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Thinking through this article and Vermeylen's, something we might consider in ATX is how we conceptualize community itself. It is so easy in EJ-contexts to make communities our object of study and analysis, which can erase identities and exclusions within them...

How is ecological harm and gentrification experienced by LGBTQ people in Austin? Women? Etcetera? 

What is the energy sector's relationship to racial capitalism? How is its current configuration shaped by legacies of settler colonialism, state bureaucracy, and corporate investment? 

Environmental justice narratives in the U.S. often fall into "sacrifice zone" narratives that universalize experiences on the community-level, reproducing specifically bounded narratives about American lives and livelihoods, relationships to nature and capital, and the kinds of knowledge and authority that matter. Vermeylen's article disrupts this idea, rightfully arguing that environmental justice requires a more upfront confrontation with the socio-historical causes of oppression brought about by coloniality, as well as the fact that we need to question the righteousness of EJ discourses that rely on white settler logics.

For the Austin Field Campus, how can we bring attention to Anglo-American settler colonialism in our approaches to EJ and gentrification? And thinking back to the NOLA Field Campus, what Texas histories should we be drawing from to understand energy transitions in the city? 

Providing a historical overview of EJ-related issues and organzing in Austin, Walsh's piece gestures to the need for deep engagement with those already doing what we might consider 'quotidian anthropocenic' work in our field campus locations. What are our ethical relationships and obligations to those we collaborate with during our time physically in the city? What should they be after? How can our analytical contributions help organizations like PODER and other local activists fighting gentrification and biased zoning laws?

I situate my research at the crossroads of history, philosophy, sociology and anthropology of science. In the past, I have focused on epigenetics, environmental research, empirical bioethics and environmental justice, within and outside the academia, as you can read here, or here. Now I am focusing on antibiotic resistance, and I use it as a lens to interpret the contradictions of the last century derived by industrial production, environmental degradation and biomedical cultures.

What interests me is the (at that time) new epistemic discourse that since the Forties has been produced to explain morphological changes of organisms produce when they experience new environmental conditions or perturbations. Through an important experiment at the base of the so-called concept of genetic assimilation, Conrad H. Waddington showed that a thermic shock can produce changes in wings’ veins of fruit flies, changes that can eventually be inherited across generations, without the environmental trigger that caused them.

This focus on production and (genetic) storage of biological differences elicited by the environment is nowadays coupled with the knowledge produced through microbiome research that explains the phenotypic patterns that recur across generations.

In a thought-provoking twist, with microbiome research, the focus shifts from production and inheritance of biological differences to production and inheritance of biological similarities. Microbiome research shows that some phenotypic patterns are allowed by ecological communities of microorganisms composing all animals. Bacteria allow the development and functioning of our bodies within an epistemic framework that is now key to understand biology. The network of vessels composing mammals’ stomach is formed through cellular differentiation and expression of genes coordinated by bacteria. The same is true for our immune system that is coordinated by gut bacteria. Food, which is an important aspect of our lives also impacts on this microecology and mediates between our biological functions and functioning of means of production whose parts dedicated to food production have immense importance for our biology and our internal and external ecologies. Antibiotic resistance is one of the crossroads where culture, biology, history and the Anthropocene meet. Indeed, Antibiotic resistance shows that means of production of our societies have an even more widespread, deep and allegedly unexpected impact on the biology of animals and plants. The microorganism can indeed adapt to resist the selective toxicity of antibiotics. Moreover, bacteria can transfer their genetic code horizontally, by touch, so that we can acquire antibiotic resistance by eating food that functions as a vector, by hosting lice on our heads and many other contacts. Bacteria that are resistant to antibiotics that have been used as growth factors in animal husbandry and to prevent diseases in livestock and aquaculture, spread in natural ecosystems and can be found in wild species. Rivers and estuarine waters are places hosting antibiotic resistance.

Searching on PubMed (the search engine for biomedical literature) titles of articles containing the terms ‘antimicrobial’ and ‘Louisiana’ I retrieved just one twelve-years-old article. No results with terms such as 'Mississippi' or 'New Orleans'. The authors collected and analysed Oysters from both waters of Louisiana Gulf and in restaurants and food retailers in Baton Rouge. In most of the samples gathered, scientists recognised the presence of bacteria (Vibrio parahaemolyticus and Vibrio vulnificus) resistant to specific antimicrobials. Food production is indeed the first factor in terms of the quantity of antibiotics used. This use and related antibiotic resistance impact all the living beings present in a specific area, and can easily travel around the globe through many channels. As Littman & Viens have highlighted, a sustainable future is a future without antibiotics as “there may be no truly sustainable way of using antibiotics in the long-run, as microorganisms have shown to be almost infinitely adaptable since the first introduction of antibiotics” (Littman & Viens 2015). But in the meanwhile, we need to use them and antibiotic resistance is a phenomenon that can be better studied through environmental research, by analysing wild species and emissions nearby livestock, for instance.

The study that I retrieved focuses on Oysters. But what about antibiotic resistance conveyed through food that is consumed by the most?

What about exposures of communities that are living in highly polluted areas?

And what is the additive value on antibiotic resistance for individuals who experience the presence of industrial pollutants and that live in areas where cancer epidemics are registered?

