The Western

Climbing to 34,000 feet over the Rockies, I am already missing California. It has been one densely packed week: the annual convention of the Western Political Science Association, breathtaking coastal drives along Highway 1 with Lina, and a campus tour of Stanford University (unfortunately, despite earlier promises, I am still in limbo regarding the Wallenberg postdoctoral scholarship).

This year, the “Western", as it is colloquially known, offered a number of interesting panels on everything from eco-anarchism to the Obama presidency. My own panel, on “communities of the future”, succeeded in putting the spotlight precisely on the differences between my work and more mainstream accounts of environmental politics, sparking a lively discussion on the prospects for global sustainability.

Speaking of which, the Star Trek nerd in me was particularly happy to take a walk along the southern tip of Sausalito (the fictional location of “Starfleet Academy”) and, in the same vein, to experience the sublime silence of the redwoods in Muir Woods, where, in May 1945, the signatories-to-be of the UN Charter gathered to honour the memory of FDR.

In these times of Tea Party activists and voters with attention spans more like twelve-year-olds with ADHD, our idealism is once again put to the test. It may seem utterly unlikely that we will ever grow up and decide our own history and, with it, our planetary future. It may seem as if the current constellation of chauvinistic nationalists, technophobic primitivists, and overly pragmatic politicians will each, in their own way, continue to erode our cosmopolitan dreams. Yet we should not forget how much darker the horizon seemed only five years ago. With this in mind, I hope I am forgiven for once again quoting this remarkable passage from Obama’s inaugural address last January:

”We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall some day pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself.”