What do soil micronutrients have to do with justice and inclusion?
Last year I applied for an academic research and teaching position at a US college. The application required a statement of my contribution to justice, equity, diversity, and inclusion (JEDI). I had not heard of this particular acronym before but was pleasantly surprised, although a bit clueless on what to write. This article includes excerpts from my statement.
The #MeToo and Black Lives Matter (BLM) movements in the US created a heightened awareness of systemic inequalities globally (although much less so in East Africa where I live and work). I was nevertheless surprised to find that academia is making a concerted effort to ‘force’ people to consider and debate JEDI more openly. In this particular case, the job also required experience working in the conservation sector and I found myself having to reflect on my experiences working in international conservation. It appears that this sector is taking JEDI more seriously than for example development and agriculture research sectors.
JEDI principles have reached prominence in recent years due to a greater awareness that environmental sustainability cannot be achieved in isolation from social justice and vice versa. The Green New Deal in the US, for example, is a prime example as it aims to reduce greenhouse gas emissions while also addressing economic injustice and racial inequality. However, this makes JEDI seem as a problem that is 'out there'. There is another side to the JEDI coin which seeks to address diversity and inclusion within the offices and boardrooms of (environmental) organizations. This is a more sensitive project as it projects our gaze inward. I have been involved in both the external JEDI project, for example by seeking to achieve environmental sustainability and social equity in marginalized communities, as well as the internal struggle to create greater gender equity and racial diversity in the workplace.
Contributions to JEDI may at times seem clear-cut but they are by no means uncomplicated, partly because of the intersectionality of our positions. As an example, a video went viral last July which shows a white woman telling a black man that she would call the police and tell them that “there is an African American man … threatening my life,” following the man’s request that she abide by New York City (NYC) Central Park rules and put her dog on a leash. In the context of police brutality against black men in the US, this action arguably put his life at risk. We must take care, however, not to fall back on simplistic narratives while also refraining from reducing the severity of the situation. What I mean with intersectionality is that this incident was not only a display of race and power (hers) but also, and simultaneously, about masculinity and power (his) in that it was a standoff between a female and male taking place in an isolated wooded area.
Beyond the obvious (at least what was recorded) aspect of the NYC incident, it also brings us to the multiple ways in which green spaces are racialized and how black bodies have historically been denied access to public spaces such as nature parks. The fact that the man was a birdwatcher did not enter the public debate but undoubtedly raised a few eyebrows. After all, we do not think of black men as birdwatchers in our collective imagination and this is perhaps emblematic of a wider lack of diversity in environmental and conservation organizations which also extends to conservation-focused departments at US universities. In my experience working for a large international conservation organization, racial diversity in its US office was primarily a result of people of color working in operations, not programming.
The events that unfolded in 2020, the slow and deliberate (again recorded) police killing of a black man in Minneapolis and mass protests led by the Black Lives Matter movement, forced many higher education institutions to ask whether they also suffer from a lack of justice, equity, diversity and inclusion. Task forces were quickly set up ask whether these whether and how uneven social structures were reproduced in student dorms, classrooms and faculty offices. This racial reckoning follows a similar movement in conservation organizations where many hallways and board rooms lacked diversity. As we continue to learn from these experiences, we are gradually better prepared to train a generation of future conservation practitioners who are ecologically woke.
My personal experience working in international agricultural research is that the sector is lagging behind in considering JEDI. There are some positive signs. The CGIAR, for example, has a new Gender Platform but this is unfortunately still mostly outward looking rather than reflective of internal power structures. There seems to be a believe that research organizations suffer less from bias because of the supposed color and gender-blindness of science. After all, what do soil micronutrients have to do with justice and inclusion? The CGIAR can find out by (1) requiring JEDI statement from new hires and (2) creating a JEDI Platform that focuses on how internal JEDI struggles impact the CGIAR's overall mission. It may not be comfortable but "remember, the Force will be with you."