Who is Mine Neighbor: "Cheap Electricity" and the Cost of Discipleship
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Who is Mine Neighbor
-Joshua A Hill, Yale Divinity School, M.A.R. Ethics 2008
We’ve all heard that our faith can move mountains, but is it possible for our faith to preserve them the way they are? Earlier this spring, I spent two weeks in the coal towns of West Virginia and Kentucky, touring mining sites and talking with religious leaders. I was shocked by the environmental and economic destruction I saw. I was amazed that there was still hope.
First, a little background. Coal-fired power plants supply over 50% of America’s electricity demand. Without it, you and I would struggle to keep our milk fresh, take hot showers, watch Dancing with the Stars, and ride the subway. Indeed, coal-fired electricity has provided countless means by which our lives have become infinitely simpler and more enjoyable. But these benefits come with costs, some of which do not appear on our utility bills.
I write with particular reference to the costly methods by which coal is extracted from the mountains of Central Appalachia. Your brain might conjure the image of soot-blackened men lining-up at the mouth of a mountain abyss with carts, picks, headlamps, and canaries, but this is becoming a figment of the past. Hundreds of American deep mines close with every tragedy like the recent ones in Utah and China.
Here’s how we get most of our coal now: The coal industry simply removes the top layer of the mountain—we’re talking 500 feet or more of elevation—and pushes it into the adjacent valley. This exposes the coal seam so that gigantic machines, called draglines, can “reclaim” it with a level of mine safety and economic efficiency previously unimagined.
Stockholders could not be happier; increased production of a highly valuable commodity with significantly less overhead and risk ultimately means impressive accretions of wealth. But nothing in this world is free: The “cheap electricity” we enjoy is subsidized with the lives and land of people in a place we’d just as soon ignore.
Due to the “improvements” of mountaintop removal mining, Central Appalachia has suffered an 80% decrease in coal mining jobs since 1950. Many of the affected counties rank among the poorest nationwide, according to median household income. With no work, many communities have endured plummeting populations in recent decades. The Interstate signs that once read “West Virginia: Wild and Wonderful” have been given a new, slightly more desperate slogan: “West Virginia: Open for Business.” In addition to the economic fallout, our demand for “cheap electricity” has created an environmental crisis as well.
Conservative estimates figure that over 500,000 acres of the world’s oldest mountains have been flattened by the practice, their ageless contours and ecosystems irreversibly destroyed. The valley-filling associated with mountaintop removal has already buried over 1200 miles of mountain streams. Eternally toxic water used to wash and treat coal stagnates indefinitely in multi-billion gallon storage lakes. Due to declining property values and problems with water quality, many families in affected areas are reluctantly leaving the land which was settled by their ancestors.
Why is this story relevant to living as a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ?
In Luke 10, a lawyer visits Jesus and learns that inheriting eternal life requires one to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” Naturally, the lawyer’s analytical mind raises a most important question: “And who is my neighbor?”
Jesus’ reply—the Parable of the Good Samaritan—contains an interesting shift in focus. Instead of revealing the proper identity of the lawyer’s neighbor, Jesus focuses on the proper behavior of a neighbor. According to Jesus’ answer, who to be is less important than how to behave—like the Samaritan. What is special about the Samaritan’s response, and how does it relate to mountaintop removal coal mining?
The Samaritan’s actions are neighborly in several ways, but one aspect is particularly prophetic in relation to this discussion. When he took the wounded man to the inn, the Samaritan gave the innkeeper a blank check that would pay for room, board, and medical attention. What a radical undertaking! What would it take for 21st century American Christians to “go and do likewise?”
Paying for other people’s problems isn’t necessarily the American way (just take a look at our current health care system). So why should we pay for a solution to the social and environmental problems in Central Appalachia? Our economy teaches us to opt for the way of the priest or the Levite, who chose ignorance over justice.
