This article is excerpted from
The Media Ecosystem: What Ecology Can Teach Us About Responsible Media Practice, recently released by Evolver Editions/North Atlantic Books


as Environmental Education

All worldviews are environmental worldviews,
whether they are based on exploitation or sustainability. Thus, our ecological emergency
is primarily a cultural crisis. Within this context, then, media must be seen
as a kind of environmental education. They teach us how to act upon the world,
encouraging a particular attitude toward living systems. Media practitioners have
a tremendous responsibility to incorporate a more holistic and ecologically
intelligent perspective into how they mediate the world. Just as media makers
increasingly have become sensitive to the stereotyping of genders, cultures,
nationalities, and sexual orientation, we now have to make a turn toward
planetary ecology to become aware of how our forms of mediation impact living

Minimarts of the Mind

Our current world system has made the production and
reproduction of a certain form of passive, consumerist consciousness its
primary product. Subsequently, the world system has colonized the collective unconscious
as it preys upon the living world. Following the brilliant Indian theorist and
activist Vandana Shiva, we can understand this system as a mental model, a
"monoculture of the mind." Monoculture is an agricultural term for single crop
farming, such as corn, palm oil, or soya, that requires external inputs, like
chemical pesticides, petroleum-based fertilizers, and genetically altered
seedlings. According to Shiva, monoculture is a "cognitive space," one that
sees food or agriculture for what it offers for the market. Whereas a local
knowledge-based perspective looks at the nurturing characteristics of a given
ecosystem, such as nutrition, soil, water, and life, by contrast a monocultural
knowledge system sees ecosystems as resources that can be commoditized,
privatized, and controlled. The monocultural approach views life from a
rational, scientific perspective. As agriculture, monoculture is not designed
for local use or consumption, but for export and transport across the globe.
It's mass produced and generic to the point of being without context-it can
grow anywhere and be done by anyone who buys into the system (sometimes by
choice, others as enforced policy). The monocultural mind has a totalizing
effect that extends beyond food systems to larger forms of social and economic
organization that expand to the implementation of technology and media.
Monoculture has a way of crowding out alternatives in order to promote
standardization, masking itself in the rhetoric of development. We categorize
nations and people according to whether or not they conform to this
"development" scheme. Mass marketed media are designed to work within this
standardized system to the extent that multinational media corporations promote
and lobby for laws that favor their products in the global marketplace,
protecting their interests against unauthorized uses and competition. They then
use media to advocate for their particular position in the marketplace.

To see
this phenomenon at work as a coherent system, one only needs to go to a random
"convenience" minimart that populates North American highways. These are access
points to the monocultural mindset and embody in an extreme way the volatility of
the system. Minimarts service the various addictions of our society: oil,
alcohol, tobacco, polyunsaturated fats, caffeine, empty carbs, sugar, porn, and
packaged media. Some also incorporate fast food kiosks. Here the totalizing
spectacle of the world system masks its severe volatility: a breakdown in one
key ingredient-oil, either in terms of scarcity or price-then the whole system
crashes. These portals do not depend on a single local input except for labor
and utilities, and even these are often imported. In many poor and rural
communities food markets no longer exist, just these vortices of cultural
toxins, and as such, they represent monoculture's ideal dream space.
Constructed in meadows, clear-cut forest tracts, and on fragile desert soil,
each minimart island becomes a desolate outpost of the dominator complex. The
misnaming of these portals as "convenient" reveals the anthropocentric and
selfish character of unsustainable economic patterns that encourage personal
satisfaction over planetary health. Likewise, if global media corporations have
their way, the internet and other media distribution channels will become of
minimarts of the mind.

