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My current take on least subverted options for digital chat:

1. Matrix
2. Mastodon, GNU Social, Diaspora (e.g. activitypub)
3. See “honourable mention” below
4. Telegram / Signal / Keybase (centralised but virtuous)

Honourable mention (exciting, but still a bit experimental):

* Secure scuttlebutt
* DAT

“yuck” – Please don’t make me use:

1. FB messenger / whatsapp
2. Facebook
3. Twitter
4. LinkedIn
5. Instagram
6. etc., etc., etc.

I also think it’s really time to revisit human communication technologies as public utility. Seems like this should be a first
principle. To be clear I do not mean a “utility” controlled by our emerging fascist democracies, but true *public* as in developed and maintained transparently in the commons.

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If you’re looking for some post-earth-day reading, just up on the International Affairs blog, an interview I did a few weeks ago on “Understanding religious environmentalism” (which covers some high points from recent journal article in IA). I’ll include the text below just for the sake of ease:

When looking at the recent rise in environmental activism an often-neglected factor is the role played by religious environmental groups. From eco-churches to interdenominational and multi-faith organisations, religious environmental groups have played a key organisational role within the environmental movement in the UK and beyond. But how can policy makers better understand and support religious environmentalism? We spoke to Jeremy Kidwell from the University of Birmingham about his research into the politics of religious environmentalism.

What are the most common pitfalls you see policymakers falling into when trying to understand religious environmentalism?

Many people in a governance context, particularly international governance, approach major religious organisations assuming there’s a clear top-down flow to decision-making. People will approach Christian environmental organisations and assume that if you can get to their religious leaders, then they’ll just disseminate the information for you. In reality things are more complicated.

One example I point to is Laudato Si, an encyclical [Papal statement] from Pope Francis which was published in 2015. This was really exciting because it was the first official statement of a position toward papal environmental activism. However, some research by Pew conducted before and after the encyclical was released, indicates that Roman Catholics weren’t necessarily changing their environmental behaviours in response to the article and many had never read or even heard of it. Sometimes people in larger organizations assume that if you can get to senior figures within a religion, you’ll be successful in having an impact, when this isn’t necessarily the case.

Mapping the field of religious environmental politics article.

If this high-level work is not as effective as it’s perceived to be, what are the implications for how and if people choose to work with religious groups when supporting the environmental movement?

I think people could assume based on what I’ve just said that if worshippers aren’t paying attention to their leaders, what’s the point of engaging with religious environmental organisations? That would be a real disappointment because there’s a unique opportunity we miss when we don’t have effective engagement. In the UK, of all different types of environmental groups operating at the sub-national level, the most numerous are these religious environmental groups. Yes, religious environmental groups are more complicated than some might expect but given the scale of the role they play there is huge potential for nuanced engagement and we really are already working in similarly nuanced ways with other demographic groups.

You write about the complexity and variety of how religious groups are structured. What do these structures look like, and what examples are there of effective engagement that capitalises on this complexity?

In the article, I develop four categories for understanding local engagement which underlines the many iterations this kind of mobilisation can take: from the lone individual who’s doing good work but is a bit isolated to the large local groups which have all kinds of different participation in them. This reflects the fact that local branches of religious environmental organisations vary in the structure and size of groups and in the dynamic of their relationship to parent organisations.

In terms of positive examples of operationalizing this complexity, a great example can be seen in the work of Eco-Congregation Scotland as a large multi-denominational organisation. Eco-Congregation Scotland realised that there were many different environmental groups across their networks that weren’t necessarily coordinating with each other at local and regional levels. In response, they actively developed regional networks between their local groups, forming collections of units that were better able to practically support each other and coordinate their activities. So there are opportunities for working in a lateral way across groups but sometimes that needs an outsider to come in and make those connections.

How does this mid- and local-level coordination look when carried out by explicitly multi-faith organisations?

That’s a big question. On a local level I’ve been to many gatherings where you’ve got people who are mobilized because of their religion, but it’s not uniform in terms of what religion each person is from. You have people from all different faiths all hanging out together talking about why their faith is relevant.

