The Future of Food, Sprouting Under LED Lights – Food – GOOD

A warehouse full of LED lights and Dutch dudes may sound like the setting for a 1990s rave, but it may well be a prototype of the future of horticulture. The Netherlands-based company PlantLab is pushing the “vertical agriculture” movement to new heights by rethinking the fundamental ways that plants interact with essential ingredients like sunlight and using data to optimize growing conditions. Their results could help keep the world’s surging population fed despite dwindling natural resources.

Usually, plants soak up light from the sun (or grow lights if they’re hydroponic). But they only need a small percent of the full light spectrum, and getting too much can accelerate dehydration. PlantLab cuts out the excess by using red and blue LED lights, which speed growth and thus could increase crop yields dramatically. And since the facility is climate-controlled, production of particular types of produce isn’t limited by the season. Using sensors and a highly controlled environment, the PlantLab team constantly gathers data on their plants to make informed decisions about light levels as well as temperature, carbon dioxide, humidity, and myriad other factors that affect plant growth.

The PlantLab project is still in the early stages—the team is looking for the right space to develop a commercial growing center and trying to figure out how to make the venture commercially viable (it turns out those LED lights cost a pretty penny). One thing that won’t hold PlantLab back is the taste of their produce. “They’re great,” PlantLab co-founder Gertjan Meeuws told Southern California Public Radio. “They’re better than we’re used to.”

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photo via PlantLab

 

http://www.good.is/post/at-the-plantlab-hydroponic-horticulture-meets-techno-party-lighting/

20 predictions for the next 25 years

From the web to wildlife, the economy to nanotechnology, politics to sport, the Observer’s team of experts prophesy how the world will change – for good or bad – in the next quarter of a century

    1 Geopolitics: ‘Rivals will take greater risks against the US’

    No balance of power lasts forever. Just a century ago, London was the centre of the world. Britain bestrode the world like a colossus and only those with strong nerves (or weak judgment) dared challenge the Pax Britannica.

    That, of course, is all history, but the Pax Americana that has taken shape since 1989 is just as vulnerable to historical change. In the 1910s, the rising power and wealth of Germany and America splintered the Pax Britannica; in the 2010s, east Asia will do the same to the Pax Americana.

    The 21st century will see technological change on an astonishing scale. It may even transform what it means to be human. But in the short term – the next 20 years – the world will still be dominated by the doings of nation-states and the central issue will be the rise of the east.

    By 2030, the world will be more complicated, divided between a broad American sphere of influence in Europe, the Middle East and south Asia, and a Chinese sphere in east Asia and Africa. Even within its own sphere, the US will face new challenges from former peripheries. The large, educated populations of Poland, Turkey, Brazil and their neighbours will come into their own and Russia will continue its revival.

    Nevertheless, America will probably remain the world’s major power. The critics who wrote off the US during the depression of the 1930s and the stagflation of the 1970s lived to see it bounce back to defeat the Nazis in the 1940s and the Soviets in the 1980s. America’s financial problems will surely deepen through the 2010s, but the 2020s could bring another Roosevelt or Reagan.

    A hundred years ago, as Britain’s dominance eroded, rivals, particularly Germany, were emboldened to take ever-greater risks. The same will happen as American power erodes in the 2010s-20s. In 1999, for instance, Russia would never have dared attack a neighbour such as Georgia but in 2009 it took just such a chance.

    The danger of such an adventure sparking a great power war in the 2010s is probably low; in the 2020s, it will be much greater.

    The most serious threats will arise in the vortex of instability that stretches from Africa to central Asia. Most of the world’s poorest people live here; climate change is wreaking its worst damage here; nuclear weapons are proliferating fastest here; and even in 2030, the great powers will still seek much of their energy here.

    Here, the risk of Sino-American conflict will be greatest and here the balance of power will be decided.

    Ian Morris, professor of history at Stanford University and the author of Why the West Rules – For Now (Profile Books)

    2 The UK economy: ‘The popular revolt against bankers will become impossible to resist’

    A view of the Strata building across the city at dusk A view across the City at dusk. Photograph: James BrittainIt will be a second financial crisis in the 2010s – probably sooner than later – that will prove to be the remaking of Britain. Confronted by a second trillion-pound bank bailout in less than 10 years, it will be impossible for the City and wider banking system to resist reform. The popular revolt against bankers, their current business model in which neglect of the real economy is embedded and the scale of their bonuses – all to be underwritten by bailouts from taxpayers – will become irresistible. The consequent rebalancing of the British economy, already underway, will intensify. Britain, in thrall to finance since 1945, will break free – spearheading a second Industrial Revolution.

    In 2035, there is thus a good prospect that Britain will be the most populous (our birth rate will be one the highest in Europe), dynamic and richest European country, the key state in a reconfigured EU. Our leading universities will become powerhouses of innovation, world centres in exploiting the approaching avalanche of scientific and technological breakthroughs. A reformed financial system will allow British entrepreneurs to get the committed financial backing they need, becoming the capitalist leaders in Europe. And, after a century of trying, Britain will at last build itself a system for developing apprentices and technicians that is no longer the Cinderella of the education system.

    It will not be plain sailing. Massive political turbulence in China and its conflict with the US will define part of the next 25 years – and there will be a period when the world trading and financial system retreats from openness.

    How far beggar-my-neighbour competitive devaluations and protection will develop is hard to predict, but protectionist trends are there for all to see. Commodity prices will go much higher and there will be shortages of key minerals, energy, water and some basic foodstuffs.

    The paradox is that this will be good news for Britain. It will force the state to re-engage with the economy and to build a matrix of institutions that will support innovation and investment, rather as it did between 1931 and 1950. New Labour began this process tremulously in its last year in office; the coalition government is following through. These will be lean years for the traditional Conservative right, but whether it will be a liberal One Nation Tory party, ongoing coalition governments or the Labour party that will be the political beneficiary is not yet sure.

    The key point is that those 20 years in the middle of the 20th century witnessed great industrial creativity and an unsung economic renaissance until the country fell progressively under the stultifying grip of the City of London. My guess is that the same, against a similarly turbulent global background, is about to happen again. My caveat is if the City remains strong, in which case economic decline and social division will escalate.

    Will Hutton, executive vice-chair of the Work Foundation and an Observer columnist

    3 Global development: ‘A vaccine will rid the world of Aids’

    Within 25 years, the world will achieve many major successes in tackling the diseases of the poor.

    Certainly, we will be polio-free and probably will have been for more than a decade. The fight to eradicate polio represents one of the greatest achievements in global health to date. It has mobilised millions of volunteers, staged mass immunisation campaigns and helped to strengthen the health systems of low-income countries. Today, we have eliminated 99% of the polio in the world and eradication is well within reach.

    Vaccines that prevent diseases such as measles and rotavirus, currently available in rich countries, will also become affordable and readily available in developing countries. Since it was founded 10 years ago, the Gavi Alliance, a global partnership that funds expanded immunisation in poor countries, has helped prevent more than 5 million deaths. It is easy to imagine that in 25 years this work will have been expanded to save millions more lives by making life-saving vaccines available all over the world.

    I also expect to see major strides in new areas. A rapid point-of-care diagnostic test – coupled with a faster-acting treatment regimen – will so fundamentally change the way we treat tuberculosis that we can begin planning an elimination campaign.

    We will eradicate malaria, I believe, to the point where there are no human cases reported globally in 2035. We will also have effective means for preventing Aids infection, including a vaccine. With the encouraging results of the RV144 Aids vaccine trial in Thailand, we now know that an Aids vaccine is possible. We must build on these and promising results on other means of preventing HIV infection to help rid the world of the threat of Aids.

    Tachi Yamada, president of the global health programme at the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation

    4 Energy: ‘Returning to a world that relies on muscle power is not an option’

    Providing sufficient food, water and energy to allow everyone to lead decent lives is an enormous challenge. Energy is a means, not an end, but a necessary means. With 6.7 billion people on the planet, more than 50% living in large conurbations, and these numbers expected to rise to more than 9 billion and 80% later in the century, returning to a world that relies on human and animal muscle power is not an option.

    The challenge is to provide sufficient energy while reducing reliance on fossil fuels, which today supply 80% of our energy (in decreasing order of importance, the rest comes from burning biomass and waste, hydro, nuclear and, finally, other renewables, which together contribute less than 1%). Reducing use of fossil fuels is necessary both to avoid serious climate change and in anticipation of a time when scarcity makes them prohibitively expensive.

    It will be extremely difficult. An International Energy Agency scenario that assumes the implementation of all agreed national policies and announced commitments to save energy and reduce the use of fossil fuels projects a 35% increase in energy consumption in the next 25 years, with fossil fuels up 24%. This is almost entirely due to consumption in developing countries where living standards are, happily, rising and the population is increasing rapidly.

    This scenario, which assumes major increases in nuclear, hydro and wind power, evidently does not go far enough and will break down if, as many expect, oil production (which is assumed to increase 15%) peaks in much less than 25 years. We need to go much further in reducing demand, through better design and changes in lifestyles, increasing efficiency and improving and deploying all viable alternative energy sources. It won’t be cheap. And in the post-fossil-fuel era it won’t be sufficient without major contributions from solar energy (necessitating cost reductions and improved energy storage and transmission) and/or nuclear fission (meaning fast breeder and/or thorium reactors when uranium eventually becomes scarce) and/or fusion (which is enormously attractive in principle but won’t become a reliable source of energy until at least the middle of the century).

    Disappointingly, with the present rate of investment in developing and deploying new energy sources, the world will still be powered mainly by fossil fuels in 25 years and will not be prepared to do without them.

    Chris Llewellyn Smith is a former director general of Cern and chair of Iter, the world fusion project, he works on energy issues at Oxford University

    5 Advertising: ‘All sorts of things will just be sold in plain packages’

    Shinjuku districk of Tokyo Advertising in Tokyo. Photograph: Mike Long / Alamy/AlamyIf I’d been writing this five years ago, it would have been all about technology: the internet, the fragmentation of media, mobile phones, social tools allowing consumers to regain power at the expense of corporations, all that sort of stuff. And all these things are important and will change how advertising works.

    But it’s becoming clear that what’ll really change advertising will be how we relate to it and what we’re prepared to let it do. After all, when you look at advertising from the past the basic techniques haven’t changed; what seems startlingly alien are the attitudes it was acceptable to portray and the products you were allowed to advertise.

    In 25 years, I bet there’ll be many products we’ll be allowed to buy but not see advertised – the things the government will decide we shouldn’t be consuming because of their impact on healthcare costs or the environment but that they can’t muster the political will to ban outright. So, we’ll end up with all sorts of products in plain packaging with the product name in a generic typeface – as the government is currently discussing for cigarettes.

    But it won’t stop there. We’ll also be nudged into renegotiating the relationship between society and advertising, because over the next few years we’re going to be interrupted by advertising like never before. Video screens are getting so cheap and disposable that they’ll be plastered everywhere we go. And they’ll have enough intelligence and connectivity that they’ll see our faces, do a quick search on Facebook to find out who we are and direct a message at us based on our purchasing history.

    At least, that’ll be the idea. It probably won’t work very well and when it does work it’ll probably drive us mad. Marketing geniuses are working on this stuff right now, but not all of them recognise that being allowed to do this kind of thing depends on societal consent – push the intrusion too far and people will push back.

    Society once did a deal accepting advertising because it seemed occasionally useful and interesting and because it paid for lots of journalism and entertainment. It’s not necessarily going to pay for those things for much longer so we might start questioning whether we want to live in a Blade Runner world brought to us by Cillit Bang.

    Russell Davies, head of planning at the advertising agency Ogilvy and Mather and a columnist for the magazines Campaign and Wired

    6 Neuroscience: ‘We’ll be able to plug information streams directly into the cortex’

    By 2030, we are likely to have developed no-frills brain-machine interfaces, allowing the paralysed to dance in their thought-controlled exoskeleton suits. I sincerely hope we will not still be interfacing with computers via keyboards, one forlorn letter at a time.

    I’d like to imagine we’ll have robots to do our bidding. But I predicted that 20 years ago, when I was a sanguine boy leaving Star Wars, and the smartest robot we have now is the Roomba vacuum cleaner. So I won’t be surprised if I’m wrong in another 25 years. Artificial intelligence has proved itself an unexpectedly difficult problem.

    Maybe we will understand what’s happening when we immerse our heads into the colourful night blender of dreams. We will have cracked the secret of human memory by realising that it was never about storing things, but about the relationships between things.

    Will we have reached the singularity – the point at which computers surpass human intelligence and perhaps give us our comeuppance? We’ll probably be able to plug information streams directly into the cortex for those who want it badly enough to risk the surgery. There will be smart drugs to enhance learning and memory and a flourishing black market among ambitious students to obtain them.

    Having lain to rest the nature-nurture dichotomy at that point, we will have a molecular understanding of the way in which cultural narratives work their way into brain tissue and of individual susceptibility to those stories.

