Author: Slingshot robot #1

By Emma

Fossil fuel corporations are notorious for buying up clean energy patents.  After buying the patents, they will claim “We now have people working on clean energy.” The problem is: the few “clean energy” projects they actually roll out are so small and at such a slow pace, they are meaningless.  This is called green-washing, and it is a trick invented by PR firms to allow polluting companies to fool people into thinking that the company is “green” now, even though they can continue to pursue their carbon-based bottom-line.

Beyond buying up clean energy patents as a part of green-washing efforts, big oil has worked relentlessly to derail clean energy research on university campuses.

At UC Berkeley, for example, after the $100 million Energy Biosciences Institute Contract was signed in 2007, the BP Oil Company moved its operations onto the UC Berkeley campus. There is now a whole floor of a building where only BP Oil staff are allowed to go.  Also, according to the contract they signed, BP Oil’s staff gets to decide 100% of which clean energy research grants get funding at UC Berkeley.  BP Oil also gets to keep 30% of the patents that the grad student workers produce—the top 30% of BP’s choosing!

Was BP really trying to profit from developing biofuels, or did BP seek power to hide clean energy patents away and to stop that technology from getting into people’s hands?

Many UC Berkeley professors were outraged by the BP contract—they had no consent in its signing—but the Board of Regents, a group who un-democratically run the university based on an oligarchical model—forced the contract upon the UC.

UC Berkeley really should no longer be thought of as a research university, but rather, it is simply the Research & Development division of BP Oil (as well as the dozen or so other corporations that have taken over the UC’s various research-based departments). Monsanto/Bayer has done the same thing out at UC Davis, where Monsanto/Bayer uses cheap graduate student labor to create genetically-modified seeds and organisms, with the corporation keeping the patents and deploying these organisms in a way that creates company profit without regard to massive starvation and farmer suicides in India, Africa, and around the world.

This specific pattern, within a larger pattern of university privatization, is happening because corporations are eager to avoid paying their own workers, so, by diverting their R&D to universities, corporations can replace their engineers with cheap graduate student labor to do their R&D. At the same time, they get to put the processes in place so they can thwart universities from producing/releasing alternatives to the supply chains these capitalists have already secured.

Last autumn, after years of pressure from students and faculty, the Regents of the University of California finally voted to divest the university’s endowment from fossil fuel companies. However, this is an empty gesture until the oil companies themselves are removed from the UC.

#BPoffCampus

#MonsantooffCampus

 

 

By Lesley Green (Cape Town South Africa)

The word “human” derives from humus: the soil. The words “economy,” “ecology” and “ecumene” all derive from ecos, Greek for household. To “attend to” is to tend. The word “culture” comes from cultivation.

Our linguistic inheritance testifies to something that the knowledge economy has long forgotten, which is that people are not separate from planet; that nature is not separate from society. This separation, however, is hardwired into the global university system, leaving us without common ways to share knowledge about this planetary emergency.

Some academics, including myself, have found Critical Zone (CZ) research as a promising space for scholarship that attends to earthly flows rather than the territories defined by artificial borders. In following fluxes through air, life, soil, rock and water, CZ research has much in common with the Environmental Humanities, a field that is also interested in following flows of molecules, life, and commodities. Both fields offer a “big picture,” and very importantly, both work with imperfection instead of imposing an ideal system (since pure systems theory in life and earth sciences is problematic, as without society that system is often illusory). Both follow flows despite national borders and trade agreements. But nowhere in the current CZ models, are bodies. A question I am asking is how do we add human bodies to critical zone biogeosocial science?

A starting point for critical zone biogeosocial science is in the shift from studying things to studying relations. A biogeosocial approach to the critical zone traces the flows and relations that compose life: humans as humus. In this perspective a society is the totality of its relations of cultivation, it’s ecological partnerships, its capacity to cultivate and partner with life, its production of a technosphere.

*

The African concept of being “sons and daughters of soil” links the fecundity of soil to the wellbeing of people. Soil is part of families: the place where one’s placenta is buried is home. At death, the hope is that one returns to the soil that your placenta has joined, and there is a reverence for the place where ancestors become earth. Birth and death meet in soil.

Composting, tending seedlings, seed-sharing—these are activities that link people across generations. Seeds are the product of collectively composed fields: cow pats that nurture the soil, the work of planting and tending and harvesting, the work of families in seed saving and seed-sharing across generations. This kind of humus-making is low-cost, multi-species, kindship-based, and exchange-based. It is not financialized; it is relational. Activities and practices like these nurture a sense of kinship with soil that is its own form of environmentalism.

