With Seasons Bright and Dark

Last year I wrote of Sosnovka as “being in the epicenter of something great, of witnessing a movement coming into its own.” I wrote those words just one day before Misha Jones’ passing. Losing Misha, who held us together and pushed us forward in so many quiet ways, could so easily have brought discouragement, could have easily caused Sosnovka to stumble or fade with time. Instead, a stronger, more mature and more enduring Sosnovka has emerged.

The maturity we glimpsed this year at Sosnovka comes with the passing of seasons, both bright and dark. How easy it is to grow weary in this work, to lose oneself. But Sosnovka defies, linking us together and driving us forward with a million threads of friendship, laughter, and tears.

The defining moment of this year’s Sosnovka was without question the awarding of the first annual Misha Jones Award to Sergei Shapkhaev from Buryatia for his work to empower people in remote communities. Like Misha, Sergei never passes up a chance to help out a leader from a distant village, offering an encouraging word or piece of technical advice. The applause that erupted when Sergei’s name was announced for the award was intense and sustained, offering sweet release for hidden thoughts and emotions.

Sustained by memories of Misha’s wit, intellect, and life fully sacrificed for Russia’s people and wilderness, Sosnovka carries on. This year we welcomed participants from previously forgotten regions—Chukotka, Tuva, and the Jewish Autonomous Region. We rallied behind Aleksei and Sasha from Krasnoyarsk, brave defenders of the Angara River who were falsely accused of extremist activities this spring, but their names were cleared by the local prosecutor. We feverishly planned campaigns for the coming year and forged brave new partnerships between indigenous leaders and enviros. And yes, oh how we soaked up the beauty of fall in Primorye and cherished every moment in such rich company!

--RE--

It is a time to
REnew hope,
REmake America, and
REjoin the world.

RE, a drop of golden sun indeed!

For the first time in several years, I was not embarrassed this week to travel abroad as an American. I did not hide my passport or disguise my accent. I even witnessed a group of Europeans offer spontaneous applause to the US. I nearly fell off my chair.

I traveled to Tromso, Norway, last week for the Arctic Frontiers Policy and Science conference. An event geared toward facilitating networking and high-powered connections on Arctic governance and commercial exploitation, enviros and indigenous were not the most welcome or integrated participants. But I nerded out on policy conversations and found distinct pleasure in playing a lefty role legitimized by the more radical--and acrimonious--Greenpeace representatives.

Arctic Norway in winter? Shockingly high prices, remarkably endearing people, and ironically beautiful in darkness.

Misha Jones, 1953-2008

I received the news of Misha's death late Tuesday night Moscow time. Yesterday (Wed.), between meetings, all I could do was walk. Early on, I found myself in the center of Red Square, without knowing how I'd gotten there. I think I wanted to mourn Misha in the heart of Russia, but when I stood there, I realized, eto ne to. The real heart of the real Russia that Misha knew so well and loved as his own is far away, scattered in thousands of village kitchens, centered by hot tea and boiled potatoes. And so, I just kept walking, wherever my feet would take me. I probably covered 15 miles.

Misha was a mentor and a friend. There will be time in future days to muse on Misha's ideals and life work to empower local people in Russia. There will be time to enjoy good Mexican food and to reread the copy of Desert Solitaire that Misha gave me in Alaska. There may even be a time for a thoughtful reflection and a peaceful goodbye. But for now, Misha, the pain is great and you are dearly missed.

Souls Glimpsed and Souls Bared

Much has been said and written about the Russian Soul. I will tell you a secret: to truly glimpse the poetic richness of the Russian Soul, you must be willing to not sleep, or at least to rally for the hours of 12-3am, when much happens. For those who know me well, you know this is not a natural feat ;), but one I gladly perform when in the company of such as these. The songs, oh the songs! The stories! The toasts! The laugher! And the tears.

Baikal Images

(Note: images by Olga Moskvina, Marina Rikhvanova, Dima Lisitsyn and yours truly)
Did I mention that fall in Siberia is the sort of beautiful that is best described as painful? The majesty of the Creator's hand is undeniable ... To God be the glory, now and forever!

Gravitas, Loyalty, and Balconies

It’s overwhelming really, the feeling of being in the epicenter of something great, of witnessing a movement coming into its own. An old friend asked me yesterday how we keep Sosnovka from getting stale, from becoming just another worthless conference, merely a travel opportunity for opportunistic types. The answer is in the truth that Sosnovka is just as much about relationships as it is about the actual work that we do. The trust and respect that connects Sosnovtsy runs deep, smoothing potential conflicts and inspiring us all to push harder and further than ever before. Friendships and professional relationships blur together and are compelled forward by the beauty of Russia’s wilds. This year, our backdrop was Lake Baikal, a place of indescribable beauty, both in-your-face and undeniably subtle. After four days of intense work and play with many of my professional heroes, the connection and loyalty I feel for these people is weighty.

