Tag: land

  • We Must Begin with the Land

    Review: We Must Begin with the Land: Seeking Abundance and Liberation through Social Ecology by Stephen E. Hunt (Zer0 books, 2025)

    Environmentalists find themselves in the paradoxical situation of living in a golden age of radical ecological thinking – even as our global economic system blasts through one climactic tipping-point after another, more or less guaranteeing the extinction of planetary life as we know it at present. A rich field of research and intellectual inquiry has sprung up from between the fault-lines of the emerging climate crisis, along with concomitant movements centred (among other aims) on food sovereignty, habitat protection, the democratization of land holdings, and anti-extractivist resistance. Joining in this spirit of stewardship and challenge, Stephen E. Hunt has produced a prospectus for what might be described as eco-socialist change, in an attempt to measure and mitigate “the profound reengineering of life on Earth” that capitalist food systems have wrought. In place of monopolistic land-hoarding and ever-expanding “agri-business” – which trace their roots to the era of settler colonialism – he makes the case for a not-for-profit, “circular economy”, based on the principle that “nutritious food” is “an essential human need.”

    If Hunt draws inspiration from “utopian” ideas – the notion, say, that local commoning could provide a vital food source for significant numbers of people in the U.K. (where he lives), in place of the corporate or commodified provisions they currently rely on – he is nothing if not clear-eyed about the scale and extremity of the climate catastrophe predicted to engulf our already warming world. The vitality of his analysis might be said to stem from its symbiotic pairing of transformative hopes with a deep-running awareness of natural necessities. It is simply not possible, he states, to reach or maintain “ecological integrity within planetary boundaries” without simultaneously “addressing profound social problems embedded in deep history.” Far from being inevitable, he argues in a similar vein, famine is “primarily a social problem that demands solutions founded on social justice.”

    If Hunt often focuses on the practicalities of ecological action – how to grow wholesome food, and nurture communal practices, in a durable way – he nevertheless situates his proposals within an internationalist horizon. His book draws as much on the lessons of the Kurdish revolutionaries in Rojava, say, or the grassroots agricultural labourers comprising La Via Campesina, as on the experience of local campaigners in Bristol, his home. We Must Begin with the Land is anything but parochial. In fact, by arguing for the radicalism of community gardening, foraging, the conversion of waste grounds into allotments, and the like, Hunt may find himself in the vanguard of progressive thinking. Some commentators – not without reason – have attempted to hitch the cause of ecological adaptation exclusively to the wagon of the nation-state, essentially envisaging climate adaptation as a matter of enlightened technocratic adjustments from on high. Hunt’s contrasting emphasis is on the importance of localised, grassroots environmentalism, with an anti-capitalistic edge – aligning him politically with the late Grace Lee Boggs, for example, whose campaigns for community-led ecological regeneration in Detroit offered a new model of labour agitation in that industrialised city.

    Hunt also invokes the “social ecology” of Murray Bookchin, a multi-faceted philosophy that advances a critique of “the historic turn towards hierarchy and patriarchy” within radical movements – often hampered, ironically, by rigid structures and internal power imbalances – as well as a diagnosis of the “statism” and “capitalism” that define wider social structures, particularly in the global north. By re-examining our conceptions of urban and rural, of agricultural production and consumption, Hunt observes (via Bookchin), reformers can “ensure that human and ecological well-being are at the heart of democratic initiatives”, bringing the grand ideals of socialist transformation down to earth – and into an actionable zone inhabited by actual communities. During the Occupy Wall Street protests, he recalls (perhaps with a tinge of nostalgic over-statement), the occupiers’ “self-managed food provision” merged into something of an improvised welfare service. The movement exposed the degree of social isolation in the twenty-first century’s metropolitan centres. One of the chief benefits of communal eating is to help to address alienation.