One of Africa’s most loved venerations of [a person] who has passed away is to say they were a son or daughter of the soil. Being a son or daughter of the soil is not some quaint indigenous knowledge but a powerful resource for unmaking the Anthropocene, in which the critical zone of life is under threat.

*

In response to the planetary emergency we have witnessed the rise of “climate-smart” agriculture that depends on patented drought-resistant seeds, an approach that attempts to make agriculture sustainable—particularly in Africa. However, genetically-modified (GM) seeds come with a legal regime of patents that assert ownership over pollens and seeds, inserting a whole new regime of relations and control into the critical zone.

To those who advocate for GM seed regimes for Africa’s climate future, I ask: Is food production sustainable if a farmer is in jail because she participated in traditional, non-financialized seed exchange? Does patented DNA have a greater right to life than unpatented DNA? When international aid stops and small-scale farmers have dust for soils because of using chemical fertilizers instead of manure, is that “climate-smart”? The relations surrounding GM seeds are a problem.

A drought resistant seed may be a wonder if it is demonstrated to produce more food under harsher conditions—but the legal regime, the relations that go with it; the curtailing of a seed’s reproductive capacity, constitutes an ecocide that reproduces the Anthropocene rather than overcoming it. It is the insertion of financialization into the web of life.

*

The critical political necessity in the Athropocene, to get action, is to relink the human body to the planet in people’s imaginations. Showing people how nutrients and toxins flow through ecologies and bodies may be more effective than showing them how money may move through their wallets. Taking trees out, deforesting the land, makes soil vulnerable to drought; more vulnerable to the new heavy rains such as the two cyclones that hit Mozambique in 2019.

Wangari Maathai, Kenyan Nobel Prize Winner, built her green belt movement by planting trees because she understood deforestation reduces water tables, dries up streams, and, affects women, for men go to the city in search of cash.

In protecting the critical zone, we are protecting not only flows but the fecundity that makes society possible. How society protects ecological fecundity is the basis of its wellbeing. That deep linking of home, humus and humanity, as it is told differently in different places around the world, may be the best protection the earth systems have.

These notes are based on a talk given by Lesley Green in San Francisco in December 2019 for the American Geophysical Union.

*

Lesley Green is a professor at the University of Cape Town, and deputy director of Environmental Humanities South. Her book “Rock | Water | Life: Ecology and Humanities for a Decolonial South Africa” is forthcoming in 2020.

—–separate article by different writer below—

Join the Conversation on the Critical Zone (CZ): Webinar Series

By Hayley

Right now, we have a huge problem in the sciences because scientists are too narrowly focused on one thing. The scientists who study weather aren’t talking to the scientists who study soil. And the scientists who study animals aren’t talking to the scientists who study temperature. This overspecialization makes it harder for scientists to address complex problems that threaten the habitable part of this planet, also called “the critical zone.”

Critical Zone (CZ) research looks at the complex cycles and flows between water, rocks, soil and life. It allows big picture thinking, which empowers scientists to better address the most dire ecological problems of our time—problems that can only be understood if one is trained to look at everything, whether it’s the molecular structure of chemicals or the biology of the creatures whose bodies absorb them downstream.

CZ is an approach that allows scientists to connect the dots, and it’s a way to fight the dangerous siloing of knowledge that disempowers scientists from being able to address the full set of scientific systems that might be at play in a single ecosystem or watershed.

This February, you are invited to join in for a webinar series for anyone who would like to familiarize themselves with CZ research and join the network. This webinar series is called “Introduction to the Critical Zone: Growing the Critical Zone Research Network” and it will be held online every Wednesday from Feb. 5-26th, 2020 at 10am PST. These webinars are free and open to the public. To sign up, go to: www.cuahsi.org/education/cyberseminars/winter-cyberseminar-series

If you want to help draw art or otherwise create the 2021 Slingshot Organizer, contact us now. We include the work of over 30 artists from all over — it could be you this year. This year as an experiment we’re going to make the organizer 2 months earlier than usual so the work doesn’t happen right in the middle of summer traveling season… Please contact us by April 24 to draw a section of the calendar. Art is due May 29.

We’ll be editing and adding more historical dates during March and April so please send suggestions and let us know if you want to help proofread. (You can do so remotely.) We also need corrections and suggestions of new radical contact list spaces by May 29.

We will put the organizer together by hand May 30/31 and June 6/7 in Berkeley. Please drop by and join us if you’re in town.

There are still copies of the 2020 Slingshot organizer available. Selling the organizer enables our collective to print and distribute this newspaper for free, so if you like what you’re reading, please buy the organizer for yourself and as gifts.

In mid-March, we will get returns from bookstores, so if your organization can help distribute unsold copies for free to youth, immigrants or others who wouldn’t otherwise have access, please let us know how many copies you can handle.