    Then there’s the mystery of consciousness. Will we finally have a framework that allows us to translate the mechanical pieces and parts into private, subjective experience? As it stands now, we don’t even know what such a framework could look like (“carry the two here and that equals the experience of tasting cinnamon”).

    That line of research will lead us to confront the question of whether we can reproduce consciousness by replicating the exact structure of the brain – say, with zeros and ones, or beer cans and tennis balls. If this theory of materialism turns out to be correct, then we will be well on our way to downloading our brains into computers, allowing us to live forever in The Matrix.

    But if materialism is incorrect, that would be equally interesting: perhaps brains are more like radios that receive an as-yet-undiscovered force. The one thing we can be sure of is this: no matter how wacky the predictions we make today, they will look tame in the strange light of the future.

    David Eagleman, neuroscientist and writer

    7 Physics: ‘Within a decade, we’ll know what dark matter is’

    The next 25 years will see fundamental advances in our understanding of the underlying structure of matter and of the universe. At the moment, we have successful descriptions of both, but we have open questions. For example, why do particles of matter have mass and what is the dark matter that provides most of the matter in the universe?

    I am optimistic that the answer to the mass question will be found within a few years, whether or not it is the mythical Higgs boson, and believe that the answer to the dark matter question will be found within a decade.

    Key roles in answering these questions will be made by experiments at Cern’s Large Hadron Collider, which started operations in earnest last year and is expected to run for most of the next 20 years; others will be played by astrophysical searches for dark matter and cosmological observations such as those from the European Space Agency’s Planck satellite.

    Many theoretical proposals for answering these questions invoke new principles in physics, such as the existence of additional dimensions of space or a “supersymmetry” between the constituents of matter and the forces between them, and we will discover whether these ideas are useful for physics. Both these ideas play roles in string theory, the best guess we have for a complete theory of all the fundamental forces including gravity.

    Will string theory be pinned down within 20 years? My crystal ball is cloudy on this point, but I am sure that we physicists will have an exciting time trying to find out.

    John Ellis, theoretical physicist at Cern and King’s College London

    8 Food: ‘Russia will become a global food superpower’

    20 predictions A woman works on the production line of a poultry processing factory in Stary Oskol, central Russia. Photograph: Sasha Mordovets/Getty ImagesWhen experts talk about the coming food security crisis, the date they fixate upon is 2030. By then, our numbers will be nudging 9 billion and we will need to be producing 50% more food than we are now.

    By the middle of that decade, therefore, we will either all be starving, and fighting wars over resources, or our global food supply will have changed radically. The bitter reality is that it will probably be a mixture of both.

    Developed countries such as the UK are likely, for the most part, to have attempted to pull up the drawbridge, increasing national production and reducing our reliance on imports.

    In response to increasing prices, some of us may well have reduced our consumption of meat, the raising of which is a notoriously inefficient use of grain. This will probably create a food underclass, surviving on a carb- and fat-heavy diet, while those with money scarf the protein.

    The developing world, meanwhile, will work to bridge the food gap by embracing the promise of biotechnology which the middle classes in the developed world will have assumed that they had the luxury to reject.

    In truth, any of the imported grain that we do consume will come from genetically modified crops. As climate change lays waste to the productive fields of southern Europe and north Africa, more water-efficient strains of corn, wheat and barley will be pressed into service; likewise, to the north, Russia will become a global food superpower as the same climate change opens up the once frozen and massive Siberian prairie to food production.

    The consensus now is that the planet does have the wherewithal to feed that huge number of people. It’s just that some people in the west may find the methods used to do so unappetising.

    Jay Rayner, TV presenter and the Observer’s food critic

    9 Nanotechnology: ‘Privacy will be a quaint obsession’

    Twenty years ago, Don Eigler, a scientist working for IBM in California, wrote out the logo of his employer in letters made of individual atoms. This feat was a graphic symbol of the potential of the new field of nanotechnology, which promises to rebuild matter atom by atom, molecule by molecule, and to give us unprecedented power over the material world.

    Some, like the futurist Ray Kurzweil, predict that nanotechnology will lead to a revolution, allowing us to make any kind of product for virtually nothing; to have computers so powerful that they will surpass human intelligence; and to lead to a new kind of medicine on a sub-cellular level that will allow us to abolish ageing and death.

    I don’t think that Kurzweil’s “technological singularity” – a dream of scientific transcendence that echoes older visions of religious apocalypse – will happen. Some stubborn physics stands between us and “the rapture of the nerds”. But nanotechnology will lead to some genuinely transformative applications.

    New ways of making solar cells very cheaply on a very large scale offer us the best hope we have for providing low-carbon energy on a big enough scale to satisfy the needs of a growing world population aspiring to the prosperity we’re used to in the developed world.

    We’ll learn more about intervening in our biology at the sub-cellular level and this nano-medicine will give us new hope of overcoming really difficult and intractable diseases, such as Alzheimer’s, that will increasingly afflict our population as it ages.

    The information technology that drives your mobile phone or laptop is already operating at the nanoscale. Another 25 years of development will lead us to a new world of cheap and ubiquitous computing, in which privacy will be a quaint obsession of our grandparents.

    Nanotechnology is a different type of science, respecting none of the conventional boundaries between disciplines and unashamedly focused on applications rather than fundamental understanding.

    Given the huge resources being directed towards nanotechnology in China and its neighbours, this may also be the first major technology of the modern era that is predominantly developed outside the US and Europe.

    Richard Jones, pro-vice-chancellor for research and innovation at the University of Sheffield

    10 Gaming: ‘We’ll play games to solve problems’

    In the last decade, in the US and Europe but particularly in south-east Asia, we have witnessed a flight into virtual worlds, with people playing games such as Second Life. But over the course of the next 25 years, that flight will be successfully reversed, not because we’re going to spend less time playing games, but because games and virtual worlds are going to become more closely connected to reality.

    There will be games where the action is influenced by what happens in reality; and there will be games that use sensors so that we can play them out in the real world – a game in which your avatar is your dog, which wears a game collar that measures how fast it’s running and whether or not it’s wagging its tail, for example, where you play with your dog to advance the narrative, as opposed to playing with a virtual character. I can imagine more physical activity games, too, and these might be used to harness energy – peripherals like a dance pad that actually captures energy from your dancing on top of it.

    Then there will be problem-solving games: there are already a lot of games in which scientists try to teach gamers real science – how to build proteins to cure cancer, for example. One surprising trend in gaming is that gamers today prefer, on average, three to one to play co-operative games rather than competitive games. Now, this is really interesting; if you think about the history of games, there really weren’t co-operative games until this latest generation of video games. In every game you can think of – card games, chess, sport – everybody plays to win. But now we’ll see increasing collaboration, people playing games together to solve problems while they’re enjoying themselves.

    There are also studies on how games work on our minds and our cognitive capabilities, and a lot of science suggests you can use games to treat depression, anxiety and attention-deficit disorder. Making games that are both fun and serve a social purpose isn’t easy – a lot of innovation will be required – but gaming will become increasingly integrated into society.

    Jane McGonigal, director of games research & development at the Institute for the Future in California and author of Reality Is Broken: Why Games Make Us Happy and How They Can Help Us Change the World (Penguin)

    11 Web/internet: ‘Quantum computing is the future’

    The open web created by idealist geeks, hippies and academics, who believed in the free and generative flow of knowledge, is being overrun by a web that is safer, more controlled and commercial, created by problem-solving pragmatists.

    Henry Ford worked out how to make money by making products people wanted to own and buy for themselves. Mark Zuckerberg and Steve Jobs are working out how to make money from allowing people to share, on their terms.

    Facebook and Apple are spawning cloud capitalism, in which consumers allow companies to manage information, media, ideas, money, software, tools and preferences on their behalf, holding everything in vast, floating clouds of shared data. We will be invited to trade invasions into our privacy – companies knowing ever more about our lives – for a more personalised service. We will be able to share, but on their terms.

    Julian Assange and the movement that has been ignited by WikiLeaks is the most radical version of the alternative: a free, egalitarian, open and public web. The fate of this movement will be a sign of things to come. If it can command broad support, then the open web has a chance to remain a mainstream force. If, however, it becomes little more than a guerrilla campaign, then the open web could be pushed to the margins, along with national public radio.

    By 2035, the web, as a single space largely made up of webpages accessed on computers, will be long gone.

    As the web goes mobile, those who pay more will get faster access. We will be sharing videos, simulations, experiences and environments, on a multiplicity of devices to which we’ll pay as much attention as a light switch.

    Yet, many of the big changes of the next 25 years will come from unknowns working in their bedrooms and garages. And by 2035 we will be talking about the coming of quantum computing, which will take us beyond the world of binary, digital computing, on and off, black and white, 0s and 1s.

    The small town of Waterloo, Ontario, which is home to the Perimeter Institute, funded by the founder of BlackBerry, currently houses the largest collection of theoretical physicists in the world.

    The bedrooms of Waterloo are where the next web may well be made.

    Charles Leadbeater, author and social entrepreneur

    12 Fashion: ‘Technology creates smarter clothes’

    Gareth Pugh show A model on the catwalk during the Gareth Pugh show at London Fashion Week in 2008. Photograph: Leon Neal/AFP/Getty ImagesFashion is such an important part of the way in which we communicate our identity to others, and for a very long time it’s meant dress: the textile garments on our body. But in the coming decades, I think there’ll be much more emphasis on other manifestations of fashion and different ways of communicating with each other, different ways of creating a sense of belonging and of making us feel great about ourselves.

    We’re already designing our identities online – manipulating imagery to tell a story about ourselves. Instead of meeting in the street or in a bar and having a conversation and looking at what each other is wearing, we’re communicating in some depth through these new channels. With clothing, I think it’s possible that we’ll see a polarisation between items that are very practical and those that are very much about display – and maybe these are not things that you own but that you borrow or share.

    Technology is already being used to create clothing that fits better and is smarter; it is able to transmit a degree of information back to you. This is partly driven by customer demand and the desire to know where clothing comes from – so we’ll see tags on garments that tell you where every part of it was made, and some of this, I suspect, will be legislation-driven, too, for similar reasons, particularly as resources become scarcer and it becomes increasingly important to recognise water and carbon footprints.

    However, it’s not simply an issue of functionality. Fashion’s gone through a big cycle in the last 25 years – from being something that was treasured and cherished to being something that felt disposable, because of a drop in prices. In fact, we’ve completely changed our relationship towards clothes and there’s a real feeling among designers who I work with that they’re trying to work back into their designs an element of emotional content.

    I think there’s definitely a place for technology in creating a dialogue with you through your clothes.

    Dilys Williams, designer and the director for sustainable fashion at the London College of Fashion

    13 Nature: ‘We’ll redefine the wild’

    We all want to live in a world where species such as tigers, the great whales, orchids and coral reefs can persist and thrive and I am sure that the commitment that people have to maintaining the spectacle and diversity of life will continue. Over the past 50 years or so, there has been growing support for nature conservation. When we understand the causes of species losses, good conservation actions can and do reverse the trends.

    But it is going to become much harder. The human population has roughly doubled since the 1960s and will increase by another third by 2030. Demands for food, water and energy will increase, inevitably in competition with other species. People already use up to 40% of the world’s primary production (energy) and this must increase, with important consequences for nature.

    In the UK, some familiar species will become scarcer as our rare habitats (mires, bogs and moorlands) are lost. We will be seeing the effects from gradual warming that will allow more continental species to live here, and in our towns and cities we’ll probably have more species that have become adapted to living alongside people.

    We can conserve species when we really try, so I’m confident that the charismatic mega fauna and flora will mostly still persist in 2035, but they will be increasingly restricted to highly managed and protected areas. The survivors will be those that cope well with people and those we care about enough to save. Increasingly, we won’t be living as a part of nature but alongside it, and we’ll have redefined what we mean by the wild and wilderness.

    Crucially, we are still rapidly losing overall biodiversity, including soil micro-organisms, plankton in the oceans, pollinators and the remaining tropical and temperate forests. These underpin productive soils, clean water, climate regulation and disease-resistance. We take these vital services from biodiversity and ecosystems for granted, treat them recklessly and don’t include them in any kind of national accounting.

    Georgina Mace, professor of conservation science and director of the Natural Environment Research Council’s Centre for Population Biology, Imperial College London

    14 Architecture: What constitutes a ‘city’ will change

    In 2035, most of humanity will live in favelas. This will not be entirely wonderful, as many people will live in very poor housing, but it will have its good side. It will mean that cities will consist of series of small units organised, at best, by the people who know what is best for themselves and, at worst, by local crime bosses.

    Cities will be too big and complex for any single power to understand and manage them. They already are, in fact. The word “city” will lose some of its meaning: it will make less and less sense to describe agglomerations of tens of millions of people as if they were one place, with one identity. If current dreams of urban agriculture come true, the distinction between town and country will blur. Attempts at control won’t be abandoned, however, meaning that strange bubbles of luxury will appear, like shopping malls and office parks. To be optimistic, the human genius for inventing social structures will mean that new forms of settlement we can’t quite imagine will begin to emerge.

