Why should Pakistan trust us?

Distrust lies at the heart of the west’s relationship with Afghanistan and Pakistan -- but this is n

For western governments to lecture the likes of Pakistan about democracy and stability, as David Cameron did this morning, must seem a cruel joke to many in that country. Our part of the world has a long history of generously lending money to fuel violence, prop up undemocratic, often brutal regimes and exacerbate poverty.

Pakistan is a country with only 54 per cent literacy, and where 38 per cent of small children are underweight, yet it spends nearly $3bn a year servicing debts -- almost three times what the government spends on health.

Loans have flowed freely into Pakistan in order to keep favoured military governments in power, most recently that General Pervez Musharraf, when Pakistan's debt increased from $32bn to $49bn.

A recent $7.6bn International Monetary Fund loan, needed so that the country can keep paying off its old debts, is conditioned on reducing budget deficits, eliminating electricity subsidies and increasing indirect taxation. As usual, ordinary people will pay for the west's "largesse" that kept in power governments subservient to western interests.

Such injustice doesn't stop at Pakistan. Consider Indonesia, where 61 per cent of the population live on less than $2 a day. Like with India, as David Cameron reminded us this morning, fighting poverty in Indonesia will be central to the success of the Millennium Development Goals. But just like India, this seems a second-order priority compared to selling scores of Hawk fighter jets to the country.

Indonesia still owes the UK over $500m for Hawk jets and other military equipment sold to the brutal General Suharto. Suharto was guilty of crimes against humanity by any standard, killing up to a million political activists in his first year in office.

Today, Indonesia pays over $2.5m every hour to service its $150bn debts -- much run up by Suharto. Is it surprising if Indonesians think their lives matter less than the financial and strategic interests of the west?

Afghanistan has been rushed through the debt cancellation process to prevent any embarrassing examination of past lending, but has been forced to privatise its banks and will doubtless return to the same state of heavy indebtedness in years to come -- it serves the government, which needs the finances to hold on to power, and it serves the west, which needs the debts to keep control after the soldiers leave.

Control of these countries can be maintained through this same, deeply unjust economic system, through playing one faction off against another, through fighting when everything else fails to work. Democracy, stability and trust, however, require something far bolder, but not impossible.

It is possible to stop lending in such deeply unjust ways. It is possible to cancel debts based on loans that should never have been lent. It is possible to stop forcing countries to pay what they are unable to afford, or to force them to make their economies work in our interests simply because we can.

As repayments on deeply toxic debts continue to drain Muslim countries of their wealth, we need to realise that the debts, or reparations, if you prefer, that our governments owe the Muslim world are vast and rising. Trust will not be possible until they are paid.

The Jubilee Debt Campaign's "Fuelling Injustice: the Impact of Third World Debt on Muslim Countries" is available at

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How “cli-fi” novels humanise the science of climate change

The paradox is that the harder climate-fiction novels try, the less effective they are.

When the Paris UN Climate Change Conference begins at the end of November, the world’s leaders will review the climate framework agreed in Rio in 1992. For well over 20 years, the world has not just been thinking and talking about climate change, it has also been writing and reading about it, in blogs, newspapers, magazines – and in novels.

Climate change fiction is now a recognisable literary phenomenon replete with its own nickname: “cli-fi”. The term was coined in 2007 by Taiwan-based blogger Dan Bloom. Since then, its use has spread: it was even tweeted by Margaret Atwood in 2013:

It is not a genre in the accepted scholarly sense, since it lacks the plot formulas or stylistic conventions that tend to define genres (such as science fiction or the western). However, it does name a remarkable recent literary and publishing trend.

A 21st-century phenomenon?

Putting a number to this phenomenon depends, partly, on how one defines cli-fi. How much of a novel has to be devoted to climate change before it is considered cli-fi? Should we restrict the term to novels about man-made global warming? (If we don’t, we should remember that narratives about global climatic change are as old as The Epic of Gilgamesh and the Biblical story of the flood.) If we define cli-fi as fictional treatments of climate change caused by human activity in terms of setting, theme or plot – and accept there will be grey areas in the extent of this treatment – a conservative estimate would put the all-time number of cli-fi novels at 150 and growing. This is the figure put forward by Adam Trexler, who has worked with me to survey the development of cli-fi.

This definition also gives us a start date for cli-fi’s history. While planetary climatic change occurs in much 20th-century science fiction, it is only after growing scientific awareness of specifically man-made, carbon-induced climate change in the 1960s and 1970s that novels on this subject emerged. The first is Arthur Herzog’s Heat in 1976, followed by George Turner’s The Sun and the Summer (published in the US as Drowning Towers) in 1987.

At the turn of this century, Maggie Gee and TC Boyle were among the first mainstream authors to publish climate change novels. In this century, we can count Atwood, Michael Crichton, Barbara Kingsolver, Ian McEwan, Kim Stanley Robinson, Ilija Trojanow and Jeanette Winterson as major authors who have written about climate change. The past five years have given us notable examples of cli-fi by emerging authors, such as Steven Amsterdam, Edan Lepucki, Jane Rawson, Nathaniel Rich and Antti Tuomainen.

Creative challenges

Cli-fi is all the more noteworthy considering the creative challenge posed by climate change. First, there is the problem of scale – spatial and temporal. Climate change affects the entire planet and all its species – and concerns the end of this planet as we know it. Novels, by contrast, conventionally concern the actions of individual protagonists and/or, sometimes, small communities.

Added to this is the networked nature of climate change: in physical terms, the climate is a large, complex system whose effects are difficult to model. In socio-cultural terms, solutions require intergovernmental agreement – just what COP21 intends – and various top-down and bottom-up transformations. Finally, there exists the difficulty of translating scientific information, with all its predictive uncertainty, into something both accurate and interesting to the average reader.

Still, cli-fi writers have adopted a range of strategies to engage their readers. Many cli-fi novels could be classified as dystopian, post-apocalyptic or, indeed, both – depicting nightmarish societies triggered by sometimes catastrophic climate events. A future world is one effective way of narrating the planetary condition of climate change.

Some novelists are also careful to underpin their scenarios with rigorous climatic predictions and, in this way, translate science fact into a fictional setting. Kingsolver, who trained as an ecologist, is the best example of this – and Atwood and Robinson are also known for their attempts at making their speculations scientifically plausible. Also, cli-fi novels, particularly those set in the present day or very near future rather than in a dystopian future, tend to show the political or psychological dimensions of living with climate change. Readers can identify with protagonists. To some extent, the global community is represented in fictional everymen or everywomen. Or, often, it is through such characters that science is humanised and its role in combating climate change better understood.

Can cli-fi lead to change?

Could cli-fi affect how we think and act on climate change? The paradox is that the harder cli-fi tries, the less effective it is. Many writers want to inspire change, not insist on it: the line between literature and propaganda is one that most novelists respect. Literature invites us to inhabit other worlds and live other lives. Cli-fi at its best lets us travel to climate-changed worlds, to strive there alongside others and then to return armed with that experience.

In Paris, the UN will seek a global agreement on climate action for the first time in more than 20 years. There is plenty of climate change fiction out there to help provide the mental and psychological space to consider that action.

The Conversation

Adeline Johns-Putra, Reader in English Literature, University of Surrey

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.