Resource security isn't achieved by locking up commodities

We must strike at the root of resource insecurity, by demateralising our economy where we can.

Last week, Chatham House added to the drumbeat of concern about resources, declaring that "the spectre of resource insecurity has come back with a vengeance." In its dense, persuasive report, Resource futures (pdf), Chatham House's researchers diagnose the problems posed by increasing resource insecurity in detail, systematically identifying the causes of insecurity. This is an expansive analysis, and a major achievement, but the recommendations made in the report have the air of the outcomes of international climate talks: frameworks and processes to find solutions rather than actual solutions.

In researching the existing literature on material security as part of our work for the Circular Economy Task Force, we at Green Alliance have found that much of the debate about resource security has focused on two factors: raw material price volatility and the risk that international trade of raw materials will be restricted by nation states.

This reductionist framing of material security risk has artificially narrowed thinking about the underlying risks which foster price volatility and restricted access to materials. This, in turn, has limited the options we use to mitigate these risks.

Focusing on political risk has led to responses like land banking, in which countries and companies directly purchase foreign land to serve their resource needs; and raw material agreements, where countries sign contracts to trade raw material supplies for technology or infrastructure development. China, Japan, and Germany have all pursued these strategies in the last two years, for a wide variety of commodities ranging from food to metals.

Resource futures notes these developments and rightly shows how these and similar policies, including production subsidies, the actions of state owned enterprises, and market manipulation, have "fuelled the fire" of resource insecurity. It is clear that these strategies also have social drawbacks, but they are more fundamentally flawed because they deal with the symptoms of insecure resources, not the causes.

Getting to the bottom of price volatility and restrictions on raw material trade means understanding more about why we can't simply meet growing demand for resources the way we did in the 20th century: by expanding extraction. Absolute scarcity is rarely a hard limit. But across a whole host of materials, the rising environmental costs of production are a big part of the reason for volatile prices and restrictions on access to materials. Resource futures dissects these causes in discussion about "environmental faultlines", the "interconnected nature of the resource production system," and the risks embedded in the push to extract resources from "extreme environments" like the Arctic.

Chatham House has done a major service in moving debate on material security from symptoms to causes. But the juggernaut runs into the sand when it comes to recommendations, which stress that "collaborative governance is the only option" and prescribe rule-based resource governance, informal stakeholder dialogues, and multilateralism.

The report itself admits that "success to date [of political responses] has been patchy" for timber, "unsuccessful" for agricultural export restrictions, and "largely unsuccessful" in tackling price volatility for resources from oil to tin. It should come as no surprise that countries have therefore relied on unilateral measures which are politically insecure. The reasons for this, put simply, are that foreign land ownership or exclusive supply contracts merely cut the global resource cake into different slices, with larger proportions going to countries willing to pay, contract, or fight for a larger share of resources than they control within their borders. This enforced inequality isn't a durable solution. Ownership, contracts, and commitment to free markets fall by the wayside when resource prices spike, as examples like the restriction on Argentinian beef exports in 2006 – hardly a scarce commodity – show.

Multilateral governance is better, but it's not clear that it isn't just an attempt more fairly cut up the same cake. And this is the problem: Chatham House's analysis that the "fundamental conditions that gave rise to tight markets in the last ten years remain" means that their recommendations pit diplomacy against raw resource nationalism. As their own evidence shows, diplomacy hasn't succeeded in this struggle so far. It"s not clear why diplomacy will now succeed in "mitigat[ing] excessive politicization of resource markets and trade" in "markets [that] have always been political."

The truth is that multilateralism isn't enough. We must strike at the root of resource insecurity, by demateralising our economy where we can, but also by finding sources of raw materials which avoid the environmental risks underlying material insecurity. The circular economy represents one way of doing this. It's still more of a good idea than a plan of action, but without it we're stuck merely managing resource insecurity, rather than solving it.

A smelter shovels raw iron on a blast furnace in Germany. Photograph: Getty Images

Dustin Benton is a senior policy adviser at Green Alliance, leading the Resource Stewardship theme.

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This Ada Lovelace Day, let’s celebrate women in tech while confronting its sexist culture

In an industry where men hold most of the jobs and write most of the code, celebrating women's contributions on one day a year isn't enough. 

Ada Lovelace wrote the world’s first computer program. In the 1840s Charles Babbage, now known as the “father of the computer”, designed (though never built) the “Analytical Engine”, a machine which could accurately and reproducibly calculate the answers to maths problems. While translating an article by an Italian mathematician about the machine, Lovelace included a written algorithm for which would allow the engine to calculate a sequence of Bernoulli numbers.

Around 170 years later, Whitney Wolfe, one of the founders of dating app Tinder, was allegedly forced to resign from the company. According to a lawsuit she later filed against the app and its parent company, she had her co-founder title removed because, the male founders argued, it would look “slutty”, and because “Facebook and Snapchat don’t have girl founders. It just makes it look like Tinder was some accident". (They settled out of court.)

Today, 13 October, is Ada Lovelace day – an international celebration of inspirational women in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM). It’s lucky we have this day of remembrance, because, as Wolfe’s story demonstrates, we also spend a lot of time forgetting and sidelining women in tech. In the wash of pale male founders of the tech giants that rule the industry,we don't often think about the women that shaped its foundations: Judith Estrin, one of the designers of TCP/IP, for example, or Radia Perlman, inventor of the spanning-tree protocol. Both inventions sound complicated, and they are – they’re some of the vital building blocks that allow the internet to function. 