    All this assumes that environmental catastrophe doesn’t drive us into caves. Nor does it describe what will happen in Britain, with a roughly stable population and a planning policy dedicated to preserving the status quo as much as possible. Britain in 25 years’ time may look much as it does now, which is not hugely different from 25 years ago. Rowan Moore, Observer architecture correspondent

    15 Sport: ‘Broadcasts will use holograms’

    Globalisation in sport will continue: it’s a trend we’ve seen by the choice of Rio for the 2016 Olympics and Qatar for the 2022 World Cup. This will mean changes to traditional sporting calendars in recognition of the demands of climate and time zones across the planet.

    Sport will have to respond to new technologies, the speed at which we process information and apparent reductions in attention span. Shorter formats, such as Twenty20 cricket and rugby sevens, could aid the development of traditional sports in new territories.

    The demands of TV will grow, as will technology’s role in umpiring and consuming sport. Electronics companies are already planning broadcasts using live holograms. I don’t think we’ll see an acceptance of performance-enhancing drugs: the trend has been towards zero tolerance and long may it remain so.

    Mike Lee, chairman of Vero Communications and ex-director of communications for London’s 2012 Olympic bid

    16 Transport: ‘There will be more automated cars’

    It’s not difficult to predict how our transport infrastructure will look in 25 years’ time – it can take decades to construct a high-speed rail line or a motorway, so we know now what’s in store. But there will be radical changes in how we think about transport. The technology of information and communication networks is changing rapidly and internet and mobile developments are helping make our journeys more seamless. Queues at St Pancras station or Heathrow airport when the infrastructure can’t cope for whatever reason should become a thing of the past, but these challenges, while they might appear trivial, are significant because it’s not easy to organise large-scale information systems.

    The instinct to travel is innate within us, but we will have to do it in a more carbon-efficient way. It’s hard to be precise, but I think we’ll be cycling and walking more; in crowded urban areas we may see travelators – which we see in airports already – and more scooters. There will be more automated cars, like the ones Google has recently been testing. These driverless cars will be safer, but when accidents do happen, they may be on the scale of airline disasters. Personal jetpacks will, I think, remain a niche choice.

    Frank Kelly, professor of the mathematics of systems at Cambridge University, and former chief scientific adviser to the DfT

    17 Health: ‘We’ll feel less healthy’

    overweight woman An overweight woman in Maryland, USA. Photograph: Tim Sloan/AFP/Getty ImagesHealth systems are generally quite conservative. That’s why the more radical forecasts of the recent past haven’t quite materialised. Contrary to past predictions, we don’t carry smart cards packed with health data; most treatments aren’t genetically tailored; and health tourism to Bangalore remains low. But for all that, health is set to undergo a slow but steady revolution. Life expectancy is rising about three months each year, but we’ll feel less healthy, partly because we’ll be more aware of the many things that are, or could be, going wrong, and partly because more of us will be living with a long-term condition.

    We’ll spend more on health but also want stronger action to influence health. The US Congressional Budget Office forecasts that US health spending will rise from 17% of the economy today to 25% in 2025 and 49% in 2082. Their forecasts may be designed to shock but they contain an important grain of truth. Spending on health and jobs in health is bound to grow.

    Some of that spending will go on the problems of prosperity – obesity, alcohol consumption and injuries from extreme sports. Currently fashionable ideas of “nudge” will have turned out to be far too weak to change behaviours. Instead, we’ll be more in the realms of “shove” and “push”, with cities trying to reshape whole environments to encourage people to walk and cycle.

    By 2030, mental health may at last be treated on a par with physical health. Medicine may have found smart drugs for some conditions but the biggest impact may be achieved from lower-tech actions, such as meditation in schools or brain gyms for pensioners.

    Healthcare will look more like education. Your GP will prescribe you a short course on managing your diabetes or heart condition, and when you get home there’ll be an e-tutor to help you and a vast array of information about your condition.

    Almost every serious observer of health systems believes that the great general hospitals are already anachronistic, but because hospitals are where so much of the power lies, and so much of the public attachment, it would be a brave forecaster who suggested their imminent demise.

    Geoff Mulgan, chief executive of the Young Foundation

    18 Religion: ‘Secularists will flatter to deceive’

    Over the next two and a half decades, it is quite possible that those Brits who follow a religion will continue both to fall in number and also become more orthodox or fundamentalist. Similarly, organised religions will increasingly work together to counter what they see as greater threats to their interests – creeping agnosticism and secularity.

    Another 10 years of failure by the Anglican church to face down the African-led traditionalists over women bishops and gay clerics could open the question of disestablishment of the Church of England. The country’s politicians, including an increasingly gay-friendly Tory party, may find it difficult to see how state institutions can continue to be associated with an image of sexism and homophobia.

    I predict an increase in debate around the tension between a secular agenda which says it is merely seeking to remove religious privilege, end discrimination and separate church and state, and organised orthodox religion which counterclaims that this would amount to driving religious voices from the public square.

    Despite two of the three party leaders being professed atheists, the secular tendency in this country still flatters to deceive. There is, at present, no organised, non-religious, rationalist movement. In contrast, the forces of organised religion are better resourced, more organised and more politically influential than ever before.

    Dr Evan Harris, author of a secularist manifesto

    19 Theatre: ‘Cuts could force a new political fringe’

    The theatre will weather the recent cuts. Some companies will close and the repertoire of others will be safe and cautious; the art form will emerge robust in a decade or so. The cuts may force more young people outside the existing structures back to an unsubsidised fringe and this may breed different types of work that will challenge the subsidised sector.

    Student marches will become more frequent and this mobilisation may breed a more politicised generation of theatre artists. We will see old forms from the 1960s re-emerge (like agit prop) and new forms will be generated to communicate ideology and politics.

    More women will emerge as directors, writers and producers. This change is already visible at the flagship subsidised house, the National Theatre, where the repertoire for bigger theatres like the Lyttelton already includes directors like Marianne Elliott and Josie Rourke, and soon the Cottesloe will start to embrace the younger generation – Polly Findlay and Lyndsey Turner.

    Katie Mitchell, theatre director

    20 Storytelling: ‘Eventually there’ll be a Twitter classic’

    Are you reading fewer books? I am and reading books is sort of my job. It’s just that with the multifarious delights of the internet, spending 20 hours in the company of one writer and one story needs motivation. It’s worth doing, of course; like exercise, its benefits are many and its pleasures great. And yet everyone I know is doing it less. And I can’t see that that trend will reverse.

    That’s the bad news. Twenty-five years from now, we’ll be reading fewer books for pleasure. But authors shouldn’t fret too much; e-readers will make it easier to impulse-buy books at 4am even if we never read past the first 100 pages.

    And stories aren’t becoming less popular – they’re everywhere, from adverts to webcomics to fictional tweets – we’re only beginning to explore the exciting possibilities of web-native literature, stories that really exploit the fractal, hypertextual way we use the internet.

    My guess is that, in 2035, stories will be ubiquitous. There’ll be a tube-based soap opera to tune your iPod to during your commute, a tale (incorporating on-sale brands) to enjoy via augmented reality in the supermarket. Your employer will bribe you with stories to focus on your job.

    Most won’t be great, but then most of everything isn’t great – and eventually there’ll be a Twitter-based classic.

    Naomi Alderman, novelist and games writer

In-car projection for drive-by advertising. by Duncan Graham-Rowe

From Newscientist.

DRIVERS are already bombarded with advertising on billboards and vehicles. Now even car windows could become part of the advertisers’ canvas.

Wallen Mphepö of the Beijing Normal University in China has come up with a way to turn car windows into billboards that could be used to display dynamic adverts and public safety messages.

Mphepö has developed a polymer film that can be attached to a window to act as a kind of screen, picking up images projected from inside the vehicle and transmitting them to viewers outside through a series of microscopic mirror-like structures. Thin vertical strips of clear film in between these structures allow the driver to see through the window as normal, Mphepö says.

Advertisers could use GPS to tailor the ads to the area where the car happens to be, or the time of day. “There’s no point in displaying ads for a great breakfast place at a time when people are effectively looking to go to dinner,” Mphepö says.

He will present a prototype device that gives a 2D image at the Society for Information Display conference in Los Angeles later this month. He believes he can produce a 3D image without the need for glasses by using the mirrored strips to display alternating images on either side of each transparent strip, angled so as to be viewed by the left or right eye. Mphepö ultimately hopes to design 3D cinema screens using the same micro-mirror approach.

The idea is interesting but could divert drivers’ attention away from the road, says Paul Green at the University of Michigan’s Transportation Research Institute in Ann Arbor. Even though drivers are used to seeing adverts, “a dynamic display would cause you to look longer at these vehicles and that might be more of a problem,” he says.

He also worries that people will be unable to see into a vehicle with the display. This could hamper drivers communicating with gestures at road junctions, for example, which is why some states in the US have banned tinted car windows. But Mphepö’s display could enhance safety if used to display public information messages, such as changes in the speed limit or warnings of approaching hazards, Green says.

Mphepö adds that a 3D display might be the perfect way to get drivers to take in urgent alerts. “It is more realistic and brings the point home for drivers who might otherwise be speeding,” he says. Last year the authorities in Canada experimented with a 3D image on a road surface, showing a child chasing a ball, to see if it could make drivers slow down.

Of Mines and Men. by Scott Johnson

From Guernica.

A from-the-ground report on how the tapping of Angola’s natural resources has kept the country a killing field, and made it one of the world’s most glaringly inefficient kleptocracies.

Jim is an American oilman from Oklahoma, and he’s sitting in a darkened corner of a whorehouse in downtown Luanda. He’s fat, white, gaping lazily at the black African prostitutes in fuchsia-colored miniskirts and heels who patrol the floor. He orders a beer, sits back on the leathery couch to watch the dimmed lights flicker off the shiny bar tops, the dark wood of the balustrades, the crystalline shimmer emanating from the disco ball that dangles like a low-hanging fruit. Waitresses in short, tight tops, jeans, and fuzzy rabbit slippers pad around sleepily taking orders and comments. Jim has been to this place and places just like it so often in the twenty years he has lived and worked in Africa that he seems — and I wonder if he also feels this — to fit in as comfortably here as anywhere else I might imagine for him, a bar in West Texas, a beetle-stained butte, gazing contentedly at the sand.

More men have begun to drift in now, and along with them more languages. There is a smattering of French. And German. There’s Dutch, Spanish, and of course Portuguese, the language of the colonizers. The diamond men are coming, Jim says. And the arms men, too. The barman pumps the volume up, Bobby Brown then Shakira. More women stream in.

African oil is changing, Jim explains. For a long time, several decades in fact, Nigeria was the undisputed king of the continent. It had the best oil and more of it than anyone else. Jim worked there for years, risked kidnappings, armed attacks on heavily guarded offshore rigs, the mighty chaos of Lagos. Like other oilmen he lived in a compound with grocery stores, restaurants and bars, and rarely ventured outside, and then only when it was absolutely necessary. But in 2007, times are changing, he says, ordering another bottle of Nova Cuca, a local beer, from a passing waitress and taking a slinking, unsmiling look at her bottom as she walks away. Angola is becoming the new king. Angola has everything an expat could want. There’s only one thing: the Chinese are taking over here, where there is more oil than anywhere else in Africa.

Oilmen like Jim are a little bit nervous about this.

The Chinese don’t say much though, he says, not much at all.

The Portuguese built Luanda slowly, over five centuries, in one of Africa’s longest colonial episodes; in the process they secured coastal dominance and, with their presence in Mozambique, an entryway to both sides of Africa’s slim bottom. But in 1975, after nine years staving off independence, the Portuguese packed up and left, some of them so abruptly, in fact, that many of the oldest ruling families abandoned furniture, cherished heirlooms and entire crates of personal treasures — centuries of heritage — on the cratered runways of Luanda’s airport as they scrambled desperately to secure the last seats in the last planes back to the last place they had been — Europe. For the next quarter century, Angola, home to 18 million people, was transformed into a Cold War battleground as the country descended into civil war. It pitted the forces of UNITA (National Union for the Total Independence of Angola), led by Angolan rebel Jonas Savimbi and supported by the United States, Israel and the apartheid regime of South Africa, against those of Agostinho Neto, Angola’s first post-independence president, and Jose Eduardo Dos Santos, a former foreign minister whose MPLA (Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola) received arms and funding from the Soviet Union and Cuba. By the time Savimbi was finally killed in February 2002, shot fifteen times during a battle on the outskirts of Huambo, the war was into its twenty-seventh year and more than half a million Angolans had already died. Dos Santos took power immediately and remains president today.

