Here is my stuff for May’s The Noise. I’m applying for jobs like a crazy person (more on that later), so that’s where all my energy is going.

The combination of budding trees, flourishing grasses, ferocious winds, fantastic music shows, fresh sun burns, and crowded bike lanes can only mean one thing in Flagstaff. Spring is upon us. It also means that Flagstaff Biking Organization’s (FBO) famed Bike to Work Week is right around the corner. This year’s events will take place in various locations from Sunday, May 11 to Friday, May 16.

Anthony Quintile, general manager of Absolute Bikes and go-to-guy for Bike to Work Week, is especially excited about this years events. “The City will be more heavily involved this year,” which is great because with the Mayor involved, including many city council members, Mr. Quintile says cycling is also publicly recognized as a “legitimate form of transportation.” This kind of promotion and support can result in many positive developments for our booming cyclist community.

This year is also special because New Belgium Brewing Company, who decided not to continue it’s annual Tour de Fat in Flagstaff—which provided FBO with it’s annual budget—will be supporting Flagstaff’s premier biking organization by sponsoring the entire week.

In the same way that Earth Day should be regarded everyday, the point of Bike to Work Week is to promote cycling beyond just a fun weeks worth of events. Gas prices are expected to reach $4 a gallon this summer. “Cycling,” as Mr. Quintile explains, “is a great way not to pay those rising gas prices.” Flagstaffers are fortunate enough to live in a climate that allows us to bike much of the year. The point of Bike to Work Week is to get more bikes on the road.

I asked Mr. Quintile about those people, like this writer, who already commute on their bikes much of the time. How can veteran cyclists make a meaningful impact during Bike to Work Week? He responded immediately, “instead of being that wacky person that rides to work every day, this is an opportunity to become a leader in the workplace, to motivate and give tips to fellow co-workers.”

This year’s Worksite Challenge will run for four days – Sunday at midnight to Thursday at noon—instead of just one day. Those interested in facilitating a work-site challenge at their day job should refer to FBO’s website for further information: www.flagstaffbiking.org

Sunday, May 11, 9am to 3pm at Heritage Square

The Human Powered Parade starts at 11am, downtown at Cherry and Leroux. Awards will be given out to the two best-decorated bikes. Cyclists are encouraged to stay downtown and attend the Bike Bazaar. Whether a new rider, a commuter, a weekend warrior, or a racer, young and old, there will be something for everyone at the Square —everyone on two wheels that is. Among live music, events, and prizes, there are cheap options for those looking for gear, parts, or refurbished bikes.

Bike Swap – Everything from the necessary to the beloved will be available for wheeling and dealing. This will be a great opportunity to trade, sell, or cheaply purchase bike gear with members of the Flagstaff community and beyond. Tables are available for a $20 donation to set up your wares for sale (and yes, friends can share!).

Bike Recycling – There are a lot of Flagstaff residents who have bikes and bike parts that are either rusting away in yards, or collecting cobwebs in garages. You know who you are. This is your chance to get that immobilized bike off your conscious and donate it to FBO where it will be refurbished and passed along to someone who will ride it. Newly refurbished bikes will be available for purchase as well.

Monday, May 12

7:30 AM: Kick-off Commuter Ride from City Hall

Hundreds of cyclists sharing the road make for quite a powerful statement. Celebrate the efforts of those individuals and organizations that have worked so hard to improve biking and walking in our community. Come join local elected leaders, officials, and hundreds of your closest friends for a short “commuter” ride through downtown, finishing at Heritage Square for a free breakfast. That’s right, free breakfast.

Tuesday, May 13

6 PM: “Jack and Martin’s Excellent FUTS Adventure” Cruiser Ride

Starting at the Pay-n-Take on Aspen, cruiser bikes of all varieties—from townies, tandems, custom cruisers, to old school balloon-tired relics—will block traffic for a half an hour downtown. All riders welcome.

Wednesday, May 11

Bike to Breakfast Day!

Breakfast station locations:

• City Hall, sponsored by the City of Flagstaff
• Fort Valley Road @ Late for the Train
• Beaver St near Biff’s Bagels, sponsored by Biff’s and Jack Welch
• North Humphreys @ Coffee Pedaler, sponsored by Coffee Pedaler
• Beaver St & the FMC ped bridge, sponsored by FMC
• Rt 66 & San Francisco St, sponsored by Absolute Bikes
• Cedar-Lockett & Fourth St, sponsored by Friends of Flagstaff’s Future

6 PM: Town Hall Meeting: City Hall

Join local officials at City Hall for a discussion of cycling issues in Flagstaff and to find out what’s being done to make Flagstaff more bicycle-friendly.

Thursday, May 15

Bike to School Day!

Many kids ride their bikes to school already. Today, parents are encouraged to ride with them. High school kids are encouraged to rediscover their bikes. Many outreach programs will take place throughout the day including a “Cycle Train,” where adult “conductors” will escort kids to Thomas Elementary School. Pine Forest Elementary will host a FBO sponsored Safe Kids bike rodeo, and a “Golden Sprocket” award will be given to a local high school and middle school that has the greatest percentage of students commuting to school on their own steam.

6 PM: The Orpheum is hosting the state-wide premier of Seasons, a widely acclaimed film that showcases the world’s best and most interesting mountain bikers, told through the course of the four seasons. Worksite Challenge winners will be awarded dazzling prizes during intermission. Tickets are $5 at the door.

Friday, May 16

6 PM: Bike to Potluck Cyclo-Bration!

As Bike to Work Week comes to a close, FBO is hosting a potluck at Thorpe Park’s Ramada. Bring table supplies, beverages, and/or a dish to share. It will be interesting to see how folks tote their food across town on two wheels.

Here is my April column for The Noise. Enjoy.
(side note: I will be redesigning my site during the next week or so. If you come here and it looks strange, don’t be alarmed)

The first Earth Day, April 22, 1970, was launched from the momentum of the anti-war movement and accomplished a portion of the objectives it set out to do. As Earth Day has become absorbed by the dominant culture and co-opted by less-than-environmentally-sound-ventures, many people claim that Earth Day is now a celebration of the earth, when people unite under largely empty aesthetic gestures, such as planting trees and picking up garbage.