Goddess of Light

Advertising is the dream life of corporations. And
Pepsi has dreamt up Shakira, a high priestesses of the world system. A
Colombian-born singer of Lebanese descent, her name means "goddess of light,"
an appropriate name for someone who is primarily experienced through
electricity. Her function became apparent to me around ten years ago when I was
working on a media literacy project in northern New Mexico. I was given the
task of finding ads for a Spanish language media and health curriculum that
would use media samples to tackle issues like body image, tobacco and alcohol
abuse, gender identity, and violence. I taped hours of Spanish language TV from
satellite, hunting for concrete examples of nefarious media to teach with. It
wasn't difficult. From underage girls cage dancing on a children's show to mass
murdering gangsters strangling women with ropes, Mexican TV is an open
laboratory of ritual abuse. But nothing prepared me for what I eventually

I missed it on the first run through the tapes. But as I rewatched them, the
bleached blonde goddess of the Latin Pop Matrix reasserted herself in a thirty-second
spot for Pepsi. Believing at first that this was just a Rorschach test for the
litany of social ills I had set out to find, I rewound the commercial over and
over again to make sure my senses weren't deceiving me.

The ad opens with a glowing, indigo hued hall exaggerated by linear perspective, as
if we are peering beyond the guts of a television set. Along the frame's edges
are circular portal-like windows as if it were the hull of a spacecraft. A
concert stage forms the horizon line. Above it hovers a bulbous red, white, and
blue sphere. Below the sphere Shakira emerges to face concertgoers. She belts a
jingle devoted to global freedom, stalking along a cat walk, slithering,
cooing, teasing her way toward the camera. Then a long shot reveals the stage's
actual shape: a crucifix. The portal windows now resemble stained glass
windows, and long columns look eerily like the pillars of a great cathedral. If
you are Latin American and Roman Catholic, the allusion is unmistakable.
Shakira is performing Mass.

As the concert progresses, her moves are ritualistically mirrored by an audience
of clean-cut, adoring youth. In the final shot a Pepsi bottle materializes in
Shakira's hand, appearing from a flash of light. Shakira, and then the crowd of
teen followers, together imbibe the Black Water of Imperialism. In sync they
perform a transubstantiation of the world system: the indigenous colonized are
transformed and purified by the Blood of Capitalism in order to go to Heaven to
become White People.

As a spiritual sermon, here the world system represents itself as the dominant
planetary religion. The advertisement is a mini-ritual designed to educate
Latin Americans that in order to better their lives, they must transform
themselves into what Shakira has become. Already she'd altered her identity to
join the planetary cult: she transitioned from her once dark-haired and
distinct Latina identity to a blonde angelic archetype typical of world system
media: an incubus. Like her predecessors Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera,
and Madonna, she is a leather-clad, blonde vixen set out to train youths to
become proper aliens. Her divinity is bequeathed by the red, white, and blue
sphere. Like the pied piper, she beckons youth to leave behind their traditions
in order to board her fun-filled spacecraft. To transform ourselves from the
old world into the new, the magical, transformative elixir is, of course,

Where's the Beef?

In addition to soda, corporate media and hamburgers have a lot in common. They
succeed because they stimulate the pleasure centers of our brains. As an
example of how they converge, in 2008 Burger King launched a viral marketing
campaign called "Whopper Virgins." The idea was to take the Whopper burger to
remote regions of the world and to film how people reacted to it in a taste
"test" against the McDonald's Big Mac.

To create the campaign, Burger King enlisted skater/filmmaker Stacy Peralta, director of Dogtown and Z Boys, which documented the skater
counterculture in LA during the 1970s. He took a crew to Thailand, Romania, and
Greenland where he filmed in mockumentary style. It has all the signs of a
legitimate documentary by using shaky cameras, interviews, and "realism," but
to any keen-eyed, mediate literate observer it was clearly a farce. It
portrayed the North American film crew as "normal" in order to make the
regional cultures appear absurd and strange, a technique going back to early
circuses. The crew addresses us as if the hamburger is a kind of religious
article of faith, and that of course anyone should like it and adapt their
culture to it. Not only that, it should be Burger King that provides the access
point to this product.

In terms of promoting green consciousness, hamburgers are one of the least ecologically sustainable food
products. Making them requires an obscene amount of natural resources, from
water to clear-cutting forests for ranch lands. Moreover, hamburger production
is highly automated, technological, and centralized. For these reasons the
hamburger is closely tied to climate change and symbolizes perfectly the
monocultural mindset.