One area where you see this is in the Extinction Rebellion (XR) movement. For the People’s Climate March in New York religious groups marched in relatively separate blocks, with different songs and posters. XR is much messier. They tried to create a faith bridge at the most recent London demonstration, which was going to be a focal point for all the people of faith, to bring that aspect of their environmentalism forward, but one of the problems with this was that people felt a little uncomfortable trying to contain the ‘religious’ aspect in just one place. I think part of the ongoing learning there is that religion is more prevalent than we expect and the everyday expression of it can confound our stereotypes.

If these networks are often porous and focused around pockets of shared organisational culture, how do you see tensions between organisational levels playing out and what are the lessons for policymakers?

One of the classic case studies that you could look at would be the divestment movement. Look at religious environmental divestment campaigns within denominations, like the Church of Scotland for example, which just completely fizzle when you get to big synod meetings. You may have huge support at the grassroots for divestment but when you get to the bureaucratic meeting with the standard elected leadership, there is a real lack of interest or even obstruction for sometimes arbitrary and unanticipated reasons.

This partly explains why this model I’m trying to develop is important. For large organizations like Greenpeace or the WWF I think there are real opportunities to create campaigns that connect with local churches. Our first reflex might be to try direct market campaigns to the individuals (in the basis of their religion), you might say ‘we know that there are a bunch of individuals that all go to church, could we find a campaign that would connect with those people on the level of their church belonging?’. An organisation like Christian Aid has done an excellent job of mobilising people at these intermediate organisational levels. I think these opportunities are there for effective campaigns that are being missed when policymakers focus either on the senior hierarchy or individuals in isolation of their various forms of belonging.

Isn’t there a risk of alienating the senior religious and bureaucratic leadership of the organisations you’re working with?

Even if you’re a big organization, you don’t want to burn your bridges. As I discuss in my article, within international relations there’s an appreciation of the fact that we’re not often dealing with easily defined political units. Elinor Ostrom refers to this in what she calls polycentric reality; that we’re not just working with a nation state but a whole interlinked web of different policies and actors vying for significance. It’s the same with religious environmentalism. We need to take the knowledge that we have of the complexities of political action and use it in the context of religion by working on multiple levels simultaneously.

I also think there’s a need, at the highest levels organizationally, to start comparing playbooks. The landscape is complex, and no single NGO or government unit can connect with everyone effectively. In any given area there might be different organizations with specific denominational and organisational knowledge that can succeed best supporting different parts of the religious environmental network. If we can divide up the landscape and tackle it in different ways, I think that could lead to some really effective work, particularly working with conservatives who are currently not highly engaged by the movement.

You mention the difficulties sometimes encountered when engaging with more conservative religious groups. What does this look like in practice?

Here’s another area where stereotypes can impair effective engagement. To give one example, during research I did with a religious environmental movement, I noticed when we were discussing their footprint of local groups that they didn’t have any groups in a particular local area. When I asked why, the answer was that the region was traditionally conservative and that they just aren’t interested in environmental activism (that wasn’t the actual wording). I thought this was interesting so I made a trip over and did some interviews.

I found that the reason that groups hadn’t joined the network wasn’t because of opposition to environmentalism, but simply because no one had invited them to join. I think we operate in a political context where stereotypes about ostensibly conservative religious groups get tacitly mobilized in a way that produces the lack of engagement they predict. The big lesson for the environmental movement from this, is that we should try to talk to people who we think are a lost cause. There are tonnes of unexpected opportunities hiding in plain sight.


Jeremy Kidwell is Senior Lecturer in Theological Ethics at the University of Birmingham.

His recent article ‘Mapping the field of religious environmental politics’, was published in the March 2020 issue of International Affairs. It formed part of a section of articles on ‘Engaging religions and religious studies in international affairs’, guest-edited by Katherine Brown. Read the article online here.

Joseph Hills is the Editorial Assistant for International Affairs.