Yet, in a way, do you not celebrate the earth when you notice a particularly beautiful sunset or let your eyes wander up the stream of a river? Further, the idea of hammering the earth year round while setting aside a day to celebrate it is eerily similar to the context of an abusive relationship. It is also reminiscent of colonialism inherent in the way sports teams claim they’re “honoring” Native people by parading harmful stereotypes.

Twenty million people took to the streets on the first Earth Day. They even shut down congress. It is said that the success of the first Earth Day resulted in “groundbreaking federal legislation.” The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency was established later that year, followed by the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act of 1972, and the Endangered Species Act of 1973. The objective of the first Earth Day was, according to its founder, Gaylord Nelson, then a U.S. Senator from Wisconsin, “to shake up the political establishment and force this issue onto the national agenda.”

That objective was met, in part, as environmental concerns were forced onto the national agenda. The problem is, these concerns were never properly prioritized. Since 1970, many organizations, writers, activists, and agencies have been working tirelessly on behalf of the planet, even while much of the legislation they worked so hard for were slowly rolled back in favor of corporate interests and an economy that must grow or quickly collapse.

I’ve heard our environmental problems compared to the collision course of the Titanic. The explanation goes like this: we see the danger ahead of us. We can only assume that maintaining this course will result in catastrophe. Yet some people don’t fully understand the problem and frantically begin to rearrange the deck chairs. When people ask what good it will do, they respond, “at least I’m doing something.” Those who understand the problem lobby the captain to turn the ship before it’s too late.

Beyond the fact that the Titanic story undermines the power of a committed group of individuals in favor of the whims of an incompetent leader, there is a fundamental problem that is over-looked. If everyone works together and successfully persuades the captain to turn, that danger will be avoided. This quick-fix might feel victorious at first, but doesn’t change the fact that everyone is sailing on an inherently and fundamentally flawed ship, narcissistically described as “unsinkable.”

April 22, 2008 will mark our country’s 38th Earth Day and we’re closer now to global ecological collapse than ever before. There are people in the world—calm, intelligent, reasoning people—who argue that this ecological collapse is already under way and quickly gaining momentum. It is clear that the traditional tactics and strategies utilized thus far have not been effective. This is not to undermine or devalue the committed and tireless efforts of individuals who have dedicated their lives to these issues. But instead of trying to persuade the captain to steer this death trap away from the danger, a more radical idea would be to abandon ship. We need to abandon out-of-date strategies and plot new courses that reflect new challenges.

We might drift awhile before we find a strategy that works, but that’s okay. Nineteenth century French writer Andre Gide wrote, “One doesn’t discover new lands without first consenting to lose site of the shore for a very long time.”

Earth Day has been peddling the idea of environmental sanity for far too long. If we cannot meaningfully honor the earth as we simultaneously destroy it and if Earth Day no longer results in environmental legislation in line with the needs of the natural world, it is clear that Earth Day needs to be transformed—by defining our goals and refocusing our efforts.

Our environmental problems are often just as layered and diverse as there are possible tactics to confront them. Under the ever-expanding umbrella of “environmental problems,” lies issues relating to water, air, deforestation, industrial agriculture, factory farming, soil erosion, greenwashing, the vacuuming of the oceans, toxic chemicals, mass extinction, and much more. All of these issues are further tied to and made more complex when race, class, and gender are taken into consideration. We need to embrace radical new ideas that address root problems rather than quick fixes.

In his short but powerful book, How Nonviolence Protects the State, writer and activist Peter Gelderloos writes that any issue approached from a “radical” perspective translates as an attempt to uncover “the roots of a particular problem rather than focusing on the superficial solutions placed on the table by the prejudices and powers of the day.”

The most effective protest movements have always been layered responses to complex circumstances. Yet the legacies of these movements are always portrayed in a manner that props up any tactic that is not a threat to the State. When Malcolm X said, “By any means necessary,” he didn’t define what kind of protest was acceptable. He left that up to those confronted with the circumstance.

The nonviolent protests of Martin Luther King Jr. would not have been successful without the intimidation brought on by more militant factions. Similar critiques have been made about Gandhi and those members of the anti-war movement who believe naively that it was their efforts alone that ended the war in Vietnam.

When faced with the choice, the dominant power structure chooses to engage and later to embrace the nonviolent leaders of protest movements, therefore minimizing the contribution of a wide spectrum of resistance. In this way, radical activists legitimize the demands of mainstream organizations, but don’t expect them to be invited to the White House for tea.

This is not to say that everyone should take to the streets and riot. I am saying that there are no tactical choices that are closed to us. Instead of viewing activism through the lens of violence and nonviolence, as dogmatic pacifists seem to do, tactics must be judged based on their effectiveness. If nonviolent civil disobedience is not working, that doesn’t mean one should start throwing Molotov cocktails, but one should reevaluate the strategy in terms of how it can be made effective or whether or not it can ever be effective within that particular context.

In Walden, Thoreau writes, “Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” What are the root causes of our current predicament? What does a sustainable and just society look like? What is the quickest most effective way to get there? What are our constraints? What are effective ways of confronting those constraints? Is capitalism compatible with a living planet? Can civilization be made sustainable? If so, how? If not, why and what does that mean for your tactics as an environmentalist? These questions aren’t rhetorical; they’re some of the most important questions we can ask. One of the reasons why we don’t have answers to these questions is not because we are incapable of finding them, it’s because we don’t talk about them.

While I have my opinions, I believe it is more important simply to pose the questions, participate, and encourage these important conversations to take place. First of all, we should not let other people define problems for us, we should certainly not let other people define the solutions, and we should especially not let other people tell us how to protest. One of the problems is, there are so many voices out there telling us that we can’t solve these problems, that humans are not capable of understanding such large-scale global issues. Let me explain and debunk one popular myth with a short anecdote.

Imagine you are alone, late at night, recalling a radio broadcast you heard on the way home from work. A psychopath killer—totally incapable of distinguishing between right and wrong, a real-life Michael Myers, who is known in your city for many grizzly murders—has escaped from the high security wing of a nearby mental institution. Minutes after you lock all the doors, turn off the television, and settle into bed, you hear footsteps in the hall outside your bedroom. It isn’t the footsteps that are terrifying as much as it is the silence between them. Thump…thump… The door opens, yet all you hear is your heart pounding inside your chest. Sitting up, you immediately recognize his face from television. Revealing a dull carving knife, he stands in the doorway and says, “I am going to kill you.” You remember the gun in the drawer beside you. You know exactly what to do.