And yet David Streitfield, a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist, someow felt it accurate to write in 2012: “Men invented the internet. And not just any men. Men with pocket protectors. Men who idolised Mr Spock and cried when Steve Jobs died.”

Perhaps we forget about tech's founding women because the needle has swung so far into the other direction. A huge proportion – perhaps even 90 per cent - of the world’s code is written by men. At Google, women fill 17 per cent of technical roles. At Facebook, 15 per cent. Over 90 per cent of the code respositories on Github, an online service used throughout the industry, are owned by men. Yet it's also hard to believe that this erasure of women's role in tech is completely accidental. As Elissa Shevinsky writes in the introduction to a collection of essays on gender in tech, Lean Out: “This myth of the nerdy male founder has been perpetuated by men who found this story favourable."

Does it matter? It’s hard to believe that it doesn’t. Our society is increasingly defined and delineated by code and the things it builds. Small slip-ups, like the lack of a period tracker on the original Apple Watch, or fitness trackers too big for some women’s wrists, gesture to the fact that these technologies are built by male-dominated teams, for a male audience.

In Lean Out, one essay written by a Twitter-based “start-up dinosaur” (don’t ask) explains how dangerous it is to allow one small segment of society to built the future for the rest of us:

If you let someone else build tomorrow, tomorrow will belong to someone else. They will build a better tomorrow for everyone like them… For tomorrow to be for everyone, everyone needs to be the one [sic] that build it.

So where did all the women go? How did we get from a rash of female inventors to a situation where the major female presence at an Apple iPhone launch is a model’s face projected onto a screen and photoshopped into a smile by a male demonstrator? 

Photo: Apple.

The toxic culture of many tech workplaces could be a cause or an effect of the lack of women in the industry, but it certainly can’t make make it easy to stay. Behaviours range from the ignorant - Martha Lane-Fox, founder of, often asked “what happens if you get pregnant?” at investors' meetings - to the much more sinister. An essay in Lean Out by Katy Levinson details her experiences of sexual harassment while working in tech: 

I have had interviewers attempt to solicit sexual favors from me mid-interview and discuss in significant detail precisely what they would like to do. All of these things have happened either in Silicon Valley working in tech, in an educational institution to get me there, or in a technical internship.

Others featured in the book joined in with the low-level sexism and racism  of their male colleagues in order to "fit in" and deflect negative attention. Erica Joy writes that while working in IT at the University of Alaska as the only woman (and only black person) on her team, she laughed at colleagues' "terribly racist and sexist jokes" and "co-opted their negative attitudes”. 

The casual culture and allegedly meritocratic hierarchies of tech companies may actually be encouraging this discriminatory atmosphere. HR and the strict reporting procedures of large corporates at least give those suffering from discrimination a place to go. A casual office environment can discourage reporting or calling out prejudiced humour or remarks. Brook Shelley, a woman who transitioned while working in tech, notes: "No one wants to be the office mother". So instead, you join in and hope for the best. 

And, of course, there's no reason why people working in tech would have fewer issues with discrimination than those in other industries. A childhood spent as a "nerd" can also spawn its own brand of misogyny - Katherine Cross writes in Lean Out that “to many of these men [working in these fields] is all too easy to subconciously confound women who say ‘this is sexist’ with the young girls who said… ‘You’re gross and a creep and I’ll never date you'". During GamerGate, Anita Sarkeesian was often called a "prom queen" by trolls. 

When I spoke to Alexa Clay, entrepreneur and co-author of the Misfit Economy, she confirmed that there's a strange, low-lurking sexism in the start-up economy: “They have all very open and free, but underneath it there's still something really patriarchal.” Start-ups, after all, are a culture which celebrates risk-taking, something which women are societally discouraged from doing. As Clay says, 

“Men are allowed to fail in tech. You have these young guys who these old guys adopt and mentor. If his app doesn’t work, the mentor just shrugs it off. I would not be able ot get away with that, and I think women and minorities aren't allowed to take the same amount of risks, particularly in these communities. If you fail, no one's saying that's fine.

The conclusion of Lean Out, and of women in tech I have spoken to, isn’t that more women, over time, will enter these industries and seamlessly integrate – it’s that tech culture needs to change, or its lack of diversity will become even more severe. Shevinsky writes:

The reason why we don't have more women in tech is not because of a lack of STEM education. It's because too many high profile and influential individuals and subcultures within the tech industry have ignored or outright mistreated women applicants and employees. To be succinct—the problem isn't women, it's tech culture.

Software engineer Kate Heddleston has a wonderful and chilling metaphor about the way we treat women in STEM. Women are, she writes, the “canary in the coal mine”. If one dies, surely you should take that as a sign that the mine is uninhabitable – that there’s something toxic in the air. “Instead, the industry is looking at the canary, wondering why it can’t breathe, saying ‘Lean in, canary, lean in!’. When one canary dies they get a new one because getting more canaries is how you fix the lack of canaries, right? Except the problem is that there isn't enough oxygen in the coal mine, not that there are too few canaries.” We need more women in STEM, and, I’d argue, in tech in particular, but we need to make sure the air is breatheable first. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.