Clashing scales of Brexit

Mainstream newspapers, politicians and commentators across Europe instantly expressed dejection and bitterness in the face of the Brexit outcome, and avid Brexiteers have typically been portrayed as xenophobes and bigots, Little Englanders or foolish opportunists incapable of understanding the dangerous ramifications and likely Domino effects of their choice. This view is overbearing and inaccurate: complaints about Brussels may be perfectly legitimate, and it is thought-provoking that only right-wing populists have been able to listen to them. As a matter of fact, Brexiteers come in different shades, including leftists and radical humanists who are disappointed with the total marketisation of Europe, alienating standardisation resulting from centralism and the failure to deal with the refugee crisis in a coordinated, dignified and humane way. (Jan Blommaert has written well about this.) Besides, a different perspective may be more enlightening and constructive, not only in shedding light on Brexit, but also in identifying common denominators to more encompassing crises of legitimacy experienced by political and economic elites in the North Atlantic world.

In evolutionary theory, a major transition takes place when smaller entities combine to form an entity at a higher level, relinquishing their autonomy for the greater good. The transition from single-cell to multicellular organisms is the clearest example, leading to increased diversification, total interdependency and a sharp division of labour. The European Union holds out a similar promise; by combining at a higher level, member states will profit from the expansion of their system boundaries, enabling them to do what they do best. The disgruntlement with Brussels witnessed in the British referendum (and elsewhere in Europe, mind you) results from weaknesses and failures in the practical implementation of this logic, expressed through an increased distance between power holders and their constituencies, what I propose to call a clash of scales.

Past EU architects have been aware of the dangers of centralisation and the risk of large-scale operations overruling small-scale concerns. In the early 1990s, following the Maastricht Treaty, which aimed at a deeper and stronger integration, a catchword from the Commission was subsidiarity. The subsidiarity principle, championed by federalists and Euro-enthusiasts at the time, held that political decisions should always be taken at the lowest possible level, enabling those who were affected by an issue to have a direct influence on its outcome.

Nobody speaks about subsidiarity any more. It disappeared from view around the same time as the Euro was introduced and the Schengen agreement reduced internal border control just before the turn of the millennium. The tendency has been towards increased centralisation rather than a nesting of scalar levels ensuring continent-wide coordination without obliterating local autonomy and democratic power at the intermediate levels of regions and states. The Danish electorate may indeed have been prescient when, in 1992, it voted against Maastricht under the slogan ‘I want a country to be European in’.

There is a scalar gap between the Commission and the community leading to a feeling of disenfranchisement. This is not merely, or even mainly, about immigration to the UK, but about the perceived right to have a real influence. Comparable clashes of scale are witnessed almost everywhere in the world of global neoliberalism. A few handfuls of indigenous groups may have to be sacrificed for the greater good if there is oil on their ancestral land; farming communities may have to be removed if the district needs to dam a river for the sake of industrialisation and electrification; and in the case of the UK, a common view among Brexiteers is that the freedom to live and work around the continent has siphoned jobs away from the British. The general formula is that what is good for Europe is not necessarily good for the UK; what is good for the UK is not necessarily good for Northumberland; and what is good for Northumberland is not necessarily good for the residents of Durham – indeed, what is good for Durham may well be the same as that which is good for Europe. The loss of subsidiarity, sacrificed on the altar of continent-wide neoliberalism and faith in economies of scale, is a major factor in accounting for the strong animosity towards the EU.

There is another clash of scales at work as well. How could the pundits be so wrong, many asked when the result of the referendum became known. It may simply be that the experts and commentators live in areas (mainly London) and belong to social groups where loyalty to the European project is unquestioned, and that they were unable to enter into the mindset of people living in different life-worlds.

The multiple clashing scales which are becoming evident now that the project of European integration is visibly ailing, may stir fragmentation elsewhere in the system. In a multicellular organism which loses a limb, the remaining organs also suffer. In the case of the UK, the current situation recalls the sociologist Tom Nairn’s 1977 book The Break-Up of Britain. His prophecy was that the long-term survival of the UK was highly doubtful, it being a country composed of four historical nations,. He may still be proven right, forty years on. The Scots may demand a second referendum over independence to stay in the EU. Communal tensions in Northern Ireland may flare up. And the desire to secede, whether from the EU and/or from a multinational state, may well be contagious. While such a fission may be advantageous for the individual cells, it is bad news for the multicellular organism, which presupposes that cells are occasionallycapable of sacrificing their individual needs, to make compromises and to create webs of mutual interdependence which reduce conflict and enhance cosmopolitan values.

