geology as one might assume but rather race. Two-thirds of Black and Latinx communities in America live in an area with at least one toxic-waste site. This means, if you live in a predominantly Black or Latinx community, the odds are you are living near a toxic-waste facility. 

These are not simple coincidences or “slip-ups.” Tom Goldtooth, a Native American activist and director of the Indigenous Environmental network puts it plainly, “The system ain’t broke. It was built to be this way.” 

For example, the Cerrell report, a report for the California Waste Management Board on where to place garbage incinerators, specifically suggested placing incinerators in poor, rural, communities of color. That incinerators are built in communities of color is a reality rooted in deliberate policy decisions. 

We owe it to ourselves and communities like St. James Parish to address the overlap of racial and environmental issues in its entirety. 

For many organizations, concerted coalition building is already underway. The Movement For Black Lives (M4BL), a group of 50+ organizations including Black Lives Matter (BLM), operates on a platform that calls for divestment from fossil fuels. Organizations like the National Hispanic Medical Association, Health Care Without Harm and Alliance of Nurses for Healthy Environments have called on Congress to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and transition to clean power in order to “improve public health [and] help dismantle systemic racism.” 

Lavigne runs an organization herself, RISE St. James, a grassroots organization that intertwines racial justice with environmental justice and fights to keep new industrial development out of the area. Her efforts are supported by national environmental organizations like the Sierra Club. RISE has also participated in the Global Climate strike, demanding global action to protect our climate.

The efforts of these organizations embody a fundamental idea in grassroots organizing: we are stronger when we work together.  A unified, targeted fight makes us all the more powerful and impactful. If we can’t separate racism and the environment into distinct experiences, why do we separate our advocacy? 

I couldn’t detect Vaughan Woodruff’s Maine accent–perhaps because I grew up in Maine myself or perhaps because of the highway noises crackling over the phone. But he speaks of central Maine with such fondness that there’s little doubt where his heart lies. 

Vaughan was kind enough to squeeze in our interview during a Friday evening drive from a solar installation site in Brunswick back to his home in Pittsfield, ME.

Solar energy has been booming in Maine for the past few years. Since 2019, installation  of solar generation in Maine has grown tenfold per year, and since 2015, the cost of installation has fallen 11%. 

Vaughan has been deeply committed to making sure this boom is benefiting more than just wealthy coastal areas. In addition to starting InSource Renewables in 2008, Vaughan has become one of the Maine solar industry’s foremost social justice champions, focusing his business on serving rural and economically struggling communities and dedicating valuable time to training the next generation of Maine energy workers. 

Vaughan grew up in Pittsfield—an old mill town in central Maine—and identifies with its struggles. “If I’m going to raise my kids here, there better be a town for them to be connected with,” Vaughan said of his decision to base his company locally. Maine’s aging population, lack of solar experts, and small workforce make the challenges of running a solar company in a sparsely populated and poorer part of Maine especially acute.

Investing in community has been a central part of Vaughan’s business philosophy. In 2016, InSource became a worker-owned cooperative and was awarded B Corp certification, a designation that shows the company is focused on balancing “purpose and profit.” To Vaughan, this means empowering his employees and involving them in the decision-making process. 

“I’m a very wary capitalist,” he said. “Solar companies make their money by selling the hours of their laborers. Responsibility and reward need to go together.” 

In early 2021, Vaughan decided to merge his company with ReVision Energy because of mounting challenges posed by the pandemic. But he made sure his new partner was compatible with his employees-first model. 

There are many renewable energy companies in Maine and when I asked about competition, Vaughan laughed. “Solar competes for customers day in and day out,” he said, but “in order for our industry to grow the pie, it’s taken tremendous collaboration.”

By “collaboration” he means the unending hours volunteering on various committees to push for better solar policy. He said he spends twenty to thirty percent of his time working on policy issues–a nearly unmanageable burden for a small business owner and still a significant stretch now that he works for ReVision. 

Paid positions would exist for policy work in a more mature market–one with bigger businesses and greater depth of trained employees. Instead, the day-to-day running of companies, educating communities about why solar is important, and fighting for policies fall mainly on the shoulders of local solar entrepreneurs like Vaughan. Fortunately, other organizations including the Environmental Policy Coalition often work with solar leaders on policy and education issues. But Vaughan feels they only provide limited support and can hold conflicting interests. 

