Daily Archives: February 11, 2017

For the last eight years, Nicolas and Rachel Sarah have been slowly weaning themselves off fossil fuels. They dont own a refrigerator or a car; their year-old baby and four-year-old toddler play by candlelight rather than electricity at night. They identify as Christian anarchists, and have given an official name to their search for an alternative to consumption-heavy American life: the Downstream Project, with the motto to do unto those downstream as you would have those upstream do unto you.

As it turns out, exiting the system is a challenging, time-consuming, and surprisingly technical process. Here in the Shenandoahs and central Virginia, a handful of tiny communities are experimenting with what it means to reject the norms of contemporary life and exist in a radically different way. They seem to share Americans pervasive sense of political alienation, which arguably reached an apotheosis with the election of Donald Trump: a sense of division from their peers, a distrust of government. The challenges of modern politicsdealing with issues like climate change, poverty, mass migration, and war on a global scaleare so vast and abstract that its difficult not to find them overwhelming. But instead of continuing in passive despair, as many Americans seem to do, the people in these communities decided to overhaul their lives.

These communities show just how hard it is to live without fossil fuels, a government safety net, or a system of capitalist exchange. They struggle with many of the same issues that plague the rest of America, including health problems, financial worries, and racism. At the center of their political lives is a question that every American faces, but for them, its amplified: whether to save the world or let it burn.

Their answers are different, but they share one thing. Theyve seen what modern American life looks like. And they want out.

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Communities like this have a lot of names, including homesteads, intentional communities, or income-sharing communities, which is really a way of saying commune. Louisa County, Virginia, is home to five such communities: Twin Oaks, founded in 1967, and its later spin-offs, Acorn and Sapling, along with two fairly new communities, the Living Energy Farm and Cambia. Taken together with the Downstream Project, which is located an hour or two away in Harrisonburg, these newer communities offer three rough models for what it means to create an alternative lifestyle in response to immense global challenges: to struggle at the edges of society, to remake it, or to build a haven for retreat.

A Radical Idea: Four City-Dwellers Share All Their Money

Unlike the rural communities of Louisa, Nicolas and Rachel Sarah explicitly wanted to build the Downstream Project in an urban context. (Nicolas and Rachel Sarah each have slightly different last names, in keeping with the Latin American tradition of Nicolass family. Their first names are used here for clarity.) Rather than rejecting mainstream culture entirely and living in the woods, theyre struggling to live as ethically as possible in the city, with a particular focus on environmental sustainability and energy use. But their approachengaging and educating, rather than retreatingmakes them particularly vulnerable to the challenges and risks of urban life.

The two 29-year-olds dream of buying land within a bike-able distance of the city so they can supply their homestead with fresh food, but have found the real estate prohibitively expensive. Harrisonburg has only a modest bus system, so its difficult to get around. Theyve had trouble recruiting people to join full-time; their project has mostly been attractive to transient, 20-something interns, several of whom have lived with them. What weve discovered in a big way is that you cant do this by yourself, even in a city, said Rachel Sarah. And you cant homestead by yourself if you have a family even more.

Perhaps worst of all, Nicolas recently injured his arm, which flavored our whole year, Rachel Sarah said. He had been planning to develop ways to make their own food and medicine. Instead, they had to pay for those things, along with medical bills; because theyre uninsured, theyve had to get financial assistance from hospitals and medical centers. In recent months, theyve made small but meaningful concessions, like using a crockpot to make dinners.

As theyve built their project, they have also found themselves caught between two worlds. Among people who are wanting to live the same lifestylebeing fossil-fuel freethere is a lot of push against Christianity, Rachel Sarah said. Its almost like anything is okay except Christianity, because thats oppressive.

When theres a Democrat in power, social-justice-minded people go to sleep, because they feel validated by what they hear on NPR.

The opposite is true at church: While some in their Mennonite congregation are open to what theyre doing, she said, theyve found little willingness among their fellow Christians to lift up climate change or the environment as theological issues. To them, though, the case for creating environmentally conscious communities is evident in the Bible. The story of the Jews was that they are emancipated, tribal slaves [who] went out and tried to start their own society, Nicolas said. Anarchism is in the story: Simple, small-scale organization of societies, not huge, hierarchical systems.