In a neoliberal world, Europe is likely to survive as a market place, no matter who leaves. (I live in Norway, which is not formally an EU member, but which is fully integrated economically with the rest of the continent.) What is at stake is the political project enabling coordination at higher levels and multiple identities at lower levels. Perhaps a lesson from Brexit could be that Brussels should reintroduce the principle of subsidiarity in a forceful and convincing way. This would weaken its powers of standardisation and uniformisation. The resulting Europe would be bumpier and less smooth, but it would enable its citizens to regain a sense of control over their destinies. They would, to paraphrase the anthropologist Anthony Wallace’s famous view of culture, not take part in ‘the replication of uniformity, but the organisation of diversity’.

A shorter version of this commentary is being published by Social Anthropology.


She prefers simplicity to paradoxes, answers to dilemmas

‘Yet, one cannot help being disturbed by the fuzzy utopianism and smug righteousness permeating Naomi Klein’s books.’

I’ve been reading Naomi Klein’s new book This Changes Everything, and it is quite disappointing. There is little by way of intellectual excitement, sense of discovery or curiosity to be had from the book. Yes, it contains lots of facts and figures, but they can mostly be googled if you need them. And yes, there is also an argument, but if you’ve read any of her earlier work, you somehow know what it is before you start reading. You get the feeling that Klein possessed all the relevant answers before she sat down to write, and she disposes of a small army of researchers working for her, providing the data she needs to connect the dots that she has already drawn up. After the initial, enlightening documentation of entanglements between politicians, resource companies and large environmental organisations, the book quickly becomes predictable, regularly showing that the answer to most questions you’d care to ask about climate change and inequality is that capitalism is bad and some form of socialism, or at least local autonomy, is the only solution. It is not a stupid or evil thought, but it is not exactly original, to put it mildly. For example, this is pretty much what we used to say in the environmental movement of the 1970s. Like Klein, we had a soft spot for indigenous groups then. But we soon understood that although the nature management of some indigenous groups could be inspiring, they could never provide a blueprint for a global, urban civilization which was committed to a division of labour entailing that most people no longer knew the details of food production.

Modernity, in a word, has to solve the problems it has created without regressing or abdicating. The moment you see this complexity, you are already entangled in paradoxes. And you come to understand that there is no solution, no master plan, no button to press, just better and worse ways of muddling through. Years ago, as a board member of the Sophie Prize, I co-organised a one-day event entitled ‘From know-how to do now’. Notwithstanding the rickety pun, our starting point was that knowledge about environmental degradation and climate change is easily available and has been so for many years, but very little is actually being done, and realistic solutions are hard to come by. Little came out of this conference as well, but at least it left us, the organisers, with the realisation that it is necessary to try out a variety of options, from campaigning for renewable energy to promoting new forms of consumption and production. What is needed is not a grand plan or a new theory of human nature, but political imagination.

Of course, it is excellent news that a smart, earnest left-wing campaigner and journalist like Klein, with her global readership and wide-ranging influence, has come to realise that you have to take the environment and climate seriously in order to act upon global social injustice. She writes in a fluid and accessible style, makes sure to get her facts right, and believes in knowledge as a means to change politics.

Yet, one cannot help being disturbed by the fuzzy utopianism and smug righteousness permeating Naomi Klein’s books. She doesn’t seem to have learnt a single lesson from the failed utopian ideologies and experiments of the last two centuries. She seems oblivious of the complexity of human nature, and appears to be unaware of how a struggling liberation movement overnight tends to change into an oppressive dictatorship. She seems to have forgotten the deep disillusion that invariably sets in soon after a successful revolution.

As politically engaged teenagers, we used to joke, inspired by a May ’68 slogan, that ‘when the last capitalist is hanged with the guts of the last bureaucrat, humanity will finally be free’. Yet, having read Orwell’s Animal Farm and skimmed a bit of Nietzsche and Foucault, we knew that the desire for power and the impulse of selfishness is just as integral a part of human nature as solidarity and sharing. So when the last capitalist was finally disposed of by the struggling and heroic revolutionary forces, new forms of power and oppression would soon emerge. Nothing in human history tells us otherwise. This is why power must never be centralised, and why state socialism is not a recipe for liberation. (Klein is aware of the latter, but seems overly optimistic about the ability of social movements to transform the world system.)