A quarter million people were left mutilated and handicapped by the war. And tens of thousands were without homes or families or the means to secure a living, and they began to settle on the fringes of the capital in ghettos devoid of water, electricity, or sanitation. But in many ways, they were the lucky ones. Much of the rest of the country was shocked into isolation, lost in valleys or vast tracts of ruined wilderness whose connection to the rest of the country had been blown apart by the war. Roads were destroyed or gutted and pitted beyond repair. Hundreds of thousands of Russian and Chinese anti-tank and PMN-2 anti-personnel mines littered the countryside, making Angola one of the most mined countries on earth. The mighty railways the Portuguese built in the first quarter of the twentieth century that crisscrossed the country, stretching eastwards toward Congo and the rest of the continent were destroyed a decade into the war and have been rotting ever since. Even as cities like Luanda succumbed to water, waste, and despair, the denizens of the battered countryside continued to arrive in droves, often only to die soon afterward, starved, beaten and run-down, mirrors of the country that birthed them.

Now the war has ended, three hundred and fifty miles south of Luanda, on the outskirts of the old port town of Lobito, a dozen or so Chinese laborers sit at wooden tables and smoke. Along one wall are several wooden cots where more men sleep under delicate blooms of mosquito netting. A steel bucket filled with fish lies on the floor, and a couple of mangy dogs prowl nervously nearby. Huge piles of steel rebar lie scattered alongside cutting machines. Outside, two Angolan guards armed with handcuffs look only mildly alert.

The black gold will run out sometime, Jim says, but not for a long, long time. There’s so much goddamn oil here, no one knows what the hell to do with it all.

“We don’t feel unsafe here,” says Charlie, the 23-year-old Chinese interpreter and right-hand man for the warehouse boss, Mr. Li, an engineer from Guilin in Guangxi Province and the local director of the Guangxi Construction Investment and Development Group (now known as the Guangxi Investment Group). Mr. Li wears an ’80s style Polo T-shirt, worn blue jeans and tattered black loafers. He had never left China before he landed in Africa six months earlier and now, sitting in this dingy warehouse with dust and rebar scattered across the floor, and a crop of ignorant, peasant workers who’ve been sent here under his command to rebuild a country he had never even heard of a year ago, he fingers the worn pages of a book he is reading called The Mysteries of History.

“This book says that Egyptians could not have built the pyramids alone,” he says through Charlie, who is wearing a T-shirt with the words “E for Emotion.”

“It says they were helped by aliens. They were lacking the technology to do these pyramids.”

Mr. Li is the only one of his thirty-man team with any semblance of privacy, a small room that doubles as an office with a computer, a calculator and several boxes bearing the logo for the Chinese International Fund, a murky state-controlled enterprise that no one, especially not the Angolan government, has so far been willing to discuss with me. Mr. Li appears no more inclined than any others to do so, either. The pinky nail on his right hand is very long and with it he thumbs his small mustache and goatee as he considers again the book of mysteries in his lap.

“We can overcome difficulties,” he says, finally. “The Chinese are very good at working in difficult places.”

Charlie agrees with this. He wants to stay in Africa for at least ten years. He’s learning Portuguese.

“Don’t you think that I can adapt to another culture and another language?” he asks me, and without waiting for an answer, confirms. “The Chinese are very strong.”

And the aliens? I ask Mr. Li.

“I think it’s true,” he says, and nods, and blows a long sigh of smoke into the dust-choked room.

“Yes,” Charlie echoes. “True.”
Back in Luanda, the men almost outnumber the prostitutes now. And everyone, including Jim, is having a good time. This is how it is, and how it should be. The oilman smiles at this new frontier. There are still large tracts of Angola that are completely unreachable by road because the landmines have yet to be removed. Seems the only way in and out is by helicopter. Those diamond and arms men are always skulking around up there. By and large, Jim stays down here, in the flatlands, by the shores, the easy life, on the rigs now and again, but always back here. The black gold will run out sometime, he says, but not for a long, long time. There’s so much goddamn oil here, no one knows what the hell to do with it all.

The expatriate life appeals to him. He has had it with American women. Some of the prostitutes come from Congo, across the river. Many come from right here in Angola. He tells me it’s common for men like him to take on wives and girlfriends in a casual way, here and there, when it suits both of them. The man will pay for items, small and large. He has rented apartments and cars for his girlfriends. He keeps a gun in case the real boyfriends and husbands come calling. It doesn’t bother him much. It’s a fair transaction and most of the time everyone agrees to be on the same page. You have to watch out for HIV, he says. He has lost count of the times he’s contracted malaria. He took pills for a while to stave it off, but gave that up years ago, back when the only medication on the market induced psychosis and nightmares and made your piss go green, he says, and half goddamn blind, and hell with it, he’ll just take it when it comes because, well, that’s what he’s decided. You can tell the diamond men, he says, they always seem to be the ones wearing glasses. How long will the boom times last? Until every one has anted up and drunk long and hard and had a good long suck at the burgeoning teat, the oilman says. And the Chinese?

“They’ll learn,” he says, “They’ll learn.”

Less than a year after the ceasefire, in 2003, Angola signed a deal with the newest colonial arrival to Africa, China, to rebuild what Angola had shattered. In 2004 China extended $2 billion in open credit to Angola for a series of infrastructure and development projects. By 2007, the credit lines had quintupled, to $10 billion, and Angola was fast becoming China’s biggest advocate, touting its superiority over the standard Western donors like the World Bank and the IMF, whose bureaucratic restrictions had angered the government and, in their view, only hobbled Angola further. Angola opted for the simpler and quicker Chinese solution. By 2007, only Sudan, under the autocratic rule of Omar El Bashir, was receiving more money and technical assistance from Beijing. By 2010 Chinese credit lines to Angola had doubled yet again, to more than $25 billion, fully one quarter of China’s $100 billion investment in more than twenty countries across Africa. In return for these generous credit lines and the promise to help Angola develop, the Chinese secured rights to payment in oil and natural gas for its own economy, and access to Angola’s developing markets that fit nicely with its global ambitions. The Chinese themselves have been streaming into Africa by the hundreds of thousands over the last decade, and nowhere more so than in Angola. In 2007, when I visited, there were no official figures on how many Chinese were working in Angola, but by 2010, the Angolan government was acknowledging at least 70,000 Chinese in the country. Unofficial estimates place the figure much higher.

“The Chinese are ready to die here in Africa,” he says. “They’re happy to die, they’re not afraid of mines because they know their families will be well compensated.”

Sitting across from me to explain all this during my last visit, over a bowl of noodles and Chinese beer, is a Chinese official in his fifties, wearing a thin, gray shirt unbuttoned one button too far. A cigarette is accumulating ash between his fingers. We’ve been talking about the recent news that a Chinese laborer died in a mine explosion. But it isn’t remnants of war that’s killing the Chinese in Angola. It’s possibility. “The Chinese are ready to die here in Africa,” he says. “They’re happy to die, they’re not afraid of mines because they know their families will be well compensated.” They come from all over China, he says, the poor countryside where even menial jobs are scarce and opportunities for advancement virtually nonexistent. The leaders of China, he says, are similar to these peasant workers. “They’re all from rural areas, they’re mostly poor, and money is important to them, they know how to save money, and they also know power because in the rural areas the only ones with power are the ones with money, and the ones with money know how to get the power.” They are illiterate, hungry, desperate to feed their families, people like the miner we’ve been discussing whose bulldozer rammed into an anti-tank mine and tore him apart — these are the Chinese who have helped midwife Angola’s post-war rebirth. The dead miner’s body will most likely be cremated, the ashes collected and returned to the family back in China. A wife or relative may come to Angola to pick up the remains, but she has the right to refuse to do so as well. In addition, the family will be financially compensated, with perhaps as much as 300,000 yuan, or roughly $40,000 — a small fortune for a peasant in rural China.

Meanwhile, what was once one of Africa’s most failed states now has the region’s highest annual per capita GDP growth rate — 27 percent, eight times the continental average.

Across Africa, and especially in Angola, China has insisted on importing its own cheap labor from home. Traveling on the road south from Luanda to Lobito, two friends — a writer and photographer — and I stopped to watch a few dozen ragged Chinese workers struggling in the noonday sun, breaking rock on the side of the road to help rebuild the coastal highway. The work looked painstakingly monotonous, hour upon hour of hammering, picking and organizing quartzite and bedrock into roadside tile work. Now and then an officious manager wearing wraparound dark glasses and carrying the latest Nokia strolled by to check on progress, but by and large the work was silent.

In other cases, the toughest manual labor was delegated to the Angolans with Chinese oversight. The Angolans complained that the Chinese spat too much and paid them too little or not at all and dismissed them as little more than monkeys, imitating the “oooh, oooh, oooh” sounds of a chimpanzee. The Chinese know only two words in Portuguese, one Angolan told us.

Cava, cava,” he said, with a bitter smile. “Dig, dig.”

Rapido, rapido,” said another. “Faster, faster.”

The Chinese, in turn, wanted little to do with the ordinary people whose country they had come to salvage from the wreckage of the last forty years. One day I met Xia Yi Hua, a middle-aged CEO from Beijing who had been in Angola for the last year and a half. He had contracts with the government to build a hotel in Baya Falte for some of Dos Santos’ most loyal military generals and a police academy in Baya Azul. He welcomed me into a spare waiting room and sat down comfortably in a stiff-backed chair. He got his chicken locally, he told me, but received regular shipments of packaged goods from China. His company sent him food. Everything in his office building, a set of low-rise prefab construction at the end of a highway leading out of Lobito, was either assembled in China, or made by Chinese laborers in Luanda. The wooden coffee table at which we were sitting was made of a rare and beautiful dark-colored Angolan wood, but Xia Yi Hua had brought a Chinese carpenter in to assemble the table. He had his own set of rules. No one from his construction company, China Jiang Su, was allowed to have romantic or sexual ties with Angolans.

“The chief for Jiang Su says that the Chinese who have wives in China, they don’t have the right to be with Angolan girls.”

Anyone caught frequenting local girls, he said, gets sent home. “Yes, fired.”

The gap between the two cultures was too vast, he explained, unbridgeable even in matters of the heart.

“For an Angolan to marry a Chinese girl is very bad too.”

What he wants most, it seems, is more Chinese workers.

“We can’t expand fast enough,” he laughed. “I need more Chinese.”

The Chinese reluctance to hire more local workers, perhaps more than any other single factor, has continued to irk the Angolans and has led to tensions between the two countries, and as the number of Chinese workers in Angola has continued to swell, local resentment against them has also grown. Over the last two years, human rights researchers have been documenting an increase in kidnappings and beatings of Chinese workers, and a “steady pattern of discrimination” has started to emerge, says the Center for Human Rights Coordination in Luanda, according to the Wall Street Journal. In 2009, the Chinese embassy issued an online warning about threats to Chinese citizens in Angola, citing two cases in which armed robbers stripped Chinese businessmen of thousands of dollars in cash and equipment. Further north, in the oil-rich Cabinda Province, Chinese workers have suffered a spate of attacks including beatings, kidnappings and threats by a newly formed separatist group called the Front for the Liberation of the Enclave of Cabinda. Much of this violence has its roots in the attitude the Chinese originally adopted when they first arrived in Angola and other parts of Africa — namely, that Africans were ill-equipped or simply unable to perform complex jobs. Some Chinese contractors sheltered their imported Chinese laborers away in neat little roadside camps surrounded by barbed wire, armed guards and dogs. Even if you managed to get inside — which we once did by pretending to be cement merchants from South Africa touring the country to drum up business — it was impossible to talk to any of these sequestered workers, which raised the question of whether the Angolans had it as bad as the Chinese did. The sporadic and sometimes confusing nature of the meeting of these two cultures produced much rancor and very little mutual understanding.

The same Angolans who helped turn this corner of Africa into a killing field have more recently helped make it into one of the world’s most glaringly inefficient kleptocracies.

“They think we’re just a bunch of savages,” said Fundulu, my Angolan translator.

He smiled.

“We don’t think too much of them either though.”

The United States has been drilling for oil off West African coasts for several decades. It was a tricky business for several reasons — corruption, war and widespread poverty made the massive extraction of valuable natural resources by American oil companies particularly unsavory — but there were always people willing to do it. People like Jim, who wants to dance now. He swaggers into the crowd near the bar where the lights are pulsating wildly and stands amid the gyrations, an unconcerned white totem in a brawl of desire. Beer in hand, bald, he is starting to look the part of the lost foreigner. Angola is a sinkhole of money, he says, and one needn’t look far to see it. He rents a house in Luanda for $26,000 a month, and that’s a steal. Some of them are going for $40,000 or more. Renting a car will set you back around $14,000 a month. Luanda, he says, is the most expensive capital city in the world. And all that oil money is caking the city with greed. The same Angolans who helped turn this corner of Africa into a killing field have more recently helped make it into one of the world’s most glaringly inefficient kleptocracies. Although the scale of the waste extends to virtually every corner of industry, it has been most visible in the oil sector. American oil tankers looking to unload a shipment of a few million gallons of crude recently sucked up from the ocean floor, are obliged to pay exorbitant fees — sometimes as much as $80,000 a day — for every day they wait outside a harbor. They don’t care, says Jim, they’re making so much money out there that $80K is peanuts to them. ’Course, that might be changing now, he adds. The Angolans are good at corruption, but the Chinese are making them even better. All those untold billions in credit extensions have disappeared into the pockets of the richest officials. You rarely see them, but you see their cars — bright yellow Hummers slinking along muddy roads with American rap music blaring. Jim echoes a commonly expressed sentiment about Chinese ambitions in Africa – they’re hungry for African resources and they’ll do anything to get them, including and especially greasing the wheels of corruption in poor and messily governed countries like Angola.