And there is a lot of work to be done to improve the policy landscape for solar in Maine. The two biggest tasks on Maine’s renewable energy front are creating more consumer-owned utilities and updating the grid. 

Consumer-owned utilities would help take down CMP, Maine’s biggest energy provider which Vaughan describes as “imperialistic,” and provide lower rates, higher reliability, and a faster shift to renewables for Mainers. “There’s a lot of momentum right now to shift from utility-owned to consumer-owned utilities,” Vaughan said. Instead of benefiting shareholders, utilities would focus on benefiting consumers.  

Updating the grid could prove harder. “What we need to figure out as a society is grid planning,” he said. To successfully transition to a renewable-based system we need a grid that can handle the two-way traffic of small- and large-scale solar and wind projects. Private industry currently carries the burden of updating the grid, but government on both the state and federal level needs to step up its involvement to hasten the process. More progressive states, Vaughan explained, are already successfully organizing this shift on the state level. 

Near the end of our interview I expressed gratitude for his optimism and the tireless energy he pours into his work. But he wanted to end our conversation on a different note.  

“I have deep pessimism in the world that we’re leaving for the next generation,” he explained. “If you engage in this work there’s a lot of hardship. But the work must go on. We have no choice.”

Solar Project in Pittsfield, Maine

Image Source: Unsplash

One in six Massachusetts homes could be running on wind power as soon as 2023.

Vineyard Wind will be the nation’s first utility-scale offshore wind farm, providing wind energy for Massachusetts residents. Despite previously failed attempts to build a wind farm off the Massachusetts coast, this revolutionary wind farm—scheduled to come on line in 2023—will effectively transition residents away from fossil fuels, combat climate change, and promote energy independence.

Located 15 miles south of Martha’s Vineyard, an island off the coast of Cape Cod, Vineyard Wind will reside in the United States federal waters of Nantucket Sound. It will host 62 wind turbines, each producing 13 megawatts of power. In total, the whole wind farm can produce enough energy to power more than 400,000 homes.

Massachusetts has the largest potential for offshore wind of any state in the country: offshore wind could supply eight times the amount of the state’s estimated energy demand. Tapping into this resource would massively increase the sustainability of not just the state’s energy grid, but all of New England’s

Offshore wind serves as a powerful ocean climate solution. It creates jobs, lowers energy costs, and provides clean energy to tackle climate change.

Not everyone, however, is thrilled about Vineyard Wind. 

Despite the comprehensive Environmental Impact Statement conducted by the Bureau of Ocean Energy Management (BOEM), fishing advocacy groups are worried about the turbines limiting access to and depleting fishing stocks.

There were also concerns about potential threats to the North Atlantic right whale. Nantucket Sound is a critical habitat for these endangered mammals. To address these issues, in 2019, Vineyard Wind—along with other organizations—committed to the protection of right whales throughout their construction process and operating procedures.

Such pushback may sound familiar.  In the early 2000s, such concerns derailed another large-scale offshore wind project: Cape Wind. The project would have turbines built in Nantucket Sound only five miles from the southern coast of Cape Cod. The original permit application was submitted in 2001. But, after an almost 20 year battle, the project ultimately surrendered its lease in 2017.

I grew up on Cape Cod and—though I was young at the time—remember the red and blue signs on front lawns that were seemingly everywhere: “Nantucket Sound is NOT For Sale.” People were concerned that the turbines would mar the beauty of Nantucket Sound, piercing the endless  blue horizon with industrial, brutish force. Some claimed that property values would depreciate. Others remained convinced that there were unknown “environmental impacts” from having large turbines installed on the ocean floor.

Despite the support of many Cape Cod residents, such concerns were the project’s downfall.

With this complex history of offshore wind in the area, it may seem unlikely that Vineyard Wind could succeed. And yet, it’s set to do just that.

Several reasons explain why Vineyard Wind is poised to succeed where Cape Wind failed.

The turbines will be located much further offshore than the Cape Wind project proposed, posing no obstruction to the visible horizon. 

The offshore wind industry has also developed over the past twenty years. Projects on the scale of Vineyard Wind may be new for the United States, however, The technology is now proven, and the growth of the European market has driven down costs of offshore wind globally.