By AppleJax & P. Wingnut

Everyone can agree that putting carbon into the atmosphere is really, really bad.  But we need to be strategic if we want to actually successfully steer humanity away from this behavior—and steer us away fast enough to make a difference!

The trouble with the abstinence approach.

For many years, I’ve been part of activist efforts to combat climate change, and a lot of our organizing energy has been directed towards what I call the “abstinence approach” to carbon emissions.  When we use the abstinence approach, we spend all of our organizing energy trying to get people to stop doing things.  For example, efforts to convince people to stop driving, stop flying, etc.

This approach fails to take into account the complexity of human behavior and is similar to other knee-jerk abstinence approaches, such as when religious people demand full sexual abstinence, or people who demand that drug addicts immediately quit cold-turkey.  “Stop, stop, stop,” is the message we’re sending out.

The trouble with this approach is that sociological and psychological studies show that it simply doesn’t work.  Doctrines that push for abstinence are ineffective at best, and backfire at worst.

For example, abstinence-only sexual education has been shown to increase the likelihood of teen pregnancies and the contraction of STIs.  Additionally, abstinence-only approaches to drug users tend to lead to riskier behavior and higher rates of addiction.

Likewise, the heavy-handed “abstinence” approach to carbon-emissions that myself and many others have tried to use over the last few decades doesn’t seem to be working. Case in point:

— Based on the most recent data, 92% of American households still own a car.  So, even after decades of activists urging everyone to stop driving—and even with millennials supposedly driving less—over 90% of American households are still driving!

— A majority of Americans still purchase goods every week that are shipped from over 100 miles away, meaning carbon had to be burned to get those goods to them.

— There are more airplanes in the sky now than there have ever been.

We need better, smarter, more strategic approaches that factor in human behavior. This is why I would like to suggest that we take time to learn from the activist communities who have been working on an approach regarding drug addiction known as Harm Reduction. This has a more realistic chance of leading to a swifter end to carbon emissions once and for all.

About the Harm Reduction Approach

Rather than just commanding someone to quit, harm reduction tries to make drug use safer. This does two things: (1) discussing drug use more openly reduces the stigma surrounding drug use, which ultimately makes it easier for the person to take responsibility for their own behavior or ask for help without being judged, and  (2) it reduces the harm to the person and others caused by the drug usage.

For example, in the case of someone addicted to heroin, this might mean making sure they have access to clean needles, and that they have NARCAN available so if they overdose, someone can hopefully save their life.  The clean needles help prevent the spread of disease. Reducing shame may help remove the automatic-ness of a behavior, and creates more emotional room for a person to make more nuanced decisions.

The harm reduction model is wildly effective.  The country of Portugal serves as a great example of how effective harm reduction is: in July 2001, Portugal made all drugs legal, and public harm reduction centers were established where individuals could get clean needles, test their drugs, and talk to a clinician about their drug usage. The result: addiction rates fell dramatically!  Today, Portugal’s drug-induced death rate is 5 times lower than the European Union average, and on top of that, the country’s HIV infection rate has plummeted from 104.2 new cases per million in year 2000 to 4.2 cases per million in 2015.

What’s wild about this is that in the 1980s, Portugal was using an abstinence approach to drug use, and during that time, it had one of the highest addiction rates in the world: an estimated 1 in 10 people were addicted to heroin while the government was issuing shame-based statements like “Just say No!” and “Drugs are Satan.”

 

Shaming people often backfires. Harm reduction and non-shaming approaches are the way to go!

How to apply the harm reduction model to planet

There is no safe level of carbon emissions — the world has to get to zero emissions which requires changing almost all current technological and economic systems. But just like how it is better to be using clean needles in a supervised injection site while you’re addicted to heroin, to kick carbon its best to start with reducing harms, which may open possibilities for greater change down the line.

A lot of carbon dependence is determined by corporations, governments and the economic system and it’s not about individual choices. For changing those systems, the only path is social uprisings and movements.

Nonetheless, some emissions are based on individual choices which are strongly structured by cultural norms as well as the economic / political system. For those choices, carbon dependence is addiction-like. An able-bodied person casually driving alone in an SUV a short distance on a sunny day is like an addict using a dirty needle because it’s an unnecessary and reckless danger to yourself and others.

Driving a smaller car, driving it less often and only for harder to access destinations not accessible by bike or served by public transit reduces the harm. The very process of thinking about these changes reduces the stigma of talking about and thinking about carbon dependence — like when clean needles are made available. Maybe eventually we’ll kick carbon altogether.