In order to propagate the hamburger, the ad campaign needs to scramble our common sense. It does this through its
pseudo claim to authenticity by incorporating Peralta's street cred and fake
documentary style to give it a sense of verisimilitude-a feeling of "reality."
The growth of reality TV techniques is not confined to TV programming, but also
extends to marketing and viral media. This demonstrates how corporate media
survive by eating reality: whenever possible they have to harvest shreds of the
real to claim legitimacy. It's a very sketchy, sneaky, and unethical game. But
that is what is afoot.  

Monoculture succeeds in post-traditional societies where
identities are flexible commodities that have to adapt to consumption and
constant change. In this respect, we think of ourselves as "free"- freed from
tradition, free to choose who we want to be. On the surface this seems like a
good thing-we are always told that the past is oppressive-but in practice the
kinds of traditions that are eliminated by capitalist enclosure could also
contribute to our well-being, helping us reconnect with our living systems.
Eliminating traditional knowledge is a dangerous game, and though people in
rich countries deride and expel immigrants based on a fantasy of cultural and
racial purity, they depend on imported laborers that are still skilled in
farming and ranching to maintain their food systems. Traditional knowledge also
enables us to remain autonomous from the world system. Yes, we have the choice
of being skaters, hip-hoppers, ravers, preppies, etc., but increasingly many in
the world don't have the luxury to shop for identities at the mall or on the
internet. They are being displaced from the cultures, languages, and lands that
have shaped their identities, and are being forced into permanent migration.
And media provide the selling points to justify this disruptive process.

Traditions are broken so that we
become dependent on external forces for all our needs. In some cases laws are
written and lives are brokered through trade agreements. In others we are
seduced by cheap consumer goods. Eventually we are sucked into a kind of
spiritual dependency in which the corporation, as evidenced in the Pepsi ad,
becomes the mediator between us and the cosmos. The vision that advertising
offers us is that we cannot understand ourselves or our place in the
universe-or with nature for that matter-without the intervention and mediation
of the world system. So though Shakira croons about the virtues of freedom, the
system is designed to turn us into serfs.

(Re)Mediating Ecological Worldviews

A mixture of carbonated water and high fructose corn syrup sweetener produced through monocultural crop production, Pepsi is not just an innocuous soft drink: it's the world system in a disposable plastic
container, a holon of a monocultural system of food production and consumption
that includes genetically modified corn and its syrupy by-product. Pepsi is not
in the business of traditional diets or healthy lifestyle choices. For many
indigenous people, it's a recipe for diabetes.
Soda is liquid
candy, and typically Americans drink over fifty gallons of it a year.

Not to overstate the obvious, but by the time we consume products from companies
like Pepsi, they are so far removed from their source of production that they
might as well have been delivered by spacecraft (piloted by Shakira, of course).
Like the smartphone, Pepsi's marketing image is pure and whatever toxic by-products
or health effects come from its production process and waste remain out of view
to the average consumer. The Shakira ad, then, in fact propagates an ecological
worldview, a mental model for how we engage (or not, as is most often the case)
our living systems. As stated previously, all worldviews are environmental,
because they determine how we act upon Earth. Consequently, the world system is
primarily an ecological worldview first, and all its other affects are symptoms
of this fact.

A Hierarchy of Needs

As stalkers and hunters of our attention, advertisers
and marketers are scientists of human emotions. One way to understand how
marketers and propagandists appeal to us on a primal level is by identifying
our essential human needs. The psychologist Abraham Maslow developed a model of
human motivation that looks like a pyramid. Starting at the base and moving up
to the pyramid's apex, our needs are physiological (breathing, food, water,
sex, sleep, homeostasis, excretion), safety (security of body, employment,
resources, morality, family, health, property), love and belonging (family,
friendship, sexual intimacy), esteem (self-esteem, confidence, achievement,
respect of and by others), and self-actualization (morality, creativity,
spontaneity, problem solving, lack of prejudice, acceptance of fact). This
model is not infallible and can be critiqued from the perspective of ecopsychology
(it lacks any mention of our need to connect with the natural world) or the yogic
chakra system (it lacks a model of cosmology). Nonetheless, we can bounce off of
Maslow to discuss how marketers hook our attention.