There are villains and heroes in Klein’s narrative about climate change. The villains are, in descending order of magnitude, greedy capitalists, power-hungry or stupid politicians, green, but still profit-seeking capitalists, and large environmental organisations which all too readily get into bed with capitalists and politicians. The message is that green capitalism will never save the planet, and so a different kind of economic system is needed. Klein sees hope, in particular, in popular uprisings against environmental destruction, but also in local resistance movements worldwide, from Cree in Alberta to farmers in Australia.

What Klein fails to recognise is that the people rising up against environmental destruction nearly invariably have a vested interest in doing so. They may be indigenous peoples used to hunting and fishing in their local forest, or farmers who see their livelihood threatened by the encroaching gas wells, or people involved in a local tourist business which depends on pristine surroundings. Those who appear to be independent tend to be people like myself – middle-class, bookish, cappuccino-sipping do-gooders – or professional NGO workers, whose salaries depend on their efforts for the global environment. In other words, discarding enlightened self-interest as a fundamental source of motivation for people around the world, no matter their culture or material circumstances, would be denying a fundamental feature of human nature.

Rather than refusing to accept that competition and selfishness inevitably bubble to the surface in every society – albeit to varying degrees, and with great variation between individuals – what needs to be put into place are policies from above and cultural changes from below that make sustainability a rational option, even in situations when we humans are driven by competitive or selfish desires. Severe green taxes might be an option, that is, not only making the polluter pay (which remains important), but also making the consumer pay: Whenever I took my car somewhere, it would cost a substantial sum, but taking the tram would be free. Eating local lamb, which has actually grazed outdoors, would be really good value, whereas pork fed by soy pellets from Brazil would be almost prohibitive.

At the same time, a change in mentality is necessary, and it may be under way in some of the richer corners of the world. The term affluenza was coined some years ago, referring to the now well documented fact that extreme affluence does not make people happier. (I wrote a book about this in Norwegian some years ago.) Consumerism works fine for most of us up to a point, but it is not sufficient; it is not fulfilling in the same way as religion used to be. Humans need something more enduring; and seeing yourself in a global context, as an integral part of Gaia (a metaphor, coined by James Lovelock at a suggestion from his friend William Golding, depicting the planet as an organism), may well be the kind of religiosity is needed in this secularised, consumerist, individualising world, where the old religions have little to contribute except complacency, regression and conflict.

Naomi Klein has no faith in such measures. She seems to envision a world where the profit-seeking motive (or selfishness, or the competitive drive) has been abolished or at least brought under control. But two centuries of utopian political thinking has led to nothing but tragedy and disillusion, and no comparative anthropology worthy of its credentials can point to a society where solidarity and mutual aid are the only social forces. Yes, it is true that we humans like to cooperate, and we like to be liked by others. But we also like to win and to be admired by others. Creating a decent society is not done once and for all; it is an ongoing project, and it entails hard work. And the serpent is never far away.

In recent decades, the traditional left has failed in two major areas, namely diversity (including multiculturalism) and environmentalism (including climate change). The left – mainly Marxism and its permutations – simply wasn’t made for these issues. It excelled in promoting equal rights and equal benefits, but soon proved incompetent in dealing with cultural diversity (which has a complicated relationship to equality) and environmental crises (which cannot easily be reconciled with traditional demands for equality, which have historically presupposed economic growth).

However much I sympathise with Klein’s views, I feel an almost constant urge to contradict her. There is something profoundly irritating about her knack for simple just-so stories about the evils of corporations and the virtues of common folk, stories which ultimately come across as repetitive with a hint of smugness. She is one of those people who always has a ready answer. There is not much by way of complexity or ambivalence in her writings. She prefers simplicity to paradoxes, answers to dilemmas. For example, she rarely zooms in on people who actually work in the fossil fuel industry – perhaps, a decade ago, she would have portrayed them as potential socialists and working-class heroes – and when she finally does write about the foot soldiers of the fossil fuel industry, all she has to say concerns their high divorce rates, substance abuse and thwarted dreams of early retirement. People I know in Australia tell different stories. Surely, they recognise the problems Klein mentions. Fly-in-fly-out work is disruptive of family life and disturbs the rhythms of civil society. But at the same time, thousands of people make good money and have a reasonably harmonious life as workers in the fossil fuel world. Imagine yourself a school leaver in Central Queensland. You are just seventeen, and you are thoroughly fed up with school, so higher education is out of the question. Luckily, you can get a job as an apprentice with the local alumina factory. After a few years, you can begin to pay down the mortgage on a house. Still a few years later, you earn more money than a university professor. And you’re then supposed to listen when some middle-class people from the big city come and lecture you about climate change and the need to close down your workplace? The truth is that in many countries – Norway, Canada, Australia, Russia – working in extractive or energy-intensive industries can be a blessing for poorly educated members of the working class. I’m sure that Klein wants to educate them, but I’m not so certain that they will want to listen to her.