    Such schemes, of course, are driven as much by physiology as by psychological or socio-econonmic factors. Our ability not only to think beyond the present infrastructre of a capitalistic economy, but physically to survive, is directly connected to the attitudes we hold and the measures we take regarding food and the land it grows from. It was hunger, after all, and not just a spirit of experimentation and progressivism, that inspired the rebellious denizens of Kronstadt to cultivate the waste grounds of their city in 1921 – instituting a “horticultural commune”, according to the historian Voline, that the Bolsheviks, intent on centralization, were zealous in repressing, even after the famous mass of striking sailors there had been executed or dispersed. Then as now, democracy and ecology may be thought of as connected strands of any authentically revolutionary endeavour. As Kristin Ross has written:

    Land and the way it is worked is the most important factor in an alternative ecological society. Capital’s real war is against subsistence, because subsistence means a qualitatively different economy; it means people actually living differently, according to a different conception of what constitutes wealth and what constitutes deprivation.

    Such issues take on a palpable urgency in the age of climate change, as extreme weather events merge with the predicted decimation of habitats and food-chains. Whether or not we realise it, how we feed ourselves (and learn to live with one another) is a crucial question for communities everywhere – a question likely to turn into an existential dilemma if left unanswered. In Hunt’s words,

    as the food crisis worsens, it will be increasingly necessary to make productive use of urban or “peri-urban” land for local self-provisioning… it is wise to activate urban gardening as a collective form of commoning that transcends the atomisation of communities into clusters of individuals.

    Noting the explosion of factory farming and other for-profit models of meat production globally, he wonders: “Can the straight trajectory of relentless economic growth be bent into the spiralling plenty of truly regenerative production?” For readers in Ireland, these speculations hold special resonance. A nation-wide campaign centred on community-organised green spaces and vegetable allotments – such as Hunt envisions – could serve as an original, effective response to the expanding epidemic of dereliction afflicting Irish towns and cities (itself in part a symptom of the housing and cost-of-living crises that have caused concomitantly high levels of emigration and homelessness). As to the issue of food sovereignty, despite inspiring efforts by networks such as Talamh Beo to implement sustainable models of “agro-ecology” across the country, successive Irish governments seem to have remained in thrall to a meat (and dairy) industry operating on a commercial model hostile to workers’ rights and favouring large-scale operations that are emissions-intensive. Meanwhile, the goal of reaching even the minimum requirements for decarbonising our farming practices seems as illusory as it’s ever been. A dramatic re-set in local and national policy is needed – and soon.

    Among other things, there is arguably a risk of hubris in a progressive politics that centres its aims and actions solely on the state and its traditional organs of power. As Hunt suggests, in an era of drastic ecological and economic ruptures, a consumerist society that simultaneously “does not know how to feed and dress itself”, that destroys abundant eco-systems to make way for industrial-scale farming and vast monocultures, can hardly be taken as the sanest or safest of socio-environmental paradigms. We must begin with the land, he declares – and re-build our agricultural economy from the grassroots up. The change we need starts here and now.

  • Maasai Forced off Land by UAE Royals

    Forcing indigenous peoples off ancestral lands to create so-called Gardens of Eden, pasture for grazing, or massive dams, is nothing new. It forms the basis of many colonial and neo-colonial projects.

    Recall the clearance of hundreds of thousands of small Irish farmers friom the1840s. Or the formation of the national parks of America, led by John Muir, considered the Daddy of wilderness projects, who openly stated that his nature parks would NOT include people, particularly not the indigenous people whom he regarded as ‘unclean’ blots on his perfect ‘wilderness’.

    Thanks to Muir, thousands of First Nation American Indians were driven off lands they had lived on for hundreds of years, to make way for National Parks; places where they would never be welcome.

    In more recent days Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro has been ramping up his rhetoric, encouraging the rape and pillage of the Amazon, forcing thousands of indigenous Indian tribes from their lands.

    Amazonia. © Arison Jardin

    Lovely hey?

    That a similar atrocity is now being visited on the Maasai people who have lived on, and with, their lands in northern Tanzania for hundreds of years, long before Tanzanian independence, to create killing fields for the super-rich Royal family of the UAE is deeply shocking.