“They’re in it for themselves,” Jim says, but then adds: “ ’Course, isn’t everyone?”

Now these American and British companies have started to train the Chinese to do offshore drilling, and that’s another reason they’’e here, to learn the sophisticated offshore technology that’s been keeping them out of the game for so long. They had a rougher time of it in Nigeria, he says, though they tried there. He raises his whiskey in a toast. An attractive young woman sidles over to us and puts her arm around Jim and he smiles and returns the favor and the three of us drink up, and she lingers a while, but not too long, and when she realizes there isn’t any business here she politely moves along. Jim points to a tall, thin man with glasses and a neat, pressed look.

Diamonds, Jim says.

The near totality of Angola’s partnership with China was, at least when I was there, managed by the China International Fund, whose stickers and logos are a ubiquitous presence in Luanda. Oil and gas receipts are exchanged for rebuilding, and most transactions are conducted through high-level exchanges between CIF officials and the Angolan officials who oversee the projects. In addition, CIF has secured a foothold in the growing economy into which it has been slowly pushing private and semi-private companies with close ties to the state-controlled behemoths like Exim Bank that regulate China’s expansion across Africa.

There are few organizations as impenetrable as the China International Fund. Soon after it was first established, CIF contracted with the Angolan government for at least thirty massive infrastructure projects across the country, including 240,000 apartments in Cabinda, an international airport, a skyscraper that would become one of the tallest buildings in Luanda, and the Benguela–Luau railroad. After I left in 2007, virtually all of those projects were halted because the government had failed to make the necessary payments. (In the years since, similar projects have fallen by the wayside, and frictions between the Angolan government and the Chinese have continued to mount.) Yet CIF officials were managing to get unencumbered access to the highest levels of the Angolan government. According to one Chinese official, who asked to remain anonymous, even Chinese embassy officials didn’t know how to get in touch with the elusive CIF.

“It’s very complicated, very messy,” said the official. One day in Luanda, I asked a Western diplomat what he made of CIF’s relationship with the government and where all the money was going. It was so convoluted and corrupt, he said, that most observers had simply stopped trying to understand where all the money had disappeared. The monetary figures were so high, and the relationships so murky and complex, that the government itself had in all likelihood lost count, and in any event it was unlikely it cared that much to begin with. “Are the numbers 100 percent legitimate? Are they real? We don’t know,” the official told me. “They cannot absorb all the money coming in, nor do they have the capacity to rationally spend it.”

One day in Lobito I woke before dawn and made my way down to a grassy expanse on the edge of town where the trees had been cleared and a rusty set of train tracks stretched off toward the east. It was chilly outside, and the sea air off the Atlantic brought with it a tang of salt and gulls, and the smoke from campfires that were beginning to rise with the morning. In the clearing stood a train that looked so broken and decrepit it came as a surprise when people began clambering aboard. During much of the war this railway line continued to run its regular route between Lobito and the vast stretch of the interior, including the town of Huambo, where Joseph Savimbi had his base and from where he ran a bustling diamond-smuggling business to fuel his war coffers. For many years this train was the only thing connecting the inhabitants of Savimbi’s inland empire to the rest of the world. In 1992, the war affected forty-seven bridges on the line, soldiers added land mines on both sides, and as a result the interior was cut off from the rest of the country.

The train filled quickly. Brightly dressed women with large sacks of food and clothing settled down on the hard plastic seats, the chill air wafting through open windows, chatting with the vendors outside who jostled for their attentions. A jovial conductor wearing a 1970s-era cap, a jacket with gold epaulets, and knockoff Ray-Ban sunglasses meandered down the aisle taking tickets. Moises was his name, and he told us that in the months to come, if the Chinese fulfilled their promises, he’d have a whole new train to drive and new tracks to drive it on, and the years of lateness and isolation would be over.

As my three traveling companions – two European journalists and our translator – and I got comfortable, the merchants came to us. They carried huge sacks of rice on their heads, bags of beans and corn and bottles of water, chickens tied by their feet and slung over wooden poles, bowls of something steaming for now, and bags of peanuts for later, and all of it pushed and shoved and thrown up at us amid a cacophony of shouting and grinning and piling on, and did this three times each week. The Angolans rebuilt the 96-mile stretch of track from Lobito eastward to Cubal in 2005, but the remainder of the line, which extended another 706 miles to Luau on the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo was still in shambles, and there were rumors that Chinese teams had been deployed inland to begin rebuilding the rest of what was once one of Africa’s most famous train tracks. This was to be the signal project of China’s work in Angola, and the Chinese company, CRRCC, that was said to be hard at work on this railroad, was the same that had laid several thousand miles of track across the breadth of Tibet, fifteen thousand feet high in the Himalayan wilderness. We had decided to go in search of them in Angola’s wilds. We’d take the train as far as it would go, to Cubal, then hire a car and keep going until we found the Chinese.

Soon the first lurch came and then another, and slowly the train picked up speed as the last of the hawkers jettisoned their heaviest goods and ran alongside us thrusting what remained of their salable items toward us and then slowly dropping away out of sight as the old warhorse gained speed and took off.

Three hours later we arrived in Cubal.

Our hired driver headed us in the direction of Chimbassi, a town about nine miles to the east of Cubal where, he informed us, the Chinese were hard at work on the next section of track. “They’re everywhere there,” he said. “Where there is one there are always more.”

But, when we arrived, there were none.

“What!” said the driver, stunned. “They were here just last week.”

Instead, a vast tract of what looked like excavated ground stretched out emptily in front of us. There were signs the Chinese had been there recently — a set of old railroad tracks had been uprooted and what looked to be fresh foundation for new tracks had been laid down. A few signs of human habitation remained: stray packs of sugar, some anti-malarial medication, a small garden where some parsley poked meekly from the red African dirt.

Our driver suggested they may have moved on — to Ganda, another small town about twenty-five miles further east toward the DRC.

The Chinese had been there, we were told by a crowd in Ganda who had gathered around our car, but they left two weeks ago to return to their base at Alto-Catumbela, a two-hour drive east. We had hoped to find the Chinese hard at work extending, after three decades of war, the famed Benguela–Luau railway line that would once again reconnect Angola with the rest of the world, or at least the rest of Africa. But ubiquitous as they had been elsewhere, here they seemed to have gone into hiding, lost in the great wilderness of post-war Angola.

“It’s a hundred percent per year,” he said. “That’s unique to this country. You don’t see that anywhere else in Africa. Why? Because the Angolans are pushing like mad to have everything done by tomorrow. They want the best and the fastest. If they want a hotel, they don’t want a three-star, they want a five-star.”

In the far distance, massive mountains of stone shaped like perfectly rounded cones rose up on the horizon. Vast forests of palms stretched between them, and from these rose the occasional baobab tree, ancient and glowing in the afternoon sun. This land was so heavily mined during the war that de-mining organizations had placed red stones painted with skulls and crossbones on the side of the road at various intervals, wherever a mine was suspected. The closer we got to Alto-Catumbela, the more frequently we began to see the red stones and the worse the roads became. The driver told us not to worry because he knew where the mines were. Beside the road, children scampered here and there, hopping over stones and crisscrossing the ground as lightly as deer. By 2008, one de-mining organization found over 1,600 mines in this small town alone.

Rain was threatening as we wound our way to the end of the road where a defunct paper mill sat in broken abandonment, its windows shattered, doors cracked open, and a slash of brick and mortar debris crumbling out of every shelled hole. Surrounding it was a wall where the words “Long Live Proletarian Internationalism” in red and blue paint were fading and cracking. A few men stood idly by smoking cigarettes and watching us casually. Surrounding us was a field of bright green cassava and corn, and sinking fast into the ground on its edges were at least a dozen tractors, earthmovers and bulldozers. It looked like a bombed-out refugee hideaway for families that may have sought shelter during the war. We wondered if the Chinese had lived here and soon asked one of the men.

He shook his head.

No, he told us, the Chinese had packed up and left a week or two earlier — but not, he added, before they ate their dogs. He threw his cigarette to the ground as he and his companions broke into peals of laughter.

Zulu is the one bar in Lobito where everyone goes — the Chinese, the American oil workers, the journalists — and it sits on a wide strip of sand that looks out over the bay and the calm gray waters of the Atlantic. There’s a thatched roof hut with a bar serving tropical drinks, and several wooden tables outside. One afternoon I met Zhou Zhenhong at Zulu. He had been in Africa for five years; two in South Africa, which he found too dangerous, and two in Zambia, which he found too slow and too poor. Angola, on the other hand, was safe enough and rich enough to make it worth his time. When I met him, he hadn’t seen his family in two years and didn’t know when next he would. He used to work for CIF, but in 2006 they pushed him out and told him to start his own company. He started with $1 million in loans and since then has made several million more. “It’s a hundred percent per year,” he said. “That’s unique to this country. You don’t see that anywhere else in Africa. Why? Because the Angolans are pushing like mad to have everything done by tomorrow. They want the best and the fastest. If they want a hotel, they don’t want a three-star, they want a five-star.”

Zhou’s teeth are rotting and brown. He smokes one cigarette after another. Of all the Chinese I met, he seems to me to be the one who has figured out the system. He’s close enough to the state-controlled companies in Beijing to get the support he needs, but far enough away for nothing else much to matter. Now, taking in the remainder of the day at Zulu, he appears to have shed the dependence of the bureaucrat he once was, and adopted the buccaneer attitude of the Chinese capitalist — or, perhaps, African colonialist — he has become.

“We want more staff and more equipment, and every year is busy,” he told me. “We don’t even have time to build our own houses or make improvements for our life because we’re so busy with the projects.”

“We camp, we live wherever, whatever,” he said and snubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray for a very long time. The ocean nearby looked more like a lake, peaceful and flat forever, a gray sheen that spat little wavelets upon the shore and sucked them back out again just as fast.

By the time Jim and I left the whorehouse it was well into early morning. Dawn would come soon. The floor was thumping loudly. Everyone was talking to everyone else. The prostitutes had dispensed with all pretense of coyness and had instead become aggressive.

“What you want? ” they’d say. “Let’s go. Now.”

Jim watched them for a long while. More men were coming in, diamond men, arms men, oil men, all of them European or African. If the Chinese were anywhere, Jim told me, they were in the casinos, on the other side of town. I knew this to be true because I had seen them there myself, but I didn’t say anything. They’d be there all night.

“I’m drunk,” Jim said. I patted him on the shoulder.

And then we walked out into the dark night.

 

G

Scott Johnson is currently the Violence Reporting Fellow for the Oakland Tribune, an investigative reporting position funded by the California Endowment. He worked for the past twelve years as a foreign correspondent for Newsweek, and was chief of the magazine’s Africa bureau from 2007 until its close at the end of 2009. He spent most of the preceding decade reporting from the Middle East, covering wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Mexico, and covering politics and the economy in Latin America.

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Rethinking Growth:

From SEEDMAGAZINE.

Herman Daly applies a biophysical lens to the economy and finds that bigger isn’t necessarily better.

Herman Daly is an ecological economist and co-founder and associate editor of the journal Ecological Economics. As the World Bank’s senior environmental economist from 1988 to 1994, Daly focused on Latin American poverty and development and helped to establish the discipline of ecological economics. Today, based at the School of Public Policy at the University of Maryland, Daly spoke with Seed editor Maywa Montenegro about growth, technology, happiness, and the steady-state economy.

Seed: When did you first start thinking about a steady-state economy?
As an undergraduate, taking a course in the history of economic thought and reading Malthus. Then in graduate school I studied under Nicholas Georgescu-Roegen, a pioneer in relating the entropy law to economic theory. Elementary economic theory describes something called a circular flow diagram: Firms supply goods and services to households, which in turn supply labor and capital factors of production back to the firms. This flow goes around and around, and money flows in the opposite direction to pay for it. The way it’s usually depicted is as a closed circulatory system. What’s ignored is the economy’s digestive system: the input of low-entropy raw materials from the environment and the expulsion of high-entropy waste products back into the environment. A fundamental assumption of those who treat the economy like a totally circular exchange is that the environment is infinite relative to us, that natural resources and space to absorb our waste are not scarce. The assumption is no longer valid.

This article was originally published in the February 2009 print edition of Seed, as part of a post-crisis scientific look at the year ahead. See more of the Universe in ‘09 special issue here.

Seed: So what does this mean for growth?
What is growth? Is it a temporary process to arrive at a state that we will then want to maintain? Or is growth a process which is itself desirable and is supposed to go on forever? Right now nobody defines a state of sufficiency. For example, in a recent growth report financed by the World Bank, experts took great hope from the fact that several countries had managed to grow at 7 percent for 25 years. Their goal—7 percent growth for another 25 years—will lead to a quintupling of the global economy and all that flows into it. And come 2033, will we be satisfied, or will the goalposts move once again? The idea of steady-state economics is that growth really should be a temporary process to arrive at some level of sufficiency.

