Amelia’s Magazine | The spectacular eruption of the Eyjafjallajökull volcano in Iceland: and why I love thee.

Eyjafjallajökull volcano
This is quite obviously not the Eyjafjallajökull volcano. But I liked the picture anyway. A little bit apocalyptic no?

As news reaches me this Friday evening that there will be no flights in and out of UK and most of Europe until at least Monday I can’t help but titter to myself a little bit. Why? Because this act of nature has done what no amount of climate activism has managed to successfully do: prevent a huge amount of CO2 from being emitted. In one single stroke. It has also thrown the aviation industry, diagnosis business and holiday makers into utter disarray. And there is absolutely NOTHING we can do about it.

In the past few days the explosion of the wonderfully named Eyjafjallajökull volcano has caught us totally unaware and unable to cope. The news headlines trumpet stories of the worst crisis to face aviation since World War Two and “the worst travel chaos since 9/11“, viagra 100mg but the fact is that we in the west – with all our fancy infrastructure and semblance of control over just about everything in this world – have no idea what to do about this spontaneous outpouring of ash. We’ve got used to the idea that it is our inalienable right to dash frantically across the globe at the swipe of a credit card, but this event has proved that it isn’t. Not if something completely outside of our control happens. It is forcing people to reconsider how they must travel: the ferries, trains and buses have never been so busy. See! It is possible (especially for short distances) to travel across land. My feeling is that if we were meant to fly then we would have evolved with wings. It’s just not quite right, and we need to reconsider the ease with which we board an aircraft. Maybe we should move at a slower pace after all.

Yes, of course lots of people are suffering and distressed, stuck somewhere, missing important occasions. But the truth is that life goes on and many of those people will band together in the spirit of the Blitz. They will help each other out and make new friends. It is not the end of the world, but instead time for a reminder of how we might re-imagine it. And that is something we desperately need to do, for we cannot keep putting planes in the sky and just hope for the best. The blithely exploding Icelandic volcano is a salient reminder of the fragility of our carefully crafted control. At the end of the day we are at the mercy of the elements, and we can’t always beat them, but instead we must adapt and live with them – humbly. The day after the Great Leader’s Debate Eyjafjallajökull offers a salutary sign of our place in the universe. Our politicians can talk about electoral policies all they want but there are some things over which they have no power.

This morning I watched Sky News scrolling news of the eruption and interviews with top volcano experts, who were grilled about whether they were being over cautious in their recommendations for planes to stay grounded. The Evening Standard tonight explained how the volcano “emits glass and rock particles that can cause planes to crash”. Only by putting the information in the most simple and understandable language can people grasp the enormity of the situation: Yes, it really would be a bad idea to put planes up there, even if you can’t actually see the ash yourself from your kitchen window. It seems so hard to believe that flying a plane could be beaten by something as simple and as old as the earth itself, but of course volcanos are what created the earth. And they aren’t going to stop exploding just to appease us.

There are other upsides. No one has a clue how to pronounce Eyjafjallajökull but twitter is alive with the sound of the puntastic #ashtag. And what is my twitter feed full of? The sound of people admiring the clear blue skies up above – not an aeroplane contrail in sight. Before this happened I don’t think anyone had actually stopped to consider just how much our love affair with aviation has come to dominate our surroundings, especially in a big busy airspace like that above London. But now that the telltale pollution trails have vanished we all notice, blissfully. I’ve just cycled into town, and the whole way I had my head tilted upwards, admiring the lack of contrails. It felt so… special.

Eyjafjallajökull volcano no contrails
Look! No contrails this morning above the estate where I live. Just pure blue sky over the spring blossom.

Eyjafjallajökull volcano no contrails
Travelling into town this evening. Still the clearest of skies.

Eyjafjallajökull volcano no contrail
Looking along Oxford Street towards the Post Office Tower. Nothing but clear clear contrail-free skies. Just believe me okay.

Then there is the added excitement of the unknown to deal with. We don’t know how long this eruption will go on for, and we can’t prevent or stop it. This is what the world is. This is the way that Planet Earth, our planet, our ONLY planet behaves. Deal with it everyone. And enjoy moving at a slower pace, admiring the clear skies above.

You can read my follow-up article about clear blue skies here.

