:: DO THIS! Letter writing campaign: asylum seekers held on Nauru or Manus Island

Will you be a pen-pal to a refugee locked up on Nauru or Manus Island?
Simple, compassionate gestures like this can make a huge difference.
Please consider getting involved and please SHARE this post to help spread the word.

Letter writing campaign: asylum seekers held on Nauru or Manus Island

How to do it:

1.     Write a letter, but not directed to a specific person.  Say who you are, so the recipient will not wonder whether you are acting for the government. Tell them something about yourself.  Let them know that not all Australians are hostile to them.  Be sensitive to their circumstances.  Encourage them to write back to you.

2. Send the letter to me:

Julian Burnside

205 William St

Melbourne, 3000

3. Enclose a self-addressed envelope
4. I will post your letter (with your self-addressed envelope) to a specific asylum seeker on Manus or Nauru.  I will explain the letter-writing programme and I will include some writing paper and your self-addressed envelope so they are able to reply.
5. When you get a reply, just keep writing to that person.  If you want, you can ask them for the names of other people you can write to.

People of various countries are held in Nauru and Manus Island, including Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq and Sri Lanka.  If you prefer to write to someone of a particular nationality, let me know.

If you have a preference for which detention centre your letter should go to, let me know.

It is simple.

A similar letter-writing campaign in the early 2000s was very valuable in helping keep up the spirits of asylum seekers.

If you decide to take part in the letter writing campaign, you might like to share the responses you get, and encourage your friends to write to asylum seekers.

:: RECYCLED CAT BED

Even Betsy is getting with the re-purposing project.

:: ETHICAL CONSUMPTION: a purist challenge?

 

It has recently been suggested to me that ethical consumption has the tendency to be purist; it sets the bar too high – setting consumers up for failure before they have even started. Traditional consumption, based on the belief that it is up to the consumer to make their own purchasing decisions and up to businesses to give them what they want, often has unwanted consequences – over-consumption and the unethical treatment of people, animals and the environment.  

The claim that telling consumers what to buy has the tendency to be purist initially made me uncomfortable, but it also forced me to think about whether it was correct and then whether there was something wrong with being a purist. 

Finally it led me to ask ‘Am I just being a stickler for excessive correctness?’

Yet I kept thinking that certain consumer decisions are unethical and should be avoided. The actions of certain companies are so unethical that they should be boycotted. Nestle, for example, has been the target of a sustained boycott campaign for its marketing of infant formula in developing countries. Coca Cola, Shell and Nike are other well-known examples. 

One thing that deters people from following ethical guidelines is the belief that it takes all the fun and enjoyment out of shopping (and life). It is exhausting if not impossible to make the right choices about everything we buy. 

I don’t buy this argument. I do not get any enjoyment or satisfaction out of consuming a product that has, for example, been tested on animals, harvested or manufactured by slaves, or manufactured by a company that has deliberately thwarted environmental protections. Very rarely are these products necessities – products that we cannot do without. Luxury products, those we want but don’t need, are probably the easiest to avoid. Necessities are the real challenge for ethical consumers. How does one buy ethical petrol, dairy products or electricity? I want to tackle these questions head-on.

Is it time to rethink product such as petrol, dairy products and electricity as necessary? If they are indeed necessary and, as is likely, there are no ethical alternatives, is it ok to choose the best of a bad lot? Or, are we ethically obliged to personally boycott them?

The benefits of choosing ethically are immediately apparent. My conscience will be clear knowing I have not consumed a product that is produced or sold under unethical circumstances or supported a company that has ethically questionable practices. 

I choose to boycott companies (and parent companies) that engage in ‘greenwashing’ not just certain products e.g.: I don’t think it is ok to get Rainforest Alliance coffee at McDonalds. So what if your coffee is produced sustainably McDonalds, it is not your coffee that is destroying rainforests it is your beef production! 

Anyone who claims it is ‘all too hard’ is taking the easy option out. Tell that to the factory workers, child slaves, guest workers who bring you your cheap clothes, electronics, coffee and chocolate.

One problem for ethical consumption, however, is the widely held belief that consumers should not be told how to act, what to buy, or how to choose. It is my contention that soft persuasion such as education is not enough on its own to persuade consumers to buy ethically. Consumer choice is a convenient myth perpetuated by marketers. So many of our consumer choices have already been made for us long before we get to the point of sale. 