Seed: How will we know when that level is reached? Is there a way to measure it?
Well, we don’t measure it because our GDP, our national accounting system, does not separate costs and benefits of growth. Pollution, for instance, is not subtracted as a cost of growth. In fact, the expenditures and efforts to clean up pollution are added as a benefit. This is a strange, asymmetric entry into the accounts, because if you’re not going to count the cost of pollution, then you shouldn’t count its cleanup as a benefit.

Seed: How would you change the system of accounting?
What we tax mostly now is income from the input of labor and capital, what economists called “value added.”
Value added to what? To the resources extracted from nature, which are treated as zero. So, the idea is to shift our tax base away from value added and toward the resources themselves. If we want to increase efficiency, then we have to begin by making things more expensive. We’re careful how we use gold. We’re not so careful how we use aluminum.

If you start with a vision of the economy as a subsystem of the larger biosphere, as it grows, it takes into itself more and more of the total system. Assuming people do things intelligently, as the economy gets bigger, it absorbs the least vital environmental services first. So the costs of growth are inevitably going to go up as you exploit ever more valuable resources. At some point, the expansion will not be worth the costs.That’s the optimal scale from the point of view of human concerns.

But this doesn’t mean the end of development. Growth is more and more of the same stuff. Development is the same amount of better stuff.

Seed: But what if scientists are able to improve recycling to the point that we can endlessly reuse existing materials? Or suppose that they genetically engineer a microbe, for example, that converts solar energy into ethanol. Could growth then continue indefinitely?
You can certainly increase the efficiency of recycling, but you can’t, from a physical point of view, perfect it. And even microbes are subject to the laws of thermodynamics. They’re not going to make this energy—ethanol—out of nothing. They’re going to
need raw material inputs and solar energy in order to make those inputs, and, of course, they’re going to generate waste products. So I’m not saying it’s not a good adaptation, but it wouldn’t eliminate limits. Technology is successful in so far as it respects the laws of physics; it’s not magic.

Seed: What underpins your optimism that people might eventually embrace a no-growth economy?
We’re encouraged by a number of studies by economists and psychologists on happiness—almost all show that beyond a certain threshold, further increases in GDP really do not increase self-evaluated happiness. They do, of course, continue to increase environmental costs. That gives us some idea of what’s enough. Whatever that amount is, it’s a lot less than average per capita GDP in the United States. And this, of course, is a highly contentious point. People really don’t like to talk about limits to income. We’re now willing to talk about a minimum income, but we’re not quite willing to talk about a maximum yet. Yet if the total amount of economic growth is limited, then that should be on the agenda as well.

Seed:What would you say is the just and proper range, the limit to inequality?
If you look around at various institutions such as the government, the military, or universities, they have a factor of around 20 between the richest and the poorest. In US corporations it’s 500 or more. I think you could probably reward all real differences
of contribution within a range of 25. But let’s just start with a factor 100, get some experience, and work down.

Seed:How, if at all, does steady-state economics apply to the current financial crisis?
Finance is based heavily on things called “present value maximization models”—which means, essentially, that you’re discounting the future by a presumed rate of growth. You run an exponential growth equation backward to get a present value. So via the discount rate, growth is fundamentally built into finance. Well, that’s a very big assumption because the biosphere of which we’re a part is not growing.

One of my intellectual heroes, the Nobel Prize– winning chemist Frederick Soddy, put it another way. He said the problem in our economy is the one thing that economists have in their system which does not obey the laws of physics. And that is money. Money is the symbol of wealth, and yet it operates on laws which contradict the laws that wealth operates on. It’s very strange to have a symbol system that operates in ways that are fundamentally different from the thing being symbolized.

Seed: Do you think that in the future all economics will necessarily be ecological economics?
That’s what I expect. I mean, we’re faced with two impossibilities. On the one hand, it’s politically impossible to stop growth. On the other hand, it’s biophysically impossible to continue it ad infinitum. So, which impossibility is fundamentally impossible? Well, you know, I’ll take my chances with trying to change the politically impossible, because I don’t think I can change the biophysically impossible. ∞

SEEDMAGAZINE.COM April 30, 2011 RSS & Email Updates » Follow us on Twitter »


Read more of Daly’s thoughts on Homo Economicus, the thermodynamics roots of economics, population, and more at the Center for Advancement of a Steady State Economy. The Encyclopedia of Earth has also gathered an extensive collection in this E-book tribute to Herman Daly.

 

Gore, Ex-Apple Engineers Team Up to Blow Up the Book. By Brian X. Chen

From WIRED.
Former Apple engineers Kimon Tsinteris (left) and Mike Matas teamed up with Al Gore to create a new publishing platform called Push Pop Press. Photo: Jon Snyder/Wired.com

What do you do after working for Apple, a company whose mission seems to be nothing less than disrupting entire industries? Easy. You start a company to create your own ding in the universe.

That’s the idea behind Push Pop Press, a digital creation tool designed to blow up the concept of the book. Frictionless self-publishing is a fertile new space, but this particular startup got a little help from former vice president Al Gore, whose exacting demands on an app version of his book Our Choice: A Plan to Solve the Climate Crisis gave this would-be company its first real boost.

Developed by former Apple employees Mike Matas and Kimon Tsinteris, Push Pop Press will be a publishing platform for authors, publishers and artists to turn their books into interactive iPad or iPhone apps — no programming skills required.

“The app is the richest form of storytelling,” Matas said. “[Push Pop Press] opens doors to telling a story with more photos, more videos and interactions.”

Push Pop Press is pushing into a widening niche within the print industry, which is scrambling to produce digital versions of books, magazines and newspapers in hopes of reversing declining revenues.

The platform comes as a slew of competitiors seek to upend the book publishing business, a shift that once seemed improbable but now inevitable, thanks to the success of new devices such as the iPad, Kindle and Nook. Notably, Amazon began selling more e-books than printed editions just 33 months after its Kindle launched.

If e-books have been flying off the “shelves” for years, Push Pop Press aims to bring a new dimension to the platform, adding high-end graphics to the largely unadorned text offered in popular e-book editions like the Kindle. It’s the latest bet — still unpaid after some 25 years of digital publishing– that plain old text is about to undergo a major evolution as authors and readers demand more interactivity.

For magazine publishers and newspapers, one of the trendiest technology solutions involves creating iPad or Android editions of publications — for which advertisers, so far, seem to pay at rates which rival print dollars instead of web pennies.

The 800-pound gorilla in this digital space is Adobe, whose tools are used to create some tablet 280 periodicals (including the iPad version of WIRED magazine). But the complexity — and expense — of Adobe’s Creative Suite is an opportunity for new entrants in the self-publishing game.

Problem is, it’s neither easy nor cheap for dead-tree publishers to hire app programmers, or to purchase the resources necessary to digitize their publications with sexy code. And after factoring in the hefty costs of development and time spent on production, mobile apps have hardly proven a goldmine for major publishers.

If successfully scaled, Push Pop Press could become the easiest and quickest way for publishers and independent artists to turn their media into iPhone and iPad apps and take a whack at making money in the App Store.

Book apps created with the platform can take advantage of the iPad’s and iPhone’s advanced sensors, touchscreen gestures, microphone and powerful graphics chip to turn reading into a rich, interactive experience, Matas said. Videos, interactive diagrams and geotagged photos are just some elements that can be embedded in a book produced with the tool.

Not impressed with words alone? Check out Gore’s tour of his book produced with Push Pop Press, embedded in the video below.

Al Gore’s Our Choice Guided Tour from Push Pop Press on Vimeo.

Al Gore’s Our Choice: Guided Tour from Push Pop Press on Vimeo.

Gore’s App Mission

The former vice president’s production company Melcher Media approached Matas in September 2009 to create an app version of Our Choice. Gore wanted his book app to contain videos, diagrams and other forms of multimedia that would flex the iPhone’s muscle.

Matas sketched a concept and later discussed it with his former Apple co-worker Tsinteris. During his time at Apple, 25-year-old Matas focused on human-interface design for the iPad, iPhone and Mac OS X. And 30-year-old Tsinteris was deeply involved in developing the Maps app for the iPhone 3G, as well as some aspects of OS X.

After discussing the project, Matas and Tsinteris realized that in order to reproduce Gore’s book, they needed tools that didn’t exist yet.

“Kimon took a look at [the concept] and said that in order to build it we need to build a whole publishing platform,” Matas said.

And if you’re going to put that much effort into the tools, why stop after making just one book? The result of the project was Push Pop Press, a full-on publishing platform that the pair have been developing for about a year-and-a-half.

Gore’s book, which goes live in the App Store on Thursday morning, is in part a demonstration of the capabilities of Push Pop Press.

It’s a bit like walking through a digital museum. When you first launch the app, you see a cover of a 3-D animation of a spinning globe with the title superimposed over it. Tapping into the intro plays a video of Gore introducing the book’s topic.

From there, you swipe through a visual table of contents, and when you select a chapter, the chapter title appears on the top three quarters of the screen. A timeline at the bottom allows you to swipe through the pages. To start reading, you touch a page with two fingers to pop it open.

Diagrams embedded inside some of the chapters are interactive, inviting you to swipe the illustrations or even blow through the iPad’s microphone to move a windmill, for example.

Photos are geotagged, so when you select an image and tap on a globe icon, you can see a world map with a pin showing precisely where the photo was taken.

For the pair, geotagging was one of their favorite features to add, because at Apple, they worked together on integrating GPS in the Maps application for the iPhone 3G.

“It’s crazy how much context this brings to it,” Matas said about the geotagged photos in Gore’s book.

Every element inside Gore’s enhanced e-book is composed of native iOS toolkits and APIs (e.g., Core Animation, Core Text and Objective C) to make the experience extremely smooth and fast.

“This speed is something you can’t approach on a web browser,” Matas said.

Gore’s book is just the first of what Matas and Tsinteris hope will be a series of similarly interactive e-books. The pair are planning to release Push Pop Press as a piece of Mac software for anyone to create a book app in the future.

The programmers did not disclose an estimated ship date or price for the Push Pop Press publishing software, but they said the goal was to make it “very affordable.”

When released, Push Pop Press could aggressively compete with Adobe. Currently, many publishers rely on Adobe’s expensive Creative Suite tools to lay out their print pages and to digitize their content for Apple’s iPad.

Push Pop Press could likely undercut Adobe on price, not to mention ease of using the product. An interactive magazine, book, comic book or photo essay can be created with Push Pop Press in as little as 20 minutes, the programmers claim.

However, Matas and Tsinteris don’t view their software as a long-term competitor with Adobe. The software giant has a lock-down on the high-end of the creative field, Tsinteris said, and Push Pop Press’ core audience will likely be smaller publishers looking for an easy, drag-and-drop solution to create apps.

“This is a layout tool, not a developer tool,” Tsinteris said. “It’s a little like playing with Legos.”

Brian is a Wired.com technology reporter focusing on Apple and Microsoft. He recently wrote a book about the always-connected mobile future called Always On (publishing June 7, 2011 by Da Capo).
Follow @bxchen and @gadgetlab on Twitter.

From ProPublica ‘Spillionaires’: Profiteering and Mismanagement in the Wake of the BP Oil Spill

by Kim Barker

The oil spill that was once expected to bring economic ruin to the Gulf Coast appears to have delivered something entirely different: a gusher of money.

Some people profiteered from the spill by charging BP outrageous rates for cleanup. Others profited from BP claims money, handed out in arbitrary ways. So many people cashed in that they earned nicknames — “spillionaires” or “BP rich.” Meanwhile, others hurt by the spill ended up getting comparatively little.

In the end, BP’s attempt to make things right — spending more than $16 billion so far, mostly on claims of damage and cleanup — created new divisions and even new wrongs. Because the federal government ceded control over spill cleanup spending to BP, it’s impossible to know for certain what that money accomplished, or what exactly was done.

Some inequities arose from the chaos that followed the April 20 spill. But in at least one corner of Louisiana, the dramatic differences can be traced in part to local powerbrokers. To show how the money flowed, ProPublica interviewed people who worked on the spill and examined records, including some reported [2] earlier by [3] the New Orleans Times-Picayune [4], for St. Bernard Parish, a coastal community about five miles southeast of downtown New Orleans.

Documents show that local companies with ties to insiders garnered lucrative cleanup contracts and then charged BP for every imaginable expense. The prime cleanup company, which had a history of bad debts and no oil-spill experience, submitted bills with little documentation or none at all. A subcontractor charged BP $15,400 per month to rent a generator that usually cost $1,500 a month. A company owned in part by the St. Bernard Parish sheriff charged more than $1 million a month for land it had been renting for less than $1,700 a month.

Assignments for individual fishermen followed the same pattern, with insiders and supporters earning big checks.

