From Disposable Culture To Disposable People

We cannot solve the problem of plastics simply by recycling more. The plastic in the oceans, the soil, and our bodies is a symptom of the broader problem of disposable culture. We are not just treating objects as disposable--we are treating ourselves and each other as disposable, too. The story of plastics parallels the story of my life, from my childhood living aboard a sailboat to graduate work on plastics and endocrine disruption, and ultimately teaching about plastics, not only as a complex set of chemicals, but as a spiritual poison.

We cannot solve the problem of plastics simply by recycling more. The plastic in the oceans, the soil, and our bodies is a symptom of the broader problem of disposable culture. We are not just treating objects as disposable—we are treating ourselves and each other as disposable, too. The story of plastics parallels the story of my life, from my childhood living aboard a sailboat to graduate work on plastics and endocrine disruption, and ultimately teaching about plastics, not only as a complex set of chemicals, but as a spiritual poison.

This story of modern-day slavery reaches from brick kilns in Pakistan and brothels in Thailand to the offices of multinational corporations.

Facing a crisis unlike that of any other generation, young people are caught between the discourses of consumerism and a powerful crime-control-complex, and are viewed increasingly as commodities or are subjected to the dictates of an ever expanding criminal justice system. Drawing upon critical analyses, biography, and social theory, Disposable Youth explores the current conditions of young people now face within an emerging culture of privatization, insecurity, and commodification and raises some important questions regarding the role that educators, young people, and concerned citizens might play in challenging the plight of young people, while deepening and extending the promise of a better future and a viable democracy.

A deeply reported personal investigation by a Miami journalist examines the present and future effects of climate change in the Magic City -- a watery harbinger for coastal cities worldwide. Miami, Florida, is likely to be entirely underwater by the end of this century. Residents are already starting to see the effects of sea level rise today. From sunny day flooding caused by higher tides to a sewer system on the brink of total collapse, the city undeniably lives in a climate changed world. In Disposable City, Miami resident Mario Alejandro Ariza shows us not only what climate change looks like on the ground today, but also what Miami will look like 100 years from now, and how that future has been shaped by the city's racist past and present. As politicians continue to kick the can down the road and Miami becomes increasingly unlivable, real estate vultures and wealthy residents will be able to get out or move to higher ground, but the most vulnerable communities, disproportionately composed of people of color, will face flood damage, rising housing costs, dangerously higher temperatures, and stronger hurricanes that they can't afford to escape. Miami may be on the front lines of climate change, but the battle it's fighting today is coming for the rest of the U.S. -- and the rest of the world -- far sooner than we could have imagined even a decade ago. Disposable City is a thoughtful portrait of both a vibrant city with a unique culture and the social, economic, and psychic costs of climate change that call us to act before it's too late.

This collection explores the arguments related to veg(etari)anism as they play out in the public sphere and across media, historical eras, and geographical areas. As vegan and vegetarian practices have gradually become part of mainstream culture, stemming from multiple shifts in the socio-political, cultural, and economic landscape, discursive attempts to both legitimize and delegitimize them have amplified. With 12 original chapters, this collection analyses a diverse array of these legitimating strategies, addressing the practice of veg(etari)anism through analytical methods used in rhetorical criticism and adjacent fields. Part I focuses on specific geo-cultural contexts, from early 20th century Italy, Serbia and Israel, to Islam and foundational Yoga Sutras. In Part II, the authors explore embodied experiences and legitimation strategies, in particular the political identities and ontological consequences coming from consumption of, or abstention from, meat. Part III looks at the motives, purposes and implication of veg(etari)anism as a transformative practice, from ego to eco, that should revolutionise our value hierarchies, and by extension, our futures. Offering a unique focus on the arguments at the core of the veg(etari)an debate, this collection provides an invaluable resource to scholars across a multitude of disciplines.

REGIONAL WINNER - COMMONWEALTH BOOK PRIZE 2013 Ten year old Kenneth Lovelace often went to bed without dinner. Instead of feeling hunger, however, what he mostly felt was fear and shame, knowing that his family's poverty was the reason he had no food. Kenneth also recalls his bitterness whenever his parents locked him out of their tiny, one-room house to act on their 'urge'. This was in the 1970s, when Jamaica's socialist regime was dragging the country into bankruptcy, and when an Old Timer had told him that he was cursed since birth. Beginning with his earliest memories, "Disposable People" traces the life of Kenneth Lovelace, now a consultant living in the USA. After a string of failed marriages, bad relationships and other misfortunes, Kenneth looks back at his life in his old, hateful village with hopes of finding the roots of his latest tragedy. What comes out is a story of mischief and adventures, sex, prejudice, evil spirits, adversities and, progressively, violence. "I listened to these and other trinkets of information with interest, as they read his eulogy. At the end of the service, and while our ageing Methodist choir sang with the melody of hogs in labor, I went to look at him again in the open casket. I wanted to see if I could match all the kind words spoken about him, with the person that was lying there. I wanted to see the young boy tending kindly to the animals, dutifully cutting the grass, always obeying his mama and helping those in need, respectfully going to church and worshipping the Lord. That boy wasn't there. Instead there was a man about 1.92 meters tall, with thick, coarse hands (that had once hit me so hard they nearly broke my ribs) folded gently across his chest. His beard looked grayer than it did before, and had been neatly cut so that it didn't have any bristles. I had seen his beard close up a few times before while he slept, but I had never played in it like those kids sometimes did with their dads on TV. He had the same long creases stretching across his forehead, like fossilized worms, and his eyes were closed - like they seemed to have always been towards me. He was my papa for sure. People expected me to cry while looking at his body, but I didn't. The only times I had ever cried because of my papa was when he whipped me. But it sure was nice to see him in a suit."

Facing a crisis unlike that of any other generation, young people are caught between the discourses of consumerism and a powerful crime-control-complex, and are viewed increasingly as commodities or are subjected to the dictates of an ever expanding criminal justice system. Drawing upon critical analyses, biography, and social theory, Disposable Youth explores the current conditions of young people now face within an emerging culture of privatization, insecurity, and commodification and raises some important questions regarding the role that educators, young people, and concerned citizens might play in challenging the plight of young people, while deepening and extending the promise of a better future and a viable democracy.