Over and again, I keep hearing that one of the reasons we are so slow to meaningfully react to any one of our environmental problems is because humans have a hard time realizing a danger if it is not clear and obvious. So if a killer presents a danger, we’re wired to either stay and fight or run and hide. Global threats such as peak oil and climate change, on the other hand, don’t exactly get our blood pumping.

Aligning yourself with the “we-can-only-confront-danger-when-it’s-in-our-face” ethos not only justifies inaction, but it is also a slap in the face to the hundreds of cultures who do have a sense of the future. To name just one example among countless, the “Great Law of Peace” of the Haudenosaunee (Six Nations Iroquois Confederacy) mandates that chiefs consider the impact of their decisions on the seventh generation yet to come. We, on the other hand, prefer the “rugged individualist” model: every generation for themselves! We are left to deal with the affects of decisions (or lack thereof) made before we were born. Our children will have to deal with the decisions (or lack thereof) of our generation. Sure, for hundreds of thousands of years of life on this planet, humans have been wired to deal with immediate threats, but that doesn’t make us innately ignorant of long-term affects.

Further many of the destructive and unsustainable aspects of the dominant culture have built-in characteristics. We know capitalism is predicated on constant and persistent expansion or it will quickly collapse and we know such an economic model can only last for so long on a finite planet. Since the beginning of the industrial revolution, we’ve known oil is nonrenewable. Yet, the dominant culture, this civilization, has been constructed, molded, and shaped around the idea that there will always be an abundant supply of cheap energy.

Because the dominant culture mediates the space between environmental problems and our perception of those problems—either by exporting that destruction to other communities or keeping them debatable issues—we don’t view these problems as the sort of threats they really are. Unlike the choice posed in the psychopath-killer-scenario, there is nowhere to run and hide from these problems. We have to stay and fight.

Many people, human and nonhuman, have been fighting in many different ways for a long time. In recent years I have stood beside them and witnessed their passion, their endurance. They fight on despite small victories and large defeats. They fight on despite the apathy and hopelessness of the masses. They need your help, your strength, but they are tired of superficial gestures.

Instead of “celebrating” Earth Day this year, use is as an occasion to bring up some of the questions posed here or elsewhere regarding the fundamental, “root causes” of our current and widespread environmental predicament. Talk to your friends, family, and co-workers. It is, after all, a matter of life and death.

Question their solutions by evaluating the cause of the problem, and interrogate the way in which the “solution” addresses that problem. If you find inconsistencies, talk to somebody about it. We are at the forefront of an exciting turn in human history. We need radical thinkers to step into the limelight. There are no leaders of movements, only the perception of leaders. To echo the words of Hopi Elders from Oraibi, AZ (which was recently co-opted and manipulated by Barack Obama), “The day of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves! We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.”

Kyle is in the process of organizing an Earth Day forum to discuss new approaches to addressing these issues. More information will be posted on his website, www.undertheconcrete.org, as it becomes available. Any brilliant ideas regarding the direction of this forum should be emailed to kyle@thenoise.us.

Here is my (unedited) February column for The Noise.

The ice crackled beneath Ray’s studded snow tires as we rode our bikes to the south side of Northern Arizona University’s campus. On our way to pick up some greens from Flagstaff’s Community Supported Agriculture, the twilight quickly gave way to darkness. It will be 7 degrees again tonight.

While walking downtown during Flagstaff’s latest and greatest snowstorm, I overheard a couple of 30-something guys talking about a bicyclist who slowly rode past them, head down, sloshing through the wet snow.

“Take a look at that guy, man,” one of them said.
“He’s hard-core, riding a bike through this,” the other responded.
“Some of those bikers, man; they’re running on a different frequency.”

As bike-friendly as it is in Flagstaff, there are not many people who choose to commute on their bikes through the winter. Though many new challenges exist, the task of pedaling through the ice, the snow, and the sub-freezing temperatures is, for the committed bicyclist, a very doable task.

When I first started riding my bike regularly, my car was my default mode of transportation. I was, if you will, running on the same frequency as most Americans. The process of changing one’s frequency, whatever that really means, and becoming a committed bicyclist, is the biggest challenge.

Before the thought of commuting on a bike regularly—let alone through the winter—is seriously considered, one must first fall in love. Falling in love with your bike is as easy as it is necessary. All you have to do is ride it.

But falling in love with your bike is still a process. Like many privileged Flagstaffers who own a bike as well as a car, I was faced with a choice every morning. I rode my bike when it was nice out and drove when the weather was bad. Over the years, I developed rules for myself. I would only drive if it were raining or below freezing outside. Having realized the freedom and happiness of commuting on my own steam, however, eventually my bike became the default.

Flagstaff resident Ray Walker, who pays his bills by tinkering on NAU’s computers so he can play music and ride bikes, is known around town for his flashy fixed-gear bikes. Ray recently retrofitted his old mountain bike with fenders and metal-studded snow tires, among other adjustments, in preparation for the cold months ahead. Ray’s been running on a different frequency for a while now.

With radish greens flailing between the flaps of Ray’s bicycle bags, we rode back to his place to unload veggies, drink coffee, and talk about winter bike riding. I told him that, for this article, I wanted to motivate those bikers who are already braving the cold and inspire others to join them. But if others are to join them, they must first understand that being a cyclist is not just an activity. It’s a lifestyle, an ideology. Riding a bike is, as Ray pointed out, freedom.

To me, the difference between your run-of-the-mill, bike-when-the-sun-is-shinning bicyclist and those hard-core bikers who fall into the “live free or drive” camp is painfully clear. First of all, you “ride” a bike and you “drive” a car. However if one considers all the money that goes into gas, oil, insurance, registration, repairs, maintenance, parking tickets and parking passes, it would make more sense to say that the car drives you.

Being a cyclist means that I know and can utilize all the best short cuts. It means I’m never “stuck” in traffic. It means that I feel healthy and strong, yet never have to make a point to exercise.

I don’t have to rely on anyone, any infrastructure, or any roads to go where I want. I ride guilt free knowing that my transportation method is not contributing anything negative to my environment. Nor is the fuel necessary to operate my bike one that shapes foreign policy decisions or help to destroy indigenous and nonhuman communities the world over.