What is Sosnovka? In 2006, I wrote this about Sosnovka in Altai:
Sosnovka is an annual meeting of all the top environmental activists from Siberia and the Russian Far East, with a few lawyer and policy types from Moscow thrown in for good measure. The conference is always a blur of intense strategy conversations and jovial social time. (To my great relief, the vodka consumption was mild this year.) Many of the Sosnovtsy are old friends who see each other once or twice each year, which means Day One of the conference involves a lot of who got married, who had kids, and who got divorced conversations. What a treat to now be a part of this merry band! Our strategy conversations were simultaneously broad and narrow, covering the hottest topics, both new and old: forestry, protected areas, mining, fisheries, oil and gas development, alternative energy sources, etc. Not enough time, so much information, so many ideas, so many plans …

I cannot say the same of the group’s vodka consumption this year ;), but I can say that I am humbled by the knowledge that many of my dear Sosnovka friends would drop everything to help me if need be. I am personally grateful. Oh, and we laugh a lot together too. Two highlights (in order of laughs elicited):
1. Dima’s spontaneous 5:45am decision to jump on Petr’s and Chagat’s shoulders and scale my balcony, putting him together with Misha Kreindlin in the elite club of Sosnovtsy who have scaled balconies for me. [I am left wondering, would anyone in California join this club? Doubtful.]
2. Mid-banquet decisions to shuffle the world’s geography, putting San Francisco somewhere between Chita and Blagoveshensk in the Russian Far East, and putting the Altai both in the Russian Far East and in the Arctic. [Because clearly, we have this authority ;).]

To my Sosnovtsy, now scattered throughout Russia, you are dearest of friends and the best of colleagues ... I love you all!

Sosnovka Faces

Sakhalin Images

Rachel and I parted ways today and I miss her company already! My week on Sakhalin Island has been a fascinating and eye-opening journey and I praise God for every experience and conversation!
Images:
Rachel and me
Shoddy Sakhalin-2 construction
Poisonous mushroom
A fisherman pulls in his set net
Beauty in the sky

A Study in Community Organizing and Activism

Dmitry "Dima" Lisitsyn is relentless. From the moment he wakes up in the morning until the moment he falls asleep, he is constantly moving, constantly asking questions, and constantly pushing those around him to try harder and perform better. After just three days in the field with Dima, I am more convinced than ever that we should clone him. Well, not really, but you get the point. Whether addressing us, shopkeepers along the road, or construction workers on the Sakhalin-2 pipeline route, Dima has this uncanny ability to disarm and charm, while extracting critical information with measured precision.

Sakhalin Island was once a prison destination turned Chekov muse. Today, the island is crisscrossed by oil and gas pipeline infrastructure and the capital city, Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk is a boomtown like none other. A two-room apartment in the city can be rented for a mere $1600/month, food prices are among the highest in Russia, and pimped out luxury SUVs can be counted by the dozens. For the average local, this boom for few has meant certain bust for most.

Rachel, Dima, and I were particularly captivated by comparing Shell's practices on Sakhalin and in the Alaskan Arctic. This company is rotten. Shell could easily write a textbook on how to break promises, give and take bribes, buy off scientists, divide and conquer local opposition, and emasculate environmental assessment processes. It is a dirty, unsettling business.

What Hit Them

I now have the dubious distinction of seeing my name in print in Russian. From a page three article on the Fishery Congress Expo in this week's Vladivostok paper "Weekly News" (September 5): "Leah Zimmerman of Pacific Environment came to Vladivostok presented an unusual project. Research has shown that an increase in oil development in the ocean leads to a decline in biological resources. If we don't change this trend, we will have neither one nor the other. This position, not typical from Americans, received support among participants in the Fishery Expo." Well, they almost got part of it right at least. I imagine "typical" for Americans means, not typical for the Bush administration. I oscillate between thinking Rachel and I actually accomplished something and thinking that this is just one more tasty addition for the FSB file I've compiled in my head. Yes, I watch too many spy movies for my own good.

El Mafioso and the Seven Feet Yacht Club

Rachel and I were invited along with other distinguished (read: rich, connected, and/or foreign) congress participants to a party thrown by the governor. Thousands of dollars of food, booze, entertainment, and fireworks amused guests for hours. In all my time in Vlad, I somehow never wandered to the Yacht Club before this party.
Most breathtaking moment: sunset behind and between bazillion-dollar boats
Most James Bond moment: playing around in a $250,000 car (baby baby soft white leather seats ...)
Most gut-wrenchingly disturbing: realizing that the teenage girls overdressed in Oscar-worthy gowns were likely prostitutes brought in specially for the event

Random shot of the Amur Bay: