Juha I. Uitto's Blog, page 5

Blue Marble Evaluation: Premises and Principles, by Michael Quinn Patton

Blue Marble Evaluation is a call to action for all evaluators (and others) concerned with the state of planetary affairs in the new geological era of Anthropocene in which we live. What defines Anthropocene is that human impact on the Earth is so pervasive as to be the dominant force in modifying biosphere and atmosphere. Patton brings a palpable sense of urgency to the task of transforming evaluation to deal with transformative change. As an evaluator, Patton weighs the global challenges we are facing—including climate change and related phenomena, growing concentration of wealth and inequality, virulent infectious diseases and evolving super-viruses (yes, the book was written before the emergence of COVID-19), pollution, terrorism, refugee crises, etc.—against the positive trends (such as reductions in poverty and illiteracy, hunger and violence).  Striving toward a balanced assessment, he concludes that the “evidence points overwhelmingly … to a severe and growing crisis” (p. 19). 
Blue Marble Evaluation takes its name from the iconic photograph taken by the Apollo 17 astronauts on 7 December 1972, the first photograph of our home planet taken from space. This signifies the view of the whole Earth, which is fundamental to the Blue Marble Evaluation vision. Patton, a veteran evaluator and one of the most respected thinkers in the field, elaborates on the premises and principles of his vision for a renewed evaluation profession that is better able to respond to the global challenges. In the process he provides a biting critique of the narrow project mindset that dominates the evaluation practice today.
The book is organized in three parts. The first, The Blue Marble Perspective, presents four overarching blue marble principles: (1) Global thinking principle, (2) Anthropocene as context principle, (3) Transformative engagement principle, and (4) Integration principle. “The Blue Marble worldview constitutes a paradigm,” Patton writes (p. 6). Taking a holistic perspective and understanding global patterns and their implications is essential, as is thinking about all aspects of systems change at all levels from local to global. The integration principle emphasizes that transformation requires multiple interventions and actions on many fronts by multiple actors. Blue Marble principles should not only be applied to evaluation but also to design and implementation. Bringing the four initial principles together, Patton takes apart traditional project and program evaluation, as well as performance measurement and monitoring, as insufficient to addressing systems change at the global scale. He writes (p. 30): 
“Static and rigid randomized control designs—emphasis on control—are irrelevant to the uncontrollable dynamics of complex systems. Indeed, these traditional approaches to evaluation can create barriers to systems change by forcing transformational visions into narrow project boxes amenable to methods evaluators are comfortable with (e.g., logic models and specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, time-bound [SMART] goals). Innovations in evaluation include eclectic approaches created by tapping into a vast array of many-splendored, diverse, and innovative knowledge-generating and learning-oriented processes.”
Part II adds eight Operating Principles: (5) Transboundary engagement principle, (6) GLOCAL principle, (7) Cross-silos principle, (8) Time being of essence principle, (9) Yin-yang principle, (10) Bricolage methods principle, (11) World savvy principle, and (12) Skin in the game principle. Ranging from page 39 to 148, this section contains the bulk of the book. I won’t attempt to summarize it but will highlight a few points that I found essential. Patton discusses the need to think and act at the global scale and what this means. He provides a thoughtful critique of the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) adopted by over 190 countries all over the world. He rightly points out that they are actually not global, given that they are based on country-level targets. He wisely notes that “simply aggregating nation-state data doesn’t generate a global picture” (p. 44). Another important insight that flies in the face of conventional evaluation (and development) thinking—and with which I couldn’t agree more—is that there are no “best practices” because the context in which any intervention takes place is so important. “Global context informs local actions. Local contexts make global understandings meaningful and actionable” (p. 50). This up and down engagement between levels is the essence of the GLOCAL principle. Patton discusses scaling up as the most common way of having global impact, i.e. that successful initiatives are scaled out, scaled up or scaled deep so that they can reach more people and places. Scaling up is also at the heart of the operational model of the Global Environment Facility (GEF) where I work and just last year my office completed an evaluation of scaling up at the GEF. 
Apart from integrating across scales and geographies, Blue Marble principles call for integrating across silos. It is worth noting, like Patton does, that the SDGs, while intended to be integrated, also easily lend themselves to new silos. Yet in real life, the SDGs are indeed all interconnected and “evaluating the interactions between the SDG targets and indicators, both actual and aspirational, positive and negative, and short term and long term, offers significant opportunities for Blue Marble thinkers, designers and evaluators to contribute to the 2030 Agenda” (p. 65). (In full transparency, in the discussion on the cross-silos principle, I was very flattered to find Patton citing my work.) 
With the time being of essence, Patton addresses another key notion in evaluation and development professions: sustainability. According to the established principles promoted by OECD’s Development Assistance Committee, sustainability refers primarily to the continuation of project benefits after the completion of the intervention. Although, OECD/DAC has recently updated the definition to incorporate more of the environmental sustainability, there has been a lively debate about a stronger articulation of the environmental dimension. Patton’s discussion is most welcome as he elaborates on adaptive sustainability and resilience, making a clear distinction between engineering resilience (a performance-related notion that focuses on stability, efficiency, control and predictability) and ecosystem resilience that focuses on persistence, adaptiveness, variability and unpredictability. Aiming for long-term resilience and sustainability forces us to concentrate on the latter, in which case evaluators, too, must focus on adaptability of the system, rather than a static endpoint after an intervention ends and the benefits remain (pp. 78-82). Patton illustrates this with concrete examples, including some in which short-term focus on accountability undermined long-term sustainability. 
The chapter on the bricolage methods principle describing the evaluator as a bricoleur, a traditional French traveling “jack-of-all-trades” who would use whatever tools were at hand to fix a problem, hit a note with me. Similarly, evaluators have to use an eclectic variety of methods to fit the evaluation situation that they need to address. The Canadian evaluator Andy Rowe has similarly made the call for All Hands on Deck for evaluators to put their methods wars behind them and join hands in combating the greatest challenges facing humankind. Claims of “gold standards” (often made by those promoting experimental methods) sound ludicrous. To be clear, Patton is no Luddite: he fully acknowledges the value of new methods that involve, i.a., geospatial tools, big data and AI, but emphasizes the importance of choosing the most appropriate methods from an eclectic toolkit. Here he elaborates on six “bricolaged Blue Marble evaluation methods lessons” (pp. 114-116).  
The chapters on the world savvy principle and skin in the game principle are highly personal. The former emphasizes the global competencies that all evaluators should possess. He notes that the “profession of evaluation is fairly obsessed with competency” (p. 122) but that the concept of competence is problematic and can lead to “exclusion, reinforcing the status quo and power of the status quo” (p. 124). These again are concerns I can easily relate to, having been involved in evaluation groups that sometimes feel like aiming to be guilds with their exclusive approaches and membership. Without getting into detail about what being world savvy means, some of the central concepts include reflexivity and ongoing learning. 
The skin in the game principle will be hard for some evaluators to swallow (and I’ve already witnessed discussions to this end), given that evaluators (most of whom are social scientists by training) have been indoctrinated to think that we need to be neutral observers of the object of evaluation, looking from the outside in, without taking sides or showing emotion. Patton challenges this by making it clear that we should not hide our values, especially in the current world situation where our common future is at stake. Independence is usually seen as one of the most important characteristics of an evaluator, but in some cases total independence can even undermine the credibility of the evaluator. This might be the case with indigenous communities where a total outsider would not carry any credence. The evaluator would still use her or his best judgment weighing the evidence (for example not assuming that the local communities would necessarily always know best). He makes a clear and useful distinction between caring and bias (pp. 139-141). His argumentation stands on the broad shoulders of two evaluation thought leaders, Robert Stake and Michael Scriven, as well as others. He also makes a strong case for evaluation as transdisciplinary science, and for science as intervention aimed at generating knowledge and solving an urgent problem. 
The final part of the book outlines three Global Systems Transformation principles: (13) Theory of transformation principle, (14) Transformation fidelity principle: evaluating transformation, and (15) Transformational alignment principle: transforming evaluation to evaluate transformation. The first of these chapters is the most theoretical in the book. In it Patton attempts to move from a theory of change to a theory of transformation, doing so by integrating multiple theories to explain transformation. The theoretical frameworks he most relies on are network theory and innovation theory. He also expounds on a hypothesis developed by Jerald Hage, director of the Center of Innovation at the University of Maryland’s Department of Sociology who also was Patton’s dissertation advisor at the University of Wisconsin decades earlier. Altogether, the theory of transformation that Patton comes up with is a plausible one. It claims that transformation flows from an “understanding that the status quo is not a viable path forward and that networked action on multiple fronts using diverse change strategies across multiple landscapes will be needed to overcome the resistance from those who benefit from the status quo” (p. 168). This will lead to critical mass tipping points and consequently transformations. Earlier in the chapter Patton reminds us of the old truth found in innovation theory that it is futile to try to convince (and despair over) the often powerful interests that benefit from the status quo and resist change; instead, focus on supporting the early adopters and spreading their message until a tipping point is reached. This is a very useful message to keep in mind when hopelessness sets in ahead of the Sisyphean task of moving towards a more environmentally benign future.
In the chapter on transformation fidelity principle, Patton starts by reminding us that transformation has become a new buzzword but not everything touted as such is in fact transformational. Of true transformations in relatively recent history he names three examples: the end of apartheid in South Africa, the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the significant fall in new cases of HIV/AIDS. Transformation is difficult to define, but easy to recognize when it happens by (borrowing the term from the statistician Fred Mosteller) interocular significance (i.e., it hits you in between the eyes). Transformation can be defined as a sensitizing concept, “a way of talking about something that is not yet well understood, precisely defined, or operationally measured” (p. 174). Evaluating transformational change, however, is more challenging. Patton sets out to define an evaluation framework for evaluating transformation with the theory of transformation that he developed in the previous chapter. He reviews an influential evaluation of transformational engagement by the World Bank’s Independent Evaluation Group (using an approach that we adapted to evaluate transformational change at the GEF Independent Evaluation Office a few years back). While this approach was fine, it was, according to Patton, a definition-based, rather than theory-based evaluation. Interestingly, Patton concludes that “evaluating transformation must involve capturing the story, communicating the process and results, interpreting meanings, making values-based judgments about what occurred, extracting lessons, and facilitating visioning the way forward both short term ad long term. Telling the transformation story will involve mixed methods” (p. 185).
In the final chapter, Patton lays out the need to transform evaluation itself to evaluate transformation. This chapter also acts as a summary of the book and his thinking around the Blue Marble principles. He concludes that global sustainability should become a universal criterion in evaluation. The book ends with a vision of a global network of Blue Marble evaluators, a vision that is in the making to become reality.
Blue Marble Evaluation is a powerful book that transmits the sense of urgency, the very caring for the planet and the state of affairs that Michael Quinn Patton writes about. He emphasizes that while he has pulled the text together, it has been a collaborative effort with contributions from many people, including fellow Blue Marble evaluators, like Pablo Vidueira and Glenn Page (the acknowledgements run over 3.5 pages). The book is also amply illustrated, including with cartoons by Mark Rogers, Chris Lysy, Simon Kneebone and Claudius Ceccon. All of this collaboration is further proof that Michael Patton practices what he preaches. The book is also very erudite, drawing upon literature and theories of science, philosophy, sociology, astronomy and more in addition to evaluation. There are many practical examples from interventions and evaluations of different kinds, some more profound than others. All of this makes for interesting, if occasionally rambling reading as the reader is left guessing how it all comes back to the theme (spoiler alert: it usually does). And as Patton states, this is not a book about methods, but evaluators tend to be methods people so he writes quite much about methods. All of this may make the book quite a ride for a traditional evaluator versed in project performance evaluation. Those are some of the people who most should read this book. Having said that, I would recommend the book to anyone interested in evaluation and applied social science in the age of the Anthropocene.

Evaluation must rise to the challenge of pandemic in the nexus of nature and humanity

This blog was published originally in Earth-Eval (follow the link).
In her 2020 Earth Day blog the GEF CEO Naoko Ishii emphasized that the COVID-19 crisis is fundamentally an environmental crisis. I couldn’t agree more. Sure, at the face of it, this is first a health crisis, a pandemic with tragic consequences to people who get infected, especially those who perish or who see loved ones perish. Economies of families, communities, companies, states and countries are stressed, even destroyed. It’ll take months and years to recover from these effects. However short-sighted it may be, I can understand why people and businesses—and by extension politicians—clamor to get the economy re-opened as soon as possible. But fundamentally, this is an environmental crisis and if we do not change our behavior, if we do not learn from this experience, these pandemic crises will become a recurrent phenomenon. We as evaluators must also learn lessons.The virus, SARS-CoV-2 that causes the disease COVID-19 is zoonotic, meaning it has its origins in animals. As human activities have continued to expand further into previously undisturbed natural domains and as our interactions with domestic and wild animals have become increasingly close, we have given ample new opportunities for pathogens to spill over from non-human animals to humans. The root causes are the same that drive climate change, species loss and all environmental degradation: economic growth, quest for more resources and space for humanity. There are currently 7.5 billion humans on the planet and our numbers are going to expand by 2 billion more in the coming few decades. Inequality has grown to intolerable levels, while consumption continues to grow at unsustainable rates. There is an urgent need to revisit how we define development and how we treat natural environment. The pandemic that has hit pause on economic activity has also provided us an opportunity to rethink our values and what kind of development we want when we press start again. For this we need information about possible models.Evaluation has the specific role of bringing forth knowledge and understanding of what works under what circumstances based on past experiences. At a basic level, this is looking at past programs and projects with regard to how we have dealt with sudden outbreaks of health crises, such as SARS and Ebola, and other unexpected disasters. What strategies worked, where and why? What helped interventions adjust successfully so that they could continue supporting the people on the ground? The Independent Evaluation Office (IEO) is currently looking at such experiences in the GEF context and will soon be able to bring forth some lessons for consideration.At a higher level, evaluation must be able to provide evidence of how actions in the development sphere affect the environment and vice versa. We must be able to demonstrate the close interlinkages between social and economic development and the environment in light of evidence from the real world. In this task evaluators must base their work on scientific knowledge as well as analysis of concrete examples from the field. This is not an approach that comes easily to all evaluators who have been used to looking at discrete interventions in isolation through their internal logic. Instead, we now need to place these interventions in the broader landscape and analyze how they interact with the broader natural and human systems. We need to be on the lookout for unanticipated results and unintended consequences, not just those foreseen in the project’s or program’s own theory of change.To remain relevant in the increasingly complex and interconnected world, it is absolutely essential for evaluation as a profession and as a practice to engage in the discourse at the nexus of human and natural systems. That is where we as a community can contribute, with our practical knowledge anchored in research, to a transformation towards a more sustainable development path.

Evaluating Environmental Peacebuilding: Difficult but Necessary

Published in Earth-Eval earlier today (please follow the link before).

A Planet of 3 Billion: Mapping Humanity's Long History of...

A Planet of 3 Billion: Mapping Humanity's Long History of Ecological Destruction and Finding Our Way to a Resilient Future | A Global Citizen's Guide to Saving the Planet by Christopher Kevin Tucker

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


This is a very important and sobering book that I wish everyone would read. Chrisopher Tucker, a self-described unrepentant capitalist, tackles the fundamental issue affecting the sustainability of the planet: human population. He clearly states his thesis: the Earth has a people problem.

There was a time half a century ago when ecologically-minded scientists, researchers and activists actively discussed the impossibility of unlimited population growth on a limited planet. It was inevitable that the population bomb would explode. This rational view was silenced from all sides. The conservative and often religious right was attacking it for promoting “unnatural” things, such as population control. It didn’t help that China (and earlier India) established draconian measures to curb population growth. The left saw it as blaming the victim: one should not try to interfere with poor people’s right to have children. The developing countries saw it as a white man’s ploy to keep them down, while at the same time many saw a burgeoning population as might that could help them to dominate their neighbors. And economists – those eternal optimists to whom growth of any kind is a value in itself and who see any negative aspect of growth as mere externalities that can be left out of the equation – put their money on human ingenuity and technology that would overcome any obstacle (this has so far worked to the extent that material lack has decreased, but at a huge cost to the natural environment). No-one paid any attention to the rights of non-humans on this planet, or even the quality of life or joy that nature would bring people. If you can’t measure it in money, it does not exist. Finally, Christopher Tucker has brought human overpopulation back into focus.

Tucker makes it clear that his is not a neo-Malthusian oeuvre and he recognizes the essential roles the level of per capita consumption and technology play. But his thorough and thoughtful analysis leads him to the conclusion that the Earth can sustainably support only a population of 3 billion – and that only if we cut out ecological footprint and waste significantly. He takes issue with the romantic view that pre-industrial people lived in harmony with nature. It was only because their numbers were so small that the damage they did was limited, but damage they did do by clearing land for agriculture, by cutting down forests for construction, energy and fiber, by hunting wild animals and grazing domesticated ones. Sahara once was a viable ecosystem until overuse of its fragile ecosystem turned it into a desert. Since Roman times, people fundamentally transformed Europe’s ecosystems. In ecological terms, humans are an invasive species.

The first half of the book provides a detailed overview of the Earth’s environmental history in light of human impact on it through population growth, industrialization, agriculture, development of new energy sources (notably fossil fuels whose introduction initially saved forest that were being cut down for energy, but which has later led to air pollution and climate change), infrastructure, transportation, urbanization, introduction of toxic chemicals, waste etc. He takes popular environmental theories and critiques them. A geographer by training, one of Tucker’s main contributions pertains to the insights into the geographical diversity of the world. Hardly anyone else has addressed this issue systematically. E.O. Wilson has proposed that half of the world should be set aside for nature, but Tucker reveals how challenging and complex this notion is. What do we mean by half when every geography is so different in terms of productivity, terrain, topography, climate and so forth, and when connections between regions are essential? Measuring half just by size is meaningless. And what do we mean by “protection” anyway? He suggests viewing the world through the perspective of ecoregions.

He embraces the ecological footprint thesis, but critiques it for also lacking a geographical perspective, which he convincingly inserts into it, while recognizing the enormous technical task of incorporating the geographical variables into the equation.

The book is a delightful exception to the current debate where climate change crowds out all other environmental issues (are we really only able to focus on one thing at a time?). Tucker doesn’t belittle the impacts of climate change, but hammers home the point how humanity is causing irreversible harm to the Earth’s ecosystems through so many other ways. One example is waste. We generate astronomical amounts of waste that fill the land, atmosphere and, not least, oceans – and have very few solutions to the issue. He also brings to attention forms of pollution that we seldom think of, such as noise pollution that is very hazardous to many animals from birds to whales.

The book contains some hopeful examples of how things may be changing. Circular economy where the waste of one process becomes an input to the next is one. He highlights Finland’s commitment to zero waste, including greenhouse gas emissions. Despite the acknowledgement of the need and good intentions, this is still difficult work in progress. I fully agree with Tucker that well managed cities are the only way of containing human impact on the planet, as sprawl is one of worst kinds of destruction as areas are transformed into artificial ones, roads dissect ecosystems. Lawns and parks may be green, but they are far from natural and only contain a fraction of natural biodiversity. Living densely reduces the geographic footprint and minimizes the need for movement. There are increasing examples of sustainable cities, such as Singapore (and the organization I work for, the Global Environment Facility, is one of the many that actively promotes sustainable urbanization), but too many cities, especially in the developing countries, are growing haphazardly wreaking havoc both on their human inhabitants and nature.

Agriculture is one of the biggest contributors to environmental change. Techniques such as vertical farming could significantly reduce the impact. Admittedly, it would be much harder to develop for animal husbandry. Growing meat for human consumption is extremely wasteful in terms of land, water and waste. The figures are stunning: there are 1.4 billion cattle, 2 billion domesticated pigs, 1 billion sheep, 450 million goats and 19 billion chicken on Earth (p. 229). Their only purpose is to feed people.

Through a sophisticated and convincing analysis – with transparent assumptions – Tucker concludes that the Earth’s carrying capacity of human population is around 3 billion people. This is a stark prospect, given that there currently are about 7.5 billion of us on the planet and the UN projects that the population will grow to at least 9 billion before it reaches its peak. However, it’s illustrative to remember that it was after World War II when the world population still was at that lower level. Since then, our lives and lifestyles have also changed dramatically. Today there are some 3 billion air passengers annually; more than there were people in 1950.

Tucker recognizes that bringing world’s population down to 3 billion will not be easy. He discusses the obstacles to this, including cultural and religious norms and, not least, classical economics that still believes that the alternative to eternal growth it stagnation. Even the field of environmental economics doesn’t go far enough, believing that a steady-state can be reached. We also often witness hand-wringing because of aging populations and population decline, especially in Japan and Western Europe. However, irrespective of what we wish, the world population will start shrinking at around year 2100, unless an ecological disaster catches us before that (it could also be a global pandemic – such as the current outbreak of coronavirus – that does us in). Sooner or later we will have to learn to live with a declining population. Tucker calls for a new generation of economists to focus efforts on de-growth economics. There is no law of nature that compels that our standard of living and quality of life should decline should growth stop (on the contrary, I would argue).

In the end, Tucker is cautiously optimistic, trusting that new ways of thinking and technologies will save humankind before it is too late. He rightly points out that either we start making these radical changes in society now or we will be forced to make much more unpleasant choices a bit later. He outlines an agenda – a cookbook, he calls it – for global leaders and global citizens that encompasses ten necessary areas of action to avoid catastrophe: 1) women’s empowerment that will lead to smaller families; 2) building sustainable, smart and resilient cities; 3) developing restoration and rewilding strategies for each ecoregion; 4) de-industrializing and reducing human footprint in critical ecoregions; 5) driving wastes out of capitalist supply chains; 6) demanding the design of low-impact infrastructure; 7) stopping impeding and diverting the natural flow of water; 8) stopping use of “growth” language in economic strategies and economic development planning; 9) reframing eco-engineering to focus on unwinding the most egregious ecological offenses; and 10) thinking critically about how the land rights model of capitalism has led to the denuding the planet and identifying alternatives that help strike a balance between human development and the ecological processes on which humankind depends.

Tucker discusses further each of these and how they might be advanced. Responsibility is given to governments and especially business leaders, as well as us individuals. We can influence matters globally through our actions by changing our individual behaviors (given the enormous role of cattle ranching in converting natural landscapes to pastures, depleting water resources, wasting resources as feed and producing greenhouse gases, reducing meat consumption is an obvious way to reduce one’s ecological footprint). Still, it seems to me unreasonable to expect all humans on the planet – especially as the majority are still lagging far behind the West – to bear the brunt of the responsibility, when it really is the system that is built on growth and waste and exploitation that needs to be changed.

When reading Tucker’s solutions, nevertheless, they appear doable from a technical point of view and there would be millions of people in the world who would agree to pursue these rigorously. But are they enough? It is hard to believe so, when one follows the political debate in the United States, the wealthiest and most powerful nation that also has the world’s largest ecological footprint per capita (then again, Chris Tucker is American, too, and his ideas certainly are bold). Similarly, in most developing countries getting rich is the greatest goal for everyone. Furthermore, developing countries are the place where future population growth will take place (mostly in Africa). The renowned environmentalist Gus Speth has summarized the situation succinctly: “I used to think the top environmental problems were biodiversity loss, ecosystem collapse and climate change. I thought that with 30 years of good science we could address those problems. But I was wrong. The top environmental problems are selfishness, greed and apathy … and to deal with those we need a spiritual and cultural transformation – and we scientists don’t know how to do that.”

Christopher Tucker ends his book with an Epilogue for Planetary Ethics, He provides a pointed critique of the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) as ambitious but a result of complex political compromises. He points out that there is gaping inconsistency between the socioeconomic development goals and the environmental sustainability goals (a fact that I, too, have pointed out in several of my writings and presentations) and population is entirely outside of the discussion (p. 251). In the end, he frames the need for a transformation in ethical terms. This is one of the best written and strongest chapters – and certain to offend some people. Tucker confronts head-on the issue that, if everyone recognizes the problem of overpopulation and the threats it poses to the global sustainability, the debate turns quickly to equity, because the world population and population growth are not equally distributed on the planet. “If humans, collectively, are doing harm to the planet who should have to sacrifice or undertake disproportionate effort to rectify the situation”, he asks (p. 253). One thing that Tucker does not consider adequately in the book is international migration that is already reshaping the world, driven by inequality, conflict and climate change.