literacy activists argue that there are over thirty known "persuasion
techniques." I prefer the term "attention-getting hook," because I believe that
it better represents what they do. Essentially, a hook is a technique that
grabs our awareness by working on us either emotionally or physiologically. The
top three are sex, fear, and humor. These respectively draw on the first three
levels of the pyramid of needs. Sex, of course, is a primary need for our
species to procreate and experience deep intimacy, connection, and pleasure.
Fear is what drives us to protect and secure ourselves. Humor is a form of
connecting with others-jokes don't work unless we have shared understanding. It
is a kind of inclusion. Once these emotions are generated, they are associated
with the brand, a process called "emotional transfer."

the average person, the cause of overconsumption is fairly obvious: to
compensate for a lack of well-being, we shop. Some argue that our ancient
brains are responsible. True enough. An innate need to hunt and gather gets translated
from the ancient bush into the modern marketplace. Just as buying goods in the
mall or through the shopping network gives people thrills, we also get small
highs from purchasing gadgets and downloading apps to our smartphones.
Additionally, a tendency to hoard and gorge comes from an unconscious fear that
there may not be enough to eat tomorrow. To our primitive brains, starvation
may be just beyond the horizon.

these facts don't explain our overriding capacity to also moderate behavior, as
difficult as it is for most of us to do. After all, cultural norms can change.
Just look at the shift in attitude toward smoking over the past thirty years.
There are plenty of examples of cultures that have balanced their biological
needs with the spiritual and cultural well-being of their people. Through
evolved cultural practices, they know not to overhunt and when conservation is
an appropriate response to the limits of a given ecosystem. Throughout time,
some cultures have succeeded while others have failed miserably at living
within the parameters of their given ecosystems. However, unlike many ancient
civilizations that did fail, an advantage we have is the knowledge of how past
and current cultures have responded to their environments. It is fundamentally
unethical that current colonial media practices deny the consequences of
overshooting the carrying capacity of our living systems by masking this
dangerous behavior with utopian images of growth and prosperity.

people choose to attend to this knowledge is another matter. Media certainly
play their part. Educationally, documentaries are excellent tools for conveying
lessons from the past, though audiences for such fare are relatively small. By
contrast, when the majority of media play up the growth and progress discourse
above a conservation ethic, most people will identify with the hollow view that
consumerism and technology can magically fix any problem, be it spiritual,
cultural, or environmental.

If we are to transform ourselves toward a sustainable
culture, then we need to take seriously the spiritual orientation of our
society in which a sense of "lack" is filled by consumption. Overeating is a
good example of how this plays out. Due to a convergence of politics, economics,
and marketing, we have an overabundance of cheap calories in the daily American
diet. This is why when you travel through the heartland of the United States
you will get two plates of food whenever you order a meal at a restaurant or
will be asked to "super size" at the fast food joint. A consequence is that
obesity and diabetes have become endemic and normalized. But it's not just a
matter of the system shoveling food into our faces. Many of us overeat because
of spiritual malaise.

Sustainability is
literally living within our means, whether it's maintaining a positive balance
sheet in our checking accounts or with our carbon account in the atmosphere.
Just as we cannot continue to live in debt, we also can't keep borrowing
against the biosphere of the future. The reason we can consume at a rate of
three Earths today is because we are bankrupting and impoverishing the future
lives of our grandchildren and all their relations. The current moment calls
for a sense of sufficiency that not only translates more broadly into our
economics, but more importantly becomes an integral aspect of our personal
sense of well-being. The persistent theme of alienation, self-hatred, and fear
of not fitting in propagated by marketing is designed to shatter our sense of wellness
and autonomy in order to make us dependent on corporations to fulfill our
psychological and spiritual needs. Sustainable media practice should uplift and
educate in order to help us feel whole rather than fragmented.