Categories ,aviation, ,Blitz, ,Climate Activism, ,Contrails, ,Election, ,Evening Standard, ,Eyjafjallajökull, ,Great Leader’s Debate, ,iceland, ,Planes, ,politics, ,Sky News, ,twitter, ,Volcano

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Amelia’s Magazine | Dirty White Gold: new documentary-in-the-making unpicks cotton

Life Is Precious sign from Dirty White Gold
Roadside sign in India, from the film’s trailer

Dirty White Gold is Leah Borromeo‘s film about cotton. It exposes a whole crop of problems with our clothes by unspooling high street supply chains right back to cotton seeds. Even what you think is a sweatshop-free t-shirt unravels to reveal a thread supplier using child labour, or a farmer in such heavy debt he’s killed himself. These cotton-to-coffin suicides are destroying Indian farming families.

Dirty White Gold
Blood on the maps: film poster design by Peter Kennard @at_earth

Dirty White Gold “goes right the way back to seeds,” says Leah. “It’s a Saturday night date film.” Ha ha.

We’re here on a sunny Sunday afternoon as part of the Stoke Newington Literary Festival, and Leah‘s been invited by new magazine Stir to talk about her film. It’s not unusual now to promote and campaign around a film while you’re still making it, and after a successful round of crowdfunding, filming in India is complete and Dirty White Gold is now on its London leg.

Until a few years ago, Leah was deputy foreign editor at Sky News. That job ended when she made the news herself while protesting in her bra at the G20 summit. She was arrested for impersonating a police officer (there was also a truncheon and a tank involved).

Leah Borromeo, Dirty White Gold
Leah Borromeo filming Dirty White Gold

Leah comes across as both fun and formidable. On second hand clothing, she says. “No, it doesn’t smell of death. New clothes smell of death. You know that ‘new clothes’ smell you get when you walk into a shopping centre? That’s formaldehyde. On clothes marked 100% cotton, often they’re only 73% cotton. The rest is chemicals.”

I knew that ‘new clothes’ smell was too good to be true.

Who's Behind The Rotten Cotton - Dirty White Gold
Dot questions where her cardigan was made: poster by Dr.D

It all comes back down to our old friend, capitalism. As the trailer says, “what you are witnessing is the death throes of smallholder agriculture, under the onslaught of corporations”. Farmers are tempted away from subsistence farming by cash crops, produced for their commercial value rather than for use by the farmer. So the farmer buys a box of cotton seeds, plus licenses, pesticides and insecticides (the Indian government has a 15% holding in one of the largest insecticide companies). He pays for labour to spray all those chemicals, and the money he gets back isn’t enough to make up what was spent. Plus, he’s competing on unlevel fields against US and EU farmers who get subsidies.

Trailer: watch the cotton industry unravel

So what can be done about rotten cotton?

“You can’t wander in with a colonial attitude,” says Leah. “It has to be organic. There are resistances in India, there needs to be education. There are collectives which support farmers switching to organic, and then make sure they get a fair price. But the market has to be there. At the moment farmers aren’t going for it because they’re scared.”

There are stats and facts, and then we’re onto actions we can take when we’re shopping.

“Ask yourself: do I need to buy it?” says Leah. “It’s not so much what you buy, as whether you should be buying in the first place.”

Secondly, “pick up a needle. There are lots of people who can repair clothes for you. The Denim Doctor is a guy in Salford who repairs jeans like new.”

Lastly, “think about where you buy.” Leah recommends shopping second hand or from Traid, and Claire from Traid who is in the audience explains that Traid supports the Pesticide Action Network and other projects to help improve the global textile supply chain. This makes me like their TRAIDremade label (available online) even more.

The clothing supply chain was an issue I thought I had all sewn up, especially with articles after the Savar building collapse about which high street stores are supposedly okay to shop from. But this film looks set to unpick the way we shop, and hopefully the way our clothes are made. Right back to the seed.

Follow the progress of the film: @dirtywhitegold and Dirty White Gold on Facebook

Categories ,cotton, ,Denim Doctor, ,Dirty White Gold, ,Dr. D, ,g20, ,India, ,Leah Borromeo, ,Pesticide Action Network, ,peter kennard, ,Savar, ,Sky News, ,STIR, ,Stir Magazine, ,Stoke Newington Literary Festival, ,traid, ,Traid Remade

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