It is also very refreshing that he calls a spade a spade when it comes to people’s cognitive abilities and psychologies. He recognizes that there is a minority of people who are not able to grasp the big picture. Then there are those who are ignorant, but more importantly the large portion of people – including many with a will to power – who are willfully ignorant, as they understand that acting on what they know would be against their own short-term interests. In the end, it is often difficult to differentiate the actions of the willfully ignorant (or outright evil) from those of the simply stupid.

The book also contains four open letters to arguably the most powerful individuals on the planet: the Pope, Jeff Bezos, Bill and Melinda Gates, and Xi Jinping.

The book is well illustrated with maps, data and graphs, which are also accessible through the website.

All in all, A Planet for 3 Billion is bound to annoy many people who do not (or more likely do not want to) believe the situation being that dire, who are reluctant to change their ways or who just think it all alarmist and unrealistic to achieve such a transformation. We’ll be alright as long as we don’t think about it. However, a fundamental change will be necessary one way or another (to paraphrase how kids used to threaten each other on schoolyard in my youth: you change now – or you cry and change!). Thinkers and activists such as the author are needed. But perhaps our best hope lies with visionary entrepreneurs who see not only the necessity but also opportunities for themselves in moving us towards a more sustainable future. There is also hope in young people who are increasingly aware of the destruction we place on our only home planet and who also have the most to lose.




View all my reviews

Cozumel: A versatile small island in the Caribbean

 We’re in the habit of spending the Christmas break in Mexico and sometimes we go there again for the school February vacations. As it happens, we’ve recently returned from Cozumel, which is my personal favorite. We’ve been many times to Mexico over many years. Both my wife Yoko and I have had work-related trips to Ciudad de México and elsewhere in the country (Guanajuato, Vera Cruz, Cancun…) and together we’ve vacationed on the Riviera Maya and the historic city of Merida. We’ve also gone elsewhere in the region on vacation, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Panama. But Cozumel is my favorite. ‘Cozumel’ is a version of the original Mayan name of Cuzaam Luumil (meaning Land of Swallows), which the Spaniards simplified to suit their own language upon arriving here first in the 16th century.


What is it that I like about the small island off the eastern shore of the Yucatan peninsula? There are many things to like but in sum it is that, for such a small place, Cozumel is surprisingly versatile. The island measures only 48 km from north to south and just 16 km across. Formed of limestone, it is almost flat – its highest point is just 14 m above sea level – and large parts of it are covered in impenetrable mangroves; so small and low-lying it is that this coastal vegetation that thrives in salty and brackish water reaches all the way into the interior. In fact, the northern half of the island is almost entirely undeveloped and covered by a mangrove jungle. The mangroves are host to a number of endemic species of birds and small mammals. The black spiny-tailed iguana is also native to the island and they are always fun to see. Unfortunately, even in this relatively undisturbed environment, many of the native species are endangered.

The versatility stems from the combination of natural and human factors. The beaches, especially on the eastern shore facing the open Caribbean, are fabulous with white sand reaching far out in the shallow coastal waters. This makes the beaches perfect for family fun and safe for children to frolic even when the ocean itself is rough (during our latest stay, the waves on the open water were so forceful that the beaches sported red flags about half of the days warning people not to get into the sea; half of the days the flags were yellow. Despite this, we could swim and play safely in the semi-enclosed lagoon of our preferred beach, Chen Rio. This is where our daughter Nowa honed her swimming skills.

Playa Chen Rio also has the simple but wonderful Pescador restaurant that serves fresh fish from the sea, simply grilled with butter or garlic or served with delicious sauces made with tomatoes, olives and other vegetables.

Cozumel is known as a paradise for divers and snorkelers due to its rich and hitherto rather unspoiled coral reefs, in particular on the western side of the island in the Cozumel Channel. The coast has many diving schools and one can frequently see the boats carrying tourists in diving gear to the reefs. Again, the tourism industry has not been easy on the sensitive corals and the previously abundant and unique black corals have declined almost to extinction since the 1960s.

One distinct aspect of tourism is based on cruise ships. Cozumel is a major port for Caribbean cruises. These massive floating hotels arrive in the early morning hours, docking on the western side of the island and releasing thousands of tourist from the USA, Canada, Europe, Russia, China and elsewhere on shore. The areas close to the piers are filled with shops and bars catering to the tourists. About 8 cruise ships dock at Cozumel daily – from our balcony one morning, I could count 7 of these behemoths –carrying over 3 million cruisers annually, most spending just one day on the island. Needless to say, such an influx of tourists brings huge amounts of foreign currency and are the most important source of income to locals. But cruise ships also pollute through sewage and exhaust fumes. Even if waste and bilge water discharges into ports are controlled, the air pollution from the ships is considerable. It also contributes to global warming. If not properly regulated, cruise ships can bring about their own undoing, as tourism depends on clean and pristine environment. Luckily, awareness of such environmental issues has increased in recent years.

During the hours when the cruisers hit the shores, it is better to stay sequestered in one’s own quarters or to drive across the island to the east coast beaches. But in the evening the ships leave, one by one, blowing their horns and floating into the darkening night. Some leave right at sunset, others a couple
of hours later. Ships at sea at night can be a romantic sight.

Once the cruisers have re-boarded their vessels we venture out and usually head towards the town – an important dimension of the versatility of Cozumel. Our base is a modest but comfortable hotel on the western shore a few kilometers south of the town, San Miguel de Cozumel. It’s a short drive or a lengthy but leisurely walk on the beachfront road (and unlike much of Mexico, Cozumel is generally very safe even after dark). About 77,000 of the island’s 100,000 permanent residents live in San Miguel. It has a small but beautiful historical center and numerous shops, cafes, restaurants and bars. The food is generally good real Mexican food, which has only vague resemblance to what passes for Mexican fare north of the border (as one sign in town said: Relax, you’re on the fun side of Trump’s wall!). You can find exquisite local dishes in many cozy restaurants, which we like to explore. There are few more relaxing affairs than to sit on a comfortable terrace watching the sun go down over the sea.


As implied earlier, Cozumel has its roots in the Mayan civilization and many of the local dishes are still prepared in that tradition. The Mayan empire had its base in present day Guatemala but it expanded to the Yucatan in the 3rd century, reaching its peak from the 7thto the 9th centuries. For the Maya, Cuzaam Luumil was a sacred place where pilgrims worshipped the fertility goddess Ixchel.
The first Spaniard to land in Cozumel in 1518 was Juan de Grijalva. He arrived from Cuba and was a peaceful man. Settling in Cozumel, he married and founded a family with a Mayan princess. The later arrivals were not equally benign. Soon after de Grijalva came the notorious conquistador Hernán Cortés. True to his inclinations, he proceeded to destroy much of the Mayan culture, including their temples. By the time he left in 1530 the original society was in ruins. Apart from intentional destruction, devastating smallpox was introduced through Cortés’ crew.

In the following couple of hundred years, Cozumel became a base for pirates, such as Henry Morgan and Jean Laffite. In 1847, the War of the Castes broke out between the creoles and the native Maya in mainland Yucatan. A year later, displaced people settled onto Cozumel and created their livelihoods in farming and fishing. This continued pretty much unchanged until the 1960s when the development of tourism began and changed everything.

Despite this history, a couple of Mayan sites remain in Cozumel. These are very modest compared with the ones in Tulum, Chichen Itza and elsewhere in Yucatan. The San Gervasio ruins of a temple dedicated to Ixchel, albeit small, are archeologically valuable in their own right.

One of the attractions for Nowa is the amusement park settled in the Parque Quintana Roo in San Miguel. It is kind of an old fashioned affair where one can shoot bottles for small prizes, ride carousels and eat street food. Nowa had been dreaming of returning here for the year since she experienced it last. So we spent two evenings in the park. She even dragged me to a wildly spinning clunky machine that used centrifugal forces to throw us around at ever increasing speeds. I thought it would never end – and in some ways it didn’t, for me, as I would still feel dizzy the following morning. Against all odds, she again managed to drag me to the same machine on the second evening, as she was too small to ride it alone. Afterwards I had to waddle to rest at a bench in front of the bandstand while Yoko took Nowa to further hurtling machines.