I know every bump, curve, and hill from my daily commute as well as I know my bike, which, the more I ride it, I regard as an extension of my own body. I hate the wind, but I like that I am affected by the weather. This makes me feel more human, more connected to myself and with the world around me.

In truth the world-view of a cyclist is much different than that of a motorist. We think locally. Our perception of time and space is grounded in physical reality. We’re more acutely and intimately affected by the world around us.

“When I’m on my bike, I am more aware of my environment.” Ray said as we sipped coffee and drooled over expensive custom bike-frames on-line. “When you’re on a bike, you’re more vulnerable, which makes you more aware.”

“I hear that. Bike accidents hurt.” I said. Yet, when I wreck my bike, the repairs are relatively inexpensive. I deal with my minor injuries and repairs and learn deeply from them.

The act of riding your bike on snowy and icy roads isn’t much different than the level of consciousness it takes to drive a car. You don’t want to pedal into an icy turn, just as you wouldn’t want to hit the gas in a car. You have to think ahead when approaching a stop and give yourself a bit more time when pulling out.

Though, what makes cyclists vulnerable does result in some general safety advantages bikers still have over cars. We aren’t enclosed in metal and foggy glass. Our field of vision is much greater than motorists, which, as Ray went onto say, “allows bikers to make better predictions.”

To successfully battle old man winter on a bike, all it takes is a little patience and foresight. Rarely is there a weather condition that bikers cannot confront if they are prepared.

In my opinion, there are two items that are absolutely necessary for bikers to wear when it is below freezing outside. Gloves and some kind of ear/face mask are essential. Appendages like fingers and ears are the first things affected by the cold. Ray reiterated the importance of gloves, especially on a windy day. We both agreed that we would much rather deal with the cold than the wind.

Preparation is also about knowing yourself and your own body. I wear a complete facemask, one that makes me look like I’m on my way to a WTO protest or something. Ray is bearded so he just wears something over his ears. I wear long underwear a lot and Ray just wears thicker pants.

Wet days require some degree of waterproofing your clothing. Ray just got this sweet waterproof Gore-tex jacket. I have a pair of waterproof pants that fit over my regular pants. To avoid wet sock—which, lets face it, is the worst—I’ve been known to wrap each foot in a plastic bag before I put on my shoes. To avoid a wet ass and a brown racing stripe up your back, you’ll need some fenders—the rear one being the most important. These can be purchased in any number of varieties. DIY fenders can be made out of a used plastic laundry detergent bottles and zip ties.

If you’re caught unprepared in the cold, like on one of those days when it’s 40 during the day and drops to 18 at night, newspaper will become your best friend. Newspaper can be stuffed under your shirt or in your pants, creating a surprisingly effective form of insulation from the cold.

Still many choose not to ride during the winter mainly because of fear—fear that it’s too cold or fear of getting hurt. However, one common mistake I continue to make is over-dressing for the cold. I told Ray that I’m warmer riding my bike than I am walking. He agreed and we discussed how biking actually generates a lot of body heat.

Even when it’s 7 degrees outside, I always arrive at my destination sweating, ripping off my clothes. Choosing how many layers to wear is an exercise in trial and error. Keep in mind that layers can be removed if you’re too hot, while being cold just plain sucks.

If you’re grossed out about sweat, you shouldn’t be. First of all, sweating is good for your body, and second, we’re fortunate enough to live in such a dry climate where sweat dries in minutes. Ray leaves his work shoes at work and brings a nice shirt in his bag. “A lot of people do that anyway when they workout during the day.”

The fear of wrecking in the snow and ice is a legitimate concern. Simply knowing the limitations of your bike can alleviate the fear of crashing. Address the weaknesses that you can—such as buying wider, knobby tires or adjusting the brakes. I would suggest going into a parking lot and, like you would in a car, practice skidding, learn the appropriate speed for icy turns, and practice your balance. And for the love of God, where a helmet.

There are still challenges that you can’t do anything about. Don’t expect the bike lanes to be cleared of snow. And don’t expect drivers to cut you a lot of slack. According to Arizona State Bicycle Traffic Laws, and I’m speaking as much to Flagstaff drivers as I am cyclists, if the bike lane is unsafe or blocked, bicyclists are entitled to take up a full lane for any given amount of time. This is dangerous stuff. Don’t let drivers make you feel like your putting your life in danger.

“People should never feel afraid to ride their bike.” Ray said as I downed the last of my coffee. “I’m not going to put myself in peril just so someone can get to their destination a minute quicker.

Here is what I got for the December issue of The Noise, though it’s not just mine. This is the first time I’ve been able to co-write an article. I wrote this with fellow Noise compatriot, Sara Gamble. If the University simply said, “yeah, we test on animals; what r’ you gonna do about it?” this would have been much easier to write…

The atrocities discovered at Columbia University in 2003 revealed invasive surgeries leading to the death of baboons, other nonhuman primates, and many other animals. Some of the horrors include strokes artificially induced in baboons by removing their left eyeball to access and clamp a critical blood vessel, and monkeys with metal pipes surgically implanted in their skulls for the sole purpose of inducing stress in order to study connections between stress and women’s menstrual cycles. These animals were given nothing but aspirin for the pain, during or after the surgeries.

Some might argue that the torture of these animals is necessary for the progress of medical science, still the investigations revealed experiments that would be unnecessary by anyone’s standards. Experiments on the affects of nicotine (like we need to know nicotine is bad for us), morphine, as well as scores of pharmaceutical drugs (many of which are already on the market) continue to characterize animal research at Columbia.

Though Columbia University, a major research institution, may seem like the obvious poster-child for animal cruelty, the widespread use and abuse of animals in laboratories is dreadfully prevalent. Beyond the white walls and sterile atmosphere of many top research institutions, medical schools, pharmaceutical companies, and commercial facilities that provide test results to industry, the horrors do take place.

Nonhuman primates have been found with their brain exposed, some kept in isolation chambers wearing sensory deprivation devices that were installed at birth to study mental illnesses. Beagles have been found “debarked,” a procedure that basically rips the vocal chords out of dogs so researchers are not, as one website put it, “disturbed by the dog’s cries for attention.” Dogs, cats, rats, and others may have toxic chemicals poured on their skin, their eyes, and any other orifice that will yield quantifiable results that look pretty on research grant applications.