Because of climate change, now more than ever is the time for the United States to employ and embrace offshore wind.

The project will create approximately 3,600 jobs in Massachusetts. An agreement between Vineyard Wind and the Biden administration promises that at least 1,000 of these jobs will go to union workers. Construction jobs and other opportunities will help expand Massachusetts’ middle class, while also providing them with cleaner, cheaper energy.

Wind power is also cheap. Despite the upfront costs of building new infrastructure, wind farms are much less expensive to operate and maintain than their fossil fuel counterparts. Thus, it costs consumers less to purchase offshore wind energy than the fossil fuel sources that have been historically used to power the grid. The project will ultimately cut the collective cost to all ratepayers by $1.4 billion over the first 20 years of the project. 

Vineyard Wind has a wide variety of environmental advantages too. The amount of energy the wind farm is expected to produce will offset 1.68 million metric tons of CO2 emissions annually. That’s comparable to taking 325,000 vehicles off the road. The project would be a staggering increase in clean energy usage within Massachusetts’ energy grid.

Vineyard Wind is just the kind of project we need in the face of the climate crisis.

Projections show that offshore wind could meet 90% of the electricity demand of the United States by 2050. 

This project has the potential to serve as a model for offshore wind farms across the country, laying the foundation for a thriving new ocean-based industry in the United States.

A Degrowther’s Take on Neoliberalism

Antonio Ferreira knows that scaling back the economy doesn’t have the flashy appeal of a new Lamborghini, a Canada Goose jacket, or a beach house on the Jersey Shore. Degrowth, or downsizing of the scale of the global economy, would curb fossil fuel emissions as well as the intensity of anthropogenic climate change. 

So how do we convince a nation of consumers to rethink the foundation of the modern economy?  How do we urge people to appreciate the value in de-centering materiality, lobbying for large-scale change in government, and centering their relationships instead of their purchases? 

Less just doesn’t carry the flashy intrigue of More. 

On a sunlit November morning, I met with Dr. Antonio Ferreira — otherwise known as Anton. By day, he is a Principal Researcher at CITTA, the Center for Research on Territory, Transports, and Environment at the University of Porto, Portugal. As for side hobbies, he’s also a yoga teacher, meditation instructor, and a personal trainer who enjoys carpentry. Anton’s red scarf filled the blurry Zoom square with a flash of color, a pixelated image bringing a piece of Western Europe to my dorm room in suburban Massachusetts. 

Anton has conducted extensive research related to degrowth, specifically focusing on challenging urban growth and rethinking social systems to make them more sustainable and inclusive. His scholarship centers around an eclectic blend of topics related to degrowth, cities, and accessibility, and he critically engages with the way mindfulness — or engagement with one’s emotions — factors into a developer’s plan for growth. His research has further cemented his (strong) disliking of the ever-nebulous concept of neoliberalism, as well as his espousal of economic degrowth in lieu of consumerist fervor. 

In 2014, he read Tim Jackson’s book Prosperity without Growth, which planted the seeds of his skepticism: He found the economist’s text riveting, persuading him that the idea of infinite capitalist expansion is “absurd.” 

If we’re living in a world bound by finite resources, then amassing wealth as a means of personal fulfillment must be folly.

As a consumer living in modern-day society, Anton found this revelation to be a “horrible surprise.” His worldview began to change as he recognized the way money dominates virtually every facet of our lives. In his view, the root of the problem is entangled with neoliberalism. 

“What is neoliberalism?” Anton asked me, chuckling to himself. I balked, afraid he wanted an answer, ready to spew something about private property, deregulation, and the reduced availability of food stamps. Luckily, Anton’s question was rhetorical, and he briefly outlined neoliberalism’s connection to capitalism, a better known beast: “Who really knows. But essentially [neoliberalism] pits individuals against each other so that they can outperform each other so they can grab more of what’s available. Which is growth.” 

This is the sad reality espoused by the Bureaucratic Powers That Be. “Everything should be managed according to… a set of targets. Management is universal, and everything is a sausage factory,” Anton explains. “You can apply this to healthcare, education, military, or whatever.” 