It's time for
marketing professionals to stop producing what ecoliteracy advocate Arran
Stibbe identifies as "pseudo-satisfier," "dissatisfaction-manufacturing," and "convenience-constructing
In response to
consumerism, we can advocate a steady state of contentment through connection
(with people, places, ideas, animals, the cosmos), activity (physical,
creative), curiosity (attention), learning, giving (volunteering, sharing), and
understanding the difference between temporary and authentic happiness. Such
would be the ultimate function of remediation: media as remedy.


Prior to the Spanish invasion, the diverse cultural
landscapes of the Americas, including the Hopi, utilized traditional ecological
knowledge (TEK). Many of these practices survive today because of the cultural
commons. TEK proves to be very adaptable to local environments, because it's
the product of thousands of years of research and development. For example,
before the Spanish invasion and destruction of Tenochtitlan (now Mexico City),
the Mexica's (Aztec) sophisticated mosaic of canals and terraced gardens were
incredibly productive and efficient. In typical brute fashion, one of the first
projects of Spanish engineers was to destroy these sophisticated gardens and
replace them with their own system. The period of colonization was a systematic
dismantling of bioregional food systems and agricultural practices in order to
be replaced with those familiar to the Spanish: ranching, deforestation, and
mining. However, not everything the Spanish did was bad. Some of their best agricultural
practices were adapted from North Africa, including dry land farming techniques
and irrigation, and the introduction of fruit and nut trees. In New Mexico the
acequia irrigation system brought by the Spanish is one of the earliest
post-contact forms of democracy and sustainable agricultural practice in North
America. Nonetheless, colonization was a process of supplanting one energy
system for another. Ultimately it was a horrific, net loss for pre-contact

the dominant paradigm of globalization favors a third system, one based on
techno-scientific agriculture, such as petroleum-based monocrops and
genetically modified seed. However, this monocultural wave is contested by an
opposite movement based on revising traditional agricultural
practices: permaculture, bioregionalism, farmers' markets, and slow food. These
are a few examples of how the dominator complex is being challenged in people's
daily practices. Alternative media play an important role helping these
movements share and disseminate information. Through websites promoting open
design (Open Source Ecology), grassroots
activism, books, and documentaries, the food movement gets its planetary legs
through online networks. Such efforts are necessary to buttress the massive
propaganda system at the disposal of the monocultural food system, as evidenced
by the daily barrage of fast food and junk food marketing.

What's Your Feed?

The link between media and agriculture is not random. Many media related
metaphors originally derive from food-growing practices: culture stems from the process of cultivation; broadcast comes from the act of seed casting; a signal's reception field corresponds with places that we
grow things. Videos stream and we set
up news feeds. Now we upload our data
into clouds running in server farms.
The precursor of
the modern alphabet came from the record-keeping practices of farmers. Even the
earliest DIY phone systems in the United States were strung through rural
fences by ranchers who needed to communicate with each other.

But ultimately the link between food
and media relates to the old saying, you are what you eat. We may use media to
feed our minds with entertainment and information, but corporations also see us
as food. The world system survives by consuming energy flows-material, mental,
and spiritual. Our media habits require that we "spend" time, time being a
currency of energy consumption and waste. The channeling of this energy is done
via the medium of money. When corporations map the world-and by extension the
business model for those media companies that serve the interests of the world
system-the so-called bottom line is about determining who eats whose energy,
and whose culture gets digested and whose doesn't.

the primary financial model for the majority of media we use: advertising. The
only way free media can make money is to sell your attention to advertisers. If
you don't watch or click, they don't make money. The inventory they are selling
is our mental vitality, creativity, and interests. Subsequently, these media
corporations and their advertisers are parasitic slime molds that can only
thrive by harvesting the solar energy we collect from plant chemicals. Through
the food we eat and the energy we expend, whenever we spend our money and time,
these corporate entities gorge our stored solar energy. We work for them
without pay.