Unlike the priest and the Levite, however, we don’t have the luxury of ignoring the victims of mountaintop removal. To be blunt, nor are we in the natural position to play the Samaritan. In reality, we’re the robbers.
The plain truth is that our energy consumption is a violent and oppressive act.
Every kilowatt hour of “cheap electricity” we use is heavily subsidized by Central Appalachian land, lives, communities, and heritage. When we ignore this truth, we ensure continued destruction and injustice in places that deserve our nation’s deepest gratitude and reverence. Our nation has used, abused, and ignored Central Appalachia for too long, and it’s time for the Christian Church to become the Samaritan.
In May 2005, Christian Century ran an article by Scott Williams entitled Mine Wars: Rearranging Mountains in Appalachia. Williams describes the history of social injustice that has developed alongside the coal economy in Central Appalachia, and he asks, “How are Christians to respond to this violence?” Williams’ constructive suggestions are bold and well-deserving of Christ’s name, and I hope to add to his good work.
Williams insists that the Church must neither justify the violence of mountaintop removal nor take full responsibility for solving it; both are akin to idolatry. Instead, he offers that, “the only way to reject the violence of energy production without resorting to still more violence is to present the world with an alternative which witnesses to the redemptive possibility that we don’t need to live violently.” Williams reminds that the Church worshipped God without electricity for almost two millennia and that it’s hardly indispensable in our daily lives.
What a jagged pill. The thought of “unplugged” worship resonates in my heart as a deeply prophetic act of solidarity with our tradition and the creation, yet my mind tells me it’s impractical and undesirable for most. Thousands of our brothers and sisters with hearing impairments rely on electricity for sound amplification. New forms of multimedia allow us to communicate the gospel and worship in fresh and compelling ways. Electric stoves in church kitchens prepare fellowship meals and hot soup for the homeless. Congregations now have websites and list-serves that connect, organize, and mobilize parishioners by means never before possible. Yet, Williams’ challenge remains: the Church must provide an alternative to the violence in Central Appalachia.
It would be nice to continue our electricity-dependent ministries, but perhaps we cannot justifiably do so until they are accompanied by measures to act in non-violence toward the people and land of Central Appalachia. Instead of presenting a nineteenth century alternative by shirking electricity wholesale, why not provide a twenty-first century witness? What would characterize such an alternative witness?
One way is conservation. The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has encouraged its congregations to conduct energy audits for houses of worship. Audits allow congregations to examine ways to make their buildings more energy efficient, and they also raise much needed awareness for conservation. The audit is quite comprehensive, and if executed, it signals a powerful testimony. It can be found online at http://www.elca.org/advocacy/environment/envaudit.pdf.
Another alternative vision is investment. Most utility companies sell blocks of renewable power. Usually, all that’s necessary to purchase it is to communicate your church’s desire to do so. If there’s not a box to check on the monthly billing statement, then contact the company in writing or by phone. It may cost extra, but the Good Samaritan foots the bill. And if a congregation expresses interest, the investment motif can be extended to grander proportions.
If buying renewable power is a compelling witness, consider if churches produced renewable power! Given the time-critical status of the global warming issue, investors are pouring billions of dollars into twenty-first century technologies like photovoltaic solar panels, wind turbines, and geothermal energies. As a result, the cost of initial investment is becoming more and more affordable. Energy independence for congregations would certainly present an alternative vision of non-violence. Perhaps the wind turbine is the new steeple.
God’s people stand at a critical juncture in history. Never before have we possessed the ability to make such long-term impacts with our short-term wisdom. In the last 20 years, the equivalent of about 60 Hiroshima-sized atomic bombs has been detonated on the oldest mountains in the world. Our demand for cheap electricity has rendered irreversible catastrophes upon some of our nation’s most breathtaking and ecologically diverse landscapes. It has also destroyed the livelihoods of many our hard-working Appalachian neighbors. Is “cheap electricity” worth it? What will future generations say about our legacy?