    Since the 1980’s a luxury safari company – the Otterlo Business Company (OBC) – has been trying to complete a deal with the Tanzanian government whereby hundreds of thousands of Maasai will be driven from their ancestral lands. 1,700 acres is to be stolen from them to create a private shooting park for the UAE Royal family and their super rich mates.

    Acting for the Royal family, the OBC, a hugely wealthy private safari set up, have had their eyes on privatising thousands of acres of Ngorongoro, and Loliondo, key parts of the Maasai homeland in Northern Tanzania for decades.

    Ironically, part of these lands were actually set aside for royalty under British colonial rule – in the ‘good old days’. These days, thanks to OBC, ‘hundreds of members of Arab royalty and high-flying businessmen spend weeks each year hunting antelope, lion, leopard and other wild animals’.

    The area is leased (under the Otterlo name) by a member of an Emirati royal family who is a senior officer in the UAE defence ministry ministry.

    The OBC is no newcomer to the ‘big game’ slaughter scene. They have been busy in Tanzania’s wildlife parks for decades. Under a deal brokered with the Tanzanian government in 1992, involving the transfer of millions of dollars to Tanzania’s Armed Forces, Maasai homes were burnt down, their cattle stolen or killed, leaving villagers ‘homeless and without food, clothing, land,  water or basic medical needs’. Now they want this deal cemented – and all Maasai removed. Their villages, schools, fields and medical stations destroyed.

    As the leader of the Maasai, Julius Petei Olekitaika, says, ‘Imagine your home being burned in front of you to clear your land for foreigners to hunt. Imagine not being able to graze our cows because the government wants to protect a foreign investor whose only interest is hunting the wildlife.’

    The Tanzanian government, which gets 17% of its GDP from tourism, has made vague gestures towards the Maasai in the past, assuring them they will be protected, but recently pressure has been upped with the government saying the Maasai population is ‘detrimental to wildlife’.

    This is of course nonsense. Hugely wealthy game hunters, with massively powerful rifles,  and virtually no government oversight, have been a good deal more ‘detrimental to wildlife’ than the Maasai.

    Neighbouring Kenya, which banned big game hunting in 1978, says 80% of wildlife which should be funnelling through the corridor between the game parks of Tanzania and Kenya has been affected. Samwel Nangria, a Maasai organiser, says these guys ‘shoot anything they come across’.

    The Maasai on the other hand, famous for their nomadic and pastoral lifestyle that actually depends on maintaining the balance between people, ecology and animals remaining stable, are the ones being demonised, hunted, shot at, and driven from their homes.

    Already impacted by years of racism and bullying to try and get them out, recently the Maasai have had their livelihood​​s further damaged by a blanket ban on planting crops, and by climate change. With a ban on planting, food shortages are now common. In 2022 the Red Cross reported 60,000 of their cattle died.

    In June 2022 the Tanzanian government sent armed soldiers to evict Maasai. Thousands fled. Hundreds were injured as troops opened fire.

    Not that the big game hunters give a damn. All they want is an abundance of animals they can slaughter and to hell with the Maasai. To hell also with climate change.

    For all of us sharing this beautiful planet, and facing our greatest existential crisis – will we actually survive climate breakdown? How can anyone, or any government, justify allowing extraordinarily wealthy men to jet in, with guns, to take the lands, the livelihood and even the lives of a centuries old people so that they the rich ones can kill some of the most beautiful, and some of the most endangered, animals on earth? And probably take photos of themselves doing it.

    ‘For us’ says Samwel Nangiria, ‘the land is a source of knowledge, a source of life, a source of identity’.

    For the hunters one imagines the land is meaningless. Just somewhere to go and kill stuff.

    A few men enriched by this deal may think they’re the smart ones, but wouldn’t Tanzania’s freedom fighting, Socialist, first president, Julius Nyerere, be turning in his grave if he knew?

    I think he would.

    Feature Image: Maasai School, Tanzania, 2009.