The band that played to a couple of hundred attentive people was the Banda de Música de X Región MIlitar, a large orchestra with brass, woodwinds and drums. As a former military musician, I was quite curious about the band. I have to confess that it was rather infinitely better than our orchestra in Finland. Also their repertoire, consisting mostly of Mexican and Latin popular music, was lively and the drummers were up to the task. They also had a uniformed female soldier who served as a powerful singer. My dizziness started to fade. There was also some high-level military leader, as well as the governor of Cozumel in the audience, who got plenty of attention from photographers and the general audience.

This was our last evening in Cozumel this time. We returned to our digs early enough for me to still have a good while sitting on the balcony watching the dark sea with the lights of Playa del Carmen on the mainland less than 20 km away. Come to think of it, just sitting on the balcony is probably my favorite part of the trips to Cozumel.

Ruminations from Hurghada: Environment, Climate and Development in Egypt

Recently I was in Hurghada. Maybe not a name that immediately strikes a light in one’s head but still quite a significant place on the Egyptian Red Sea, not far south from the more famous Sharm El Sheikh. The UN Development Programme (UNDP) had agreed with the Egyptian government to organize the 6th National Evaluation Capacities conference there.

Upon arrival, the participants found themselves in an all-inclusive resort surrounded by thousands of half-naked German, Russian, British and other tourists indulging in numerous different pools, water games and, less so interestingly, the beautiful sandy beach lining the sea. And of course, the watering holes in this dry seashore where numerous. We found ourselves navigating towards the massive conference center in our dark suits and ties in the heat that in the daytime exceeded 30 degrees Celsius past the inquisitive looks of the sunbathers.

Egypt is one of the world's most vulnerable countries to climate change. Its lifeline is the Nile river that gets its start from two branches beyond the national territory: the White Nile at Lake Victoria in Uganda and the Blue Nile in the highlands of Ethiopia. Merging around Khartoum, the capital city of Sudan and Egypt’s southern neighbor, the river flows into the country that was the birthplace of an ancient civilization that predated that of Rome and Greece. Already that civilization, 5,000 years ago, was dependent on the Nile for enabling food production.
Still today, most of Egypt’s almost 100 million people live along the banks of the Nile. Cairo, the chaotic and fabulous capital city of 9.5 million, lies in the northern parts of the country where the fertile river delta begins to fan out. Cairo is defined by the existence of the river that cuts through it. The famous pyramids of Giza are located just outside of the city where the Saharan sand dunes overtook them already a long time ago.

Decades ago, as a young researcher and evaluator, I well remember driving north – downstream, as the Nile somewhat counterintuitively drains into the Mediterranean – in a Peugeot with some much more experienced experts whom I was lucky to have joined on a joint FAO-IFAD mission to define priorities for new investment projects in the Nile delta. The road was straight but rather narrow and the traffic already then was heavy, which did nothing to make me less uneasy shaking at the back of the car in the African heat. We stopped by the Suez Canal, for some refreshments on our way to Port Said on the Mediterranean coast. I remember vividly seeing the tops of great vessels passing through the canal like ghost ships in the desert.

Our goal was to investigate the environmental status of the coastal lagoons – Lake Burullus and Lake Manzala in particular – in the widening delta of the world’s longest river. Conflict had arisen among fishermen and fish farmers in these parts due to overexploitation of the resources and our task was to figure out initiatives that could help the fisheries and lessen the tensions.

The year was 1986 and climate change was still far down the list of worries of those of us concerned with sustainable use of natural resources, including freshwater. We bunked up in the coastal city of Alexandria and soon walked down to the Mediterranean shore. Our senior team members with the linguistic and bargaining abilities strolled to the fishermen pulling in their nets and secured us a delicious meal of freshly caught shrimp that was cooked right there on the beach.

More than two decades later, I was lucky enough to visit Alexandria again and actually spend time in the fabulous reincarnation of its legendary library, the original version of which was destroyed during the Roman period. I was stunned to see how the city had grown, an almost interminable string along the Mediterranean coast. For it was virtually impossible to expand inland in a more concentric manner: the lagoons prevented it as did the soon encroaching Sahara. In Alexandria, I read Naguib Mahfouz’s lovely and melancholy novel Miramar and imagined how the city must have been in the 1960s: a beautiful and cosmopolitan city, distinctly part of the Mediterranean cultural sphere, where cafés dotted the waterfront. It was still lovely, but had grown with too little planning, with traffic on the coastal boulevard threatening pedestrian life both with its speed and its pollution.

Meanwhile in Hurghada by the other sea, a traditional fishing village was being developed with an intrusion of foreign money. In a couple of decades it grew from a small sleepy settlement into a conglomeration of resorts to cater to wealthy Europeans who wanted to explore the fabulous corals of the Red Sea (or just turn coral red themselves from the sun and booze at the resorts). I’ve been to such resorts in the Caribbean and the only thing different in Hurghada was the accent of the people working there and the fact that their first instinct was to address you in German rather than English.

The Red Sea corals suffer equally from multiple threats: sewage from the tourist industry, the massive onslaught by the visiting snorkelers and divers who can’t keep their hands and feet away from them, as well as the global problems of climate change and ocean acidification. Surprisingly, it has been found that the corals in the northern parts of the Red Sea appear to be rather resilient to climate change, but those in the south are barely surviving at their maximum temperature tolerance.

At the conference that focused on how evaluation can contribute to the achievement of the 2030 Sustainable Development Agenda with its stated goal of “leaving no one behind,” my plea to the participants who included high government officials from Egypt (including a Deputy Minister) and from numerous other countries in the South and the North, as well as staff from UN organizations, civil society, private sector and academia, was that “sustainable development” as it is proclaimed rests on the foundations of the natural environment. If there is someone or something that should not be left behind, it is the natural environment with all its wonders.

Today, climate change combined with population growth that continues at an annual rate of 1.9% is posing tremendous challenges to Egypt, as it is to many countries in arid North Africa and the Middle East. The scarce water resources of the country – 85% of freshwater in Egypt is supplied by the Nile – are overused and abused by urban, agricultural and industrial development (another threat is posed by the upstream countries that need the water to develop their own economies, thus potentially leading to conflict: as I write this, Ethiopia is building a massive dam on the Blue Nile). The unique biological diversity along the Nile is also on the verge of extinction, just like the coral reefs in the southern parts of Red Sea.

A country that has invested so much in its role as a political, economic, cultural and touristic hub in the region, is seeing its natural and cultural assets erode. And it is facing a problem of burgeoning numbers of young people with little hope for advancement despite better education This latter issue, of course, is a major contributor to discontent, social upheaval, rise of Islamism and all the issues that these bring along.

Alexandria, the seaside center up north with a population of more than 5 million, the port where not only fish, but also cosmopolitan ideas and cultural tolerance have landed for millennia, is slowly taken over by the Mediterranean. Sea-level rise has led to rapidly increasing and more frequent floods that severely disrupt life and cause massive amounts of economic loss. The rising Mediterranean also leads to saltwater intrusions into the fertile delta that threaten both agriculture and freshwater resources.

The country that contributes less than 1% of the global greenhouse gas emissions is feeling the brunt of the impacts. As always, when the going gets rough, it’s the poor people that suffer the most.

The good news is that the Government of Egypt appears quite aware of what these challenges mean to the continued economic and social development of the country. The government has attempted to integrate its national strategy for climate change adaptation into its National Development Plan. A number of initiatives related to energy, water, agriculture, coastal zone management and other factors to enhance sustainability and resilience are underway. For the sake of the ancient country and the whole world, we need to hope that these succeed in time.

Sources

Altzitser, Sonia (2019). Red Sea Corals may be Resilient to Climate Change. The Maritime Executive [https://www.maritime-executive.com/editorials/red-sea-corals-may-be-resilient-to-climate-change]

Conniff, Richard (2017). The Vanishing Nile: A Great River Faces a Multitude of Threats. Yale Environment 360 [https://e360.yale.edu/features/vanishing-nile-a-great-river-faces-a-multitude-of-threats-egypt-dam]

Eissa, Hesham (n.d.). Egyptian Development & Climate Change. Presentation to the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) [https://unfccc.int/files/adaptation/application/pdf/nwa_1.2_development_planning_and_climate_change_in_egypt.pdf]

Fine, M., Cinar, M., Voolstra, C.R., Safa, A., Rinkevich, B, Leffoley, D., Hilmi, N. and Allemand, D. (2019). Coral reefs of the Red Sea – Challenges and potential solutions. Regional Studies in Marine Science 25: 100498.