This isn’t a perfect analogy but the crux is avoiding abstinence / extreme thinking about carbon use. Its causing a lot of people to shut down and tune out rather than change. Rather than trying to convince people who currently don’t know how to live without cars and flying and factory farming to change all their habits at once, its better to make fossil fuel dependence less harmful.

Some tips for transitioning to a harm reduction approach to carbon emissions:

— Avoid shame and shaming language about specific tech usage. This makes it more likely that a person will disengage from dialogues about their usage.

— Use compassionate language about carbon-burning. This can be hard, especially when you see so clearly how harmful carbon-burning is to everyone on this planet. But approaching a carbon-user with compassion and forgiveness helps create the emotional and social space for them to navigate away from their usage.

—Just like giving out free condoms and free needles, lower carbon alternatives need to be free and/or cheaper than any carbon-burning options.  This is the strongest, fastest way to get people to switch.

— Remove conditions that are preventing free/cheap distribution of alternatives. There is important work to be done in removing any and all social systems that are preventing the cost-free replacement of all carbon-burning tech with carbon-free alternatives.

As we enter the 2020s, I hope we can spend this decade ending all carbon emissions, or at the least, slowing them to a trickle. I am done working hard without results. I’m ready for a smarter approach.

#PlanetaryHarmReduction

By Charles Winston

When I say the word “activist,” what image comes to mind? People locking arms around a pipeline? Protesters being hosed down in Birmingham, Alabama? Hippies occupying a tree canopy with signs to protect the forest? When I hear the word, I think of Greenpeace oil rig blockades, the Zapatista guerillas, large plumes of teargas funneling through a metropolis, and a million other things. About the last thing I think of is a business suit at City Hall.

I’m here to hopefully spark your interest in the least exciting form of activism of all: pencil-pushing, time-wasting, form-submitting, “diplomatic” floor-debating, legal-posturing, civic-engaging monotony. Or what one friend has recently described as “paper wrenching.” This phrase was published in the Earth First! Direct Action Manual in 1997. The very idea, the very imagery itself, is about as exciting as a W-2 form. I’m here with the hope that you might find enlivening activist work within this strange bureaucratic web of nonsense that I navigate. Although it’s not for everyone, I hope to inspire your curiosity, or enlist your support for the work that myself and others do.

Not everyone can (hashtag)occupy the federal building, the oil refinery, or smash a window (if that’s your thing). In the egoist culture of one-ups-manship it’s easy to judge each other for not “going all the way” and becoming the ultimate martyr for the cause. Self-care, preservation, and activism look different for different people, though.

Some activists may prioritize raising a child as a single parent, others might be on parole or dodging a warrant. Some might be overcoming addiction or have debilitating PTSD (especially from police abuse), some might be disabled and some might be just plain scared. Whatever the reason, I share a deep respect for all of my comrades. I love the people that are out there “defacing” property (wait, property has a face?) and challenging authority in the streets just as much as I love to know people phone banking. Smashing the state takes on 1,000,001 forms.

When I look at the activist community today, I see a large divide between the paper wrenchers and the direct-actioners; between the people locking their arms to cement blocks and the people that block the arms of the State. My goal is to get these two groups to work and support one another: to love and respect each other so that we can fight for a better world together.

Being a paper-wrencher is an entirely different reality of activism than the yelling-in-the streets-at-police-barricades kinda work that I used to do. I love both equally, but personal circumstances have made the later kind of activism a lot more unlikely. For a time, I thought I would quit being an activist, since I never believed that paper wrenching (going to City Hall meetings, filing forms, etc.) was really “activism.” It seemed like a façade and a tool of the oppressors, which it often is.

However, I’ve also grown to appreciate paper wrenching in ways that people might not realize or know much about. So much of the deplorable and draconian laws that are passed, so many of the drastic changes made in policy that affect our everyday lives are done with such an incredibly small amount of bureaucratic resistance. When I first started going to meetings at City Hall, I was amazed to find how few activists (zero) attended them. Day in and day out I found a panel of council members deciding the fate of the community without so much as a peep of public comment opposition. It makes sense, as City Hall is designed to be imposing, uncomfortable, and to feel like a complete waste of time. I expected all of these things, but what I found was also something very different…

Facing down the enemy, you get to learn a lot about how they think and operate. At the end of the day, these are people too- they have their own lives and agendas, their own loves and hates, and their own vision of “progress.” What I’ve learned to do is to simply be a translator. To speak their language and to communicate radical opposition within that language. I work as a translator between City Hall and the community itself, publishing information and fighting for transparency. I work to expose the idiocy of “public” policy, the disenfranchisement and marginalization of people’s, the lack of outreach, and the lack of inclusion. Most of all though, I guess I’m just a giant thorn in the ass of all the bureaucrats. Most of them had a clean slate and a blank check before I arrived on the scene.