Theyre hopeful that Trumps election will spur more people to think critically about their lives. Times like this really awaken people, said Rachel Sarah. Since [the election], weve started to feel really hopeful. Trumps election left Nicolas feeling sick to his stomach, he said, but he sees an upside. When theres a Democrat in power, social-justice-minded people go to sleep, because they feel validated by what they hear on NPR, he said. The couple says theyre feeling more awake now, too. Trumps election is like a crescendo for the Christian anarchist call, Nicolas said. If we are citizens of another kingdom, and the empire is getting pretty ridiculous, it inspires us to take our convictions more seriously.

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The folks at the Living Energy Farm are not as confident that their fellow Americans are ready to take their failures seriously. Among the people I hang out with, theres a fair amount of alienation from both the political right and the political left, said Alexis Zeigler, who co-founded the community with his wife, Debbie Piesen. We are not trying to change who is in office. You cant dictate a democratic society from the top. You really have to build it from the bottom up.

The Living Energy Farm runs on a different philosophy of alienation: If they can prototype alternatives to modern life, they believe, they can eventually remake the world. The community is located half a mile up a dirt road in Louisa County, which gave 60 percent of its vote to Trump in November; Charlottesville and Richmond are each 40 minutes to an hour away by car. Two couples and four kids live there permanently, along with a 20-something electrician, Eddie, who has been there about seven months, and a regular cycle of interns and travelers. Theyre farther off the grid than the Downstream Project: They function entirely without fossil fuels, and their home and seed-growing business are powered by a suite of firewood, motors, solar collectors, and other devices explicitly designed to be inexpensive and simple to implement.

We refer to it as neo-Amish, or Amish without the patriarchy.

In the summer, they cook with a small solar dish and a rocket stove behind the kitchen; theyre building a bigger dish, taller than a grown man, nearby. They hooked up an exercise bike to a washing machine and rigged a pair of old tractors to run on wood gas rather than gasoline, although they arent quite functional. They built their own food-drying room off the kitchen, where they process vegetables grown on their 127 acres, and they graft fruit-tree branches onto wild stems. We refer to it as neo-Amish, or Amish without the patriarchy, Zeigler said.

Theyre not religious; their goal is evangelization of a different kind. My intent is to get Living Energy Farm on its feet and try to convince people to live this way, Zeigler said. Recently, theyve been experimenting on their interns cellphones to develop battery-based chargers, which he hopes could be used in India or Africa.

The way we choose to live has far more impact in terms of our environment than any particular technology, he said. If Americans bother to talk about the environment at all, its usually in terms of a technological perspective. He thinks mainstream environmentalism is too focused on incremental reform and modest lifestyle choices, like driving Priuses. For us, the question is: How do I live comfortably with what renewable energy can do? If you ask it that way, you cant drive to D.C. and work in a cubicle, he said. But the environmental groups want to tell you that you can, because then youll send them donations.

The Living Energy Farm residents seem less invested in critiquing government than capitalism. We dont buy gasoline, and we dont pay anybody bills for energy, Zeigler said. Its not coincidental that this frees us from corporate dependence. For his part, Zeigler doesnt think government is inherently bad, and doesnt identify as an anarchist. (The problem with anarchism is not that the theory, in its ideal sense, is broken. Its that a lot of nitwits use that word, he said.)

The idea underlying the Living Energy Farm is that people can change the structure of society by changing the way they live. Without sprawling cities and single-family homes, powered by expensive electricity and gas-guzzling cars, there will be no need for high-level solutions like the Paris Climate Agreement. Their view is at least partly premised on apocalypseindustrialism is going to collapse, Zeigler said, matter-of-factlyand their work is meant to address that eventuality. Can we build a mass movement tomorrow? No, and Im not even worried about it, Zeigler said. But can we do that before we turn the planet into Easter Island?

It feels safer to be in a place where we have control over our water.

But even within such idealistic communities, not everyone sees the goal as engagement. Deanna Seay, one of the other Living Energy Farm residents, moved there last June with her two kids and husband, Misha Nikitine. He was interested in the politics, but she was mostly looking for an affordable way to live. I envisioned being remote, being able to keep to ourselves, not being involved in whatever strife is going on in cities, she said. She was glad to leave behind Boston and demonstrations like the ones that took place after Trumps election; shes also glad they now drink from a well, she said, because it feels safer to be in a place where we have control over our water. Hers is not a search for ideals, but for something tolerablesomething better than what was available elsewhere.