Klein must be commended for her engagement and conscientious search for statistics and stories that demonstrate the need to think radically differently about the future of the species and the planet, and which show that the economic and political elites cannot be counted on as the instigators of change. And, to repeat, it is really good news that a leftist campaigner of her stature has discovered the importance of environmental questions. Her critique of the naïve faith in technological solutions, exemplified through visionary capitalists like Richard Branson and dangerous, megalomaniac ideas about geoengineering, is also important and pertinent. Yet, the feeling lingers that Klein proposes 19th century solutions to 21st century problems. In fact, there is no historical subject in the narrative about global climate change, unlike in the stories about social reforms and radical working classes. We are all in this together, and every effort counts. There is a real danger that while Klein and her allies are busy fighting corporate greed, business elites are being alienated, politicians align (as they tend to) with the economically powerful, and the little guy with a green engagement is left with few options left other than sorting his rubbish and taking his bike to work. As if that would make a difference in the effort to save Antarctica and the Maldives.

No holier-than-thou rhetoric will do the trick. It is necessary for greens of all shades to get their hands dirty and jump into bed at the first convenient moment with whichever strange bedfellows are at hand to offer their services.

Fossil addiction: Is there a road to recovery?

Published in Norwegian in Dagbladet, 30 October 2014

There is no shortage of knowledge about global environmental and climate problems. It is necessary, therefore, to ask: Why is nothing happening?

Recently, yet another climate report was launched, and it was of especial interest up here, as the Norwegian ex-prime minister Jens Stoltenberg was among its 23 authors. The message from The New Climate Economy is upbeat: Economic growth and ecological sustainability are not, it argues, opposites. As a matter of fact, the authors claim, the transition to a climate-neutral economy may entail considerable global economic growth. By way of conclusion, the report lists ten general recommendations for the governments of the world, which show how their economies may be tweaked in a climate-friendly direction, if the politicians were only to do as the authors tell them to.

There is nothing in this report which has not been known for many years. For this reason, it is necessary to ask why so precious little has been done so far, and what makes the authors think that this particular publication will have practical consequences. The Kyoto agreement aimed to reduce greenhouse gas emissions from the materially rich countries, yet they increased by 58% between 1990 and 2012. At the same time, critical books and alarming reports on the climate crisis were published with increasing frequency. In other words, neither a lack of knowledge nor a lacking willingness to take part in large meetings about climate could be said to be the problem.

Around the same time as Stoltenberg launched The New Climate Economy in Oslo, the researcher Graham Turner in Melbourne published something far more thought-provoking than this catalogue of well-intentioned banalities. He had examined the predictions made in the 1972 report Limits to Growth, concluding that the authors of that report were by and large accurate in their assessments. His paper is called ‘Is global collapse imminent?’.

Limits to Growth, commissioned by the Club of Rome foundation, warned against a coming global crisis resulting from population growth, resource depletion and environmental degradation. Climate change was only dealt with in passing, but it is worth noting that the authors did point out – more than forty years ago – that emissions of carbon dioxide might lead to a warming of the atmosphere. The report concluded that growth had to slow down, the world’s population had to be stabilised (preferably reduced); and that the production of necessities should be undertaken in an ecologically sustainable way.

Turner demonstrates that the growth rate in the main areas has been more or less as anticipated, including population, natural resource use, pollution and productivity in the agricultural and industrial sectors. All these indicators still point upwards, but according to Limits to Growth, they will reach their summit very soon. Owing to growing environmental problems and resource scarcities, productivity will decrease, which will in turn reduce the quality and availability of various services and contribute to a significant reduction of the global population over the coming decades.

Neither on the left nor on the right end of the political spectrum did the Club of Rome’s report generate much enthusiasm. Although they disagreed about lots of things, socialists, liberals and conservatives agreed that economic growth was good, and that population growth was not a problem as long as the economic growth rate was healthy. (This response, of course, echoes the standard Victorian riposte to Thomas Malthus and his dire predictions of overpopulation. Marx’ sharp criticism of Malthus was appropriate in the mid-19th century, but he did not anticipate global ecological crisis.)

So far, notwithstanding extreme weather events and financial crises, there have been few signs of the global economic collapse predicted by the Club of Rome; the authors of the report estimated that the turning point would come around 2015, while the figures from Melbourne suggest a slight delay.

A couple of things are nevertheless worth remarking. First, Limits to Growth predicted an ecological collapse without taking climate change into consideration. Secondly, they presented several possible scenarios and suggested policy changes that might improve chances for a viable future. This was in 1972. Although the findings of the report were well known at the time (I remember reading it as a schoolboy), the scenario the world has so far chosen to follow, is the one they label ‘business as usual’.

The question deserves repeating: On the basis of the very considerable knowledge possessed by the global elites about the unintended side-effects of growth, environmental deterioration and now climate change, it may be difficult to understand why so little has happened. Global energy use has been more than doubled since 1972, and the proportion of renewable energy remains almost negligible. In some countries, including Norway, it is a common view that natural gas is part of the solution. This is, perhaps, not so strange: Norwegian oil production peaked already in 2001, while gas production is still growing. But although natural gas is the cleanest of the fossil fuels, it does not solve the problems we are facing. Although natural gas, provided there are no leaks (a tall order), can be at least 25% cleaner than coal, that is not to say it is climate-neutral.

There are several possible answers as to why business as usual prevails.

First, the alliances between politicians and powerful resource companies are strong and sometimes invisible. The new chair of the Norwegian Labour Party, Jonas Gahr Støre, has often spoken of the climate challenge since he took the reins last spring, but his party has shown no sign of abandoning its oil-friendly policies, in line with the interests of the oil companies. In Australia, which – like Norway – profits greatly from a boom in fossil fuel exports, the prime minister has simply declared that ‘Australia is open for business’, and in that country, normal democratic considerations are routinely brushed aside the moment big money is involved.

Secondly, the gap is too wide between people’s everyday lives and the abstract discourse about climate change. Why should I delude myself into believing that it might save the Greenlandic glaciers if only I make sure to compost my kitchen waste, eat lentils and take my bike to work? Without politicians who have the courage to implement policies making it rational to live sustainably, and who make certain that transportation, industry, food production and infrastructural construction take place in ecologically responsible ways, there are no sound reasons for you and me to lead our lives as ecological martyrs.

Thirdly, and most fundamentally, contemporary world civilization is based on a deep addiction to fossil fuel. The industrial revolution depended crucially on the marriage of James Watt’s steam engine and the rich, shallow coal deposits of Wales and the Midlands. Since the Napoleonic wars, all economic growth, population growth, improved conditions of life, increased agricultural productivity and technological development have been intimately connected to increased energy use, which has usually been the increased use of fossil fuels. An insatiable appetite for coal, oil and gas have, in other words, been synonymous with growth and development.

On this background, it should come as no surprise that the aforementioned Jens Stoltenberg, while he was still CEO of Norway, Inc, did his best to ensure that the country should export as much fossil energy as possible; whereas, just a couple of months after his electoral defeat last year, he came out in Aftenposten, ashen with anxiety, explaining that we (that is humanity) had to find a way of dealing with the climate crisis immediately.

For the record, this is not meant to ridicule Stoltenberg, whose reputation as an honest, committed and genuinely democratic politician is probably deserved. What is interesting is that he comes across as a trueborn child of his time, a time which, for two hundred glorious years, gave humanity a sustained and unprecedented boon, quantitatively as well as qualitatively, thanks to the fossil energy. Alas, this era is now fast moving towards its end, and Stoltenberg’s dramatic ideological shift may indicate the presence of a more widespread anxiety, indeed that we may be approaching a momentous turning point, after which growth and fossil gluttony no longer are seen as tantamount to development and progress. In all likelihood, Stoltenberg has come to realise that we are about to undermine the conditions of our own existence, that we’ve painted ourselves into a corner; that the carbon offsets of which his government were famous will not do: Planting trees in the Amazon does not solve anything insofar as they are financed by petroleum exports.

The idea of green growth promoted in The New Climate Economy is, naturally, popular in the political and economic establishments. Most ecologically minded mainstream economists support it, and it is theoretically possible. However, if Graham Turner and the Limits to Growth authors are at least partly right, future growth is probably best located to the immaterial parts of the economy (e.g. board meetings, app development and slogan production), and should probably not be coupled with continued population growth.

An alternative to green growth might be to rethink progress and development. Rather than an economy measured by the profitability of enterprises or national GDP, one might imagine an economy driven by the overarching aim to satisfy human needs. Rather than policies which stimulate private consumption, one might establish a taxation system where the price of a commodity or service was linked to its ecological footprint. But it is not as if there is a single magic button to press. It will be necessary to change mentalities and activities simultaneously. To achieve this, we shall need politicians who are not firmly tied to existing economic practices.