Anton’s sausage factory metaphor references the homogeneity of those within the 1% who wield power over the little people, as well as the homogeneity of their values. Spurting from the end of the industrial sausage maker, everything comes out looking like bland, colorless meat. The goals of our economy are similarly un-nuanced, flavorless, trenched in a desire to pump out as much product as possible. At the core of the Donald Trump-esque corporate entities lie one driving desire: the acquisition of more/more/more material wealth. And you can’t even put that in a breakfast casserole! 

Anton sighed before continuing, adjusting the sleeves of his tweed jacket. “GDP is just another neat indicators of performance, but it says something very stupid, because it doesn’t say anything.” 

Why, then, do those languishing in castles of material wealth place so much value on a nothing number? Why do we categorize countries and quality of life and even happiness on something that’s merely another output from the economy’s sausage factory production line? 

We’re in love with numbers, and we’re in love with ranking: consider the multifarious lists detailing which colleges have the most hipster students, the most prestigious reputations, or the most aesthetically pleasing campuses. If everything can be boiled down to a statistic on a page, then we as members of society feel more in control. 

But what if — as Anton suggests — numbers don’t tell the whole story? This skepticism is a core tenant of a degrowth mindset. During our interview, Anton offered me a scenario: “When you start working, you’re going to receive a salary, and that’s going to be the salary you receive for the rest of your life; you never experience a raise. Will you stay motivated to work in a condition like this?” 

I shook my head, and Anton smiled.“You say no. Most people would say no. But I say that is how it should be, because you should love your work. Why should you do something that makes you constantly unsatisfied with your reality?” 

Tilting his bald head, thrown into shadow by the 5 PM Portuguese sunset, he delivered his most startling statement. “The way to promote degrowth is to not promote degrowth.” 

If we’re focusing on monetary success, constantly striving to make a bit more or have a bit more or do a bit more, then what’s the point? The ideal way to turn heads towards the degrowth movement is to promote institutions rooted in utilitarian principles — organizations that support well-being rather than political dominance or monetary gain. Recognizing the beauty of humility, as well as the depth of self that exists outside of numerical value judgments, will necessitate spending less on egotistical pursuits centered around insular success. 

Anton’s own espousal of degrowth doesn’t entail moving off-the-grid to a rural mountainside: he lives in the red-roofed city of Porto with his family. Since he began studying the evolving degrowth movement in 2014, he hasn’t abandoned modern  technology, nor has his relationship to modern-day commodities drastically changed. The primary difference in his life has been a newfound awareness surrounding the dangers of inflated egos. 

“You love being invited to expensive events,” quips Anton. “It gives you a sense of importance. But that’s not where solutions come from.” 

The maintenance of massive egos necessitates massive growth. Yes, degrowth on an economic level will happen on the bureaucratic level, but it’s equally important to shift consciousness away from ego-centric mentalities. A change of human soul won’t come from policies or government oversight. 

We don’t need more bold statements that are merely paper-thin  — particularly from political leaders who wish to cultivate a following. We need bold action paired with bold follow-through. Movement towards degrowth won’t come from choices made by the Average Joe, but rather from corporations and bureaucratic entities who wield influence over the market as a whole. But a scaling back of global consumption still starts with individual mindsets. 

Degrowth means recognizing why you’re googling vacation get aways with 16 skylights, room service, and a built-in jacuzzi on the Cape. In the modern day, society normalizes the pursuit of individuality — encouraging the Average Joe to strive for personal success in lieu of communal wealth — is rooted in social and environmental exploitation. 

Anton isn’t saying that sitting in silence will curb widespread ecological degradation. But it might just improve your psychological well-being, lending a bit of perspective to the way you yourself are complicit in the sausage factory. Don’t become a piece of bland, flavorless meat within a neoliberal world rigged toward those who already have power. Anton stressed the danger of striving for superficial accolades: “We don’t need more leaders of tomorrow. Embracing economic degrowth should come from a place of compassion, clarity, humility.” 

So, if you want to reckon with the Neoliberal Tyrants at large — both the Trumps and the Hillarys alike — consider breaking up with numbers. It’s just not a healthy relationship. Consider taking up yoga in lieu of stock trading and vegetable gardening in lieu of Saturday morning shopping sprees. And —  if you’d like to take a meditation class and find yourself in Portugal —  consider contacting Anton: perhaps you can bond over a shared dislike of neoliberalism on a warm afternoon in Western Europe.