At Cambia, another, unrelated community in Louisa County, some of the members seem to have a similar impulse. A California-based couple, Ella Sutherland and Gil Benmoshe, started the community with their son Avni about a year and a half ago. Two othersAnthony Beck, who go by the names Telos, and another man called Gilgameshlive with them in their small house and nearby cabin; theyre building a barn out back, and theyve laid plots along a path through the woods where theyre hoping to construct more dwellings. Altogether, theyre looking for 10 or 12 people to join them. Cambians share their income, and their goal is to create an alternative to mainstream or capitalist society, they said. They fund their community in part through a small woodworking shop, where they make wooden spoons. They have a car, and get about a third of their food from grocery-store dumpsterstheyre freegans, Sutherland said, meaning they only eat meat and dairy if its going to be thrown away.

While the Cambians are dismayed by the election, it has mostly strengthened their conviction that they shouldnt be involved in politics. Im embarrassed to say that I felt like I had to vote, Benmoshe said. I dont believe in democracy, so I should have abstained. But I felt like it was really critical. Well, that didnt do any good. Even though they believe many people are unhappy within the current political and economic systems, they dont feel particularly called to engage in politics because of Trump. There are a lot of people who feel isolated, who feel violated by capitalism in various different ways, Sutherland said. We should be creating an alternative, and thats needed now more than it was needed before.

I dont want to be an activist anymore. It requires me to rub against the things that I hate too much.

Instead, most of their energy is directed at building their homeliterally. They follow practices called natural building, using materials like cob (a combination of clay, sand, and straw) to line their walls, and wood-based energy sources for heat. Their backyard is full of spare parts and fixtures, including a random sink and lots of wood; their free time is often spent on construction projects.

To some extent, theyre trying to spread their knowledge and their project. Theyre writing a wiki, nicknamed commune in a box, outlining legal and tax details for income-sharing communitiesCambia, it turns out, is both a commune and an LLC. They want people to be able to start new communities, tailored to their own needs; Cambia is not the model, they said, but a model.

That model, though, largely doesnt involve politics. I really should be working on a campaign to change the political structure of this world. Instead, Im working in natural building, Benmoshe said. I dont want to be an activist anymore. It requires me to rub against the things that I hate too much, and I get sad and frustrated. Cambia was not built to usher in a revolution. It was built as a refuge.

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Intentional communities are, in their own way, historical projects. The original cities of refuge, found in the Bible, were havens for people who had committed heinous crimes. In early modern Europe, religious separatists transformed this idea, establishing towns where they could await the imminent coming of Christ, writes the Williams College art historian Michael J. Lewis in his book, City of Refuge. Great thinkers have long told of socialist paradises and philosophers have pondered distant, lost societies. In all of these communities, historic and present-day, utopian dreamers face the same question: Are they willing to engage at all in politics as they are, or do they wish to build the world anew?

Ironically, the deeply secular Cambia comes closest to those older models of religious separatism that Lewis chronicles in City of Refuge. The historic groups that most eagerly sought to escape the world were obsessed with building geometrically pleasing, architecturally non-hierarchical townsphysical manifestations of their deeply held values. There, in their isolated hamlets, they could experiment freely with social orders and norms, safely separate from the world.

Theres no escaping into your own little enclave.

Perhaps its unfair to look to penalize utopias for failing to offer salvation. After all, people who live in these kinds of communities tend to be more politically active than the average American, said Karen Litfin, a professor of political science at the University of Washington who has written about eco-villages around the world.

And perhaps these communities are not as immune from worldly flaws as they might like. For example: Many of them struggle to be accessible to people other than middle-class white folks. Sky Blue, a Twin Oaks resident who also serves as the executive director of the Fellowship for Intentional Community, said there are a lot of racial [problems] and racism that are embedded in intentional communities. Even despite good intentions, Liberal white people who have a desire for diversity dont necessarily understand what it means to be inclusive, he said. Theyre going to create culture in [their] intentional community that is going to be comfortable for them, which isnt necessarily comfortable for people of color, or people with disabilities, or people who are gay or trans. Ethan Tupelo, a doctoral candidate at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, who lived at Twin Oaks before he began studying intentional communities academically, said residents talked about this issue a lot when he was there. Its a bunch of white people sitting around wondering where all the people of color are, he said. Its nice that youre thinking about that, but its also frustrating.