A prompt and faithful response is necessary not only for the good of the people and land of Central Appalachia; it may be required for the safeguarding of our souls.
We’ve all heard that our faith can move mountains, but is it possible for our faith to preserve them the way they are? Earlier this spring, I spent two weeks in the coal towns of West Virginia and Kentucky, touring mining sites and talking with religious leaders. I was shocked by the environmental and economic destruction I saw. I was amazed that there was still hope.
First, a little background. Coal-fired power plants supply over 50% of America’s electricity demand. Without it, you and I would struggle to keep our milk fresh, take hot showers, watch Dancing with the Stars, and ride the subway. Indeed, coal-fired electricity has provided countless means by which our lives have become infinitely simpler and more enjoyable. But these benefits come with costs, some of which do not appear on our utility bills.
I write with particular reference to the costly methods by which coal is extracted from the mountains of Central Appalachia. Your brain might conjure the image of soot-blackened men lining-up at the mouth of a mountain abyss with carts, picks, headlamps, and canaries, but this is becoming a figment of the past. Hundreds of American deep mines close with every tragedy like the recent ones in Utah and China.
Here’s how we get most of our coal now: The coal industry simply removes the top layer of the mountain—we’re talking 500 feet or more of elevation—and pushes it into the adjacent valley. This exposes the coal seam so that gigantic machines, called draglines, can “reclaim” it with a level of mine safety and economic efficiency previously unimagined.
Stockholders could not be happier; increased production of a highly valuable commodity with significantly less overhead and risk ultimately means impressive accretions of wealth. But nothing in this world is free: The “cheap electricity” we enjoy is subsidized with the lives and land of people in a place we’d just as soon ignore.
Due to the “improvements” of mountaintop removal mining, Central Appalachia has suffered an 80% decrease in coal mining jobs since 1950. Many of the affected counties rank among the poorest nationwide, according to median household income. With no work, many communities have endured plummeting populations in recent decades. The Interstate signs that once read “West Virginia: Wild and Wonderful” have been given a new, slightly more desperate slogan: “West Virginia: Open for Business.” In addition to the economic fallout, our demand for “cheap electricity” has created an environmental crisis as well.
Conservative estimates figure that over 500,000 acres of the world’s oldest mountains have been flattened by the practice, their ageless contours and ecosystems irreversibly destroyed. The valley-filling associated with mountaintop removal has already buried over 1200 miles of mountain streams. Eternally toxic water used to wash and treat coal stagnates indefinitely in multi-billion gallon storage lakes. Due to declining property values and problems with water quality, many families in affected areas are reluctantly leaving the land which was settled by their ancestors.
Why is this story relevant to living as a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ?
In Luke 10, a lawyer visits Jesus and learns that inheriting eternal life requires one to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” Naturally, the lawyer’s analytical mind raises a most important question: “And who is my neighbor?”
Jesus’ reply—the Parable of the Good Samaritan—contains an interesting shift in focus. Instead of revealing the proper identity of the lawyer’s neighbor, Jesus focuses on the proper behavior of a neighbor. According to Jesus’ answer, who to be is less important than how to behave—like the Samaritan. What is special about the Samaritan’s response, and how does it relate to mountaintop removal coal mining?
The Samaritan’s actions are neighborly in several ways, but one aspect is particularly prophetic in relation to this discussion. When he took the wounded man to the inn, the Samaritan gave the innkeeper a blank check that would pay for room, board, and medical attention. What a radical undertaking! What would it take for 21st century American Christians to “go and do likewise?”
Paying for other people’s problems isn’t necessarily the American way (just take a look at our current health care system). So why should we pay for a solution to the social and environmental problems in Central Appalachia? Our economy teaches us to opt for the way of the priest or the Levite, who chose ignorance over justice.
Unlike the priest and the Levite, however, we don’t have the luxury of ignoring the victims of mountaintop removal. To be blunt, nor are we in the natural position to play the Samaritan. In reality, we’re the robbers.