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In case anyone here likes speculative fiction- here’s a piece I wrote for an AHRC project on Crafting the Commons…

At the first full network meeting on 11-12 December, five academics shared diverse stories about the commons. This is the text of the story shared by Dr Jeremy Kidwell (University of Birmingham). The story is also posted on Jeremy’s website, with a Creative Commons license.

In 1964 two psychologists at the University of Birmingham, Profs. Smith and Farrier, made an astonishing discovery. They were conducting fieldwork on a remote island off the coast of the Australian Territory of Papua (now known as Papua New Guinea) as part of a groundbreaking research project in what was then called psychophysics. The project had been designed to test for the cross-cultural saliency of certain forms of aliamentary stimuli. However, when they disembarked from the repurposed oil tanker which served as their research station and arrived on the island, they realised that in contrast to what their reconaissance had suggested, the island was wholly unpopulated. In the midst of great consternation and foraging in an attempt to discover the reason for this strange and seemingly impossible migration of people they stumbled upon something which had been hinted at by their colleagues in physics, but which had never gotten beyond the realm of pure speculation: a temporal-dimensional rift. Gazing upon the shimmering side of a boulder the size of ten men, which surely should not be shimmering, they observed the dim outlines of an unfamiliar landscape, which then appeared to move. Being men of science, and naturally inquisitive as psychologists often are, Prof. Smith attempted to ascertain the nature of this artwork and was astonished to find that the rock was not merely overlaid with some clever Papuan artworks, but was in fact a portal to an alternative dimension. After some weeks of collecting data on this anomaly, they concluded that the portal was relatively stable gateway to other worlds, and surmised that it could be entered safely by a human person who would appear in that other world. Being naturally generous men, as psychologists often are, the two professors returned to their marine research vessel and began radio tranmissions in an attempt to correspond with key colleagues in the British Psychological Society. 1964 was generally an optimistic year, full of hope and excitement for what lay ahead in the modern world. Yet, as these two professors knew, the task ahead of building a better society was laden with challenges. They realised this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to fashion a new and hand-selected population for a utopian society.

Two months later, they returned with their research vessel brimming with 100 of the brightest minds they could reasonably persuade to join them in this undertaking. Profs. Smith and Farrier had discovered that the portal was only stable for a limited window, so they knew that this was likely to be a one way journey. So, one by one, 50 men and 50 women and a cocker spaniel (for obvious reasons) passed through the portal with a small complement of scientific equipement, biological specimens, and other reasonable provisions for this undertaking. For reasons which they were unable to ascertain, the entirety of their scientific equipment was completely useless. And their biological speciments found some aspect of this new landscape to be entirely unwelcome and promptly died. Yet this group was able to carefully eke out a survival on what had turned out to be an astonishingly beautiful and exciting landscape.

About two weeks after their arrival, another member of their party, Prof. White – a female botanist, was walking along collecting samples and munching on a local fruit from what the group had begun to call a moonplant. She discovered something astonishing in a rather unscientific way: she tripped over a buried stone and cursed loudly mid-bite into the stem of her fruit. Much to her surprise, her curse was repeated verbatim back to her just a moment later. Apparently, this was no ordinary fruit. Subsequent investigations revealed a variety of remarkable abilities which this semi-sentient and unusually cooperative plant was capable of. If one were to speak for any length of time into this fibrous fruiting plant, it recorded every word verbatim and through somatic memory and special vibrations, the stem could somehow recall and repeat them back. Amateur musicians realised that it could also record their singing with high fidelity and play it back at any particular time with a special kind of shake. But the most significant discovery came about when Prof. White was experimenting with multiple plants to see whether there were variations in their abilities. If one were to bring two of tubular flowers of the moonplant into direct contact they subsequently developed the ability to transmit recorded sound across great distance. One a remote planet at an uncertain cosmic time, this “resonance” as it came to be called, was an extremely exciting discovery for this group of scientists. Over the next decade time they developed a complex system of what we would now call data storage and transmission. And as the years elapsed, they began to gather more significant quantities of data about the island, alternative technologies which functioned there and stories, poems, and songs about their new life. This humble flowering plant became incredibly precious. Once rendered biotically resonant, any moonplant could recall data from another moonplant and could transmit new messages, not just to a single other node, but to any number of plants. A group of first-generation planetary teenagers developed a radio station. Some sciensts began the task of recording audio reports of their discoveries and syntheses of their attempts at engineering in this new space for posterity.

