Everyday Utopia: Putting Modern Utopian Movements into Historical Context

Kristen Ghodsee is no stranger to communism— or at least, “closet communism.” That is what her family called it when her and her daughter, conveniently the same size,  began sharing their clothing freely during the Covid 19 pandemic. 

In her book Everyday Utopia: What 2,000 Years of Wild Experiments Can Teach Us About the Good Life, Ghodsee leads with the impact  Covid had on her family life in order to then unpack how political and economic upheaval can drive people to seek alternative experimental lives—or, in other words, to seek utopia. 

Ghodsee’s so-called “closet communism” reflects the fundamental point of Everyday Utopia: we engage in the kind of open sharing that is demonized as “communism”—only that it is limited to the context of our own homes. 

A professor at the University of Pennsylvania, Ghodsee  has written several books on the topic of communism and socialism. In Everyday Utopia she takes a step back, surveying  the multitude of experimental living that has existed for millennia. 

Everyday Utopia starts with the feminist, intellectual community of Kroton, founded by Pythagoras (better  known for his works on triangles) around 500 BCE and concludes with the modern cohousing and family expansionist movements of the 2020s, covering the wide range of concerns that have faced experimental living communities.

 Experimental living is by nature, experimental, and as such range far and wide in their ideologies. Ghodsee makes the argument that early monasteries, both Christian and Buddhist, served as models for the experimental living communities that followed. Some, like Charles Fourier’s combination factory and housing units in France in the late 1700s, supported an integrated form of communal living to maximize productivity. Others, like the 19th century Oneida Community in Upstate New York, were organized around radical or ‘heretical’ religious beliefs, such as non-hierarchical worship or women’s equality.

As a feminist scholar, Ghodsee uniquely incorporates the role that women have played in these movements, both as intellectual drivers of experimental living, and also as beneficiaries of models of labor, child rearing and domestic life that characterize many experimental living initiatives. This sets her approach apart from earlier studies.  Around the world, women have been and still are expected to do the unpaid labor of cooking, cleaning, child rearing, and providing emotional support. Given this, experimental living often aims to make these shared tasks, giving  freedom to women who want to spend their time elsewhere. 

The concrete examples Ghodsee uses to expand readers’ imagination suggest how we might change our own lives, either radically or hesitantly, into our own utopias of experimental living. As she writes, “change is always fueled by the perseverance of those who believe that we can do better.”

Ghodsee skillfully unpacks even the most radical ideas for structuring interpersonal relationships. For instance, the polyamorous, so-called ‘complex marriages’ of the Oneida perfectionist religious community, where social reproductive roles were shared by all adults, are still considered radical almost two centuries later. In giving attention to these alternative relationships, she challenges the reader to question the societal ideals of monogamy and the nuclear family. 

Still, Everyday Utopia shies away from some of the downsides of utopias and the failures of those who strive to create them. And when experimental living goes wrong, it causes real harm. For example, the antisemitism that Charles  Fourier propagated in his communal living spaces furthered an already deeply antisemitic streak in 18th century French society, which would resurface in the late 1800s with the Dreyfus affair. Other communities that have engaged in polygamy often have issues with sex-based violence and can intensify patriarchal control, as some sects of Mormonism. The isolation of many intentional communities also makes it difficult for vulnerable people to get help and support if leaders abuse their power.

Even as it acknowledges the downside, Everyday Utopia is asking the question “can’t we do this better?”, in search of what everyone is seeking: the good life.  Maybe someday, we’ll find it. It won’t be easy, but as Ghodsee reminds us: “hope is a muscle we must use”.

Cultivating Hope: Community-Owned Regenerative Agriculture as a Way Forward

Birdsfoot Farm remains a sturdy, if subdued, tribute to an alternative way of living and farming.

Next to the slightly peeling Obama 2008 bumper sticker sits one with a small white and blue quotation: “Despite all our accomplishments, we owe our existence to a six-inch layer of topsoil and the fact it rains.” 

The quote dots the bumpers of the eight or so cars parked in front of the 150-year old barn of Birdsfoot Farm in Canton, NY. Founded in the 1970s as part of the Back to the Land movement, the farm now supports a small cohousing community, a K-12 school, and vegetable plot that supplies produce  to local families and businesses. They host Maypole Dances, an annual Garlic Festival, and weekly potlucks in the main kitchen. They live mostly self-sufficiently, with the occasional luxury bar of chocolate and movie night in town. It is, in many ways, an agrarian utopia. 