The plain truth is that our energy consumption is a violent and oppressive act.
Every kilowatt hour of “cheap electricity” we use is heavily subsidized by Central Appalachian land, lives, communities, and heritage. When we ignore this truth, we ensure continued destruction and injustice in places that deserve our nation’s deepest gratitude and reverence. Our nation has used, abused, and ignored Central Appalachia for too long, and it’s time for the Christian Church to become the Samaritan.
In May 2005, Christian Century ran an article by Scott Williams entitled Mine Wars: Rearranging Mountains in Appalachia. Williams describes the history of social injustice that has developed alongside the coal economy in Central Appalachia, and he asks, “How are Christians to respond to this violence?” Williams’ constructive suggestions are bold and well-deserving of Christ’s name, and I hope to add to his good work.
Williams insists that the Church must neither justify the violence of mountaintop removal nor take full responsibility for solving it; both are akin to idolatry. Instead, he offers that, “the only way to reject the violence of energy production without resorting to still more violence is to present the world with an alternative which witnesses to the redemptive possibility that we don’t need to live violently.” Williams reminds that the Church worshipped God without electricity for almost two millennia and that it’s hardly indispensable in our daily lives.
What a jagged pill. The thought of “unplugged” worship resonates in my heart as a deeply prophetic act of solidarity with our tradition and the creation, yet my mind tells me it’s impractical and undesirable for most. Thousands of our brothers and sisters with hearing impairments rely on electricity for sound amplification. New forms of multimedia allow us to communicate the gospel and worship in fresh and compelling ways. Electric stoves in church kitchens prepare fellowship meals and hot soup for the homeless. Congregations now have websites and list-serves that connect, organize, and mobilize parishioners by means never before possible. Yet, Williams’ challenge remains: the Church must provide an alternative to the violence in Central Appalachia.
It would be nice to continue our electricity-dependent ministries, but perhaps we cannot justifiably do so until they are accompanied by measures to act in non-violence toward the people and land of Central Appalachia. Instead of presenting a nineteenth century alternative by shirking electricity wholesale, why not provide a twenty-first century witness? What would characterize such an alternative witness?
One way is conservation. The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has encouraged its congregations to conduct energy audits for houses of worship. Audits allow congregations to examine ways to make their buildings more energy efficient, and they also raise much needed awareness for conservation. The audit is quite comprehensive, and if executed, it signals a powerful testimony. It can be found online at http://www.elca.org/advocacy/environment/envaudit.pdf.
Another alternative vision is investment. Most utility companies sell blocks of renewable power. Usually, all that’s necessary to purchase it is to communicate your church’s desire to do so. If there’s not a box to check on the monthly billing statement, then contact the company in writing or by phone. It may cost extra, but the Good Samaritan foots the bill. And if a congregation expresses interest, the investment motif can be extended to grander proportions.
If buying renewable power is a compelling witness, consider if churches produced renewable power! Given the time-critical status of the global warming issue, investors are pouring billions of dollars into twenty-first century technologies like photovoltaic solar panels, wind turbines, and geothermal energies. As a result, the cost of initial investment is becoming more and more affordable. Energy independence for congregations would certainly present an alternative vision of non-violence. Perhaps the wind turbine is the new steeple.
God’s people stand at a critical juncture in history. Never before have we possessed the ability to make such long-term impacts with our short-term wisdom. In the last 20 years, the equivalent of about 60 Hiroshima-sized atomic bombs has been detonated on the oldest mountains in the world. Our demand for cheap electricity has rendered irreversible catastrophes upon some of our nation’s most breathtaking and ecologically diverse landscapes. It has also destroyed the livelihoods of many our hard-working Appalachian neighbors. Is “cheap electricity” worth it? What will future generations say about our legacy?
A prompt and faithful response is necessary not only for the good of the people and land of Central Appalachia; it may be required for the safeguarding of our souls.