“This parish raped BP,” said Wayne Landry, the chairman of the St. Bernard Parish Council, referring to the conduct of its political leadership. “At the end of the day, it really just frustrates me. I’m an elected official. I have guilt by association.”

The economic benefits that rippled through St. Bernard Parish were seen in varying degrees throughout the Gulf. In the six months after the spill, sales tax receipts [5], a key measure of economic activity, rose significantly in eight of the 24 most affected communities from Louisiana to Florida, despite the national recession. Only one community, in Mississippi, saw its receipts dip significantly. Local governments also profited. A recent story by the Associated Press [6] found that governments along the coast used BP money to buy SUVs, Tasers and other equipment not necessary to clean up oil.

According to sales tax collections, Louisiana made out better than anywhere. Sales tax collections from Plaquemines Parish rose more than 71 percent, while St. Bernard saw the biggest jump of all. The parish collected almost $26.8 million in sales and lodging tax receipts in the six months after the spill, almost twice as much as over the same period in 2009. Flush with cash from cleanup and claims, many fishermen bought new toys, boats and trucks. Sales at the nearest Chevrolet dealer rose 41 percent.

Some of the influx of money can be traced to the efforts of St. Bernard’s parish president, Craig Taffaro Jr., a 45-year-old psychotherapist with a wrestler’s build, a cue-ball head and a trimmed goatee.

Just days into the crisis, Taffaro did what many parish presidents did: He invoked a Louisiana law that allowed him to declare a 30-day emergency and handle the crisis without most normal government checks and balances. But Taffaro used his powers more broadly than most, saying that he wanted to put money back into the community. Unlike the leaders of other Gulf communities, Taffaro — not BP — chose the prime contractor that supervised the cleanup. He and his allies also decided which fishermen would be hired to put out boom and search for oil. At one point, Taffaro hired his future son-in-law to work in the finance department and help on the spill.

In some ways, parish residents seemed to view the disaster and BP’s culpability as a way to recover from earlier blows. More than other coastal communities, St. Bernard bore the brunt of Hurricane Katrina, which flooded almost every home in August 2005. The population dropped almost in half, from about 67,000 in 2000 to about 36,000 in 2010, largely because people didn’t come back after Katrina and the hurricanes that followed. Before the spill, the parish slashed its budget by 11 percent, cutting garbage collection, the fire department and mosquito control. There was just no money.

The spill changed that. Fishermen were paid to lay out protective boom, the floating material used to corral the oil. Contractors were hired to manage the cleanup and provide security. Claims money began flowing to people who said their lives had been upended by the crisis.

The parish government was among the first to benefit, snagging a $1 million check for oil-spill expenses. Parish employees went shopping for cameras, printers, a file cabinet, staplers, six pairs of children’s scissors and 712 shirts emblazoned with the parish name [7]. Some of the money also went to overtime pay for more than 40 parish employees [8], including three who claimed overtime for picking up dog food [9] for the animal shelter. St. Bernard’s homeland security director, David Dysart, a salaried employee and Taffaro’s good friend, was paid almost $23,000 for working 497 hours of overtime in less than seven weeks. That meant he was working an average of more than 16 hours a day, including weekends.

As the money flowed, complaints spread. Some beneficiaries didn’t necessarily suffer from the spill but had social or political connections. Subcontractors said those at the top of the cleanup creamed off money for doing very little, while those at the bottom earned much less for doing the actual work.

At first, everyone was angry with BP. But as the months wore on, some St. Bernard residents directed their frustration at Taffaro, blaming him for handing out jobs and money to a small group of insiders.

Meanwhile, Taffaro was attacking BP and the federal government in the media, appearing on TV alongside Gov. Bobby Jindal and testifying in Congress. His outrage was palpable. There wasn’t enough boom, coordination or respect for the local government. BP wasn’t making good on its obligations.

The pressure paid off. Taffaro at one point boasted that St. Bernard had doled out more BP cleanup money to commercial fishermen than any other Louisiana parish. His claim is impossible to verify, because neither Taffaro nor anyone else would provide details about the spending numbers.

BP gave only limited information to ProPublica, and declined to comment on allegations it had been overcharged. The U.S. Coast Guard, the federal agency most involved with overseeing BP’s response, said the government and BP decided cleanup priorities together.

Taffaro and other St. Bernard officials refused to respond to the public-records requests ProPublica began filing in November. When asked again last week why the parish hadn’t provided any records, Dysart said he would be happy to help but that filling the request would take time and cost a lot of money.

“I’m in the process of really, truly trying to assist you,” said Dysart, who is also the parish interim chief administrative officer.

In response to questions submitted by ProPublica last month, Taffaro said through his spokeswoman that he can approve overtime for salaried employees in extenuating circumstances and that Dysart eventually decided to stop taking overtime. Taffaro said there was no law against hiring his future son-in-law because he was not yet married, and that paying overtime for picking up dog food was necessary because the spill had caused fishermen to abandon their dogs.

Taffaro also said that the tax receipt bubble was “a false economy,” similar to what happened after Hurricane Katrina.

****

Many companies and people earning big money from the spill had connections to parish powerbrokers, according to court documents, parish records and interviews done by ProPublica.

Amigo Enterprises Inc., which for years leased land to one of the busiest marinas in the parish, got in early. BP based the cleanup operation at the marina in Hopedale, which made sense. But the price Amigo charged BP for the land was astronomical. Amigo had been leasing the land for less than $1,700 a month from the Arlene & Joseph Meraux Charitable Foundation Inc., according to the nonprofit’s most recent tax returns. The company billed BP more than $1.1 million a month, said BP spokesman Joe Ellis.

Amigo wasn’t just any company. One of the owners was St. Bernard’s powerful sheriff of 26 years, Jack Stephens, who also sat on the board of the Meraux Foundation. According to the most recent ethics form Stephens filed with the state, he earned more than $100,000 from Amigo in 2009.

Stephens’ cousin Anthony Fernandez Jr., also Stephens’ former chief deputy and one of his two partners in Amigo, said BP paid less than $1 million a month to Amigo for rent, but refused to say how much.

Fernandez also got a chunk of BP money for another company, Parish Oilfield Services LLC. That company hired off-duty sheriff’s deputies to provide security for the spill, charging BP $45 an hour per deputy, Ellis said. The normal off-duty rate for the deputies is $30 an hour, according to the sheriff’s office.

The company that benefited most from BP’s checkbook was Loupe Construction and Consulting Co., Inc., a small, family-owned business in a nearby parish with few employees and a bare-bones website that misspelled the company name. On May 5, Taffaro chose Loupe to manage the cleanup in St. Bernard, a job that would eventually be worth as much as $125 million.

Taffaro said he selected Loupe after asking for proposals from several companies and because of its disaster experience. He also said he thought the company had experience responding to oil spills. The decision didn’t sit well with some people.

“That company had no particular expertise in oil mitigation — none,” said Landry, the parish council chair. “But we’ve been kept in the dark on the entire operation. Pardon the pun, but we’ve been left out of the loop.”

In other Louisiana parishes, BP chose the lead cleanup companies, all of them certified by the Coast Guard as official Oil Spill Response Organizations, meaning they had some experience responding to spills. But Loupe didn’t have that certification. In fact, the company that would eventually manage more than 50 subcontractors and 150 vessels had no oil-spill experience at all. Its main job in St. Bernard had been helping rebuild levees.

Coast Guard Commander Dan Lauer said he wasn’t familiar with what happened in St. Bernard Parish, but said he would “absolutely” want a certified company as prime contractor in a major oil spill.

At least two Oil Spill Response Organizations were eventually brought in to oversee some parish cleanup, but BP signed a master service contract with Loupe on June 17, after the parish had insisted for weeks that the company become the main contractor.

“I guess they figured they were stuck with us,” said Randy Nunez, a lawyer for Loupe, adding that the company had taken “a leap of faith” by starting work without official BP approval.

Owner Paul Loupe had a long history of debts and lawsuits. Four lawsuits, three of which have been settled, accused him of not paying his bills after Katrina and Hurricane Rita, when he and another small Louisiana company joined up to clear debris in nearby Jefferson Parish, the company’s only major experience responding to a disaster. Loupe’s website says the two companies performed more than $100 million worth of work [10] for Ceres Environmental Services Inc., the Minnesota-based company that hired them.

But much of that work was actually performed by layers of subcontractors, which is why Loupe was accused of being one of the “pass-through” companies that proliferated after the hurricanes. Workers at the bottom of the contracting chain earned so little for debris-removal work that the U.S. Department of Labor later ordered Ceres to pay $1.5 million in back wages [11] to more than 2,000 laborers.

Paul Loupe referred questions to his lawyers. One, Karl Dix, said everyone was happy with Paul Loupe’s work. “He worked tirelessly during that effort and really accomplished a lot,” Dix said.

After Loupe was picked, there was a feeding frenzy to get hired by the company, which operated out of a family compound about an hour from St. Bernard. People with little connection to commercial fishing used old boats or bought new ones and signed up to work. Companies from Washington state, Nevada and Mississippi came to town. Contracts were fought over. Everyone wanted a piece, just as they did after Hurricane Katrina. Only this time, the federal government wasn’t footing the bill; a reviled corporation was, and the prices reflected that.

“There was a lot of gouging,” said David Northcutt, who worked for a Loupe subcontractor and has since sued for unpaid wages. “Everybody had their hand out, of course. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a lot of people.”

F.J. Campo, who ran the boat launch at Shell Beach that provided fuel for BP boats, said one man who had been trying to sell his fiberglass yacht in Florida brought it back to the parish, got it hired by Loupe, parked it behind the docks and came into the launch every nine or 10 days to bill BP for fuel for the generator.

“They used to hide it behind the docks over there, and it never worked,” Campo said.

Small companies tried to find a way in the door, to tap the right connection to get hired.

In July, Loupe hired a Washington state company, Farrow Construction Specialties Inc., to set up marsh-washing systems on barges. Almost immediately, a Farrow consultant named Larry Howell, who had once pleaded guilty to a federal bank fraud charge [12], set up his own company with people from South Carolina, Texas and Arizona to take over the Farrow contract.

Tim Henson, who had years of experience cleaning up oil spills and worked with a company that partnered with Farrow, said Loupe positioned 13 or 14 skimmer boats around each marsh-washing barge, even though the barges themselves functioned as oil skimmers.

“BP was being billed for all the man hours of all those boats,” said Robert Brown, an engineer who helped out on the project. “One would disappear to go take a break or take lunch. Then another one would fill in and do nothing. It was the Keystone Kops.”

In setting up his new company, Howell turned to family as well. One subcontractor he hired was a small Mississippi company run by his mother’s brother-in-law. It charged Howell $15,400 per month to rent each of three generators, which usually each went for $1,500 a month. It charged more than $18 a foot for wire that other contractors said cost at most $4 a foot, and charged $3 a mile for 2,240 miles of travel when the IRS standard business rate was 50 cents. The company also billed Howell more than $14,000 for 140 hours of labor to set up a single generator, a job that other contractors say should take only a few hours. Howell passed all those charges up to Loupe and BP.

During a squabble over the Loupe subcontract, Mike Turner, who had initially partnered with Howell and Farrow, said rumors began spreading that the FBI was investigating him. He hired a lawyer and called the FBI. He said he was told he was not being investigated, but he spent hours talking to a New Orleans-based FBI agent about allegations of payoffs and overbilling.

“I spilled my guts. So now, it’s my understanding they are being investigated,” said Turner, referring to the parish and the businesses that were hired for the cleanup.

The FBI agent declined to answer questions for this story. Howell couldn’t be found for comment. The company he helped form moved out of its office in December without giving notice.

As the cleanup dragged on, Loupe faced a cash-flow problem. For help, Loupe turned to Park Investments Ltd., a local company that primarily develops shopping malls and other commercial properties. Park Investments and its related companies had done business with plenty of parish powerbrokers in the past — Stephens, the sheriff, had been a partner in at least one development.

Although a search of court documents showed that Park Investments rarely made and recorded such loans, the company agreed to loan Loupe [13] an unspecified amount of money. As collateral, Loupe put up all the BP payments due from its clean-up contract.

Park Investments and companies run by its president, Lewis Frank, and owner, Joseph Georgusis, are major political donors in Louisiana. And one of the politicians they frequently donate to is Taffaro, the parish president.

At a 2009 fundraiser for Taffaro, Park Investments gave $2,500, the legal limit in Louisiana. Three other businesses formed by Frank and Georgusis or their businesses — they’ve been involved in at least 15 over more than 20 years — contributed $2,500 each. Georgusis contributed $2,500. So did Georgusis’ wife, Cheryl.

In essence, the cleanup company chosen by Taffaro was now being financed by some of Taffaro’s biggest supporters.

Taffaro said he had no interest in the business practices of Loupe or Park Investments. Frank said Park Investments loaned Loupe money because of “business.” He dismissed any connection between the loan and earlier donations to Taffaro as “coincidental at best.”

“If you’re trying to link something, the link doesn’t exist,” Frank said.