As seems often to be the case with utopian societies, after about 20 years of life together, differences of opinion developed into more substantial rifts. Some groups broke off and relocated to other more remote islands. Others remained together but their relationships became rancorous. Because the moonplants were their primary mode of communication, they were soon caught up in these bits of relational friction.

One splinter community made the decision to centralise control of moonplants. A rotating delegate would hold possession of all resonant moonplants and that person would pass along outgoing messages to other planetary collectives, recall information upon request, and provide digests of incoming communication for the sake of convenience for this otherwise very busy community. To operate a battery of moonplants was complex enough that the were reasons not to rotate very often. In this community, this rotating moderatorship became the seat of incredible power, often contested.

Another, more anarchistic community decided that every person should have their own moonplant, and thus made the surprising decision that all moonplants were to be strictly rationed and artificial scarcity would be enforced for these otherwise ubiquitous plants by destroying all new moonplants except for those which were needed for newly born human individuals as they came into their age of majority, which was set at the age of 11.

On the mainland, things remained undetermined for a time. Some individuals held a variety of differently resonant and interconnected moonplants. Others formed cooperatives to sustain carefully curated moonplant resonance networks.

By this time there were also lone individuals living as hermits in various outposts. Hermits proved to be a source of inspiration and good humour, but also proved the source of some unfortunate mischief in several crucial ways. Many of these hermits had particularly resonant moonplants and thus maintained some level of connection with multiple others. It was eventually discovered that one of these hermits was deliberately destroying early and important moonplant recordings whenever they were found to feature male voices or the barking of dogs. This ability to destroy data held in the network was previously unknown, so the mainland group was astonished to discover that several key historical narratives were suddenly and irrevocably missing. Another hermit, with a rather unfortunately strong sense of their own ideological ability discovered that by using a particular vibration they could trigger other resonant moonplants to convey messages involuntarily. What ensued was a disappointing and paradoxical turn: at any given time, moonplants might be spouting off obscenities, losing information, and in one case playing a single song unceasingly. One or two individuals among the anarchist colony destroyed their moonplants, preferring to avoid this unwelcome interchange. They were forced to rely on others as a proxy still in possession of a living moonplant to access information which might have importance to them.

At their third decennary celebration, a significant contingent of colonists and their progeny gathered, purportedly to celebrate their persistence and the beauty of their common life, yet a pallour hung over this convocation. The moonplants upon which they had become so dependent for daily life and scholarly achievement, had become problematic, confusing, even dangerous. A small group discovered a new temporal-dimensional rift had opened on the eastern shore and was covertly planning a second migration with moonplants in hand. How might they organise their new life with these sentient plants so as to avoid the problems which arose in their common activity? For the discussion that follows, I will invite you to “choose your own adventure” and set a plan for this new generation…

Key questions: How do we manage authority, disagreement, rules, and distribution of power once commons are established?

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For the past two years, I’ve been synthesising and presenting my research into Christian environmentalism at a variety of fora. This has finally coalesced in a series of publications recently, so it seemed like a good time to gather some of these strands together in case anyone might be interested in the big picture and how all these bits fit together. It’s worth noting that quite a lot of this work is still coming together, so there are several publications in draft and which I’ve presented which won’t be out for a while yet officially. I’ll also highlight a few features that are still WIP.