A nine-month investigation of IAMS dog food company revealed experiments involving chunks of muscle surgically removed from the thighs of dogs, and other experiments resulting in kidney failure, obesity, malnutrition, and severe allergic reactions. Proctor & Gamble, who owns IAMS, has been in the spotlight for their malicious tests on animals in the name of household chemicals and cosmetics as well.

Those working on this issue know that this list, unfortunately, goes on and on.

Many groups like People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (P.E.T.A.), Stop Huntington Animal Cruelty (S.H.A.C.) and the Animal Liberation Front (A.L.F.) have brought significant and necessary attention to the way in which animals are treated behind locked doors. Northern Arizona University student and Animal Rights Now! (ARN!) campus president, Melanie Mauller has been a devoted animal rights activist for as long as she can remember and has helped to bring attention to this issue in Flagstaff.

“Growing up, I was always surrounded by all kinds of animals and never really viewed them as any different from myself.” After meeting like-minded folks in high school, and going vegan, she became active—educating people about the mistreatment of animals.

Not even a year old, ARN! has already accomplish a lot. Among other activities, ARN! has hosted a talk by Peter Young, who was recently released from prison after serving time for liberating thousands of mink from fur farms across the Midwest; they are also currently working with Sodexho, who provides campus food, to offer more vegan and vegetarian options, and they are also volunteering with Paw Placement.

Recently ARN! fell under Northern Arizona University’s paranoia radar (that’s NAU PR) when Ms. Mauller and others began asking questions about the University’s treatment of animals in its research labs.

Ever since ARN!’s questions have gained attention, the Biology Annex on Northern Arizona University’s campus has been shrouded in mystery. Even the University paper, The Lumberjack, referred to it as a building that “hardly resembles any of the other buildings; it is windowless apart from one widow on the side, shielded over by blinds” with signs that read “’DO NOT ENTER. THIS IS NOT A HALLWAY.’” Others have commented on the building’s cold cement floors and its locked, unmarked metal doors.

After weeks of persistence, ARN!’s questions were left unanswered. In fact, Ms. Mauller said that animal care supervisor Thomas Greene told her he was “indefinitely busy.” Eventually, Lisa Nelson of NAU Public Affairs responded, apologizing for the delay.

“Please know that any hesitation you may have encountered in getting a response from others is because people have legitimate safety and security concerns for themselves, the facility and the animals based on past acts of violence and vandalism around the country.” Not to discount Ms. Nelson’s concerns, but this is a good time to remind readers that even the most radical of activists, even those who have served prison time, have never harmed a living thing—human or nonhuman.

Ms. Nelson’s sentiments reflecting faculty concern for vandalism, however, hold more water. Laboratories across the country have been spray painted, smashed up, or even burned to the ground in an effort to free the animals and ensure the cruelty will not continue. In the film, Behind The Mask, the illuminating documentary on the Animal Liberation Front, animal rights icon Rod Coronado, who served four years for a series of fur farm raids in the early 90’s, explains the reasoning behind such vandalism. If animals are taken from laboratories, “all a researcher has to do is get on the phone…and order more research animals and they’ll be there within a week. It was because of that that we started employing arson.”

Unsatisfied with the glossy answers she received, which the NAU Public Affairs office called “well worded responses to inquiries,” and a lack of meaningful dialogue with those directly involved in research, Mauller and ARN! decided to hold a demonstration in front of the Biology Annex on November 5th.

Before the demonstration, NAU’s Public Affairs office sent an email out to faculty. “In recent months animal rights activity has increased here at NAU.” The email went on to warn faculty about the upcoming protest and suggested faculty “avoid these protesters if possible” and that police dressed in plain clothes would be keeping an eye on the protest.

Ms. Mauller, who also works at NAU, was forwarded an email that was sent to her boss that referred to her as a “threat to the university” and advised that if her activities continued she should be fired. The email also mentioned that President Haeger shares these views.

Still there are two big differences here that maybe NAU doesn’t see. ARN! wanted straight forward answers to simple questions and Melanie is not Rod Coranado. The demonstration was obviously peaceful and even included several faculty members who share ARN!’s concern for the animals and frustration with the lack of communication from the University on this issue.

Even after the demonstration, the intimidation and threats continued. A few days later Ms. Mauller attended a demonstration against Snowbowl and was approached by a police officer who, without knowing Melanie personally, said, “how are you doing today, Ms. Mauller?” Though the officer approached her in a friendly way, the message was clear: We’re watching you; we know who you are. It was “totally creepy,” said Mauller. “We are not given answers, we are ignored, we are intimidated…all of which would lead most people to become very suspicious of what’s really going on.”

This is how research facilities bring vandalism and threats of sabotage upon themselves. Every single instance where a lab has been raided and vandalized, first people simply asked questions. When questions are left unanswered, and activists are ignored and intimidated, it is quite predictable that they will look to more radical approaches.

So, what exactly is going on with the animals at NAU? Despite not talking to ARN!, research faculty at NAU did address questions from The Noise.

The first issue worth addressing is the difference between animal testing and animal research. At first, one might suspect this to be a cop out. For example, a logger who makes a living by deforesting the world’s remaining old growth isn’t going to admit their actions are “deforestation” at all. In order to sleep at night, they are “developing natural resources.” Still, the trees end up dead no matter what. On the surface, it seems as though a similar rhetorical trick might be at work here. However, this is not the case.

According to a recent editorial to The Lumberjack, signed by seven members of NAU’s research faculty, “There is no “animal testing” at NAU, in the sense of using animals as surrogates for humans in testing the safety or efficacy of different products. There is, however, a wide variety of research that uses animals.”

Although university research is held to more stringent animal care standards than other private firms or for-profit companies, there is an element of ambiguity surrounding the issue because the public cannot see what’s going on inside the Biological Sciences Annex. “There’s an important reason why those doors are locked” according to Lee Drickamer, NAU Interim Vice President for Research and Regents’ Professor, “Nowhere in the country are people allowed into, at universities, the animal quarters or approved facilities and that’s for two reasons: one is to protect your health, and perhaps even more importantly to protect the health of the animals.” According to NAU’s Assistant Director of the Office of Public Affairs, Thomas Bauer, “federal regulations prohibit visitors to the [animal research] facility.”