In this respect, there is a strategy to cope with the issue of antibiotic resistance promoted by the Center for Disease Control and Prevention. The document doesn’t mention any action to monitor and regulate the production and usage of antibiotics in livestock. Nevertheless, the CDC wants to scrutinise, through genome sequencing, “Listeria, Salmonella, Campylobacter, and E. coli and uploads sequence data into PulseNet for nationwide monitoring of outbreaks and trends.” Moreover, the document reports that “In Fiscal Year 2019, Louisiana will begin simultaneously monitoring these isolates for resistance genes. When outbreaks are detected, local CDC-supported epidemiologists investigate the cases to stop spread.”

The questions that I would like to ask (to local ppl, activists, researchers, practitioners..) are:

What could be the epidemiologic characteristics (socioeconomic status, gender, residence..) of the populations more vulnerable to antibiotic resistance?

What is the additive role of antibiotic resistance for people living in highly polluted areas?

What is the impact of antibiotic resistance for people and patients living in areas where cancer incidence is high?

And on the long run I am interested in imagining possible strategies to not only living with the problem but also to tackle the problem itself, which means to develop strategies to answer the questions:

Why antibiotic resistance, which is known since a century, it’s a problem on the rise?

What is the role and interest of capitalism, in terms of profit-making of corporations, knowledge production and environmental degradation, in not being able to resolve antibiotic resistance?

What can be strategies of local communities to tackle the problem and to promote environmental justice in terms of alliances with ecologists, doctors, epidemiologists and other activists?

It has become a common refrain to ask how the Anthropocene is experienced locally, but what about corporeally? A growing body of evidence (such as this report from the APA) demonstrates that climate change and its effects are linked to elevated rates of depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, PTSD, and a host of emotions including anger, hopelessness, and despair. After Hurricane Katrina, it was estimated that 1 in 6 survivors experienced PTSD, and Harvard researchers found that suicidal ideation heavily spiked. While discussions of these forms of ecological grief (or "ecoanxiety" by psychologists) have largely focused on mental health, economic impacts, and big storms rather than less spectacular forms of ecological change (especially in New Orleans), I am particularly interested in finding how embodied apprehensions of human vulnerability are experienced within the city, and how these have affected approaches to mortality and practices around death and dying.

Aside from talking to more deathcare professionals in the area (something I hope to do once we arrive), I have found rather robust evidence that there is increased engagement with mortality in New Orleans. Death Cafes, which are community gatherings to discuss death and combat taboos that make it an inappropriate topic of conversation, have regularly met for the past two years. Furthermore, preliminary research on funeral homes in NOLA seems to indicate increased interest in green internment options, with multiple organizations framing green/natural burial as a gentle option that "returns the body to nature." While means of casket burial and cremation have historically worked to “correctly” order death and the dead through preservation or means of obliterating the body as quickly as possible (organizing principles that have that rendered death as an interruption rather than a natural process), these endeavors seem to accept to the pressing realities of individual and earthly mortality by framing death as an opportunity for renewal - a sort of "circle of life." 

Although it is less related to my own area of expertise, one of most surprising discoveries I made was that New Orleans was home to the original "Before I Die" wall. In 2013, artist Connie Chung created a participatory chalkboard in an abandoned house with a fill-in-the-blank question of “Before I die, I want to ______.” (The next day, the wall was completely filled with responses.) Iterations of this project are now in over 75 countries. While Chung does not specifically cite anthropogenics as a source of interest or inspiration, its original placement on a building that stood as a sort of monument to ecological devastation makes me strongly think that there are broader connections to be made here about somatic attunements to climate change. 

As a researcher interested in the growing relationship between ecological grief and rituals surrounding death and dying, New Orleans has always been a place of special curiosity. The city’s historic cemeteries are arguably some of the most beautiful and certainly some of the most visited graveyards in the world. Since New Orleans lies below sea level and generally has soil too water-saturated for earth burial, the dead have historically been buried above ground in “Cities of the Dead,” where rows upon rows of mausoleums are designed to protect casketed bodies from the defilement of water, microbes, and ‘vermin’ as a means of warding off decay. Gesturing towards anxieties about the ontological pollution of the human subject, these structures often seem to be constituted through desires to remain intelligible after death and act to inhibit the incorporation of the corpse into subterranean, more-than-human worlds. 

However, as anthropogenic climate change threatens these kinds of normative deathways, the sustainability of such practices have begun to be called into question. It is estimated that on average, burials in the United States annually use 30,000,000 board feet of wood, 104,000 tons of steel, 1,600,000 tons of concrete, and 800,000 gallons of embalming fluid. (I'm interested in finding out about more specifics about material usage in NOLA, but am still searching for that information.) This becomes even more important when considering that cemeteries within the city have repeatedly been disturbed by hurricanes and floods in recent years, an issue that remains even further inland from Lake Pontchartrain due to now regular flooding.  When a storm hits, it can wreak havoc by destroying or displacing mausoleums, buildings, signs, and decorations. Even more disturbingly, vaults and caskets buried below ground can surge to the surface and float away. This has become a macabre pattern across the South in recent years: the waters brought by Hurricanes Katrina, Gustav, Ike, Irma, and Harvey all washed away caskets, in some cases breaking them apart and leaving local medical examiners and federal mortuary response teams with the rather grim task of identifying remains and parsing the environmental damage caused by potential leakages and run-off. 

This new normal has brought wider attention to how the ways we “do death” affect built and natural environments, enmeshing funeral practices in broader questions of ecologically responsible citizenship and collaborative survival with nonhuman life. How has New Orleans responded to these crises, both materially and existentially? Is there growing recognition of individual and earthly mortality, and how is that reflected in mortuary practice? What options best attend to these forms of climatic upheaval?