First, the publications and a bit of summary:

You should read the whole study (link above!) but here’s a quick summary that might be helpful if you’re not familiar with the scholarly field we’re interacting with:

I’ve been delighted to take up a new research collaboration with Christopher D. Ives who has a tremendous level of experience within environmental sciences, particularly environmental management, but also an awareness of human geography. Chris and I are trying to identify what features are unique about religious environmentalism – particularly Christian environmentalism with which we’re both most familiar – and then communicate that to a broader policy-focussed (and secular) scholarly audience across environmental and political science and probably also environmental economics. There is a lot of very important translation work that needs to be done – in many cases, neither policymakers, social scientists or Christians at the grassroots themselves have a clear sense of how their work is unique in comparison to other kinds of environmental movements. In this article, we survey the field of environmental values, where economists and environmental scientists have been attempting for several decades now, to crystallise how we might ascribe value to the natural world. You can see this in the development of an [ecosystem services](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ecosystem_services) model which crystallised in 2006 in the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment. This kind of model has proven very helpful in public policy circles in affirming the hidden and potentially quantifiable value of seemingly extravagant measures such as ecosystem conservation. However, it ends up being, in practice, quite difficult to make all the intangible aspects into tangible and quantifiable measurements. Environmental scientists are well aware of this and have been working to develop ever more sophisticated versions of value models, resulting in a recent boom in “cultural values” and “social values” and by extension, we argue, explicitly religious values. A blunt way to put this is that “theology matters” and “churches matter” when it comes to caring for the earth. We highlight a few specific ways this is the case in our article, particularly in providing persons and communities with a matrix for the upholding of altruistic values, which seems to be increasingly difficult in the contemporary public sphere, so all the more important when we can find places where this is the case. However, as I’ve already suggested, it’s not just a matter of distilling all the components of theological understanding into a simplistic model. As we argue, “values are embedded” and not easily extracted from their contexts. Further, the mobilisation of Christian belief is also complex. Popular stereotypes suggest that when Christian leaders put out a public statement (whether this is the Pope or Billy Graham) their people just fall into line obediently. We take the example of Pope Francis’ recent encyclical Laudato Sí to highlight ways that top-down dissemination doesn’t always work in predictable ways, particularly in Christian church hierarchies. Finally, we highlight ways that theological worldviews are complex and layered. Our identities as people of faith draw on a number of different sources. We argue that if researchers are to engage with people of faith in a meaningful way, their methods will need to work on such a level which can capture the full web of values within a worldview and represent the significance of theology in the midst of it.

This article is the first major output from a massive study, which involved interviews with ministers, lay-leaders, and activists at 44 different Eco-Congregation churches across the UK, documentary analysis of hundreds of Eco-Congregation applications, and much more which we’ll be sharing in other research outputs in the next few years. It’s the first study of this scope of Christian environmentalism in the UK. In the broader scholarly study of environmentalism, one key question relates to how action and values relate to one another. That is, do we have a value and then act on it OR is it through ongoing actions that our values are formed and reinforced? We agree with a host of geographers and sociologists who essentially suggest that this is a paradoxical question which has no answer. Actions and values reinforce one another across the life of an individual person (and community) and it is impossible to ultimately sort out which of these two started everything off for a particular person. This is a salient concern for the study of Christian environmentalism, as policymakers are ultimately very curious to know whether being part of a church community (=practices?) or holding some kind of theological belief (=value?) have some sort of measurable impact on whether you will make changes to your lifestyle etc. in response to a problem like climate change. It’s also worth noting, that social psychologists have observed that the relationship between holding a value and acting upon that value-orientation is complex as well. Many people hold values (sometimes defending them quite fiercely) without taking actions which enshrine those values. Given all these paradoxes, we wanted to see if we could provide a more faithful representation of what is going on in Eco-Congregations in Scotland, and perhaps find a description which might map onto Christian environmentalism more broadly.

