“I’m talking about the strongest enforcement measures possible. The things they’re using in southern Africa○Open citation.—30-year jail terms for first time offenders, shoot-to-kill policiesJump to Edgenote. Yes, they are extreme and controversial, but don’t desperate times call for desperate measures? Based on what I’ve read in the papers and the social media comments from the public, it’s high time that we get serious about things,” Claus replied. “You’re wading into muddy waters here, my friend,” Richard said carefully.

Throughout this section, I will use the term “theenvironment” to reference many different relationships connecting human and nonhuman liv-ing beings (plants, animals, persons, insects), nonliving beings and entities (spirits, elements),and collectives (e.g., forests, watersheds). The environment is not a precise or culturally accurateterm, though for reasons of space, I will rely on it

Historically, mothers of asthmatics were thought to be ambiva-lent, overprotective, and rejecting toward their children, thereby contributingto the development of childhood asthma.

Crucially, for my arguments about slow vio-lence, the time frames of damage assessment and potential recovery arewildly out of sync. The deep-time thinking that celebrates natural healingis strategically disastrous if it provides political cover for reckless corporateshort-termism

A vernacular landscape is shaped by the affective, historically textured mapsthat communities have devised over generations, maps replete with namesand routes, maps alive to significant ecological and surface geological fea-tures. A vernacular landscape, although neither monolithic nor undisputed,is integral to the socioenvironmental dynamics of community rather thanbeing wholly externalized—treated as out there, as a separate nonrenewableresource. By contrast, an official landscape—whether governmental, NGO,corporate, or some combination of those—is typically oblivious to such earliermaps; instead, it writes the land in a bureaucratic, externalizing, and extrac-tion-driven manner that is often pitilessly instrumental.

The representational challenges are acute, requiringcreative ways of drawing public attention to catastrophic acts that are low ininstant spectacle but high in long-term effects. To intervene representation-ally entails devising iconic symbols that embody amorphous calamities aswell as narrative forms that infuse those symbols with dramatic urgency

Places like the Marshall Islands, subjected between1948 and 1958 to sixty-seven American atmospheric nuclear “tests,” thelargest of them equal in force to 1,000 Hiroshima-sized bombs. In 1956 theAtomic Energy Commission declared the Marshall Islands “by far the mostcontaminated place in the world,” a condition that would compromise inde-pendence in the long term, despite the islands’ formal ascent in 1979 intothe ranks of self-governing nations.11 The island republic was still in partgoverned by an irradiated past: well into the 1980s its history of nuclear colo-nialism, long forgotten by the colonizers, was still delivering into the world“jellyfish babies”—headless, eyeless, limbless human infants who would livefor just a few hours.

Such communities typically have to patch togetherthreadbare improvised alliances against vastly superior military, corporate,and media forces

Such a rethinking requires that we complicate conven-tional assumptions about violence as a highly visible act that is newsworthybecause it is event focused, time bound, and body bound. We need to accountfor how the temporal dispersion of slow violence affects the way we per-ceive and respond to a variety of social afflictions—from domestic abuse toposttraumatic stress and, in particular, environmental calamities.

Indeed, in correspondence withOsborn, Grant described conservation and race-based eugenicsas parallel movements, for both were ‘‘attempts to save as muchas possible of the old America.’’ Leopold almost certainly did notshare all of these concerns, but this was a strand in the intellectualtradition he drew on with his call to preserve the landscape ofNordic pioneering.

Malthusianism

the convergence of wilderness thought, Malthusianism, and environ-mentalism in the mid-twentieth-century United States. Yet this subjectis so central to how Americans have interacted with nature and for-eign peoples that it warrants further scrutiny

We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fiercegreen fire dying in her eyes. I realized then, and haveknown ever since, that there was something new tome in those eyes - something known only to her andto the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant moredeer, that no wolves would mean hunters' paradise.But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed thatneither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such aview

Rest! cries the chief sawyer, and we pause for

Now we cut 1910, when a great universitypresident published a book on conservation, a greatsawfly epidemic killed millions of tamaracks, a greatdrought burned the pineries, and a great dredgedrained Horicon Marsh.We cut 1909, when smelt were first planted inthe Great Lakes, and when a wet summer induced theLegislature to cut the forest-fore appropriations.We cut 1908, a dry year when the forestsburned fiercely, and Wisconsin parted with its lastcougar.We cut 1907, when a wandering lynx, lookingin the wrong direction for the promised land, endedhis career among the farms of Dane County.We cut 1906, when the first state forester tookoffice, and fires burned 17,000 acres in these sandcounties; we cut 1905 when a great flight ofgoshawks came out of the North and ate up the localgrouse (they no doubt perched in this tree to eat someof mine). We cut 1902-3, a winter of bitter cold;which brought the most intense drought of record(rainfall only 17 inches); 1900, a centennial year ofhope, of prayer, and the usually annual ring of oak.Rest! cries the chief sawyer, and we pause f

dead veteran

My dog does not care where heat comes from,but he cared ardently that it come and soon. Indeedhe considers by ability to make it come as somethingmagical, for when I rise in the cold black pre-dawnand kneel shivering by the hearth making a fire, hepushes himself blandly between me and the kindlingsplits I have laid on the ashes, and I must touch amatch to them by poking it between his legs. Suchfaith, I suppose, is the kind that moves mountains.