The beauty about engaging through these (often tedious) paper wrenching processes, is that it’s often irrelevant whether or not you “win” or “lose” at a particular hearing. The goal of bureaucracy and the job bureaucrats is to induce apathy and depression. To wear you down with paperwork and make you mush through a bunch of nonsense so that, on the outside, it looks like you just didn’t care enough to use the “democratic” process. If you abandon the process they have available, then they (City Hall and nonprofit bureaucrats) get to act like the “good guys” holding the door open – you’re just too lazy to go through.

One of my goals as a paper wrenching is to expose the facade of this false Western “democracy.” In truth, the door is actually behind several feet of infrared lasers, barbed wire, security cameras, and attack dogs. Just ask women like Angie E. and Kylie A. who spoke out against sexual violence in the film It Happened Here by Lisa Jackson. This documentary, released in 2014, covers the painfully sociopathic response of the bureaucrats at Amherst, Vanderbilt, and other Ivy League universities in response to reports of sexual assault on campus. In disgusting public relations pencil-pushing fashion, their meetings were kept secret, unrecorded, and swept under the rug as much as possible. It wasn’t until these brave women came forward, along with many others exposing the bureaucrat smoke screen to create a community movement that things began to change.

I translate “legaleez” jargon for the community and relay how people can be more engaged in civic life, letting them know which meetings are a complete waste of time and which ones are not; which ones to protest at and which ones to send a single representative. I’m that chameleon on the inside, looking like the next idiot in a business suit but giving the politicians and the pencil-pushers a lot of hell every step of the way.

For whatever reason, I found myself highly adaptable to this environment. My background has given me the tools to “infiltrate” this pseudo-democracy to try to turn it into real democracy. In the process, I’ve learned to appreciate the things I used to hate without compromise. I’ve learned to appreciate some of the things that government *gasp* does correctly, to appreciate some of the benefits of our activist forefighters’ gains. I learned to see what America can be, if it really had a chance to live up to the ideals that some people believe in.

As an internationalist, it’s a strange way to feel. As someone who has mocked patriotism at every opportunity, it’s an interesting new lens of compassion. Not that I’m about to go marching in the Fourth of July anytime soon (I prefer to read Frederick Douglass’ speech to the abolitionists on that day), but I can see why other people do. As a translator, I feel like I can sometimes see the intricacies beneath the conflicts that wage everywhere in this class war and environmental siege. Sometimes, you find out things can improve by opening a dialogue. And sometimes you just get to clog up and work to defuse the ticking time bomb that is the PTB (Powers That Be).

Bureaucracy is a dangerous cloning machine though, I do have to caution people against that. Anyone that works in city government has to fight day in and day out not to be consumed by the legitimized exploitation of “public” policy. This applies to “nonprofits” as well, which prey upon the compassionate and very human desire to “do good while making a living at it”. These are nefarious systems that are constantly evolving (or devolving) to consume as many souls as they can. For this reason, and many others, people that work in this trite little necktie world are labeled as “sellouts” “hacks” and “spin doctors.” Most of them, of course, are exactly that. But the question is, which ones aren’t and which ones are capable of change?

One thing I’ve learned as a paper wrencher is that people that do this kind of work “on the inside” are extremely isolated from the rest of the activist community (including me). It’s tragic, really, because the people fighting this uphill battle (sometimes for decades) tap out and quit, resign, or otherwise retreat from the world. Bureaucracy is a desert without humanity breathing love, music, and passion into it. It’s like you’re playing CPR with your soul every day, knowing that you’re doing the right thing and that you’ll never be thanked for it, or feel the “Solidarity Forever” vibes that come from being in the picket line.

Working “on the inside” you learn about the ‘cheat sheet’ though – the people who are actually fighting against the bureaucratic madness in support of the community. These people are the rare few that I spend my time personally checking in with, emailing frequently, and strategizing for how to confront the rest of the beast. In the “nonprofit” world, these are the people that work in low-pay legal defense (i.e. National Lawyers Guild), privacy protection law (i.e. Electronic Frontier Foundation), tenants rights groups, homeless services, etc.. At City Hall, these people could be literally in any department and in any branch, doing their best to keep the insanity in check.

To say that these people are “unsung heroes” is an understatement to the nth degree. Imagine spending decades of your life confined to a soulless cubicle surrounded by coworkers that are bigots and racists, fighting day in and day out to protect the lives and well-being of the most oppressed and marginalized people, to work lethargic long-hours with a room full stacked paper and a computer screen, to see all your coworkers get promoted and massive public praise for their exploitative policies while you fight to barely keep your (increasingly agonizing) job, all for moderate to shit pay.