What we ultimately argue is that Christian belief and Christian community stand in both resonance and tension with wider environmental identities. We call this Eco-Theo-Citizenship, in order to highlight the way that people in Eco-Congregations might participate in climate change mitigation to (1) just be a good citizen (like recycling) or (2) because of their theological formation (shown in concern for justice or stewardship). But these two overlap with one another in a kind of reinforcing spiral, so as I’ve already noted above, they are hard to disentangle. This also works on the level of community, whether a person is thinking of their local church or the worldwide confederation of Christian believers. Christians are often negotiating their identity as a global (good) citizen, but also holding onto a set of values which are “not of this world”. This is a tension, we think, which is being negotiated in an ongoing way by Christian eco-communities.

We go on to suggest that if one were to take this model seriously, then it is possible to observe some consistent features about the types of environmentalism being expressed by people in Eco-Congregations. For the sake of this very brief article we shared two features which we imagined might be particularly relevant to the public policy community (there are many more!):

1. “Eco-Congregations tend to focus on *process and structure* as much as environmental *actions*” (p.12). It can be easy to see this as a problem, i.e. that an Eco-Congregation group might get terribly bogged down in committee politics on relatively small issues. And we met many Christians who indicated that they felt a bit self-conscious about how slowly their work got on. However, looking to wider anthropological studies of activist groups, we note that a focus on process is actually the underpinning foundation for stable and meaningful community, which then provides the basis for long-term and potentially transformative action. In this era of individualism and anomie, such an orientation on the small community can be quite countercultural and potentially serve to reinforce community resilience and cohesion. There’s also a point we didn’t have space to explore fully here that (we think) the most meaningful division among Eco-Congregation groups is not by denomination, but between those churches which are structured (Church of Scotland, Roman Catholic, and other mainline protestant groups) and those which are not (Baptist chuches, evanglical churches, quakers and unitarians). In this case, churches with beurocracies are functionally similar to those which have hierarchies. Taking on these two as separate frames is likely a good choice for high-level organisations trying to engage with Eco-Congregations/Churches in a meaningful way.

2. Environmentally active Christians are generally modest about their achievements and unlikely to champion their successes. They often see other secular groups as more efficacious even when they aren’t. In an age when community level groups are often supported through grant funding, this can have a particular impact on their ability to secure resources, or to have the ambition to take on big projects. Similarly, when churches do support a big project, they often hand it off to the wider community for long-term stewardship. We found examples of dozens of large scale eco-projects which were discretely built-up by an Eco-Congregation group. There is a related impact on public perceptions of Christian environmentalism. Christians do often have a visible focus on eco-projects related to their buildings (new boilers, energy production, windows, lighting, etc.) and leave their wider community-facing achievements unclaimed. There’s another strand of research here which remains implicit in this article, but which I’ll be taking up in later work. This is, that Christians involved in Eco-Congregations are also often involved in a whole range of other community groups: from Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth and the Green Party to Scout Groups, Fair Trade and Transition Towns. What does it mean for us to attribute their work done “while in church” to their Eco-Congregation, and the work they do whilst working alongside others in secular groups to “secular workers”? I’ll be suggesting that there is a whole layer of Christian environmentalism which lies hidden away and that we need to appreciate the way in which a Christian community may serve as beacon or incubator for a wider range of environmental work and concern.

In this article, we take up a question, first raised by Michael Northcott when he and I began working on our Ancestral Time project, as to whether the unique theologically formed understanding of time held by Christians might underwrite unique reactions to environmental challenges like climate change. There are a range of possible examples – the notion of the communion of saints and Christian eschatology to give two possible options – and we could see ways that these ideas provided unique theological options, but we wanted to know whether a Christian theology of time made a difference for Christian environmentalism among the general Christian (environmentally concerned) public. The short answer is “no”. In general, we found it quite difficult to get any of our respondents to talk about time. In some cases respondents conveyed the same kind of “short-term emergency” thinking that is often present in secular environmental conversations. Others were (conversely) unconcerned with the passage of time, and noteably skeptical about human ability to predict the future in any way. In both of these two groupings, it was difficult to ascertain whether there was anything specifically theological about their response. There was little theological language used, even when asked through follow-up questions. What we concluded was that the general focus of our respondents was on climate change as a *human* problem, and a reluctance to leave the human frame in order to think about the distant future in any concrete way. I note in our article some ways that this maps onto the anthropology of time. The take-away for policymakers is that when seeking to find resonance with Christians on environmental issues, it is important to use temporal framings which map onto ordinary human lay-experience of those issues.