Tupelo sees a structural explanation for the inaccessibility of intentional communities: It takes a lot of cash to get off the grid. Even when starting a new community, you need the capital to do it in the first place if you want it to be a legally recognized thing, as opposed to squats, he said. As Nicolas and Rachel Sarahs experience at the Downstream Project shows, becoming untangled from capitalism also means becoming much more vulnerable. Its tough to imagine a comprehensive way of replacing health insurance, not to mention programs like welfare, in a world without government.

And then there is the tension between engagement and escape. In parts of the environmental movement, of which many intentional communities would consider themselves participants, the impulse toward escape can be powerful, and dark. In a 2012 essay for Orion magazinea piece Nicolas specifically recommendedthe writer Paul Kingsnorth argued that one of the things green-minded people should do at this moment in history is build havens. Can you think, or act, like the librarian of a monastery through the Dark Ages, guarding the old books as empires rise and fall outside? he wrote.

Were just these little workers building this giant cathedral.

Litfin said she doesnt think its possible for humanity to go back to medieval times, no matter how tempting that may be for some. In the Dark Ages, they didnt have the internet. They didnt have global travel. They didnt have climate change to any great extent, she said. What we have now is an embryonic global civilization thats totally ecologically, socially, and economically unsustainable. Theres no escaping into your own little enclave.

Some people use the term lifestyle politics to describe these communitiesthe belief that if you live your values, then you will be able to make effective change, or at least express your political perspective, Litfin said. I think thats a good place to start, but if thats where you end, you actually dont have much impact at all. In their own way, each of these communities is trying to change the world, albeit in small ways. Not everyone who seeks utopia is like Zeigler at the Living Energy Project, though. People dont necessarily want to remake the world.

The one thing everybody knows about utopia is that it means no place, Lewis writes. Whats less well-known, he says, is that the Greek word for utopia sounds the same as eutopia, a word with a different meaning: good place. For all their struggles, this seems to capture the aspirations of Virginias modern-day utopias. Were just these little workers building this giant cathedral, said Nicolas. Each of us is just chipping away at a little block. We dont even have the big-picture cathedral. But were doing a little block.

In the face of increasingly alienating politics and massive global break-down, perhaps this is enough: building a good place, better than most, where people can try to live.

Continue reading here:

How Anarchists and Intentional Communities Are Reacting to ...

CHAMBERSBURG, Pa. Pennsylvania State Police Lt. Gary Carter remembers investigating Franklin County's first heroin overdose death in 1998.

The Chambersburg native saw the drug quietly take hold among a small group of residents in the early 2000s. The users and suppliers remained in the shadows for years until the narcotic powder became a less expensive high for people addicted to prescription painkillers.

"Now, it's really all over the place," said Carter, barrack commander for the state police in Franklin County.

Investigators say the increased availability and decreased stigma of heroin use may contribute to new users being less inhibited about trying it. Police are carrying medication to reverse opioid overdose effects and they are providing information to addicts about recovery support programs.

"The whole attitude of policing has changed," Chambersburg Police Chief Ron Camacho said.

Waynesboro Police Chief James Sourbier hears critics say police aren't doing enough about drug abuse in the region. He argues many people have a grave misunderstanding of the depth and breadth of the crisis.

"You cannot arrest yourself out of a situation like this," he said, saying police, doctors, social services, churches, politicians and schools all have roles to play.

Waynesboro police responded to 19 drug overdoses in 2014. Of those, five were classified as intentional and self-inflicted, four were accidental, seven were inadvertent, one was mixed toxicity, one was unknown, and one was inconclusive. Four of the overdoses were fatal.

The department responded to 36 overdoses in 2015. Twelve were intentional, three were accidental and 21 were inadvertent; of those overdoses, 17 involved opioids like heroin. Five people died.

2016 brought the department 47 overdoses, with 11 considered intentional, one accidental, 26 inadvertent, four mixed toxicity, two unknown and three inconclusive. Thirteen people died.

"I don't think we've seen the worst of it yet," Sourbier said.

Waynesboro's police chief believes drug traffickers from the Baltimore area are stopping for periods of time in southern Franklin County to take advantage of inexpensive apartments, social services and walkability of communities. He said some of those dealers continue north to New York.