Khalil, Maha T. (2019). Egypt’s Lukewarm Response to Climate Change. Worldcrunch [https://www.worldcrunch.com/tech-science/egypt39s-lukewarm-response-to-climate-change]

UNEP (2018). How Climate Change and Population Growth Threaten Egypt’s Ancient Tresures. United Nations Environment Programme ;https://www.unenvironment.org/news-and-stories/story/how-climate-change-and-population-growth-threaten-egypts-ancient-treasures]

Qingchengshan beauty in the mist

[This trip took place in September 2018 after the Asian Evaluation Week that was held in Chengdu, Sichuan.]



It was a grey morning with a constant drizzle in Chengdu when my friend Nanthi and I decided to stick to our plan to head towards Mt. Qingcheng, a sacred mountain where it is said Taoism was born. We grabbed a taxi and headed to the Chengdu North railway station where we arrived less than half an hour later. We had consulted the train schedule and left ourselves ample time to catch the targeted train. This was good, as we would need ample time to figure out how the system worked.
The rainy square in front of the station was crowded with people. There were many who looked like migrant workers from the countryside. A tiny elderly couple – or perhaps they were just middle-aged whose life had taken a toll on them – were walking with huge backpacks on their backs. Some seemed to have camped by the station keeping the rain out with plastic sheets. A tall, slim woman in an elegant red dress and matching high-heel shoes was leading a couple of older peasant-looking folks along – relatives from the countryside, perhaps even her parents (what a difference a generation and life in the big city makes!).
Initially, we headed towards the station gate and pronounced “Qingchengshan” (‘shan’ being the Chinese word for mountain) to the young lady occupying the booth that we first approached. Her face didn’t register any understanding of the message, but soon a uniformed guard appeared from the side and pointed us toward another large building across the vast square. Nanthi, being his stubborn self didn’t want to follow the instructions – after all, he argued rather logically, we were at the gates to the railway station from where the train would likely leave – but I convinced him to go look at the other place. We crossed the square and first arrived at a fence with a sign “Emergent Exit” (apparently it wasn’t quite ready yet) but to the right of it, there were stairs that led to a place clearly identifiable as ticket counters. So we placed ourselves in two lines to see which one would move faster. I had used my smart phone translation to pull up “Qingchengshan” (青城山) in Chinese on the screen. Soon enough we had our tickets in hand. The one-way trip put us back by ¥19 or about $2.75.



We returned to the station gate where we had started and presented the tickets. Once the nice lady had inspected our passports, we were allowed into the spacious waiting room of the station. There were perhaps a dozen or two other people there, but the large room appeared almost empty. Now that we had made it in, we actually had some time to look around in the few shops around there. There were a couple of grocers that sold whatever you might need on a train trip, from snacks and beer to small souvenirs. Food-wise, the choice was between McDonald’s and a local place that specialized in deep fried chicken feet. Luckily we had had a good breakfast.

 Our train left on time and we had numbered seats, so boarding was orderly even though the train became rather full (apparently, other passengers had been able to time their arrival to the station better). It was a bullet train that reminded me of the shinkansenin Japan: new, clean, sleek and fast. Like in Japan, the train attendants would stop and bow as they entered the compartment. Leaving from the northern part of the city, the tracks first traversed residential areas where everywhere there was major urban renewal taking place. Chengdu has grown to a metropolis of 14 million people. All over, old shabby looking buildings were being torn down to be replaced by massive modern apartment blocks.

As there were a few stops on the outskirts of the city, the bullet train didn’t travel at top speed but it still reached 190 km/h at some stretches. While the American flagship train, Acela, could in theory reach the speed of 240 km/h, it never travels that fast on its route from Washington, DC to New York and Boston due to the poor condition of the old tracks. On that stretch, there are a few patches where the train can go up to 160 km/h, but also passages where the top speed is just 40 km/h. I am convinced that this lack of upgrading and maintenance of infrastructure will be the downfall of the USA. But there are too many politicians, especially in the Republican party, who consider trains and other forms of public transport to be socialism and therefore not to be funded.



In about 40 minutes we reached the Qingchengshan station about 60 km northwest of Chengdu. The station was modern and clean. In front of it there was again a wide square on the other side of which we spotted a tourist information booth. Again, our initial approach caused some consternation but the person at the booth managed to fetch a young woman with adequate English to cater to us. We ended up taking a taxi to the entrance of where the Mt. Qingcheng cultural protected area starts. Beyond that, no motorized vehicles were allowed but there were electric vehicles, not unlike large golf carts, that shuttled people from the parking lot to the traditional gate of the area. We invested in a ticket to save some time instead of walking and were soon speeding soundlessly through a road lined with beautiful forest.



Once we reached the gate to the mountain, we disembarked. From here on, we would walk. The entrance to Mt. Qingcheng is a sight in its own right: a striking structure with pagoda-like tiled gables, guarded by imperial guardian lions carved from stone on both sides. The area outside of the entrance itself was surrounded by beautiful evergreen forests. All the buildings were traditional in style. But passing through the gate we entered another world of lush green vegetation and surprising peacefulness despite the many people around us. The air was pleasantly cool but very moist. A stream forming small waterfalls ran from higher up in the mountains. Mt. Qincheng is located at the southwest part of the traditional Dujiangyan irrigation system.



We followed the path that was covered with meticulously maintained wooden planks. We first arrived at the Natural Pavilion, which according to the sign integrates, “to a great extent,” the Taoist ideas of “syncretism between heaven and man, leaning from the nature, and the three begetting all things of the world.” The sign also informed us of the more than a hundred kiosks and pavilions on Mt. Qingcheng, which are exquisitely decorated and feature “quietness, depth, queerness, peril, grandness, beauty, aliveness, profoundness, etc.” Our expectations were raised.



Continuing our way up the hitherto mercifully gentle slope we arrived at a lake at a higher plateau. The scenery was breathtakingly beautiful with green mountains shrouded by low-hanging clouds on the other side of the still lake. A decorated ferry crossed the lake ferrying travelers across. We saw no other foreigners anywhere. Soon we, too, were on the ferry that quickly became crowded. The crossing took only a few minutes and we disembarked on the other side.






Here was a cable car station and we boarded a gondola that took us up to a high peak. From the gently swaying gondola we could see that the mountainside was covered in thick, almost inpenetrable green vegetation, but there were Buddhist objects hidden in the shrubbery. Having placed them where they were must have taken plenty of determination and effort.



We first arrived at the Ciyun Tower, a wonderfully beautiful structure but with no apparent religious meaning.

We continued on foot across the mountain forest with moss-covered rocks on both sides until we reached a further peak. Mt. Qingcheng is 1,260 meters tall and we must have been close to the highest point. From here the view was exactly like in a classic Chinese ink wash painting from Tang Dynasty (618-907). The view was across a valley with several other peaks standing at various distances giving the impression of depth continuing in eternity. The fog made the landscape look monochromatic.



Continuing our climb, we arrived at the Shangqing Palace. The palace was originally built during the Jin Dynasty (265-420) but was subsequently destroyed and rebuilt during the Qing Dynasty (1644-1912).  The place was decorated with red flags of Buddhism and equally red candles burned in the incense burners. An old monk and a young temple maiden with a long braid down her back were guarding the site. What a blessed life they must lead, I thought.

In the area there are many of Taoism’s most revered buildings amongst the gorgeous natural landscape, each more beautiful than you could imagine.
















We continued our hike towards the summit of Mt. Qingcheng from where the views were magnificent. Unfortunately, because of our limited time it was impossible to see even half of this unique place and its incredible cultural history. We had to descend again so that we would be able to catch another train and get to Chengdu by evening. Along the way, we encountered numerous gorgeous buildings, some of which contained shops where one could purchase refreshments and Buddhist items, such as prayer beads.