It’s worth noting that my take-away from this study has also been that time is a terribly neglected concept in environmental philosophy and everyday Christian environmentalism. I’m working on a scholarly monograph which will take up this inquiry in the form of Christian moral and political philosophy: *Ecological Reconciliation and Time Reckoning* over the next 18 months. Stay tuned for more from me on how time *does* and *should* matter for the way we frame these issues.

Also relevant are:

  • An unpublished piece of data science research I have in preparation: “Mapping Environmental Action”

There’s a ton of data science goodies in here for anyone who works with R of GIS data (click here for a complete set of reproducible code and data on github). I unpack how Eco-Congregations measure against several secular environmental groups in Scotland by location against key demographics. Notably, how they are concentrated in the various administrative regions of Scotland, how they are related to indices of multiple deprivation, and the urban/rural scale, and whether these groups are different in terms of their proximity to various kinds of wilderness and environmental conservation areas. Pretty charts, maps, and graphs galore!

Here I take on the (in)famous article by Lynn White which suggests that Christianity is to blame for the environmental crisis (as it was in the 1960s) and look more broadly at the concept of “crisis” as it has been constructed. I argue that there are problematic framings of both “crisis” and “religion” at the heart of this debate and urge scholarls to look towards some more sophisticated framings of both concepts in engaging with climate change. Note: *You might sense a resonance here with my arguments above regarding how Christians react to apocalyptic framings of environmental problems…*

I’ve presented in several fora:

– Presentation on “Mobilising the Churches Around the Environment” to a group of UK NGO executives and faith leaders (Feb 2019)
– “Mapping” Religious Communities in the UK: Borders, Boundaries and Big Data” to the British Association for the Study of Religion (Sep 2018)

For the curious, it’s worth noting that, as I’ve been doing geospatial data science relating to Eco-Congregations and Eco-Churches, I’ve been shocked at the quality of data available on churches in the UK. I flesh out some of these problems in this presentation.

– “The Scottish Communities Report” to the Stop Climate Chaos (Climate Coalition) board of directors. (Jun 2018)

In this presentation, I distill some of my findings summarised above for a consortium of Scottish NGO and public policy groups (the English equivalent is the “Climate Coalition”). I was on the board for several years and this presentation came towards the end of my tenure as the board was trying to refine a focus on local communities as part of their work.

– “Slow energy policy in a time of global emergencies” to the Energy@Cambridge research initiative at Cambridge University (Jan 2018)

For this Cambridge paper, I provide a summary of some of our findings regarding Eco-Congregations above. As an enticement for the economists present for this presentation, I also did some additional analysis on how awards within the Scottish Government’s Climate Challenge Fund map onto Eco-Congregations [(small repo with reproducible code here)](https://github.com/kidwellj/ccf_wordcloud) for R code I developed which can produce a word cloud representing key words included in text of these grant descriptions.

– “Analysing the Development Trust Association Scotland footprint” to the Development Trust association board of directors meeting (May 2018)

This work, which feeds into the Mapping Environmental Action study above, tested out the presence of DTAS groups against a variety of other kinds of feature in Scotland, particularly grocery shops and pubs. Click above for reproducible R code (though apologies that some of the underlying data is embargoed by Ordnance Survey, alas).

So many thanks to @changekitchen who provided the most sustainable + tasty catering I’ve ever had for our event at @unibirmingham. Proves that food can be tasty, locally sourced, and affordable without being wrapped in plastic and pesticides. Thanks so much!

John Rawls: ‚”In discussing what I call the wide view of public political culture, we shall see that the idea of public reason applies more strictly to judges than to others, but that the requirements of public justification for that reason are always the same‚” Huh. Times change.