This image is not the reality for the vast majority of agriculture that occurs in the United States today. Instead, the food and agricultural landscape is dominated by farms that span millions acres, plant corporation-patented seed corn, and rely on massive center pivot irrigation systems.  Many pay starvation wages to largely undocumented migrant workers who lack the political power to advocate for better conditions. 

Additionally, the switch to industrial farming has dovetailed a shift to majority cash crops, animal feed, and ethanol production, leaving only 2% of American agriculture dedicated to fruits and vegetables, like Birdsfoot is. Of that 2%, the majority of it is in California, with produce then shipped to other states for distribution. 

Industrial agriculture, according to a 2022 special feature review article from the journal Sustainability Science, is a major contributor to “climate change, biodiversity loss, and severe impacts on soil and water quality”, all of which are increasing in intensity and human impact. Around 34% of all greenhouse gas emissions come from the food system, with the majority of that being from industrial agriculture. It also causes harmful algae blooms and ‘dead zones’, like the Gulf of Mexico dead zone which spans 6,705 miles

In addition, competition from imported fruits and vegetables is making farming financially unviable for many families. Dulli Tengeler, the primary farmer at Birdsfoot, is grappling with that reality. In 2019, her total income was $3,200, with two kids in college. “We had a great year working together in the gardens and I am happy, and the happy factor is not to be underestimated, but it is not sustainable.” 

Dulli (right) and Goldie (left), in a back field at Birdsfoot Farm.

 

The solution, according to the article’s authors, Cathy Day and Sarah Cramer, lies in what is called regenerative agriculture. 

Regenerative agriculture focuses on improving “the ecological conditions of a farm, while also producing food”, according to Day and Cramer. Regenerative agriculture is a departure from the massive industrial agriculture that has become the American standard of food, feed and ethanol production. Farms that practice regenerative agriculture use fewer external soil amendments, smaller fields, and more diverse crops and are more resilient in the face of climate change.

Regenerative farming is not a new concept.  Remember the six inches of topsoil and rain model of cultivation on those  bumper stickers? Farms like Birdsfoot demonstrate what a more regenerative  model of farming looked like.

The researchers  investigated how this model can be expanded upon and made more viable for struggling farms. Day and Cramer focus on unpacking regenerative agriculture policy, adoption and education. Given how powerful industrial agriculture is, policy that supports smaller farmers is a tough sell to many legislators.

Shifting laws, especially within the American Farm Bill, which outlines American agricultural policy, subsidizes industrial agriculture heavily, is key to making regenerative agriculture viable. Making no- or low-interest loans available to farmers who use regenerative practices or subsidizing labor costs are both policy changes that could have a real impact.

Outside of policy, modern approaches for community and support, like farm to table networks that help fund farmers making the switch and internet communities for sharing ideas. Encouraging farmers to explore new financial models and sharing approaches that work locally are also essential. 

At Birdsfoot farm, a CSA model has been the main reason they remain viable. Birdsfoot also hosts young farmers to come and learn regenerative agriculture techniques who will then continue to bring those principles and techniques to their own farms, highlighting the role of educational networks for farmers. 

While it is by no means a solution to all of our environmental problems, switching from an industrial agricultural model to a regenerative one would reduce the ways in which the current systems perpetuate harm and leave communities vulnerable to climate change and soil degradation. Still, Food produced organically and on a smaller scale through regenerative agriculture is often prohibitively expensive to consumers. The benefits of regenerative agriculture do not fundamentally address the problem of how to implement these changes in a way that doesn’t lead to the creation of food shortages or or more economic hardship, given that cost-saving is a real asset of industrial agriculture. 

So, what to do? Expanding welfare programs, like EBT benefits, to cover CSAs and other models of food distribution is key to reducing harm for those undergoing the shift from industrial to regenerative agriculture. Farmers themselves also play a role in accessibility, such as Birdsfoot’s “Buy a Share, Give a Share” program, that allows wealthier families to contribute to their community by sponsoring an anonymous CSA share. When moving forwards to regenerative agriculture, Birdsfoot Farm, and Dulli specifically, is an inspiration, modelling a path, rather than a destination.

 

Disaster justice: how social networks and organizational support create resilience

In Miami, coastal resilience efforts involve more than just fortifying buildings and creating evacuation plans. Jane Gilbert, chief resilience officer for Miami, Florida, recognizes that coastal resilience is “really about how do we look at the underlying social, physical, [and] technological infrastructure.” Her holistic vision of coastal resilience will be critical in the coming decades. Fostering resilient communities that can rebound from disaster becomes ever more important as sea levels rise and storms become stronger and larger.