We retraced our steps, took the cable car down and crossed the lake to the opposite direction. In the process we had walked for several kilometers and given the gradient, I could feel it in my leg muscles. Luckily, though, I did not have to submit to be carried down in a bed suspended between two long bamboo poles. This mode of transportation was readily available. The men in charge cheerfully ran along the mountain paths with their load resting in the crib. Their lungs and circulation must have an incredible capacity to absorb oxygen.



Further down we came across kiosks that sold a large variety of dried mushrooms and other products from the mountain. No doubt they would all have medicinal qualities – perhaps some bore the secret to the porters’ extraordinary stamina.


We returned passing by the Enchanting Pavilion and the Happiness Pavilion until we were back at the Nature’s Pavilion heading towards the Celestial Hall until we reached the clear stream and the gate to Qingchengshan at the elevation of 780 meters above sea level. Here a sign explained that, according to monitoring results, the negative oxygen ion concentration here was 180 times that of the city. This was the result of the particular geological conditions, the dense forest vegetation and the humid climate of Mr. Qingcheng. The sign further explained that when the negative oxygen ion concentration reaches a certain degree, “it will make people breath smoothly and feel refreshed, thus is good for immunity system and health.” Based on my experience today, I have no reason to doubt these beneficial effects on the health of both my body and mind.

Excursion to the Western Mountains

[In September 2019 I attended the annual Asian Evaluation Week in Kunming, Yunnan. In the late-1990s when I was with the United Nations University based in Tokyo, I had a joint project in Yunnan with the Kunming Institute of Botany, which allowed me to visit Kunming and travel around the beautiful province of Yunnan on several occasions. This was my first time back in 21 years. Just earlier this week, I visited my then collaborators with whom I have kept in touch through all these years, Guo Huijun and Liang Luohui. Guo who was a young promising researcher when we worked together has last year been appointed President of the Southwestern Forestry University, a major research university with 22,000 students. Liang, now affiliated with the Chinese Academy of Sciences was the one who introduced me to Yuanmei Jiao.]
Huating TempleIt was a foggy morning and there was a palpable threat of rain in the air when Zhijuan picked us up from the hotel in southwest of Kunming. Miki and I were ready for a short excursion to the hills just 12 km outside of town. Zhijuan Zeng was a graduate student of geography at Yunnan Normal University. Her professor, Yuanmei Jiao, had assigned her to accompany the foreign visitors on this trip. Dismissing our praise for her hospitality and kindness, Yuanmei assured us that the day trip would be good for Zhijuan’s English practice. (Zhijuan’s presence would definitely make the trip easier. A year ago, having attended the same annual meeting in Chengdu, my friend Nanthi and I took another mountain and temple tour by ourselves. We managed well, despite the language barrier.)
Zhijuan, Miki and I took a taxi to the foot of Xi Shan (西山) or Western Mountains. Driving through the town, gave a clear indication of how the city has grown both vertically and horizontally in the intervening two decades I have been away. Thankfully, it still has retained much of its charm, thanks largely to the genuinely welcoming people.
When we reached the base of the mountain, we switched to a bus that would take us further up. The Xi Shan is a protected area and a popular recreation spot for locals because of the clean air and beautiful scenery. My friend Liang, a Yunnan native, says that he comes here at least once a month when he needs some rest for his soul. We first got off the bus at a temple halfway up. Huating is a Buddhist temple with a history that reaches back to the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368). The temple itself was first established in 1320 but it got its name – Huating – only in 1441 by Emperor Yingzong of the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644). The temple, having been built of wood, suffered several calamities during its history but was always reconstructed. This is a common practice with temples in East Asia and the fact that something has been destroyed and rebuilt many times over the centuries does nothing to reduce its historical value. The current Huating Temple stems from the 1920s. Huating is a National Key Buddhist Temple according to the Chinese government.
The temple consists of two main halls, the Four Heavenly Kings Hall and the Mahavira Hall. When you enter the Four Heavenly Kings Hall, you walk in between large statues of Heng and Ha, two ancient Shang Dynasty generals in Chinese legend, before reaching the statues of Buddha and the bodhisattva Skanda (guardian of Buddhist monasteries) at the center.

Zhijuan explores Huating groundsAlthough not particularly large, the Huating is very beautiful and has a peaceful atmosphere. Temple gardens are often important repositories of local biodiversity, as the groves have been spared from cutting down for long periods. There were a few other visitors, all Chinese. Two of the women stopped to pray at the Buddha.

Having spent a good hour admiring the Huating and soaking in its peacefulness, we returned to the roadside to wait for another bus to take us further up the hill. We were lucky as the rain never came. In fact, from time to time the sun would peek out from between the clouds.
We got off at the final stop of where the entrance to the mountain peak was located. Here there were considerably more people but, again, no other foreigners in sight. Soon after the gates, the path started to climb. The famous Longmen Grottoes have been carved into the hillside during a 72-year period starting in 1782 during Qing Dynasty. The grottoes are connected by narrow stone-paved paths and extremely steep steps. I soon started to feel the exercise in my lungs. We were between 2,250 and 2,300 meters above sea level and the thin air together with the strain of the climb were getting to me. Even Miki confessed that he was feeling tired. Although I had been in Kunming for a week and the city itself lies at 1,800 meters’ altitude, I hadn’t gotten accustomed to the elevation. This being a weekday, there were lots of old people on the path. I admired their stamina.

Taking the excuse of studying some historical construct or admiring the view, I rested at every level place during the climb. The 23-year-old Zhijuan didn’t seem to grasp that we were getting rather exhausted but she accepted the frequent stops. Having said that, the views from the hill down to Dianchi Lake and beyond to the city were quite stunning. The air was still rather misty, which limited the visibility. Still, in the balance, I was pleased that the sun wasn’t blaring upon us from a cloudless sky.
The hillsides were extremely steep and at times the path passed through grottoes so low that I had to crouch to get through. The workers who constructed the trail 250 years ago clearly were smaller than I.  Dianchi Lake with Kunming City in the distance

We eventually reached the destination: the Dragon Gate complex resting on a hillside so steep that the drop is absolutely vertical to the lake shore. Having spent some time admiring the place and taking photographs of each other with the view, just like all the local tourists, it was time to head back. The way down was easier on the lungs, but walking down the narrow stone steps that were moist as a result of the earlier fog, was hard on the legs as one had to tense the thigh muscles constantly in order not to roll down the hill.
The excursion was short but refreshing. Back in the city, we still had daylight to enjoy a leisurely walk around the beautiful Cuihu park with its lakes and waterways covered with lotus waterlilies. Unfortunately, the flowering season was over and only a few of the plants still bore gorgeous flowers. I personally was most happy to be walking on flat land.

Kyushu floods: Sign of things to come?