Yet another criticism of the ethical consumption approach relates to the claim that consumers will go elsewhere if they are unable to get what they want. This view, based on the belief that consumers should have whatever they want – whenever they want it – is fundamentally unethical.

So this is my ethical consumption challenge: to make as few unethical choices as possible. The challenge is ultimately to me, but also to anyone who wants to redress the balance and make the best decisions about what we buy. It will be a permanent challenge to illicit lasting change and it aint going to be easy, but here I go.

An Abundance of a Different Kind

(Original image here)

Goodness me, I have been having an extended break from this blog. Five months is a huge chunk of time to remain silent. This is partly because I have been busily writing elsewhere (my new book – edited with Samuel Alexander - Simple Living in History will be out later in the year) and partly because I haven’t quite defined what this blog should be about. I have been feeling somewhat directionless and without a sense of purpose.

Events of earlier this year saw me re-evaluate many of my aspirations and forced me to think about things in a more holistic, long term way. I keep coming back to the idea of abundance as it has, and continues to, inform my life and work. What I am essentially interested is a different kind of abundance than the one usually associated with material wellbeing which has all kinds of negative connotations connected with over-consumption.

I want to explore a more authentic kind of abundance – something that goes beyond material acquisition that puts people, animals and the planet first. I’m not attracted to new-age-ish abundance, one that is sold to consumers as an alternative but is, in reality, driven by the same materialistic values that it purports to reject. Neither am I interested in a religious spiritual awakening.

I’m interested in lifestyles that don’t require participation in special workshops or retreats, special diets or superfoods, or clothing or likeminded proponents and gurus. There are no magazines or journals that target this market segment, because such a market segment doesn’t exist.

Real alternatives to a life defined by consumer culture are not easy for marketers to co-opt, brand and re-sell the purported benefits back to consumers. Much has already been said about choice and the extent to which consumers have the power to ignore or repel advertised and marketed messages. Much has also been made of consumer’s power to choose. I want to ask that if consumers have the choice to buy or not to buy certain products whether it might also be possible for them to opt out from the consumer market altogether. I tend to think so.

The answers, I imagine, will not be straight forward or easy to come by but this is hardly surprising because the questions themselves are far from simple. But they are well worth asking.

I hope that this blog will examine these and other questions as I consider what it is to pursue the ‘good life’.

Rethinking Consumerism and Climate Change

It doesn’t get simpler than this: when we buy, everyone pays.

Our purchasing decisions have often far-reaching, unwanted and damaging consequences such as environmental destruction and the unethical treatment of people and animals. But it is climate change that is by far the greatest problem facing the global community. Its effects are widespread and respect no political or geographical boundary. Climate change’s major driving force has been the reliance on consumption to generate growth. Over-consumption – the ultimate outcome of a growth agenda – has only negative ramifications for the climate. Human-induced climate change requires a human-driven solution.

There is an urgent need for a politically driven ‘reduction of consumption’ agenda. Yet, there is an overwhelmingly lack of political will from both of Australia’s major political parties to pursue consumption reduction. Australian politicians would be well aware of the political unpopularity of austerity measures adopted by select western democracies as a result of the Global Financial Crisis.

It is worth reminding our policy makers that such austerity programs have not been pursued in an effort to combat the climate emergency. Rather, conventional economic austerity measures are driven by restricting government spending via cutbacks and tax increases. The ‘not buying’ ethic is not formally enforced by governments or commerce. By embracing voluntary austerity measures, by adopting a lifestyle that is not defined by consumption, we, as citizens, are empowered.

For fear of being criticised for interfering in commerce and putting our affluent standard of living at risk, Australia’s major political parties ignore the urgency to reform our relationship with, and our attitudes to, consumerism. Consumed by a short-term obsession with buying votes, politicians encourage us to buy as if the future of the country depends on it. On the whole, we have been very compliant consumer citizens. Thrift and austerity are hardly the stuff of Australian political discourse. As a consequence, governments have inadequately dealt with the climate change emergency.