I’m not saying this is harder than the millions of sacrifices that activists make every day, but it is a sacrifice rarely ever thought of. An activist without solidarity can quickly rot and die, just like a bean sprout without a trellis. I share these thoughts with the hope that we can support all of our brothers and sisters who struggle against the machine, inside and out. Not necessarily because of some moralistic sentimentality, but because that’s one way that we keep the movement alive (and growing!)

I hope to encourage you to attend a meeting at your local City Hall sometime. Learn how your local government works, how it responds to protests and how it organizes itself. Learn your enemy. Learn who are the chameleons on the inside engaged in the complex theatrics of “public” policy, fighting for you possibly without you even knowing it. Spread the solidarity branches and intertwine the roots. Together, we can wrangle the weapons from our oppressors and make this world a more compassionate and loving place.

In the process, I’ve learned to appreciate the things I used to hate without compromise. I’ve learned to appreciate some of the things that government *gasp* does correctly, to appreciate some of the benefits of our activist forefighters’ gains. I learned to see what America can be, if it really had a chance to live up to the ideals that some people believe in.

 

Use your Extra Day to Declare Climate Emergency and keep carbon in the ground
Leap Day Action
extravagant spectacle, roving street party and blockade
For life, beauty and joy & against eco-destroying robber barons!
Saturday Feb. 29 
GATHER Berkeley BART station plaza 2 pm 

The earth is not dying – it is being killed.
The corporations killing it have locations near you
(including in downtown Berkeley)
*Roam downtown visiting, decorating and disrupting banks and corporations*
*Build zero waste compostable altars for the 1 billion dead animals at each target*
*Dress as an Australian or Amazonian animal*
*Marching band / mobile bike sound system*

Bring disguises, decorations, musical instruments, pogo sticks, your heart and dreams
To help create this event and for updates:
leapdayaction.org / leapdayaction2020@protonmail.com / FB: Leapday Action 2020 Berkeley

By a Hoary bat

While we were on Rainbow battling bulldozers, our comrades were fighting hard against a proposed mega wind farm on nearby Tsakiyuwit (Bear River Ridge) and Monument Ridge. A broad coalition of indigenous folks, local residents, and environmentalists, led by Wiyot tribal elders, prevented the project from being approved by County officials through an outpouring of public opposition and thorough critiques of the corporate lies and greenwashing in the project proposal. One County Supervisor expressed fear that the project would incite a “Humboldt County Standing Rock”. This fight has sparked necessary discussions in our community about how we can transition toward decentralized, community-driven renewable energy.

By E.E.Z.

Out on the verdant slopes of Rainbow Ridge in Northern California, forest defenders have been keeping busy doing what we do best – getting in the way. Our nemesis, Humboldt Redwood Company (HRC), is trying to plunder yet another tributary of the beloved Mattole river under the guise of “sustainable” logging. (Read about past resistance in Slingshot #130).

In November 2019 we slowed work down, blocking roads, putting our bodies in the way and documenting the devastating reality of an active logging site. HRC called in their own security goons, plus their buddies – Humboldt County sheriffs, private militarized security, and State Parks cops – to try to maintain business as usual. Some of us got arrested, spent time in jail, and are facing a slew of misdemeanors (stay tuned for our trials this spring, which should be lively). We delayed work up until wet weather ended the logging season, but this area will be under threat as soon as spring comes, and we’ll be fighting for it.

We know that Rainbow is a microcosm for what is happening all over the world, as people who love and depend on the land struggle against corporate, extractive industry. Greenwashed marketing, which HRC uses extensively, is more and more prevalent as corporations try to appeal to growing public consciousness around climate chaos and the sixth mass extinction. It is imperative that we resist these narratives as we call for true sustainable solutions.

Do you hate cops and billionaires? Love massive oak and fir trees, tiny endangered orchids, arboreal rodents, and cold, salmon bearing streams? Join us in defense of these creatures and their global relevance in this age of habitat fragmentation.

Follow what’s happening on social media:

Instagram: @blockade.babes, facebook: Save The Mattole Ancient Forestsavethemattolesancientforest.com

Earth First! Humboldt supports forest defenders. Contact us: efhum@riseup.net

Slingshot is an independent radical newspaper published in Berkeley since 1988.

In the Bay Area right now, the houselessness crisis is getting so bad that it feels just like the climate crisis — like it is hard to imagine it getting any worse, but yet every day, it does. Walking through town, the ever-expanding tent cities stand in contrast to the trendy housing developments and rent increases (#rentcooties). But while addressing climate chaos feels like an unsurmountable challenge, the housing affordability crisis shouldn’t be. It just takes sharing resources more justly — everyone should have one house before anyone gets two.