Animal research at NAU is funded by grant money, mostly from the federal government and institutions like the National Science Foundation. Drickamer estimates that about 100-200 laboratory mice, 100 laboratory rats, six ducks, 12-15 varieties of reptiles and amphibians, a small colony of opossums and several dozen fish are currently in use at the University. Rodents come from companies such as Jackson Laboratories, while other animals are brought in from the wild, or bred on site. Research on these animals includes the study of the development and evolution of the jaw apparatus, the role of uranium as an estrogen blocker and oxygen levels in the respiratory systems and hearts of ducks.

According to Drickamer, much of the animal research at NAU is done for the further conservation and understanding of animals, the rest of it is bio-medical, wherein animals are used as models for understanding the functions of human beings. “The welfare of the animals is our primary concern, because we don’t get good answers, we’re essentially wasting the lives of some of those rats or mice if we’re not doing things properly—caring for them properly, doing all the other parts of the research process properly.”

Part of the tension between animal researchers and animal rights activists lies in this understanding of “welfare.” Wherein researcher’s primary concern for the animals lies in the quality of “answers” received from test results, animal rights activists see animals’ lives as no less important than our own. Indeed, nobody can claim that the life of a lab rat means any less to that rat than our own lives mean to us. The “welfare” of the animals lies in understanding that all animals, whether they are born in the wild or in a laboratory, have a right to an autonomous life. This logic applies to zoos, to factory farms, and any other scenario where nonhuman animals are exploited.

Drickamer went on to say, “If we accept the premise that animals are necessary as testing or research models for doing things related to human health or their own health or to conservation, then there will be animals used in research, but our first goal then is to make sure that they’re healthy.”

The Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee (IACUC) requires that an animal-use protocol be completed and approved before the acquisition of any vertebrate animal for laboratory purposes. Locally, a committee including a community member and non scientists will review these protocols. The Animal Welfare Act, on which this protocol is partially based, covers only warm-blooded, vertebrate animals but excludes laboratory raised mice and rats among other animals, however NAU’s policy extends to all vertebrate animals, warm or cold blooded, born in a laboratory or in the wild. (More information on the regulations and procedures can be found at the University’s research page.

Another, more obvious, point of tension between animal researchers and animal rights activists lies in a difference in perception. Animal rights activists, by and large, do not accept the premise that “animals are necessary as testing or research models.”

On the one hand, researchers will tell you that there is work being done to find alternatives to using animals. Included in the IACUC protocol are provisions to prevent unnecessary animal research— this includes avoiding redundant, excessive, or unduly painful research. ‘The Three R’s of Animal Research’ are followed: 1. Reduce—use the fewest animals necessary to obtain statistical significance. 2. Refine—use less painful or invasive techniques. 3. Replace—replace animals with non-animal systems (computer models, tissue culture, etc.).

Still the clash of perception runs deeper than the content of any protocol. For example, as mentioned above, many of the mice delivered to NAU for research are from Jackson Laboratories; according to their website, they aren’t actually individual mice with individual, autonomous lives at all. Instead they are branded “JAX® Mice.” As long as they are JAX® Mice, they will be treated like JAX® Mice. But of course they are rodents just the same, no different than one you might find scurrying into a hole as you approach in the woods. The difference is this: the one you see in the woods is living the life it was meant to live, while JAX® Mice are bred specifically for the use of humans.

Drickamer echoed the sentiments of many of those who support animal research. “You go to the doctor and you get a prescription for an antibiotic, in an indirect sense, you’re saying that animal research is okay.” Applied to other scenarios, however, major holes in this logic are revealed. For example, if you go to the store and purchase toilet paper, does that mean you think deforestation is okay? If you’re cold and need to buy a jacket, does that mean you’re okay with child labor?

As Mauller explained, we’re privileged enough “not to realize that [our] actions have costs and we live in a society that tells us it’s okay to be naive to those consequences.” This ‘priviledged life’ depends on a profound disconnect between production and consumption, which means that even discovering the social and environmental ramifications of our choices and purchases is often difficult to do, and avoiding products or actions that directly cause harm to other living beings is even more challenging.

In his book, The Culture of Make Believe, author and activist Derrick Jensen wrote, regarding our inescapable and systematic connection with exploitation, “No matter how clear my perception or how pure my intent, as a consumer in a global economy I’m still drawn into situations that as a human I find abhorrent.”

The point is, just because we’re dependent on a system that is based on exploitation doesn’t make us personally accountable for it. Illuminating this exploitation, however, does give us the responsibility to stop it.

The October ish of The Noise is out. Or it should be, anyway. I’m not 100% sure my column made it in because I wrote way more than I was supposed to.

UPDATE: I just picked up a Noise today and discovered that my column is not in this month’s edition. I kinda wish someone would have told me that earlier.

For those who live in N. Ariz: There is information in this article about a great painting that is being raffled off by the artist. The money will go to the fine folks at SavetheVerde.org. Just because this wasn’t published formally, doesn’t mean you have to miss out on this raffle.

Without a doubt, monsoon season in northern Arizona is my favorite time of the year. I miss it already. The mornings are clear and sunny; the birds are loud and happy. These mornings are arguably the best time to spend outside, riding a bike, gardening, or just reading a book on your back porch.

Without a doubt, monsoon season in northern Arizona is my favorite time of the year. I miss it already. The mornings are clear and sunny; the birds are loud and happy. These mornings are arguably the best time to spend outside, riding a bike, gardening, or just reading a book on your back porch.Around eleven, huge white clouds gather around the peaks, and slowly begin to consume the sky above the city. As the afternoon approaches, the clear blue fades, giving way to darker and darker shades of gray. The storm clouds in the distance look increasingly ominous as the top of the peaks disappear entirely. As the wind picks up, the air sweetens and drops in temperature.

Without a doubt, monsoon season in northern Arizona is my favorite time of the year. I miss it already. The mornings are clear and sunny; the birds are loud and happy. These mornings are arguably the best time to spend outside, riding a bike, gardening, or just reading a book on your back porch.Around eleven, huge white clouds gather around the peaks, and slowly begin to consume the sky above the city. As the afternoon approaches, the clear blue fades, giving way to darker and darker shades of gray. The storm clouds in the distance look increasingly ominous as the top of the peaks disappear entirely. As the wind picks up, the air sweetens and drops in temperature.The first thunderclaps echo from behind the peaks and around the city, telling bicyclists to take shelter, telling gardeners to put away their tools. If those who like to read outside are anything like me, they go inside, blast Mozart, Beethoven, or Chopin on their turntables, and continue reading next to a window.