A recent article by Hyun Kim, David Marcouiller, and Kyle Woosman, helps flesh out the connection between climate justice and vulnerability to climate change. They used data from 1600 counties in the Mississippi River basin to analyze the relationships between climate justice and community resilience to disaster, especially flooding.

So what makes coastal communities more resilient to climate change?

More often than not, increasing resilience is a matter of climate justice. Decreasing inequality, improving housing access, and fostering communities with strong social and organizational ties will be key in the years to come.

A tiled mural doubles as a street sign in Little Havana, Miami. Resilient 305 is a Miami-based organization working to protect and preserve communities such as these. Creating and maintaining strong communities is essential to resilience.

The study found that higher income inequality was associated with more vulnerability and risk. Major flooding events hit the poorest the hardest, compounding poverty that already exists. For example, without expendable income, it’s almost impossible to follow recommendations to stock up on supplies in preparation for disaster. Going somewhere else to escape the storm becomes difficult as well. Following Katrina, almost a third of those who didn’t evacuate said limited means prevented them from doing so. Not having a car was one of the biggest barriers.

Critically, the study found that communities with stronger social networks and relationships are more resilient to flooding. For example, higher presence of civic organizations was associated with less flood risk. Civic organizations like non-profits and advocacy groups provide citizens with resources, support, and footing to build relationships. In contrast, organizational incapacity to reach certain areas represents a climate injustice and makes unassisted communities more vulnerable.

Small organizations can fill in during times of disaster where larger organization have failed to reach, thus increasing resilience. In preparation for Hurricane Irma, Miami-based social justice group Miami Dream Defenders did just that. A member of the group, James Valsaint, explains, “We knew what communities would be hit the hardest yet nobody did anything to prepare for it in any real concrete ways; basically the poorest communities that were already vulnerable.” So the group sent volunteers to the most vulnerable communities following the storm.

Communities with longer-term residents are more equipped to bounce back from climate disasters by taking advantage of established social connections. The study found longer residency length contributed to higher resilience, while areas with newer residents were at higher climate risk because they had weaker social networks to fall back on when disaster struck. People with low incomes often find themselves at the mercy of the increasing expense of housing. Moving means losing social links or not even having the time to establish meaningful connections in the first place. Post Katrina, 71% of those that didn’t evacuate due to limited means cited “not having anywhere to go” as a barrier. For people with few financial means, finding somewhere to stay often depends on having widespread, deep social connections throughout a city or region. Moving often and being segregated to insular areas vulnerable to flooding means forging these relationships is next to impossible.

Homeowner status, which requires financial means and produces social stability, brought lower climate risk. Homeowners are often eligible for assistance to rebuild that renters don’t receive. After Hurricane Sandy, for example, 40% of homes affected in New Jersey were renter occupied, yet tenants only received 25% percent of financial assistance by the state.

The study also found that those living in older housing were more vulnerable. Not only is older housing more susceptible to damage, relief programs reinforce inequality by distributing money based on property value rather than costs borne as a result of disaster. In Louisiana, the $9.7 billion federal and state-funded Road Home program did just that. Henry L. Irvin Senior, a Katrina survivor, explains, “The dollar value on our property was so low back in them days you couldn’t really build nothing with what they gave.” Poor, predominantly black communities lost out while upscale areas received ample funds to rebuild—a clear example of governmental failure and injustice.

Climate justice is an essential component of bringing about resilient coastal communities with extensive and meaningful social connections. Kim, Marcouiller, and Woosman’s recent study suggests the future of resilience planning doesn’t just include constructing floodwalls and dykes. It must also incorporate climate justice measures like making housing affordable and ensuring organizational assistance reaches the people that need it most.

A Toolkit for Transition: A Review of Take Back the Economy

In one of the cities most impacted by the decline of the United States’ economy, change is happening. Cleveland, Ohio used to be one of the epicenters of America’s industrial heartland– now it is serving as a model for how a city can recover from economic decline and urban decay. This model for change, known as “The Cleveland Model“, is centered within the Evergreen Cooperatives– a group of worker-owned cooperatives that are commited to building sustainable and democratic workplaces that benefit their communities.