But the world isn’t like that yet. As Slingshot went to press, sheriffs with AR-15s and tanks evicted 4 moms who who had been openly squatting an investor owned empty home for 2 months. The Moms for Housing remind us not to blame each other for the struggle to survive in the Bay, but to blame the corporations manipulating the market — and to call it what it is, an affordability crisis! Let the speculators get so pissed, they take an Uber to a Starbucks! While we are busy on the frontlines of struggles from houselessness to climate catastrophe, electoral politics threaten to totally distract us from what really matters. Does anyone know about any riots or protests planned against major-party conventions this year?

This year, we remember the 30th year since Judi Bari was bombed and nearly killed right here in Oakland, and was accused by the FBI of bombing herself. Judi’s spirit keeps us fighting in the woods and in the courts. Meanwhile, during this issue’s production, MOVE member and Black Panther Delbert Africa was released from prison after over 40 years — the sixth MOVE comrade released in the past year. For better or for worse, one of the threads that connects various radical movements is government repression.

Making Slingshot is a respite from environmental devastation, repression and corporate bullshit because it feels like we are doing something, but it’s still so inadequate in the face of the big yuck. Just a few weeks ago, after a US drone killed an Iranian general, one collective member found themselves crying over an encrypted call with relatives in Iran, fearing deadly international conflict manufactured by the ruling class. Shit is hitting the fan on all levels. We have to find joy in small things, like one collective member who is 7 years old doing circus arts while we are doing layout, in the inside jokes shared with the people beside us in the body blockade, or in storytelling about freebox scores.

Even if you don’t think of yourself as a writer, consider authoring a piece for Slingshot. We aren’t writers, either! The best articles are about a subject the author is directly engaged in. If you send an article, please be open to editing.

We’re a collective, but not all the articles reflect the opinions of all collective members. We welcome debate and constructive criticism.

Thanks to the people who made this: Adam, Alina, Cat, Dickie, egg, Fern, Gerald, Ingrid, Isabel, Jesse, Lazer, Nyx, Rachelle, Reno Joey, Sylvia, Talia and all the authors and artists!

Slingshot New Volunteer Meeting

Volunteers interested in getting involved with Slingshot can come to the new volunteer meeting on Sunday August 16, 2020 at 7 pm at the Long Haul in Berkeley (see below.)

Article Deadline & Next Issue Date

Submit your articles for issue 132 by September 12, 2020 at 3 pm.

Volume 1, Number 131, Circulation 22,000

Printed January 24, 2020

Slingshot Newspaper

A publication of Long Haul

Office: 3124 Shattuck Avenue Berkeley CA 94705

Mailing: PO Box 3051, Berkeley, CA 94703

510-540-0751 slingshotcollective@protonmail.com

slingshotcollective.org • twitter @slingshotnews

Circulation information
Subscriptions to Slingshot are free to prisoners, low income, or anyone in the USA with a Slingshot Organizer, or $1 per issue. International $3 per issue. Outside the Bay Area we’ll mail you a free stack of copies if you give them out for free. Say how many copies and how long you’ll be at your address. In the Bay Area pick up copies at Long Haul and Bound Together books, SF.

The first thing I noticed when I entered the room were the clothes. Hundreds of shirts, socks, shorts, ragged and wet, hanging flat against the walls. Straight in front of me, items dangling from an unplugged orange extension cord that looked like an oversized noose.

And then I saw the men.

They were laid out like cordwood, two men to each tiny 3-inch thick mattress placed directly on the tiled floor. As we entered at 1 A.M., many arose because, despite the late hour, the lights in the windowless room blared oppressively. A few even stood up and walked over to us with a warm greeting. After all, we were going to be joining them in just a moment. Simply more prisoners caught up in the international immigration system.

We were in the Estación Migratoria de Villahermosa. A small building in the capital city of the state of Tabasco, found on the Southern end of the Gulf of México.

From the outside, the structure appeared to be nothing more than a garage. A large grey sliding door obscuring the horrifying reality contained within.

I was certainly not the norm. A single Canadian with expired papers in a sea of upwards of 300 men, women, babies, and teenagers traveling without parents. Most were from Central America, chiefly Honduras and El Salvador, but there was also a smattering of folks from Cuba, Venezuela and other Latin American countries. During my intake interview in the office I was careful to note a poster made by the Instituto Nacional de Migración (INM) outlining our rights as migration prisoners–rights that I would see systematically ignored during my stay.

Nearly everyone was in the same situation: striving to get to the United States or Canada to be able to work and send money home to their families. All now in stasis. Caught and knowing they would eventually be deported, but in the dark about when or how that would come to pass. In one case, I saw a man collapse in on himself, tears streaming down his face, as he recalled his daughter on the phone a moment earlier asking him where he was and when he would be home to hug her.