****

St. Bernard was certainly not the only community where markups flourished.

In another Louisiana parish, a BP supplier hired more than 20 vessels a day, paying at most $2,500 a day for each vessel but charging BP $15,000 a day. The supplier pocketed at least $250,000 every day for months, according to someone who saw the bills.

Bills from another Gulf state showed that BP paid a subcontractor $36 an hour for workers to clean up oil along sandy beaches, according to the same person. The subcontractor hired a temp agency, which provided workers for about $14 an hour, leaving the subcontractor with the $22-an-hour difference. The temp agency then made its own profit, hiring workers for about $10 an hour.

By late August, the BP spill had shifted from an emergency response to a long-term recovery, and BP started pushing back on some bills it was receiving, including in St. Bernard, where far less oil had arrived than originally predicted.

On Aug. 21, Loupe delivered 139 invoices to Louisiana’s main incident command post in Houma — the first time the finance team said it had seen any of the invoices. All told, Loupe claimed BP owed it $34.7 million.

Over the following week, BP’s finance team reviewed the 55 largest invoices. Team members found that all the invoices lacked information showing that BP had authorized the goods or services. All also lacked supporting documentation like timesheets. One in five had basic errors and omissions, such as differing daily rates for the same vessels, double-billing for the same equipment, and math errors.

Meanwhile, Loupe officials were demanding payment, and Taffaro was calling BP over the impasse. Despite the fact that the well was plugged, Taffaro declared another 30-day emergency — his last — meaning that for another month, he still controlled the cleanup.

On Saturday, Aug. 28, Paul Loupe, Taffaro and Dysart met with BP officials in New Orleans. Loupe, unable to pay his subcontractors, asked BP to pay him something within two days. BP officials refused. Loupe and BP then agreed to review the invoices together.

The meeting, agreement and invoice problems were outlined in a letter sent by the chief operating officer of BP’s Gulf Coast Restoration Organization to Paul Loupe. The letter, obtained by ProPublica [14], was also sent to Taffaro.

“As we discussed at the meeting, all of the invoices reviewed to date lack certain critical information that, in accordance with well accepted business practices and BP’s code of conduct, BP requires before it can approve an invoice for payment,” the letter said.

BP also began balking at other bills. Parish Oilfield claimed to be owed $900,000 for sheriffs’ deputies, BP’s Ellis said. At $45 an hour, that meant the deputies had clocked as many as 20,000 hours since the spill.

If Parish Oilfield pocketed $15 for every hour worked — given that the normal off-duty deputy rate was $30 an hour — that would have meant $300,000 for the company itself.

In addition, Amigo Enterprises, run by the sheriff, his cousin and a third partner, claimed to be owed millions for equipment, rent and fuel at the Hopedale base.

Within days, the spill cleanup ground to a halt. Amigo refused to provide fuel for the cleanup. So did Campo at Shell Beach and another fuel dock on Delacroix Island, because Loupe hadn’t paid past bills.

On Aug. 31, the sheriff’s office signed an eviction notice for BP at the Hopedale site because BP had not paid rent to Amigo. “Landlord wants possession of his property,” the notice said, without clarifying that the sheriff’s company was the landlord. That night, Taffaro held a press conference, highlighting the eviction notice and accusing BP of not paying its bills, including more than $3 million owed to Amigo and more than $34 million owed to Loupe.

“We are calling on BP to step forward to make this right,” Taffaro said.

BP paid Amigo. The cleanup resumed.

****

While contractors fought for BP’s cleanup money, commercial fishermen jockeyed for BP-financed jobs to replace their lost income.

As long as oil poured into the Gulf, the fishermen were unable to work and unqualified for most other jobs. Some went on anti-depressants. Others started drinking too much. Nearly all tried to join BP’s “Vessels of Opportunity” program, which was supposed to provide a lifeline for commercial fishermen by hiring them and their boats for cleanup work. Boats could make $1,200 to $3,000 a day. Crew members often earned $200 a day, while captains earned as much as $360 a day.

The program was so lucrative, if disorganized, that people throughout the Gulf, including some nonfishermen, started fighting over the slots for boats. As complaints grew, Landry, the St. Bernard council chairman, and another council member pulled together a committee of fishermen and seafood dealers to create a list of bona fide fishermen. Then they drew names to set up assignments.

“That list was posted,” Landry said. “And the next day everything changed. Craig Taffaro took over.”

Using his emergency powers, Taffaro set up St. Bernard’s version of Vessels of Opportunity. Now Taffaro, not BP, controlled who got the coveted jobs.

David Dysart, the homeland security director, said the jobs were handed out fairly through a public lottery. But a ProPublica reporter attended a meeting where Taffaro gave a job to a seafood dealer without a drawing. And dealers complained repeatedly that they weren’t listened to when it came to hiring the parish’s top fishermen. State officials also said the parish didn’t follow up on an early request for a list of top fishermen.

Soon after the cleanup began, commercial fishermen also started complaining that a small group of favorites got more work than anyone else. ProPublica’s analysis of parish checks paid to fishermen over the first six weeks, filed as part of a court case, seems to bear that out. A small group worked regularly, earning $24,000 to $34,000. Although Taffaro and Dysart said those fishermen performed additional jobs, the same fishermen got and kept those additional jobs throughout the entire cleanup. Meanwhile, Eric Melerine, a top fisherman from Delacroix Island, earned only $5,260 during those first six weeks. His younger brother Jason, also a full-time commercial fisherman, earned just $4,560. Another fisherman, Donald Campo, failed to get hired on the BP cleanup at all, despite signing up.

“Sometimes with things like that, it’s all about who you know,” Campo said. “It’s about connections.”

St. Bernard Parish President Craig Taffaro, far right, laying a wreath during the five-year Hurricane Katrina anniversary memorial ceremony at Shell Beach, La., on Aug. 29, 2010. Chairman of the St. Bernard Parish Council Wayne Landry is directly to Taffaro’s right in the striped shirt. (Melanie Burford/Prime for ProPublica)

St. Bernard Parish President Craig Taffaro, far right, laying a wreath during the five-year Hurricane Katrina anniversary memorial ceremony at Shell Beach, La., on Aug. 29, 2010. Chairman of the St. Bernard Parish Council Wayne Landry is directly to Taffaro’s right in the striped shirt. (Melanie Burford/Prime for ProPublica)
Knowing Taffaro was key to getting hired, fishermen said. Kim Alfonso said he was initially told he couldn’t get his crab boat on the job. He protested.

“I said, ‘Craig Taffaro said I can get it on,’” he recalled. “They said, ‘Alright, come on in.’ That’s the way they did business. If you went in there and said, ‘Craig Taffaro said this,’ you was on.”

Cisco Gonzales, who owns an air-conditioning company and runs the Louisiana Crawfish Festival, got his boat on the cleanup by lending it to his nephew, a fisherman whose own boat broke down. Many fishermen complained about Gonzales earning money from the spill, especially fishermen who couldn’t get a boat hired. Gonzales said he felt bad about all the animosity against Taffaro.

“Me and him’s good friends, to tell you the truth,” Gonzales said. “With Craig, he’s done a more than fair job in our community.”

On June 1, fishermen showed up at a council meeting to complain about the selection system. They complained that some fishermen worked seven days a week, while others hadn’t worked in 30 days. Stacy Campo, a fisherman’s wife, said the inequities were ripping apart the community.

“You are the one we look to for the answers,” she told Taffaro. “You are breaking up families and friends because you can’t get an answer. Why is it that we have some big boats on the job that’s been on the job since this started? My husband’s been on rotation once. Why is that? We want the answers. This is going to kill a community that has been together for hundreds of years.”

Taffaro promised to fix the job list and make sure assignments were fair. He also emphasized that St. Bernard was handing out more money to the fishing industry than any other Louisiana parish. In the next two weeks, he said, parish fishermen would earn $4.5 million working for BP. By early September, that would reach $7 million.

“That’s the result of the pressure that we’re putting on them,” Taffaro told the audience. “Believe me, BP would rather do none of this.”

One fisherman complained that BP was putting absurd amounts of money into the parish and said he wanted his own piece of the action.

“This is ungodly amounts of money,” Taffaro agreed. “Many people are making more money than they’ve ever made in their entire lives. I don’t have a problem with that, and I agree with you: that I want everybody to share the wealth in this situation.”

At the end of the meeting, Landry asked Taffaro for an accounting of how the parish had spent the BP money.

“Not a problem,” Taffaro replied.

But Taffaro and the parish turned over only some of the records, despite four public-records requests by Landry and the council clerk. Landry had to get a court order to obtain more. The council shared some records with ProPublica; others were in the court file.

The system featured bizarre incentives and rules. It didn’t differentiate between those who got cleanup jobs with BP and those who didn’t. The amount people received for their initial six-month emergency claims was based on whatever paperwork they decided to submit, not on their actual losses. The final claims formula seemed to reward fishermen who stayed home after the government fishing bans were lifted and punished fishermen who returned to work.

One man who earned $67,000 in 2009 fishing crabs and hunting a swamp rat called nutria got $100,000 for his six-month emergency claim. That was on top of $90,000 he earned working on the cleanup and $20,000 he received in initial BP claims. In the eight months after the spill, he earned a total of $210,000, more than three times as much as he earned in all of 2009.

The distributions seemed crazily disproportionate.

Thomas Gonzales, who said he filed $90,000 in taxable income in 2009, received only $22,000 in his six-month payment. “They’re giving the money to the young generation,” said Gonzales, who is 73. “They figure I got one foot over the hole, the other one on the edge.”

Jason Melerine, 28, who said his income was about $90,000 in 2009, received a six-month emergency compensation check for $180,000. To support his claim, he submitted invoices showing that his boat sold $280,000 worth of seafood the year before, an amount that didn’t reflect his expenses.

His brother Eric Melerine, who earned $111,000 in 2009, received just $60,000. To support his claim he used his 2009 tax return, which did reflect his expenses.

Eric Melerine’s deckhand Mikey Labat, who made about $70,000 in 2009, initially received $6,900 for his six-month claim. His wife, Laura, was so upset that she filed an appeal and got the family another $18,000. Later, after hearing rumors of waitresses and hairdressers earning big money, she said she went to the claims office and sarcastically asked if she could file her own claim because her husband wasn’t paying her an allowance for cooking and cleaning.

“They said, ‘Go ahead, file a claim,’” Laura Labat said, adding that she didn’t.

Many fishermen fretted that businesses that were suffering from the recession, not the spill, were getting BP money. A hairdresser at Dorene’s hair salon received $8,000 for her emergency claim. Waitresses at the World of Wings Café and Wingery received between $5,000 and $7,000; the restaurant’s owner got $50,000. A valet car parker at a five-star hotel in New Orleans that was 98 percent full received $1,000.

Felesia Carter, a manager at St. Bernard’s only off-track betting parlor, said she heard customers talking about how they were gambling away claims money. Her business was so good, she said, that employees worked overtime and weren’t allowed to file for claims.

“I don’t understand how BP is just giving its money out like this,” Carter said. “Give it to the people who deserve it.”

****

In September, Randy Nunez, one of Loupe’s lawyers, invited people to an event hall in New Orleans’ historic warehouse district to raise money for Craig Taffaro’s re-election campaign, two invitees said. Nunez did not return later calls from ProPublica.

The stakes are high for the October election, because the parish council recently bumped the next president’s salary from $70,000 to $128,000, a hefty sum in a community with a median household income of about $38,500 a year, about $13,500 below the national median.

More than 200 people showed up for the fundraiser at The Chicory, including Paul Loupe and his wife, witnesses said. Records filed by Taffaro’s campaign committee show that he pulled in $207,400 — more than his combined donations from the previous two years. No other president or presidential candidate in St. Bernard has ever reported raising that much money in a single night, according to Louisiana records available online.

At least $45,800 of that money came from people and companies that ProPublica has linked to the cleanup effort, including Loupe, Nunez’s law firm, Park Investments and people and businesses connected to Park. The amount is likely higher than that, but no list of companies that worked on the spill is available for comparison with Taffaro’s campaign filings.

Through his spokeswoman, Taffaro said all of the contributions were legal.

Loupe is now enmeshed in a battle with BP over what it says it is owed. As of November, the last time the company’s lawyers spoke to ProPublica, Loupe had been paid $25 million, but it claimed to be owed $100 million more. Some contractors in other parishes claim that BP owes them millions, too.

Is BP shortchanging contractors? Are contractors trying to scam BP? Because none of the records are public, it’s impossible to know for sure.

The last interview ProPublica had with Taffaro was in November. He complained that the BP emergency claims were not distributed fairly and said BP and the federal government should have listened more to local authorities.

When pressed about how he selected Loupe and picked the boats for cleanup, Taffaro abruptly ended the interview.

“We’re done,” he said, escorting the reporter to the door. “I will not allow you to do this to St. Bernard Parish.”

ProPublica’s research director, Lisa Schwartz, and researchers Kitty Bennett, Sasha Chavkin and Liz Day contributed to this report.