The political focus on achieving prosperity through conventional consumer economics has played a significant role in silencing the climate change debate. The environmental consequences of industrialisation and materialism were not part of the political discussions during the 2013 federal election campaign. The silence is deafening and alarming. It is hard to find middle ground between the extreme pursuits of combatting climate change and pursuing an economic model based on growth. Yet, with no Minister for Climate Change or even a Minister for Science appointed to the new Abbott Ministry, the climate emergency has been further pushed from the political agenda. This is a blatant attempt to silence the climate debate. It is up to all of us to continue to bring pressure to bear on policy makers, commercial interests and fellow consumers to take human-induced climate change and its relationship to consumption seriously.

The climate emergency needs not the repeal of the Carbon Tax. It instead requires the urgent reform of the consumer market and the economic reliance on it. If we are to have any chance of protecting our high standard of living and improving the lot of those in the developing world – those often most at risk from the negative effects of climate change – we need to act NOW! The time for political inertia is over.

Despite the lack of political will to take action to combat climate change, there is much we can do on a personal level to reduce our reliance on the consumer market. In order to change our own relationship to consumption and consumerism we must also substantially reduce what we buy. Given the elevated status of the consumer – the notion that the ‘consumer is king’ – our power to vote with our wallet can be a particularly strong weapon. Rather than feeling powerless and unintentionally perpetuating harm by consuming conventionally produced goods, collective consumer action is empowering and potentially reformative.

Sustainably produced consumer goods are worthy alternatives when we do have to buy. In buying ethically we become powerful consumer activists. However, while there are increasing numbers of products that claim to be ‘green’ sustainably produced alternatives, overall consumption levels need to be reduced. Green consumerism cannot be a serious alternative if it works within the conventional economic principles of acquisition and growth. It is too easy for marketers to co-opt notions of sustainable consumption and sell their version of it back to consumers. Within the current doctrine of acquisition and growth there is no way to counter the negative effects of over-consumption.

It is worth bearing in mind the broader consequences of our choices to consume or not to consume. Doing so will result in better outcomes for a whole raft of stakeholders – including humans, all living beings and the environment. Until we combat the political reliance on consumption to drive growth we will not adequately attend to the climate emergency. Ultimately, time has come to significantly change the way we consume. It really is that simple.

How much ‘stuff’ is enough?

Spring has sprung! It is time to get moving again, to plan and get organised. It is the perfect time to clean-up and declutter. For many of us, decluttering – getting rid of the stuff we don’t need – has really positive outcomes. We feel freer and less stressed. Things run more smoothly when we are not surrounded by clutter and chaos. But there is more we can do than clean out our cupboards and cars.

Now is the perfect time to rethink our relationship with ‘stuff’ and our tendency to treat shopping as a leisure activity. Wasteful consumption has serious and damaging consequences, not least the harm to the environment and on our hip-pocket.

I am not suggesting that we shouldn’t buy anything at all. On the contrary, there are many things we need and buying goods and services plays an important economic role in raising standards of living. Localised commerce is an important part of a strong local community. But it is worth asking how much stuff do we really need? When is enough stuff, enough?

Much of the ‘stuff’ that we buy are not necessities. They are discretionary or luxury purchases. To put it another way, it is stuff that we want but don’t exactly need in order to make our lives better. If we base our purchasing decisions on what we want, rather than what we need, we are more likely to over-consume and make wasteful and costly mistakes (for both ourselves and the environment). This is not an argument in favour of austerity. It is, rather, an appeal to make more ethical decisions.

A good way to proceed is to separate our needs from our wants and to base our decisions to buy on the premise ‘do the least possible harm’. In doing so, we may choose to ‘buy local’ to cut down the environmental impacts of transportation or to buy second-hand clothes instead of new so as not to support sweatshop manufacturing. It might be as simple as avoiding plastic bags – saying no to these and other unwanted or single-use items. Other decisions, like electrical appliances and clothes and food, can be more complex.

In order to ‘do the least possible harm’ we need to do our research – and that takes more time than making quick decisions merely based on our unlimited wants or other impulse triggers. But it is important to remember that our decisions have far-reaching (often unwanted) consequences. The payoff is twofold. On the one hand, we minimise environmental damage and other unethical outcomes such as harm to workers and animals. On the other, we win too. In addition to making ethical decisions we save money by avoiding buying what we don’t need or can’t use! By making conscious choices everyone wins.