There was another group though, a clump of bodies huddled together in a corner that stood out starkly. They were African men, non-Spanish speakers, most from Cameroon, with a few from Ghana.

The Cameroonians are part of a huge contingent of English-speakers from that country fleeing a civil war that has raged since 2017. The journey is harrowing: first escaping on foot to Nigeria, then flying to Ecuador, then walking six days through the jungle. Then taking buses and trains, trying to get to the US. Hundreds of dead bodies littered along the way.

There are at least five thousand people in their situation in México today, mostly in the small city of Tapachula in Chiapas, as it is the closest estación to the Southern border with Guatemala. They are trying to gain refugee status in an attempt to get away from the brutal French-speaking government of Cameroon that has been killing them for years over sovereignty, territorial, and resource disputes.

In the face of this estación, though, nearly everyone was equal. Forbidding walls rising twenty feet into the sky. No natural light, no fresh air, and no legal support. Four toilets and four showers, which worked sporadically, for more than two hundred men. The smell of hundreds of sweating bodies melding with the scent of the pile of styrofoam containers of leftover food from the previous meal. One ninety-second phone call per day to reach the outside world, whether family or consulate. Finger-sized cockroaches with free rein. And the pleasure of arriving during the rainy season in Tabasco, which meant flooding and soaked clothes and bedding on a daily basis, often in the middle of the night. On top of this were abusive guards, who would only grant access to a locked bathroom when they felt like it.

I must admit that I was treated better by the immigration officials than everyone else. As the lone white person there, the only gringo, I was a curiosity. They asked me about myself, wondered about Canada, and generally was dealt with as a human rather than a number. Being able to speak Spanish also meant that I could communicate with everyone and that, after a few days, I became the official translator for the Cameroonians and Ghanaians, since they had been provided none.

In fact, the first West African man there, who spent most of his days crying over his disappeared family back home, had sat for nearly four weeks before I arrived. He had been periodically brought in for interviews, but since he spoke only English and French, and they only Spanish, he was left to rot. No translator, no attempt to help him. Just waiting in a dour concrete prison with no idea what to do next. When I arrived I was happy to help, although being placed in the position of both prisoner and unpaid employee was certainly not ideal.

A recent report from the La Comisión Nacional de los Derechos Humanos (CNDH) stated that most of these Estaciones Migratorias in México are well beyond capacity, many holding 300% more than they should.1 Villahermosa is part of a system of nearly sixty such facilities, run both federally and by the thirty-two individual states.

The refugee crisis in Cameroon has certainly contributed to this overcrowding, but much of it stems from President Donald Trump’s July 2019 decision to outsource his country’s immigration problem to México. By supporting and funding further crackdowns south of the border, he has essentially dumped the issue into the laps of Mexican officials who are more than happy to take the new jobs and money. Like the private prisons of the United States, these facilities have a vested interest in remaining full. And while similar facilities in the US have been the focus of exposés, pushing the issue into México has meant that this is happening outside the purview of the mainstream American press.

Trump has also managed to exploit a country where wages are depressed, human rights defenders are overstrained, and a deep antipathy toward Central Americans already exists. To this end, the US pledged $10.6 Billion to curb Central American migration at the end of 20182. All these factors together help to create the perfect breeding ground for this kind of abusive detention center.

While this narrative could be explained with governments and policies, it is also a human story. It is the story of men escaping a war at home only to be imprisoned in a place they don’t understand. It is the story of a Honduran man falling off of a train, having his legs severed at the knee, and then being dumped in a prison-room with children who are then charged with tending to his infected wounds. And it is the tale of thousands of people being told that their desire to work hard and provide for their families is not enough to be treated with respect.

I was only in the facility for a matter of weeks before I was able to acquire an emergency visa to return home. But many others are not so lucky, and often remain without rights nor aid for months on end. And things are getting worse, not better, as the US floods more money into México for more checkpoints, more roadblocks, and more immigration police.

Perhaps the sadder truth is the answer I heard time and time again when I asked the men what they would do when they returned home:

“I will spend a night or two, and then I will turn around and come right back. What other choice do I have?”

If you or someone you know is struggling to gain status in Canada, or to work through the immigration system of another country, you can contact No One Is Illegal at: nooneisillegal@riseup.net for more information and/or legal advice.

1

 https://heraldodemexico.com.mx/pais/al-triple-estaciones-migratorias/
2

 https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/the_americas/us-mexico-pledge-billions-in-program-to-reduce-migration-from-central-america/2018/12/18/22ecf7bc-02f4-11e9-958c-0a601226ff6b_story.html