The food system, like other
institutional structures of the world system such as education or health care,
reflects the mental models of the prevailing monocultural paradigm. To counter
it we can repurpose the most ancient cultural knowledge we have-food-in order
to foreground living systems into our thinking about a realm normally
considered insulated from the natural world. In this sense, by tying media with
food, we are re-mediating. Remediation
is the technical term for restoring landscapes and habitats. It also has a
health implication. In Spanish, remedeos
are traditional herbal remedies. If we want to restore the balance of human
affairs and living systems through our communication models, then we can borrow
and reappropriate from the most essential activity of human culture: eating.
Tied to eating are culture, economics, and ecology. It's no wonder that many of
the world's leading proponents of sustainability see food as the primary access
point for changing the world system. Indeed, as chaos theory argues, all
systemic change is local. What is more local than the decision of what kind of
food to put in your mouth? To extend that to media, we can also consider the
implications of how we choose to feed our minds.

critical that we deal with interlocking colonial practices of the world system
and its manipulation of media to shore up the existing system. For example, the
average consumer is likely unaware that consolidated food empires-among the
largest Monsanto and Cargill-quietly monopolize planetary agricultural food
systems with little to no discussion in the mainstream media. Inattention to
these facts enables monocultural systems to maintain their hegemonic grip on
the cultural commons and global trade policy. Moreover, we can see a parallel
in how megacorporations like Monsanto use patenting as a form of colonial
control and the manner in which media companies use copyright and the threat of
piracy as a way of manipulating the cultural commons. Critically, alternative
media in the form of documentaries and activist networks on the net educate and
coordinate opposition to these powers.   

Commercial Holons

We can think of the Pepsi ad as a boundary object, an
artifact with commonly understood symbols but different levels of meaning
depending on who comes into contact with it. Like a blueprint, it both
describes and proscribes a worldview. As a boundary object, it has objective
properties (thirty-second TV ad, featuring Shakira, etc.) but depending on who
encounters it, its meaning and intention will vary. For example, Shakira and
her management will view the ad as a vehicle for her career and part of
developing her brand as an artist crossing over into the global market. The ad
agency that produced it wants to make the most effective and powerful form of
communication they can. Pepsi's shareholders want to see progress and growth in
the Latin American market. Coca-Cola executives counter the campaign with their
own message of unity and transformation. Univision ad sales executives are
eager to sell the space for the ad. All these various intentions then come to
fruition in the commercial, which becomes a microcosm of the whole system. It
becomes a world system holon: a nodal expression within a complex network of
power that reflects the system's properties like a knot in Indra's Net.

is why advertisements are excellent objects to think with. As
holons of the world system, despite their ubiquity, we barely notice them at
all. Yet three thousand times a day, there they are comprising the greatest ambient
myth-making machine in the history of the human race. They are so influential
that we say they have no influence. But like pressing a tuning fork onto the
body of a guitar, through media mindfulness we can apply our intelligence to
get inside the mentality of the world system and grok its true essence. Such
knowledge diminishes its power: it can only successfully operate under opaque
conditions. It's like how insight meditation leads to understanding how our
minds respond to our environment. Once we learn its secrets and tricks, its
ability to continue business as useful becomes weakened. We break its spell.

Decolonizing Energy Systems

It has been argued that our modern economic paradigm derived
from the co-evolution of communications technology and energy systems. In the
modern age we have moved from the coupling of the printing press with the steam
engine to radio/TV/satellite's interdependence with electricity. The rise of
networked media intersects with the paradigm of distributed forms of renewable
energy sources, because they both rely on decentralized systems. This
evolutionary trajectory of media and energy coincides with systems theorist
Ervin Laszlo's argument that our global system is transitioning from one based
on conquest, colonization, and consumption to one motivated by connection, communication, and

world system at its core is biological and requires energy to run. Until now it
has thrived in a relatively stable climate that has enabled a steady diet of
nutrients and proteins to expand our species across the planet. The exponential
growth of population in the past fifty years has a direct relationship with the
consumption of cheap oil. But pirated solar energy in the form of oil comes
with a price tag. We borrow against our children's future in order to
compensate for overshooting our planet's current carrying capacity. Through
advertising and the propagation of market ideology, media do their part by
promoting the economic practices that enable the carbon economy.