ndeed, it is all too clear thatevery surviving oak is the product either of rabbitnegligence or of rabbit scarcity

But temple worthiness today for Latter-day Saintsis determined by two interviews, the first with a member of one'sbishopric, the second with a member of one's stake presidency

contemporary music and s

Sf's color-blind future is multiculturalist in this wa

The problem with such a gesture, ofcourse, is that rather than putting aside trivial and earthly things, it validatesand normalizes very specific ideological and material perspectives, enablingdiscussions of race and prejudice on a level of abstraction while stifling a moreimportant discussion about real, material conditions, both historical andcontemporary. And by presenting racism as an insanity that burned itself out,or as the obvious folly of the ignorant and impoverished who would be leftbehind by the genre's brave new futures, sf avoids confronting the structuresof racism and its own complicity in them.

This sharedassumption accounts for the relative absence of people of color from such sf:if race was going to prove unimportant, why even bother thinking about it,when energies could instead be devoted to more pressing matters, such as howto colonize the solar system or build a better robot?

It is white, Anglooccupation and control over land, property, andresources (including those political and economicrelationships and institutions that manage and medi-ate this control), not the form of property arrange-ments per se, that provides the logical foundationfor territorial dispossession and political economicexpansion. By reading settler colonialism as anenduring but heterogeneous structure affecting multi-ple racialized groups, we might therefore observe itsinvestment in white supremacy and the racializationof space as not merely instrumental or epiphenome-nal to the establishment of private property. Rather,white supremacy and the racialization of space areamong the dominant enduring characteristics andobjectives of property arrangements and the marketsthese produc

Throughout the genealogy of urban change inTucson described thus far, it has remained the spa-tial concentration of indigenous, Mexican American,and other nonwhite residents and property ownersthat is used as a proxy or means for establishing thedesirability, and therefore value, of land in a givenneighborhood. Despite dynamic transformations inthe (geo)political context of local governance, thiscondition persists over time and justifies ongoingstate intervention to stimulate private investment—first via the aggressive removal of nonwhite residentsto “modernize”Tucson’s downtown and later via astate-led coup against the will of Tucson voters forthe purpose of maximizing sales and propertytax revenues.

Son site and that overlaps partially with the westside Rio Nuevo district, average housing market val-ues increased almost 115 percent between 2012 and2019, compared to a city-wide increase during thissame period of only 63 percent

Meanwhile, at Tucson’s birthplace, the cityoperated a landfill, which after abandonment in the1950s now belches out five times the environmentallimit of methane

sbee Deportation of 1917.In the meantime, residential, commercial, andpublic segregation reinforced the subordinated statusof Mexican, Mexican American, O’odham, Yaqui,Chinese, and African American peoples, such thatin Tucson multinational, multiethnic neighborhoodsemerged where residents were strictly limited inwhere they could live, shop, and work. Today, thecity’s racial boundaries continue to reflect these ear-lier spatial arrangements, informing ongoing strugglesover land and against dispossession and displace-ment. Nowhere are these struggles more raw than inthe neighborhoods immediately surrounding thecity’s downtown core, which itself was largely clearedof nonwhite, non-Anglo residents beginning in thelate 1960s

They did so in a decidedly bifurcatedlabor market, however, in which Mexican and indige-nous workers were charged with more dangerous andless desirable tasks than their Anglo and Europeancounterparts and were officially paid a fraction of thewages even when working the same hours and jobs.

After Mexican independence in 1820,Tucson continued to evolve into a regional commer-cial and trading center connecting independentnative peoples to the north and west with theMexican Republic to the south. Meanwhile, wealthyland owners from Sonora undertook to seize agricul-tural lands along the Santa Cruz River, monopolizedesert water sources, dig new wells that drew downregional aquifers, and disrupt traditional O’odhamlivelihood and migration practices across a growingnetwork of rancherias. Yet continuing Apache hostil-ity and the region’s distance from global marketssubstantially destabilized these nascent mining,ranching, and agricultural endeavors. During thefirst thirty years of Anglo-American colonization,indigenous peoples continued to curtail territorialencroachment and conquest, until the completion ofthe transcontinental railroad in 1881 allowed for therapid mobilization of troops and supplies to enforceconfinement on the reservation system

The area that today comprises southern Arizonaand southwest New Mexico was the last substantiveterritorial region added to the contiguous UnitedStates. Formally annexed under the GadsdenPurchase of 1853, Tucson quickly became a beach-head for Anglo-American extractive enterpriseinvolving mining, ranching, and plantation agricul-ture. Of course, the Tohono O’odham (“desert peo-ple”) and Akimel O’odham (“river people”),members of an integrated linguistic, cultural, andtrade network that expands north to the Gila River,west to the Colorado River, and as far south aspresent-day Durango, Mexico, had long since estab-lished complex village communities that span bothsides of the post-Gadsden U.S.–Mexico boundary(see Gentry et al. 2019). Beginning in the 1690s,the Spanish colonial regime attempted to appropri-