While Europe and the Middle East swelter under record temperatures, the southern island of Kyushu in Japan has been devastated by floods caused by extreme rainfall. Evacuation orders or advisories have been issued targeting close to 2 million people in Kagoshima, Miyazaki and Kumamoto prefectures. More than 1,000 mm of rain has fallen on Kyushu in the past week. The average annual rainfall in Kagoshima is about 2,300 mm – it is a wet place even normally – which means the southernmost prefecture of the island has seen almost one half of its annual precipitation fall within just one week. The weekly amount is more than double the monthly average for July.
JMA weather analysis map 6 July 201The rains have brought on heavy floods and overflowing rivers in the mountainous region. Landslides have already caused at least two casualties, as two women had their homes overtaken by mudflows in two separate incidences on Monday and Thursday. News broadcasts on the national Japanese NHK channel show mountain sides slipping away bringing along big trees and entire forest patches to the valleys. Cars and houses have been inundated by mud. The Japan Meteorological Agency (JMA) says that a highly moist and warm seasonal front hovering above Kyushu is causing heavy rainclouds to form above the island and affecting areas in western and central Japan.
In 1993, Kyushu experienced the most devastating rainfall caused disasters in history. That cool summer, the rainy season was exceptionally long and the peak of torrential rains took place in early-August. Then, too, parts of Kyushu experienced rainfall of more than 1,000 mm. A veteran Asahi Shimbun correspondent who was then based in the paper’s Kagoshima office recalls the devastation, with cars piled up by the flowing water, even a twisted train. Debris flows caused large damage: there were 22 major ones, especially in the coastal areas where the mountains run into the sea, and where the major roads and railways are located. Some 2,500 people were trapped in cars, buses and trains, and had to be evacuated by boat.
Although this is officially tsuyu, or the rainy season, the amount of rain received in Kyushu is exceptional – except that the same happened a year ago. On 28th of June 2018, a non-tropical low front became stationary over Japan. Then, too, several areas received more than 1,000 mm of rain in a short period of time. That time the worst hit areas were in western parts of the main island of Honshu, from Hiroshima and Nagasaki to Kyoto, with Tottori and other areas on the Sea of Japan getting their share. At least 225 people were confirmed dead in the related mudslides and landslides and having their vehicles swept away by floods. In worst affected areas, the flood waters rose to 5 meters. The rains finally eased during the second week of July when also the temperatures soared. More than 11,000 households were left without electricity and, thus, without air conditioning and clean water.
The previous year, in 2017, torrential rainfall and floods left 155 people dead and forced the evacuation of two million people, mostly in Kyushu. At that time, it was the most devastating rain-related event in Japan in nearly three decades.
As I write this, rainfall is continuing in the south. Where I sit, in Iwate prefecture in the north of Honshu, the rain is a light drizzle interspersed with sunshine. The temperature is mercifully cool. The question on my mind is whether these exceptional weather anomalies are linked to climate change. There is some evidence that this would be the case, as warming sea surface in areas of the East China Sea pushes the seasonal rain front and warm air northward to Japan even when the rainy season is officially over. The JMA’s annual climate change monitoring report published in October 2018 recorded unusual weather conditions on the Pacific side of Japan, while mean temperatures were significantly higher than normal in the Okinawa-Amami islands. In a press release on the primary factors contributing to the heavy rains in July 2018, the same Agency concluded that:
“The long-term trend of increased intensity in observed extreme precipitation events in Japan and the clear upward trend in amounts of airborne water vapor also suggest that the Heavy Rain Event may be linked to global warming. Global warming and ongoing higher-than-normal zonally averaged tropospheric air temperatures associated with the northward shift of the subtropical jet stream are also considered responsible for the extremeheatwave.”
According to WWF, the impacts of climate change are already being felt in Japan, i.a. in terms of increased frequency and intensity of heavy rains and other extreme weather events.
Japan is a country that is likely the best prepared in the world to cope with natural hazards and disasters. Still, climate change will provide – and is already doing so – challenges that will be costly to the government and the private sector, as well as every person inhabiting these islands in the Pacific Ocean.
Reports referred to in this blog include:
Primary Factors behind the Heavy Rain Event of July 2018 and the Subsequent Heatwave in Japan from mid-July Onward. Japan Meteorological Agency (22 Auguste 2018)
Climate Change Monitoring Report 2017. Japan Meteorological Agency (October 2018)
Nippon Changes. WWF (no date)
In addition, I’ve used news reporting by NHK, Mainichi Shimbun, Asahi Shimbun, The Japan Times, BBC and NPR.

Monterey Jazz Festival on Tour @ The Music Center at Strathmore, March 21, 2019

It was an entertaining and varied night, even though it was the same combination of six musicians throughout, and it led to two standing ovations from the large crowd at the Strathmore in North Bethesda. There were hundreds of people in the audience despite the pouring rain that had led to a flood warning across the entire capital region.
The program had been put together by Christian Sands, a phenomenal pianist with a highly unique style. Taking a youthful orchestra on tour to celebrate the legendary Monterey Jazz Festival that is now in its 62ndyear was a great idea. Another innovation was to have the frontline horns performed by two young ladies, Bria Skonberg and Melissa Aldana. The classic jazz quintet was completed by the bassist Yasushi Nakamura and drummer Jamison Ross. The singer Celine McLorin Savant would come and go throughout the evening.
This outfit, it turned out, was capable of wide-ranging versatility in terms of style, while mostly maintaining its post-bop sensibilities, combining both original pieces as well as well-chosen and not worn-out compositions by others. Sands had contributed a few of the ensemble pieces that swung in a straight beat, but always with a twist, with the horns blowing the lead. Sands has an ability to write jazz tunes that are original and complex, yet still pleasing. They also provided ample solo space to all players, not least the horns.
The Chilean Melissa Aldana is undoubtedly one of the best sax players around today. Despite being only 30, she is a very mature player who is fluent in the jazz vernacular. Last year I heard her with her own quartet blowing hard at the DC Jazz Festival. She possesses full control of her horn frequently utilizing its full range – she seems to enjoy the low honks on her big pipe. Her sound is full and sonorous. She is also a highly creative improviser. Watching her is a visual reminder that playing a musical instrument is not only an intellectual and emotional exercise, but also a physical one. Her whole body follows the movements of her music, and she rises on the tips of her toes as she climbs up the scales.

Compared with her South American counterpart, Canadian Bria Skonberg has a more limited vocabulary on the trumpet. She is a solid player with a clear sound and wide range. But her chops just aren’t as smooth and inventive as those of Aldana’s. Skonberg played fine and handled the at times complex horn parts perfectly, but her soloing in the more modern idiom left something to be desired. This is understandable given Skonberg’s past focus on more traditional jazz.
The rhythm section of Yasushi Nakamura and Jamison Ross worked perfectly together. Nakamura is a powerful bass player who is also very inventive in his approach. His sound is strong and solid. In contrast, Jamison Ross’ drum work tends to be quite fluid. He keeps the time but in a loose manner creating light polyrhythmics on his small set. This pair complemented each other excellently.
Ross also got his shining moment on stage. He introduced himself as someone who has been singing all his life and who admires singing drummers, like Grady Tate. He then proceeded to perform a soulful ballad which allowed him to demonstrate his clear high-pitched voice and similar melodic fluidity as evident in his drumming.
Cecile McLorin Salvant was a new acquaintance to me – but not to my friend Freddie with whom I had come to the concert. She turned out to be a highly skilled vocalist (she used to study classical and baroque singing in France before turning to jazz) – but not gimmicky like so many other jazz singers. There was nothing artificial about her singing. Apart from one Betty Carter number, all of the songs that she would perform throughout the night were her own, a few of them written only a couple of weeks ago, still without titles. They were all beautiful and had at times funny and very human lyrics. The only issue may have been that they were all ballads, quite slow and featuring her voice in a rubato setting (Freddie confirmed that’s her style). Sands had strategically spaced them out throughout the program, so that speedier numbers livened up the mood in between.
Having said that, a highlight of the show was one of Cecile’s yet unnamed songs to which Melissa had written an extended introduction that featured elaborate arpeggios on the tenor sax and very sensitive interplay with the piano.
If I had to pick one number, though, that was the high point of the evening for me, I would have to select Christian Sands’ masterful rendition of an aria from Puccini’s Tosca. He started it as a solo piano number, his style mixing some jazzy harmonies into the classical tune. Later the bass and drums joined in but the mood remained serious building to a powerful crescendo before returning to the melancholy theme. Sands who is always an extraordinary player here made a performance that brought tears to my eyes.
Naturally, as these things go, the latter part of the concert provided some funkier stuff, including a Sands piece for the quintet in the tradition of Sonny Clark and Horace Silver, and a Yasushi Nakamura original – Yasugaloo -- a boogaloo with a strong beat and funky horn riffs. It also featured a powerful bass solo from the Tokyo-born composer.
Bria Skonberg had a chance to demonstrate her bravado in a solo number, a traditional jazz show tune by Valaida Snow. Snow (1904-1956) was a rare female jazz trumpeter at her time and a good one: Louis Armstrong called her the “second best trumpet player in the world” (after himself, of course), which earned her the nickname “Little Louis.” Here Bria was in her natural element, singing the lead vocals, interacting with the enthusiastic audience and playing the trumpet solos with a flair that was genuine to the era. During this number she seemed to switch her personality to free expression from her somewhat more restrained performance during the earlier part of the evening.
Cecile McLorin Salvant returned once again for the encore. Standing on the edge of the stage, she started her song without a microphone, her voice carrying beautifully over the large concert hall. This was a highly unusual encore and final number, a hauntingly beautiful story of a love that was lost performed only by Cecile, Bria and Jamison singing in ethereal harmonies with the latter providing atmosphere with mallets on his drums. The beautiful evening was thus over.