It was great fun and provoked shouts and laughter as well as contemplative attempts to come to terms with the overlapping interests. Very quickly, the real-life complexities of the management of land and sea areas became visible – the vexed environmental contours of potential use by the socially and economically mixed human populations, and the pressing needs for maintaining the continuance of viable sea life.
Almost at the end of our time, after lively negotiations, someone noticed a skull and crossbones symbol on a marker on one of the coasts and another one placed nearby in the sea. She asked what it was, and the leaders said it was a Military base, and they had been dumping arms and waste into the sea. No one knew exactly what was there, or what it might do over the long term. There were shouts of ‘impossible’, ‘that would never happen’, ‘we don’t want that’, ‘that’s not like real life’, ‘not here’, ‘it must be safe’.
In November 2016, I attended the Solway Firth Partnership and Solway Coast AONB Joint Conference at Gretna Green. It was an excellent day celebrating the Solway, the potential of renewable energy from wave and wind, the importance of community engagement in conservation of marine biodiversity, and the fantastical sea life under the surface. Projects highlighting the importance of places names, memories and stories for the future of the Solway were presented, too.
There was also a staging of The Marine Spatial Planning and Challenge Game by the Scottish Coastal Forum, Marine Scotland and MMO. The game centres on a large horizontal board with the outlines of the land and sea of a large bay or estuary, a make-believe place. Teams of participants were given priorities to advance or defend, such as marine conservation, human economic development, fishing, sea-weed harvesting, tourism and recreation, energy production and more. We were given markers for our territories, for our intentions, and strings to indicate collaborations and edges of conflict built up over two sessions with different participants.
It was great fun and provoked shouts and laughter as well as contemplative attempts to come to terms with the overlapping interests. Very quickly, the real-life complexities of the management of land and sea areas became visible – the vexed environmental contours of potential use by the socially and economically mixed human populations, and the pressing needs for maintaining the continuance of viable sea life.
I was in the second round. We inherited the decisions of the first round and the markers they had left. Almost at the end of our time, after lively negotiations, someone noticed a skull and crossbones symbol on a marker on one of the coasts and another one placed nearby in the sea. She asked what it was, and the leaders said it was a Military base, and they had been dumping arms and waste into the sea. No one knew exactly what was there, or what it might do over the long term. There were shouts of ‘impossible’, ‘that would never happen’, ‘we don’t want that’, ‘that’s not like real life’, ‘not here’, ‘it must be safe’. Quickly, a collective desire emerged to ignore it and get on with each of our compelling involvements with the sea. No one represented the Military.
The game was playing us.
Psychologists studying climate change consider disavowal more dangerous than straight-out denial, disavowal being when the person knows the situation and its consequences, but refuses to change behaviour, or cannot change behaviour. The knowledge works away, under the surface.