An interesting piece indeed that would be more useful if it offered proposals as well as raising questions. One gets the impression that the author's idea of appropriate "visuality" would be a 24/7 loop of the destruction of the global environment by fossil fuels. But it's hard to see how such a "visuality against the Anthropocene" could be created without an elaborate global media industrial complex which presupposes that which it it supposedly critiques. One could argue that the visuality of the Anthropocene began at Lescaux: indeed, that the essence of the Anthropocene *is* this Lescauvian (?) ability to see nature as something outside ourselves...
There are actually are a lot of useful conversations that this group could have about visual communication strategies for SRM and CDR. All of us of who have written for popular or policy audiences have had the experience of providing illustrations for reports. Certain things work better as illustrations than others, this tends to produces an implicit visual bias. There is an extensive literature about how climate science findings are communicated and (mis)understood. Let me ask the group for some free thought: what are the 10 Commandments for visual communication about geoengineering? What are some images that should never (again) be used? What are some best practices? On Thu, May 14, 2015 at 5:22 AM, Andrew Lockley <andrew.lock...@gmail.com> wrote: > Poster's note : An unusual piece, notably discussing the visual depiction > of geoengineering > > http://blog.fotomuseum.ch/2015/05/ii-geo-engineering-the-anthropocene/ > > II. Geo-Engineering the Anthropocene > > By T.J. DEMOS > Published: 13. MAY 2015 > > “A daunting task lies ahead for scientists and engineers to guide society > towards environmentally sustainable management during the era of the > Anthropocene. This will require appropriate human behaviour at all scales, > and may well involve internationally accepted, large-scale geo-engineering > projects, for instance to ‘optimize’ climate.”[1]—Paul Crutzen, 2002 > > The Anthropocene thesis, as presented in the increasingly expanding body > of images and texts, appears generally split between optimists and > pessimists, especially when it comes to geo-engineering, the deliberate > intervention in the Earthʼs natural systems to counteract climate change. > As the Anthropocene appears to imply the necessity of geo-engineering—as > Crutzen, one of the inventors of the term makes clear—the battle lines have > been drawn between those who think “we” humans confront an extraordinary > opportunity to bio-technologically remake the world, and others who opt for > hands-off caution and would rather modify human behavior instead of the > environment in addressing the climate crisis. > > For instance, ethics philosopher Clive Hamilton, participating in “The > Anthropocene—An Engineered Age?,” the 2014 panel discussion at Berlin’s > Haus der Kulturen der Welt (HKW), breaks the world down into > techno-utopians and eco-Soterians. The former are today’s “new > Prometheans,” intent on creating a new Eden on Earth, and the latter, named > after Soteria, the ancient Greek personification of safety and > preservation, remain pledged to the precautionary principle, respectful of > Earth’s processes and critical of human hubris, the very same hubris, they > argue, that got us into the environmental crisis in the first place.[2] For > sociologist Bruno Latour, we must not disown the contemporary Frankenstein > we’ve created—the contemporary Earth of the Anthropocene—but rather learn > to love and care for the “monster” we’ve created. Meanwhile for activist > Naomi Klein, arguments like Latour’s are dangerously misguided: “The earth > is not our prisoner, our patient, our machine, or, indeed, our monster. It > is our entire world. And the solution to global warming is not to fix the > world, it is to fix ourselves.”[3] > > In fact, the visual culture of the Anthropocene, whether delivered > photographically or via remote-sensing technology, is riven by exactly this > tension. Its iconography both portrays the remarkable extent of the > human-driven alteration of Earth systems (with ample photographic and > satellite-based imagery of large-scale mining, oil drilling, and > deforestation projects), and documents the dangers of the unintended > consequences of such ventures. Ultimately, however, imaging systems play > more than an illustrative role here, as they tend to grant viewers a sense > of control over the represented object of their gaze, even if that control > is far from reality. > > In other words, Anthropocene imagery tends to reinforce the techno-utopian > position that “we” have indeed mastered nature, just as we’ve mastered its > imaging—and in fact the two, the dual colonization of nature and > representation, seem inextricably intertwined. That is, even while these > geo-engineering projects are generally done by corporations and heavy > industry, certainly not identical to the “human” subject of the > Anthropocene, a distinction that potentially pushes the neologism to its > breaking point > > Following up on this latter point, critics and commentators (including > those taking part in the HWK discussion) have asked important questions > about the ethical implications of Anthropocene geo-engineering. For > instance, should humans undertake such projects when they acknowledge that > massive geologically interventionist processes will inevitably involve > unforeseen consequences and unanticipated effects? What system of ethics > governs the use of such technology? And who has the right—which > individuals, nations, or corporations—to conduct these experiments? If > rights generally derive from nation-states, then what legitimate body can > grant permission to geo-engineering projects operating on a global scale? > > Consider the case of rogue American entrepreneur Russ George, who released > around 100 tons of iron sulfate into the Pacific Ocean off the west coast > of Canada in 2012 to catalyze an artificial plankton bloom as large as > 10,000 square kilometers. The goal of this pet-geo-engineering project—the > largest of its kind worldwide to date—was to test the absorption of carbon > dioxide by plankton who will then sink to the ocean floor, a sequestration > procedure from which George, CEO of Planktos Inc., hopes to massively > profit. In the process, he has transgressed various international > agreements, including the UNʼs convention on biological diversity, and > violated the trust of the Haida First Nations people who, allegedly > deceived by George, regrettably approved the project.[4] Aside from the > still-unresolved success or failure of the experiment, the case exemplifies > how, with the Anthropocene, we confront a largely undemocratic project, > following from the impossibility of representing—politically as much as > photographically—the global citizenry that should be, and have every right > to be, participants in current discussions of how our world is shaped. > > The risks of future geo-engineering can be predicted, no doubt, on the > basis of current industrial (mal)practice, which characteristically is both > accident-prone and avoids democratic accountability. While the HKW panel > also addressed the Anthropocene’s democratic deficit, supporting the need > for more inclusive debate when it comes to geo-engineering—with which one > can only agree—it was telling and deeply ironic that the panel was composed > solely of white European and North American men of science—glimpsing, > despite words to the contrary, exactly the kind of technocracy that is the > governance structure of our current geological epoch. We should therefore > look to the present and recent past to better understand the near future of > the geo-engineered Anthropocene. > > Take the 2010 BP Deepwater Horizon spill in the Gulf of Mexico, an > eco-catastrophe that is all-too-quickly receding in the public sphere’s > short-term attention span. The event generated a slew of spectacular images > of the industrial-apocalyptic sublime, including those of the raging oil > platform’s fiery plume attended by coast-guard response crews dousing the > inferno with water. Other shots depicted charismatic sea animals > pathetically covered in black goo (untold numbers have died and will die > from the spill’s “slow violence” unfolding for years to come[5]). And of > course there was the notorious “spillcam,” BP’s live video feed of the > leak’s submarine coverage, made public only following congressional > pressure on the corporation. The nonstop flow of images captured the > uninterrupted gushing oil for nearly three months, during which > approximately 260 million gallons, or ninety-five thousand barrels a day, > were released into the Gulf’s waters. The webcam in particular made evident > the cruel and unbearable impotence of viewers who found themselves, like > myself, glued to their screens, mastering the image of the leak but not > being able to do anything about it. > > Undoubtedly, these images have had a positive impact on public > environmental consciousness, critically raising awareness at the time of > the ongoing risks of extreme deep water oil drilling—risks that are > currently being tested in relation to Shell’s and other corporations’ > intent to drill in the Arctic in harsh, uncontrollable maritime conditions > (and in fact the Obama administration just granted Shell permission to > begin offshore drilling in the pristine and remote Chukchi Sea, off the > coast of Alaska, an area prone to extreme weather and nearly impossible to > reach in the likely event of disaster[6]). > > Yet images of eco-catastrophe have also worked toward radically different > purposes, granting supporting reassurance to the false claim that cleanup > efforts following industrial accidents have been efficient and effective, > as evidenced in the US commercial media conglomerate CBS’s report from 2013 > on the aftermath of the BP Gulf spill, accompanied by many of the very > images that initially helped raise the alarm: “Due to the extensive cleanup > effort, early restoration projects and natural recovery processes,” they > happily announced, “much of the Gulf has returned to its baseline > condition; the condition it would be in if the accident had not > occurred.”[7] > > Not only is it evident that mainstream media operates in league with > fossil-fuel corporations,[8] but CBS’s manifestly false claim points to the > uneven effects of eco-catastrophe visuality, where the same images can > support multiple interpretations, with divergent, even opposing political > implications. When the developmentalist, capitalist growth-obsessed > petro-economy forms the unexamined and assumed economic ground on which > conventional politics take place, then we can only expect the corporate > media apparatus to direct the circulation and interpretation of these > images in ways that suit their interests. > > In their cogent reading of the BP media image repertoire, Peter Galison > and Caroline Jones usefully call attention to the “invisibilities” that are > part of “a system in which the seen is supported and enabled by the > unseen,” which requires a politics that addresses this complexity.[9] They > point to the vast subsurface oil plumes that have formed and drifted far > from their site of origin, equaling more than 75% of the uncaptured leaked > oil that has mixed with the nearly two million gallons of “Corexit” > chemical dispersant applied to the water surface to fragment the crude and > make it sink. Thus invisible, the dispersed oil goes un-imaged, dispersing > as well from public imagination. “The circuit—of drill, spill, ‘clean up,’ > and drill again—relies on such systems of images and occlusions, in which > the production of invisibility forms an aesthetic chiaroscuro to all the > tragic, sublime, and subaquatic flows,” they write. “Our response must be > to take what’s out of sight, and keep it well in mind.”[10] > > Yet how can we mobilize politically around catastrophe’s invisibilities, > given our culture’s fixation on the spectacular production of images framed > with Hollywood endings, leading to the seeming inevitable denouement: as > “if the accident had not occurred”? And how to combat images that work > toward assuring us of the controllability of climate change, even while > they reinforce the idea that we—insofar as one is part of anthropos—are all > responsible? > > Of course ultimately it’s not even the industrial accidents that are of > greatest concern, even though these events—oil spills, burning platforms, > human death tolls, oil-drenched shores, and massive animal die-offs—are > truly catastrophic and depressing. Rather, it’s the uninterrupted, > accident-free normal running of the fossil-fuel economy that is the > ultimate danger and should be the focus of our occupation, politically, > economically, and ecologically. Images often contribute not so much to the > responsible use of technology, but to an ideological mechanism of > reassurance, framed within debates that appear to give balanced perspective > to all sides. Ultimately, however, they form part of the very technological > apparatus of advanced capitalism that has created the environmental > problems in the first place. What would the visuality of a culture against > the Anthropocene look like? > > -- > You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups > "geoengineering" group. > To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an > email to geoengineering+unsubscr...@googlegroups.com. > To post to this group, send email to geoengineering@googlegroups.com. > Visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/geoengineering. > For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/d/optout. > -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "geoengineering" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to geoengineering+unsubscr...@googlegroups.com. To post to this group, send email to geoengineering@googlegroups.com. 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