Carter agreed that Baltimore through Hagerstown is a major thoroughfare for heroin. Still, he sees other supply routes connected to Harrisburg and Philadelphia via the Pennsylvania Turnpike, U.S. 30 and Interstate 81.

"We're easy access," Carter said.

Franklin County District Attorney Matt Fogal, who established a multidisciplinary overdose task force, perceives fewer big dealers setting up shop in Franklin County. He is prosecuting users who are selling off extra inventory they obtained on short runs to metropolitan areas.

"It's less a business enterprise than someone who uses and buys a lot," he said.

Fogal is in the process of seating an investigative grand jury that will spend the next 18 months focused on heroin dealers and trafficking rings. The grand jury can issue subpoenas and compel testimony from reluctant witnesses, with that testimony granted confidentiality.

Pennsylvania law protects from prosecution, in many cases, the person who calls 911 about a friend experiencing an overdose. It also provides immunity to the person who overdosed. There are exceptions, including for overdoses that occur in businesses among the public.

Camacho said his eyes were opened to the reaches of addiction when the son of a coworker died a few years ago. Two decades ago, he never imagined he would be administering naloxone to someone suffering an overdose in hopes he could get that person connected with a treatment program.

He now emphasizes outside-the-box thinking and training to address opioid addiction.

"This is hitting everybody," he said.

"We realize there is no one thing that'll fix or cure this. It really does require a massive team effort," Sourbier said, saying he tries to provide resources to parents and grandparents concerned about their addicted family members.

Fogal spent years skeptical of the effectiveness of addiction treatment initiatives until he saw them producing positive results. Now, he's ensuring recovery and treatment specialists are at the table in the overdose task force.

"I don't accept failure," he said. "That said, I'm a realist and I know the challenges we face."

Read more from the original source:

Heroin hits home: Highways provide "easy access" for drug trafficking in Franklin County - Herald-Mail Media

The ski bum is extinct, resort worker Ian Johnson declared. This sentiment was echoed by many ski resort workers featured in my Catalyst article from two weeks ago entitled, Resort Reality: Ski Employees Face Financial Nightmares. In the past, a ski bum could work two days a week and ski five, while nowadays, most resort employees work five and ski two. The classic ski bum lifestyle is disappearing and the growth of mountain towns throughout the West is to blame. Johnson finds the exponential growth and the increasingly elitist nature of mountain towns unsettling.

An upcoming Colorado College-sponsored Sense of Place trip, Not Your Average Ski Trip, aims to educate the CC student body about the current reality. Last year, the trip took place over the weekend and was well attended by faculty, staff, and students. This year, a group will head up to Copper Mountain for a Block Break. Last year, for comparisons sake, trip attendees navigated the local transportation system. Public transportation often takes longer than driving straight into the sprawling parking lots that have become common features of most resorts. Johnson asserted that it is important for people to understand that there are sustainable options worthy of attention. The weekend included an opportunity to meet with the Green Team at Copper Mountain, a group that focuses on issues related to water. While water disputes are much more contentious in the summer months, securing water rights for snowmaking is a top priority for most ski resorts in the winter.

The 2016 trip had the opportunity to hear from Anthropology Professor Sarah Hautzinger, who provided a wealth of knowledge to attendees, mostly regarding real estate. Property prices in communities affected by expansion continue to skyrocket. As a result, skiing has become even more exclusive. When asked when things began to change, Ian Johnson said, Since the 1990s, the overall cost of skiing has gone up exponentially, creating an elitism I wish didnt exist.

This year, in Hautzingers place, the Office of Field Study brought in William Philpott, author of Vacationland: Tourism and Environment in the Colorado High Country. Those who choose to attend the Sense of Place trip will have the opportunity to speak with both Philpott and members of the Green Team at Copper Mountain in order to expand their knowledge of environmental issues surrounding Colorados favorite winter sport. The Sense of Place Trips are an amazing opportunity for students looking to learn more about Southern Colorado. Although the upcoming ski trip already has a long waitlist, the Sustainability Office organizes a trip each block. Creating an intentional space to reflect upon the impacts of our recreational activity is imperative. The Sense of Place Trips offer an opportunity for students and faculty alike to develop a conscious way to participate in outdoor sports.

More here:

The Death of the Ski Bum and Intentional Tourism - The Catalyst