boldly go where no public utility has gone before
This week's Bali COP debate around protection of rainforests is vital to a comprehensive climate change strategy, but as the Climate Action Network points out, there is far too little discussion of how to address the needs of people who depend on forests for their livelihoods - many of whom are from poor communities.
It's all very well to suggest that the rest of the world should pay Brazil not to chop down the rainforest, but that's a fraught strategy that can lead not only to disempowerment of local people, but also to struggles over national sovereignty. A large proportion of deforestation activity is illegal anyway, and beyond the ability of national governments to control.
Just who owns the rights to these oxygen factories? They are geographically-bound public utilities of global significance. We might just as well say that the world population should pay Brazil a monthly fee for the air we breathe. It's an invisible, global commodity trade that currently has no monetary value, so let's monetize it and see if that stops deforestation.
The UN could set up a financial system for micropayments from individuals, using an equivalent of the Internet's Paypal, and using mobile phones to transfer funds - who doesn't have a mobile phone? - and provide discounts to people who pay annually in advance. Just for good measure, developing countries could provide their citizens with a Basic Income Grant so that nobody need go without oxygen for want of money.
Imagine the illegal activities that would spring up, like trading oxygen credits on the black market. Enterprising individuals would set up hermetically sealed rooms, or entire buildings, and produce their own oxygen from the most efficient plants they could find. They would build up a supply, stop payments to the UN, and sell bottled oxygen cheaper than the UN rate.
Dedicated agencies (in South Africa, a special branch of the Green Scorpions) would be set up to enforce oxygen regulations and bust the grow houses. Some derelict city districts would become unenforceable no-go zones, guarded by gangsters sniffing pure oxygen.
Even residents of respectable suburban neighbourhoods would watch suspicious activity at rental houses on their streets, fearing an invasion of undesirable characters coming and going under the protection of the night. There would be accusations and denials in the press. Occasionally, a house would be sold, and the buyer would find evidence of an oxygen operation (known colloquially as an O2): unusual plumbing and electrical fittings; dampness and mould on the walls and ceilings; traces of liquid fertilizer.
A public outcry would follow. The local Councillor would assure residents that everything possible would be done to rid the city of this scourge of the carbon age, and eventually an official inquiry would find that the Councillor had been on the take.
"Politicians," we'd say. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em." And we'd think back to Bali 2007 and curse the crackpot who came up with the Oxygen Protocol, and the politicians who endorsed it.