One of the easiest ways to make more ethical buying decisions is to simply buy less.

It is worth keeping in mind the adage ‘reduce, reuse, recycle’ and by adding ‘rethink’ and ‘refuse’ to the list we will be able to make more ethical decisions about the myriad things that we buy. That has to be a good outcome for everyone.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell: ‘Coming Out’ Bipolar

I have an ethical dilemma.

I have bipolar disorder. Not much I can do about it; not much of an ethical paradox. It is what it is.

But that is not the whole of my dilemma. I also happen to be a writer that writes about a whole range of subjects including my experience of living with a mental illness. My predicament is whether to use my own name when writing about the personal stuff. Should I tell the world – with all its prejudices – that I have bipolar disorder? Or should I use a pseudonym, effectively protecting me from stigma and prejudice? Will outing myself negatively impact on my professional profile or will it contribute in some small way to helping others?

One of the best ways to overcome stigma and prejudice, of course, is to ‘out’ it. It is becoming increasingly common for celebrities to talk of personal experiences of depression and various mood disorders. It is less common for those with schizophrenia to have access to such advocates. For us mere mortals, personalising mental illness relies on a certain amount of courage and, some might say, madness.

Given that those with mental illnesses, like any minority group, have long been shunned by certain sections of society, more needs to be done than merely talking about the need to break down the barriers faced by sufferers. Action, they say, speaks louder than words. My writing on bipolar disorder aims, amongst other things, to help break down barriers towards mental illness to raise awareness and to de-stigmatise the widely misunderstood illness. Bipolar disorder a mood disorder, previously known as manic depression, is characterised by differing expressions and combinations of high and low moods, from extreme mania and psychosis to suicidal depression.

Admitting that I write about bipolar disorder inevitably leads to being asked whether I have bipolar disorder or a mental illness. When I say that I do, I am bombarded by a whole raft of other personal and confronting questions such as: ‘what makes you bipolar?’; ‘what are the craziest things you have done when you are high?’. Or, my personal favourite, ‘have you ever been suicidal?’.

Some questions are easy to answer; others less so. Such questions seem to challenge the actual diagnosis that took so long to reach and was such a relief to hear. I was diagnosed in 2007 after a decade and a half of extreme ups and downs. Other questions are painful because they make me remember things I did, or feelings I felt, when I was unwell.

Herein lays my dilemma. I obviously want my writing to raise awareness and help to remove the stigma of mental illness, but at what personal cost? I am left wondering: do I, in an effort to break down mental illness’ stigma, actually have an ethical obligation to “come out” and declare my hand? But how far should I go in disclosing my illness? Should I tell the world or protect myself from any uncomfortable questioning?

If I do declare my hand, my writing will probably have greater authenticity than if I merely write as an interested observer. But, the flow-on effect might be too close for comfort.

The successful treatment of a mental illness requires personal acceptance that one actually has a mental illness. Reaching this point is, for many people, easier said than done. However, doing so empowers one to take control over treatment plans and, perhaps most importantly, to take responsibility for taking the medication that is such an important part of the management regime. Accepting that you have a mental illness, or in my case bipolar disorder, is an enormous and vital step in achieving balance. Coming out publically is a whole other ball game.

My family obviously know that I am crazy! I have also been quite candid with some of my friends, colleagues and acquaintances. But whether to tell everyone who asks me is another matter entirely.

There are some downsides to such a declaration, not including the personal questions that inevitably follow. There is a tendency for well-meaning people to interpret all behaviour as fitting the ‘mentally ill’ profile and to dismiss emotions as less important than those of ‘sane’ people.

Then there are the issues associated with attitudes and assumptions that affect my family and friends. Do I want parents and guardians of my son’s friends knowing my personal medical history before we know each other’s last names? No, I probably don’t.

Do I want to put myself in the firing line and subject myself to the very prejudices that I am trying to extinguish? I’m not sure if it is the best thing to do, but telling the world and everyone else that will listen certainly does feel like the right thing to do. For me, I have chosen to put myself out there and to use my illness in order to raise the profile of mental illness and, hopefully, to be of some help to my fellow travellers. It is also helping me to make sense of negotiating the ups and downs of the highs and lows.

This is why I have chosen not to use a pseudonym.