Specifically, the Evergreen Cooperatives target the needs of Cleveland’s most dependable institutions, such as hospitals and universities, to ensure that jobs will stay in the city. Currently, Evergreen Cooperatives consists of a solar installation and weatherization program, an industrial-scale laundry service commited to a low environmental impact, and the largest urban food-producing greenhouse in the United States. Not only are these cooperatives owned by the workers themselves, but each is committed to employing those who live in some of the poorest neighborhoods of the city, where poverty rates can reach 30 percent.

A diagram depicted the exchange of resources in the Cleveland Model.

A visualization of the Cleveland Model via community-wealth.org

The Cleveland Model demonstrates how a community can ethically and sustainably redevelop, but how do other communities follow suit? In their book, Take Back the Economy: An Ethical Guide to Transforming our Communities, a team of geographers shows how people around the world are building such resilient community economies. Although the authors J.K. Gibson-Graham, Jenny Cameron, and Stephen Healy are all geographers with specialties ranging from feminism to the environment, the book is not a scholarly review. Rather, Take Back the Economy tells the stories of successful and inspiring projects while also providing tools and resources to help guide readers to make change themselves. In that way, Take Back the Economy is more than a book– it is a toolkit that can be used by activists, leaders, students, and academics alike.

The book explores how communities can make change happen in five different sectors of our community economies: work, business, markets, property, and finance. Each of these sectors is reframed to take into account our ethical responsibility to one another and our natural world. This approach helps us to see that places like Cleveland can serve as a compelling model for rethinking both work and business. Far beyond Cleveland, the book provides countless examples of groups of people who are making change happen in each of the five sectors of our community economies.

For instance, Take Back the Economy reframes work as a means to surviving well, which can benefit our material, social, community, and physical well-being. With the Cleveland Model, the cooperative-style of business gives marginalized workers a means to improve their material well-being, build stronger interpersonal relationships, and give back to their communities.”Evergreen has changed my life. It enabled me to be a contributer, not only to the community, but to society as well,” stated one worker. With the Cleveland Model, work is not just a means to make income, but it is also a way to increase personal well-being.

Take Back the Economy additionally provides tools that help us to rethink the different sectors of our community economies. In the case of business, the book provides an exercise called the “People’s Account” which breaks down business models to see how much revenue workers generate versus how much they actually get paid. In a typical corporation, minimum-wage earning workers only receive a small fraction of the profits they generate from working, leading to surplus profits that don’t always benefit the workers. While some surplus may be used to sustain the business, a lot is left to accumulate in the pockets of CEOs. Even so, CEOs can pack up and leave a community when a business model in another part of the world becomes more profitable, making these business models even less sustainable.

However, in cooperatives like those used in the Cleveland Model, workers collectively determine their wages so that they earn a reasonable income for the value of their work. At the same time, the cooperatives can generate collective wealth that can be invested back in their business and in their community. Especially important to Cleveland, the businesses are owned by members of the community, meaning the businesses are more likely to remain invested in the city, creating long-term and reliable jobs. As one worker in Cleveland noted, “I am an owner, not just a worker. I help to make decisions within the community.”

Take Back the Economy goes even further to explore redevelopment strategies ranging from alternative currencies to communal ownership of land. No matter the topic, the stories, tools, and frameworks provided by the book are both accessible and empowering to the reader. While considerable engagement, organizing, and work is needed to transform our communities, the ideas and examples in Take Back the Economy can serve as a starting place. With many communities already paving the way, more can work together to a build a more ethical and sustainable world.

Can Megacities Be Sustainable?

Skyline of Tokyo during the night

Picture taken by toykoform (flickr.com)

9/15/2015 by Alisha Pegan

As the plane descends for landing, what is your first thought when you peek out the airplane window and take in the countless lights, cars, and buildings living below?

A common reaction is “WOW. There are so, so many!”. Yes, so many things and people buzzing about and taking up resources, water, energy, human capital. So, what feeds it all? Where does the supply begin and where does it end? And in the perspective of sustainability: is there a way to make it full circle? Is there and could there be a self-sustaining megacity?

This question is a global concern. The WorldBank statistics indicate that currently 54% of the global population lives in urban areas and by 2030 it will increase 66%. As urban density increases, county and city governments are investigating and applying strategies to manage the people, as well as their short and long term needs, while providing a high quality of life. Navigating the intercept of quality of life and sustainability on a city-wide level can provide systematic solutions, such as livability, green infrastructure, and resilience. Various megacities will serve as case studies elaborating best and worst cases for different mitigation and adaption strategies, and since these diverse solutions need diverse input from politicians, citizens, intellects, and artists, there will also be investigations of why the strategies may or may not work from social, environmental, and economic factors.