One can literally see the rain drawing closer, in blue-gray streaks, illuminated by periodic flashes of lightening. Before Mozart completes his second full cadence, a clap of thunder—the loudest, most startling one yet—immediately sends your dogs under your bed and your gaze back out the window. This is when you remember to unplug your computer and shut your windows. As you run around making the necessary precautions the rain begins to tap dance on your roof. Tap dancing immediately gives way to moshing—not Metallica moshing, but the kind of energy reserved for bands likes Slayer or, dare I say it, Napalm Death.

Someone once told me that the weather in Flagstaff is the extreme version of the same weather everywhere else. When it rains, it pours. When it snows, it’s a blizzard. When it’s windy, you can’t even be outside (I know a bicyclist who was so pissed off at the wind that he threw his bike across three lanes of traffic…I think of him and laugh every time I’m fighting the wind to get up a hill). But when it’s beautiful outside, it is more beautiful than most places I’ve ever been.

When the rain stops, you hear the sirens…because for some reason when it rains in Flagstaff people lose all ability to operate their vehicles. But after the sirens, as trees and gutters on buildings sift the last few drops of water down to the soil below, there is a wonderful period of silence—as people slowly creep out of their houses, as dogs slink out from beneath beds, and earthworms find their way back into the ground. The sun reappears, filtering through the dissipating clouds, and the air smells fresher and cleaner than any Irish Spring soap commercial could possibly depict.

The months leading up to the first monsoon rains are the hottest, driest months out of the year. The pine trees begin to lose their color, the underbrush browns, forest fires threaten every corner of the southwest, and weeks can go by without seeing a cloud in the sky. Then, one day, you notice clouds. Every day there are more and more of them until one day it finally rains and everyone in town is in a great mood. Slowly the novelty wears off but the rain doesn’t stop for a month.

Instead of the blessing from which we originally regard the rain, many people see it as a nuisance, an inconvenience that won’t let us play out side during the afternoon. While most people I know do love the rain, it’s as if others slip into this Nick Drake-laden depression and blame it all on the rain that “just won’t stop.”

Everyone loves the first couple of storms but it seems like many, especially incoming NAU students, grow tired of the rain very quickly. I, on the other hand, have learned never to complain when it rains in Arizona. I have never lived anywhere where precipitation matters so obviously than northern Arizona.

After just a few weeks of rain, this whole area explodes with green; skunk, elk, deer, raccoon, fox, and many others rapidly populate the area. Neighborhood gardens begin to flourish, washes that are dry most of the year now flow with abundance. Surely, if we lived in the real world, if we relied on the land for our food, our water, and our shelter, we would welcome the rains. In reality, rain in the desert means more of everything that is necessary for our lives.

Instead we have created a world where we can function without owing our lives to the rain. Rather, we owe our lives to our jobs, to our economic systems. We get our water from the tap, our food from the grocery store. In short we’re privileged enough to feel inconvenienced by the rains. That skunk, elk, deer, raccoon, fox and others run wildly around this area during monsoon season—like hipsters thrown free Modest Mouse tickets—while the rest of us groan, further illustrates this privilege.

Of the three necessities obtained through a healthy landbase—food, water, and shelter—our relationship with water might be the last one of these meaningful relationships to be soured by civilization. Our relationship with food has long been lost through the vast distances that food travels, a complete lack of knowledge about where our food comes from, and our willingness to consume food that has been poisoned. As for our homes, they more obviously reflect the socio-economic backgrounds of those who occupy them rather than the land from which they are constructed. More recently, our relationship with water has become just as disconnected.

It wasn’t too long ago that we could drink the water that naturally flowed around us in streams, creeks, and rivers without having to worry about getting sick. I have vivid memories of drinking from a stream in northern New Mexico with my Nana when I was a child. A recent U.S. Geological Survey concluded that every single stream in the continental United States contains some level of carcinogens. When I was a kid, the only thing that crossed either of our minds while drinking water from a stream was the possibility of consuming beaver piss. Today we would obviously have much more to worry about.

Cities spend millions on cleansing efforts, yet today we are told not even to drink the water that comes out of our backyard hoses (and who doesn’t love cold hose water on a hot day?) or from the tap. Instead we are told to purchase water bottled in plastic.

Even after Pepsi announced that its bottled water, Aquafina, actually comes straight from a public water source—that’s right, it’s just tap water—we would still rather buy water bottled in plastic rather than address the toxification of our total environment. How did all this happen? When did we become so disconnected with such a basic necessity of life?

We are told that there is a water shortage. To that I say, bullshit. There is just as much water as there has always been. Sure, the locations of water change along with the climate, and the amount of people drinking the water is rising, but the water itself isn’t disappearing. To frame the issue of water shortage in this way detracts from the real issue of irresponsible water usage.

When I mentioned my frustration on this issue to Ellen Ryan, Flagstaff’s Water Conservation Manager, she agreed, though reiterated the very real problem of our water sources in terms of facing drought conditions. That we are, indeed, facing a drought further accentuates the importance of confronting irresponsible water usage.

Despite all the warnings about droughts and water scarcity, the vast majority of us who occupy the lands of the American southwest do not confront dehydration on a daily basis (I do not include “everybody” in this because I don’t want to minimize the very real threats faced by indigenous peoples in Northern Arizona, who are constantly defending access to their own water supplies and aquifers). According to the World Bank 80 countries now have water shortages that threaten health and economies while 40 percent of the world—more than 2 billion people—have no access to clean water.

Rapid population growth is certainly an issue that can’t be ignored, as people will continue to over-populate areas where water is increasingly scarce. As population grows, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that industrial, agricultural, and individual water demands will escalate. If our current wars are fought over oil, the wars of the future—assuming we reach a future—will surely be waged over access to adequate quantities of drinkable water.

Population, however, is a secondary problem next to the issue of consumption. While our population has risen, water consumption has increased at a much faster pace. This reflects water usage alongside rising standards of living and the unsustainable nature of modern agriculture—since 1900, water use for agriculture has increased by more than 700%—and industry. It is far too easy to point the finger at population rather than to question our consumption habits within an unsustainable civilization.