Consequently the central energy paradigm of the past
century, which is based on the carbon economy, has yet to give way to the kind
of distributed systems inherent to communications based on the internet. The
parallels are crucial. Fossil fuels depend heavily on centralized power and the
national security state. Nuclear power, dependence on crude oil, and coal
extraction require a massive industrial infrastructure and coordinated military
operations. Such a convergence can be summarized by one of the Republican's
leading demagogues, Newt Gingrich, who said, "You cannot put a gun rack in a
Volt." Moreover, major corporate media stakeholders, such as GE and
Westinghouse, emerged from the energy monopolies of the nineteenth century. Not
surprisingly, the hegemonic model of mass media that emerges from such a system
is co-dependent on the command and control paradigm: it reinforces the ideology
that justifies resource wars (i.e., the Iraq War is never referred to as an
"oil" war by the mainstream press) and media's economic model depends on ad
revenue based on the carbon economy. Car manufacturers, for example, sponsor
much of our media programming. Next time you watch TV, count the number of car
or fossil fuel related services and products that are advertised. The internet
is not immune. In fact, one of the scarier developments of the internet is the
manner in which traditional energy companies have gamed the system so that
their message is foregrounded in search engine requests for alternative energy
and the environment or as contextual ads for sustainability themed news stories.
Many news websites that feature environmentally themed stories have contextual
ads that greenwash the major energy corporations of the world, such as Shell
and Exxon.

The codependence between traditional mass media and
the carbon economy can be seen in British Petroleum (BP)'s response to the Deep
Horizon oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico in 2010.  By using chemical oil disbursements to
eliminate the visual scourge of oil slicks, it was more an act of performative
media than a cleanup operation. BP, likely in cooperation with the U.S.
government, spun this event in ways that did not enable people to properly
prepare for the consequences of what "really" happened to their local living
systems. "Really" is put into quotes because the event had the opacity of oil
itself through the censoring and blocking of the press from damaged ecosystems,
and of course the strategic deployment of public relations. The use of the
highly toxic Corexit 9500A to disperse ugly oil patches was like trying to use
Photoshop to contain an oil spill, except far deadlier.

BP was also linked to a dubious website, the Deepwater
Horizon Unified Command, which appeared to be an official clearinghouse for
response information. Every day images on the site's splash page changed, but
none of them had oil in them. One day it featured a turtle being cleaned, which
was in stark contrast to a video elsewhere on the web that featured the
testimony of a boat captain who claimed that turtles were being incinerated by
BP's oil burn. Meanwhile BP's PR people, masquerading themselves as
journalists, reported from helicopters ridiculous statements like, "It's
strangely peaceful up here-just right for surrendering to some meditation… I'm
filled with the wonderment of what's happening below our chopper only moments
after it lifts off from an airport in Houma, Louisiana." 

Recall that BP had already spent millions of dollars
re-branding itself as "Beyond Petroleum," so managing the Gulf disaster became
a kind of military-style disinformation campaign designed to control spin
around the event so as to not tarnish its well-oiled public image. It appears
to have been successful. The Gulf incident has disappeared from national
discourse and business as usual seems to have gone on unabated. Oil drill
permits and regulation proposals have given way to scare tactics of job loss
and economic depression.

What the BP case shows is that media decolonization
requires decoupling our media from the carbon economy. For those of us who use
computers and networks, this will mean a transitional period, since currently
our consumption of electronics and energy use are increasingly large sources of
C02 emissions. In fact, computer networks now produce more carbon emissions
than the airlines industry. A Google server farm will use as much electricity
as a city of 250,000 people, so efforts by companies like Google to transition to
renewable energy is absolutely necessary. But with the exponential growth of
the information economy, we may be drowning in data anyway. For example, some communications
scholars argue that data clouds, bloated software, redundant archiving, and media
rich data centers are pushing the overall planetary impact of physical data
storage to unsustainable levels ("The Internet Begins with Coal" titles one
report about network power consumption.). They suggest that it will become increasingly
necessary to ration data, meaning that people should be sharing copies of media
rather than having to access them from multiple clouds. Unfortunately, the
current push towards cloud computing by dominant corporate providers Balkanizes
the net into data fiefdoms, leading to less compatibility and sharing. As long
as we perpetuate the current fossil fuel regime, the belief that unlimited data
is harmless to the biosphere will remain intrinsically bound to the creed that information
is weightless and immaterial. This situation, the researchers argue, parallels
our treatment of the oceans, which are being pushed to the brink of ecological
collapse because people have assumed their capacity for producing food and
absorbing pollution is limitless.  Not
only is linking computer and network usage directly to their impact on the
environment a crucial step toward green cultural citizenship, it's a radical
challenge to a status quo predicated on tightly restricted intellectual
property. Proprietary control of data is the ultimate tragedy of the commons. Ultimately,
only a culture based on a cultural commons that values sharing resources would
ensure that the next wave of computing doesn't result in black clouds in our