It may hurt a bit to change, but not necessarily any more than it hurts to tear a strip of sticking plaster off a hairy leg. Of course, it is not merely necessary, but possible to change the present course. But it will not be feasible without a leadership which realises that you cannot offer a coat of paint when what the house needs is complete renovation.

En overopphetet verden

Noe har skjedd med verden de siste årene: Alt går fortere enn før. Det er fem ganger så mange som reiser på ferie til utlandet enn bare for førti år siden. Mens bare et par prosent av afrikanerne hadde tilgang til Internett så sent som i 2006, er tallet nå nærmere 20 prosent. Vi bruker dobbelt så mye energi som i 1980 (og veldig lite av det er fornybart). Tyngdepunktet i verdensøkonomien har flyttet seg østover i rasende fart. Kinesiske investeringer og varer finnes nå overalt, mens europeerne er mer opptatt av å diskutere grenser og identitet enn økonomi. Og folk flytter på seg både mer og på nye måter. Noen forskere snakker endog om super-mangfold som en ny samfunnstype, en rastløs samfunnsform der mange av innbyggerne er på gjennomreise.

Denne nye verdenen, med sine akutte og galopperende økonomiske, kulturelle og økologiske kriser, er tema for forskningsprosjektet jeg leder ved Sosialantropologisk institutt. Tittelen er Overheating, overoppheting, og viser ikke til klimaendringer, men hastighet. I fysikken er jo varme og hastighet det samme. Spørsmålet vi stiller, er hvordan folk i ulike lokalsamfunn reagerer på akselererte endringsprosesser. Vi skriver globaliseringens samtidshistorie nedenfra, slik globaliseringen erfares av helt alminnelige mennesker i land som Peru, Filippinene, Canada, Sierra Leone og Australia.

Mange, både forskere, journalister og andre, skriver om globalisering. Men de fleste av dem har et makroperspektiv; de ser altså det store bildet, men går ofte glipp av detaljene. De er som en mann i helikopter som sirkler over kloden med kikkert og telelinse. Han kan gjøre rede for globale tendenser og forskjeller mellom land og regioner, men befinner seg vanligvis for langt borte fra vanlige folks tilværelse til å kunne si noe bestemt om hvordan forandringene blir opplevd og forstått av deg og meg. Og da er det noe vesentlig som mangler.

Sosialantropologer holder seg stort sett unna helikopteret. I stedet krabber vi på alle fire med forstørrelsesglass og studerer hvert enkelt sandkorn på stranden. Der ligger vår styrke som vitenskap, i studiet av det lille, det lokale, det unike. I tillegg sammenligner vi ulike samfunn, og i Overheating-prosjektet har vi dessuten som mål å kombinere blikket fra helikopteret med blikket fra forstørrelsesglasset. Vi ser det store i det lille og det lille i det store. Men vi begynner med det lille. Det er nemlig der antropologien har sitt fortrinn.

La oss si at du bor i det vestafrikanske landet Sierra Leone. For femten år siden fantes det ikke en skikkelig vei der du bodde, bare jordveier og tråkk som ble til gjørme i regntiden. Nå finnes ikke bare asfalterte veier, det er til og med tilløp til bilkø! (Det kaller jeg akselerert endring.) Eller sett at du i alle år har bodd i nærheten av et skogholt, men oppdager, idet du står opp en dag, at trærne er hugget ned og at noen er i ferd med å anlegge en plantasje for biodrivstoff. Etter et par uker ser du at de fleste som jobber der er kinesere. Du lurer naturlig nok på hva som skjer. Og du vil stille noen spørsmål: Hvem kan jeg skylde på, hva kan jeg gjøre, og er utviklingen bra eller dårlig for meg og mine?

Denne typen spørsmål tar Overheating-teamet opp i lokalsamfunn på fem kontinenter. Vi studerer lokale reaksjoner på raske endringer, som både kan være positive og negative, og ofte ambivalente – forandring har både gode og dårlige sider. Deretter knytter vi lokalsamfunnene sammen og kobler dem opp mot globale prosesser. Målet er å skrive en historie om verden i det tidlige 21. århundre, hvor både de store systemene og enkeltmenneskene får sin rettmessige plass. Vi vil vise at sosialantropologien er en viktig bidragsyter til den store samtalen om hva det vil si å være menneske og hvor vi er på vei.

Aftenposten, 15/10-14