The Tribune

YOUR SAY: By JOEY GASKINS JR

AS Bahamians debate, in a disappointing but not-so-unexpected xenophobic fashion, the virtue of inviting those who have suffered tremendous loss during the string of hurricanes that ravaged our Caribbean neighbours, I would like us to pause and think a bit about our own future. In the face of the recent storms– Irma, one of the most powerful hurricanes on record, and Maria, whose intensification shocked storm trackers– small-island developing states like the Bahamas are, in particular, facing an existential threat from weather systems amplified by a warming climate.

Research conducted by the Geophysical Fluid Dynamics Laboratory at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) related to the correlation between intensity of Atlantic hurricanes and climate change concluded that climate change is causing hurricanes to, “become more intense and to have higher rainfall amounts,” according to former Environment and Housing Minister Kenred Dorsett.

The BBC reported in 2016 that five small islands in the Solomon Archipelago have disappeared entirely due to rising sea levels and land erosion. According to the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (ECLAC), if sea levels continue to rise as projected, by 2050 between 10 per cent -12 per cent of Bahamian territory will be lost, especially in coastal zones where our primary tourism assets are located. These kinds of climate change impacts could result in costing the Bahamas and its economy anywhere between $240 million to $480 million annually in just eight years, increasing to $310 million to $620 million by 2050, the Inter-American Development Bank (IDB) estimates.

While our most religious may have stronger positions on imaginary borders than they have on the Golden Rule and Bahamians struggle to differentiate between Dominica and the Dominican Republic, we are missing an important opportunity.

Bahamians have continuously relied on the government of the day to provide relief when left at the mercy of these new, more powerful storms. And, challenged by disaster after disaster, very few Bahamians seem to be thinking about the long-term effects of climate change. These effects include the possible increase in the spread of communicable diseases, freshwater shortages, greater food insecurity and our own refugee crises, all catalysed by global warming.

Solutions

The challenges seem overwhelming and the policy solutions seem inadequate. How can governments mitigate Mother Nature herself? Can we regulate the climate changing behaviours of larger, more powerful nations? When entire islands are wiped off the map, why should we bother to rebuild? What can an island nation do about a sea that will inevitably rise?

I believe that good information– sound evidence– is an essential ingredient for good policy.

With research report after research report, we are already gathering information that can help us make the best decision for our country and its people.

But, perhaps even before gathering information, good policy has at its centre something more abstract and yet manifestly vital– a set of values.

You can call it whatever you want– ideology, a vision, core beliefs– but this is what gives a policy its significance, its driving purpose, anchoring it in the collective consciousness of the citizens it is meant to serve. These values are built over time and are recognised as unique to a people– expressed through culture, myth and legend, politics and implicitly in everyday life.

It may seem unusual for us to think about national values in the context of climate change policy, but even in this instance values matter.

Let us take the story of Edward Lockhart, the 78-year-old fisherman who survived on a small cay by himself during Hurricane Irma, as an example. Mr Lockhart’s account was published in the September 13, 2017 edition of The Nassau Guardian.

Left alone to prepare for Irma on Buena Vista Cay, and realising the danger that the rising tide would pose for his home situated 50 ft from the beach, Mr Lockhart went into the hills with some water and “strong island rope”.

He tied the rope around the tree so that in the event the tide rose high enough to sweep him away, he could secure the rope around his waist.

As Irma began to bear down on Buena Vista Cay, Mr Lockhart said, “It made no sense that I put on clothes, because you would have been flying in the air like a kite. So I had to take my clothes off and walk around in my underpants.”

Mr Lockhart braved the elements and after the storm passed put up a clothesline in the partially collapsed roof of his home and made a bed to sleep in until he could be rescued.

“When [the clothes] dried, then I was comfortable. I said, ‘Ah, boy, this is beautiful,’” he said.

I cannot imagine how difficult this must have been for Mr Lockhart and at the same time I know I could not have been the only one saying to myself that his story was so very “Bahamian”.

As frightening as this experience must have been, Mr Lockhart’s matter of fact realisation of his situation, his respect for nature and his bravery and resourcefulness all reminded me of a kind of prototypical Bahamian.

You know the type - born in a far off settlement, learned to live off the land and fish, walked over conch shells with ease, learned to swim by being thrown over the side of the boat with no floaties.

We have all heard these stories before – pioneering, rough, unconquerable, almost magical Bahamians.

Legends

This Bahamian version of Johnny Appleseed has always seemed to be a feature of generations now gone, the Bahamian of legend. And while I do not subscribe to the romanticising of our past, as societies our myths and legends speak to a set a values that the people who have created them hold dear. These stories come to represent our ideals, desires, fears and are replete with the archetypes that reveal our collective unconscious.

So what does a truly Bahamian climate change policy look like? What can we learn from Mr Lockhart’s story, and by extension, the important values we have locked away in the legends of Bahamians long gone?

Mr Lockhart did not take Irma lightly, he made his preparations. Mr Lockhart, despite his home and property, knew that he could not win a fight against the tide– he didn’t ignore that the tide was coming, he moved to higher ground. Using what he had at hand and his quick thinking, Mr Lockhart worked to secure himself. And, Mr Lockhart did not give up and he did not panic.

I am arguing that a truly Bahamian climate change policy might be centred around these values– a respect for nature, a realistic outlook on the challenges with which we will have to contend and adaptation. A truly Bahamian climate change policy would leverage the resourcefulness, talent and intellect of the Bahamian people to secure our livelihood as a people. And, a truly Bahamian climate change policy cannot give up on the Family Islands; it would not leave the heritage of those islands to be washed away by defeatism.

One more thing. A truly Bahamian climate change policy must depend, as did Mr Lockhart, on strong island rope.

I imagined when Mr Lockhart says “strong island rope” he means rope perhaps made from sisal. Sisal grows naturally throughout our islands, it is native to our land. In the rope making process sisal fibres are decorticated and dried. These fibres on their own are strong, but when intertwined, if we are to trust Mr Lockhart’s judgment, it can hold us through the strongest of storms.

I believe that just like island rope, we are stronger when we are united in our values and our resolve, both at home and with our sister small-island developing states.

We cannot rely on large developing nations to make the right decisions for us; we must fortify our relationships, share resources and plot the way forward, together. The only way The Bahamas can be an active and authentic partner in this is if we bring to the table our own, truly Bahamian climate change policy.

* Joey Gaskins Jr. is a communications and policy strategist, writer, activist and adjunct lecturer of sociology at The University of the Bahamas. You may reach him at jgaskinsjr@gmail.com