Though stricter mandates and higher prices for water will surely be the reality in the near future, meaningful water conservation will require a shift in mindset. While this shift can be reflected in the way individuals regard their own consumption of water, citizens should stand up and pressure the larger institutions that consume more water than individuals ever could. When I asked Ms. Ryan who the biggest water consumer in Flagstaff is, she had the answer for me immediately. “NAU,” she said, “is the main water user in this area.” Of course, NAU, in comparison to Flagstaff, is its own little city, so the fact that they use the most water should come as no surprise. Still, keep that in mind the next time their marketing department talks about all the exciting “green” changes they’re making.

Also, just because a particular stretch of lawn utilizes reclaimed water doesn’t necessarily make it a responsible choice. I can think of many places—in the city, in residential areas, and at the university—where water is used to maintain lawns—lawns that exist for no reason beyond aesthetic appeal. I’ve actually heard that grass is our country’s biggest crop. And I know I’m not the only one who has cruised past a field of grass or a residential lawn during a thunderstorm and witnessed the sprinklers spitting water as it rains. Reclaimed water or not, this is irresponsible.

Ms. Ryan told me about something called a “rain sensor” that anyone could purchase that senses when it rains and shuts the sprinkler off automatically. She also told me about rain-barrels one can purchase that are meant to collect roof water when it rains. This water can be used to water gardens and fill kiddie pools, among many other uses.

For those considering ripping out their lawns in favor of something more hydro-responsible, Ms. Ryan also suggested “xeriscape” for their yards, which utilizes “low water use plants and natives” (there is a reason why sunflowers grow better than your tomatoes!). A shift in mindset, however, whereby the true value of water in the desert is fully realized and savored will require more than simply acting on a few tips, as vital as they are.

Indeed today it is hard to recognize the value inherent in regular access to clean water in the desert. Regarding water in the desert, Edward Abbey said, in Beyond the Wall, “…nowhere is water so beautiful as in the desert, for nowhere is it so scarce. By definition, water, like a human being or a tree or a bird or a song, gains value by rarity, singularity, isolation…In the desert each drop is precious.” This quote emphasizes both the need to recognize and appreciate the value of water in the desert, and calls for us to rekindle our relationship to it. It also helps to explain why I paid so much for that Dead Kennedys 7-inch that I never listen to.

Like a fresh lemon to a sailor lost at sea, we need to recognize the true value of our access to water in the desert and treat it accordingly. In truth, some things simply cannot be valued in monetary amounts. We’ve forgotten why we originally inhabited the areas of Arizona that we did. There is a reason why, for example, Cottonwood, Clarkdale, Jerome, and Prescott exist where they do. The answer: the Verde River. It’s time we start re-identifying with rivers like the Verde that brought us here in the first place, and will sustain us in the future. But first we have to stop killing it.

At 7,000 feet, the land under and around Flagstaff has a crucial role to play regarding the health of the land in the valleys below. The Verde is one of the most important rivers in this area. It begins in tributaries that form among aspen, evergreens, and pine. As it travels down in elevation, it collects water from some of the most dramatic landscapes in the world; Oak Creek Canyon, Fossil Creek, West Clear Creek, The East Verde, and Beaver Creek have all contributed to the Verde for over 60 million years. The rivers deposit needed water and minerals throughout Arizona. During it’s 170-mile journey south, the heat and dry air result in evaporation, which collects in clouds where it, again, rains in the high country. In this way, the network of rivers, streams, and creeks of northern Arizona can rightfully be thought of as a vital circulatory system to the entire region. To many animals, it is more accurately an oasis, the life-blood of the entire region.

The Verde River is one of “America’s 10 most endangered” rivers. It is currently being threatened by thirsty developments going up in Prescott and Prescott Valley that, if allowed, will strangle the river out of nearly 9,000 acre-feet of water per year. A U.S. Geological Survey estimated that robbing this much water would dry up the initial 24 miles of The Verde, thus dramatically affecting the rest of this mighty river.

I recently talked to Ron Harvey, a teacher, artist, and local conservationalist from Prescott who runs the “Save the Verde” myspace page (myspace.com/theverderiver) and does a lot of work with the fine folks at savetheverde.org. I asked him what he thought the biggest threat to The Verde is.

“Us,” he said, “plain and simple. We use too much water, and don’t put it back where we found it. Right now, we have overdrawn our account, but aren’t paying the penalty, and the bank is about to come knocking.”

The Verde, of course, is not the only river being murdered in Arizona. In this state, right now anyway, we don’t pay much for water, but that doesn’t mean it flows through our faucets without cost. Once upon a time, the mighty Colorado River fed into the Pacific Ocean; hell, not too long ago, this river reached the Mexican border.

Reiterating my thoughts (and Ed Abbey’s) regarding the true value of The Verde and the importance of it to the entire region, Mr. Harvey went on. “It is also a truly rare jewel: a river in the desert. We run the risk of killing what we moved here for in the first place, and before many of us even knew it was there.”

This made me think of Flagstaff’s water sources as well. It always surprises me when people don’t know where our own water comes from. As long as we turn on the faucet and clean water comes out, I suppose to many the fact that much of it comes from Lake Mary is unimportant. Still, if we begin to identify with the water sources that allow us to live here, we might learn to defend them.

The more it rains during monsoon season, the healthier the landbase is. The more it snows during the winter, the more water we have to drink. What a novel idea! Our water doesn’t come from the city; it doesn’t come from the water company. Our water comes from the land, melting from snow that trickles down, collecting in streams, flowing into local lakes, seeping into the ground, where it is siphoned or pumped, filtered and funneled into our drinking glasses. If these waterways are not worth defending, I don’t know what is.

Ron Harvey is raffling off this beautiful painting called, Sunrise on the Lower Verde, in the hopes that the money made will help save this vital river. Tickets are only $5 and will be on sale until October 31st. The painting is acrylic on canvas, and it measures 24×18.”

Go to his myspace page for more information or, drop by The Frame and I Art Gallery on 229 W Gurley in downtown Prescott. If you don’t live in Prescott but would like to purchase a ticket, contact Joanne at (928) 772-8204 and she’ll hook you up.

Dearest readers of The Noise,