We also need to rethink what we mean by energy
To reiterate, media driven by the colonial paradigm consume energy in
the material sense, such as through physical transportation (books, magazines,
DVDs, and media gadgets all have be moved through space on boats, planes,
trains, and trucks); resource use and waste (materials used to build sets for
TV and film); power needed to operate media technology gadget production; and
consumerism (product tie-ins, toys, clothing, etc. associated with big brands
like Disney and Warner Bros.).  All of
these are tightly connected with a globalized system of distribution and
production dependent on fossil fuels. But none of this is possible without the
primary form of energy it needs to survive: our attention. Again, the world
system is ultimately an energy parasite and thrives under two conditions. First
is the general lack of awareness of its real nature. The magician is successful
through diversion: we look at one hand while the illusion is carried out by the
other. The second is that when our attention is transfixed in a channeled
direction, our energy gets harvested. Our desires, interests, passions,
survival instincts, and connectivity become "marketized" while our time gets
"spent" to support a planet-destroying, consumptive lifestyle. Our attention is
guided to ensure that we are dependent on the parasite, when ultimately the
opposite is true: without us it cannot survive. Ultimately, the only entity
that can directly address your consciousness is you. You are a key node in this
system of relations. And as chaos theory argues, all systemic change is local.
It is the everyday practices of ordinary people like us that ultimately
perpetuate the system. So though a decolonized media means literally
transitioning to alternative energy systems, the first step begins with our
personal energy system in the form of attention.

Is it possible to create stories, engage in new
cultural practices, and build appropriately scaled technology that no longer
leaches the planet's finite resources and toxifies the biosphere? Ultimately
the answer will come from our collective imagination. But to get started we can
at least dispel the magic that interferes with our ability to see more clearly.
Mapping the world system paradigm, looking at its evolution, and deconstructing
its control strategies is part of the solution. Attention to our own dependency
and inattention can help break previously existing cultural patterning. Social
action and politics represents another level of response.

Ghost of Consciousness Past

Returning to the Shakira Pepsi ad, it is not without
cosmic irony that she appears with a crucifix. The version of globalization
offered by Pepsi extends the mentality of the cross critiqued by the Hopi. Yet,
maybe we also see hints of something emerging, as if a ghost in the machine is
reaching out to us. In the ad a circle in the shape of the spherical Pepsi logo
accompanies the cross. But they are still separate. While it's certainly true
that the form of globalization transferring control from the Church to the
corporatocracy is undesirable, let's suppose for a moment that the world system
is gestating the symbolic zeitgeist to give birth to something new, that the
various humans making media have some innate connection to Earth reaching
through them.

would be a "success" of hegemony if we could no longer imagine anything outside
or beyond it. Seeing transglobal capitalism as transient and impermanent is a
necessary step to dissolve its spell. Moreover, concerts and church gatherings
can be positive ritual spaces. Art and music have the power to heal and
disseminate ideas. In a postcolonial mediasphere, these kinds of encounters
happen simultaneously as local and planetary experiences. By removing Pepsi and
Shakira from the equation, we reoccupy these ritual spaces. We also have a
template for successful storytelling. The world system can tell effective
stories, but cues exist within its dreaming mind that an Earth consciousness is
waiting to be born among its planetary inhabitants.

For more information about The Media Ecosystem, please visit its web site and Facebook page.


Image by Fillmore Photography, couresty of Creative Commons licensing.