Visions of an Ecofuture

West Virginia’s Ecofuture

By Quenton King, WVEC President

In honor of America’s 250th birthday this month, our Communications Coordinator Anna asked Morgan and I to write brief essays envisioning an ecofuture for West Virginia, whether that’s 25 or 250 years from now. I dragged my feet because it’s hard for me to think beyond election cycles and presidencies. That’s the policy brain in me. I have a rough idea of what’s best when it comes to a certain policy, but how can I achieve something with what we have right now? 

It feels like I’ve only been politically conscious for 15 or 20 years. How could I imagine a horizon double or triple that? 

As I put pen to paper I found a new appreciation for the assignment. I attended a conference this weekend and the speakers kept coming back to Mariame Kaba’s maxim that “hope is a discipline.” It’s important to envision a world, strive for it, and maintain that determination despite setbacks, failures, and new challenges that pop up and require you and your community’s attention. 

So what do I envision or hope for 25 years from now? If I could snap my fingers and make everything happen at once, we’d be living in a renewable-only world, where communities receive full and fair value for having something located in their neighborhoods. Things that would only be located in a place if it’s sited fairly and no undue environmental burdens are imposed on someone. Protection — for the environment and the people — would come before profit. 

I don’t have a magic wand. And nothing worth having is easy. So with that out of the way, what do I think is feasible? Or what systems do we need to get there?

In my opinion, the future looks quite a bit like the present and the past. I mean that in the sense that West Virginians are capable of resistance and knowing what’s right and what’s wrong. 

Right now data centers are being seemingly proposed left and right across the state. But we see strong pockets of resistance popping up. It’s an honor for me just to know a few names of the people who are doing that work, and that is in no small part due to groups like WV Citizen Action Group, who have been one of the organizations to devote time to supporting local leaders. CAG, and  plenty of other groups and individuals, have been doing work like that for decades, from mountain top removal, out of state trash and nuclear dumping, and more. West Virginia is no stranger to resistance. One hundred years ago we had the Battle of Blair Mountain, and there have been countless other instances of coal and other labor groups demanding fair treatment. 

Hell, West Virginia started as an act of resistance when it split from Virginia 164 years ago (although there were complicated reasons for that split and it’s not as black and white as some history overlookers want you to believe). 

When I look toward the future, I know there will be a long, winding path toward a healthy environment, clean energy, safety, fairness, equality, and opportunity. But what I envision is an elected class that respects and fears the resistance. If you scroll through social media or listen to the governor’s speeches, you’ll see a disrespect toward people who are advocating for the health and wellbeing of their neighbors and communities. They’ll say: “We’re being misled by foreign actors. We don’t understand what we’re talking about.”

We’re a vocal minority. Paternalistic politicians have no place leading West Virginians. My ecofuture is one where democracy thrives, the people thrive, and the world around us thrives.  

A Solar Punk Ecofuture

By Morgan King, WVEC Vice President

When asked to imagine the next 250 years in West Virginia, my first response was to laugh. Finding reasons to hope and dream can be more than challenging in the midst of political and climate collapse. Threats like resource-sucking data centers next to residential areas, plastic waste incineration plants across from schools, and more frequent and intense climate disasters persist. Meanwhile, government corruption at all levels of our political system raises the valid question: “Will those who wield the power even get us through the next 50 years, let alone centuries?”

Yet, despite these seemingly existential threats to our environment and society, or really because of them, I see reasons for hope all around me. From friends advancing local mutual aid efforts to communities organizing against extractive corporations and a government that doesn’t work for them, the radical solidarity shown by many West Virginians in some of the most difficult times motivates me to keep working and dreaming. I not only dream, but see a pathway toward a just transition and a solarpunk future in West Virginia and beyond. 

The Climate Justice Alliance puts it best. “We must build [a] visionary economy that is very different than the one we now are in. This requires stopping the bad while at the same time building the new. We must change the rules to redistribute resources and power to local communities.” The solarpunk movement envisions a future where nature and technology can work together in harmony through collective action, care, and liberation; a transition from an extractive economy to a regenerative one is critical for this future.

I first encountered the concept of solar punk in the novella, A Psalm for the Wild Built, by Becky Chambers, the first book in the Monk and Robot duology. The story takes place centuries after robots gain consciousness, stop working, and move to the wilderness in a previously extractive and profit-driven world, much like our own. A tea monk and robot unexpectedly meet and travel the land seeking an answer to the big question of “what do people need?” all while serving tea. 

To me, the book feels like a literary version of enjoying a warm cup of tea on a rainy day, or really a blueprint for how humans ought to treat each other and themselves, the earth, and our creations. It doesn’t have to be sci-fi. Centered around degrowth, nature-based solutions, clean energy, and community consent, A Psalm for the Wild Built shows us what is possible. 

If you’re feeling lost or hopeless, know you’re not alone; I’ve been there. Taking time to pause and care for yourself really is the first step to fighting for a better future (and present) for your community. There is no just transition or solarpunk future without the collective, and that includes you. For me, reading A Psalm for the Wild Build was that first step in my deepest moments of burnout and eco-anxiety. When the world feels heavy and overbearing, sometimes pouring yourself a literal (or metaphorical) cup of tea and reading a cosy book presenting an alternative and hopeful future can be the best form of resistance. We must sustain ourselves today so that we may be ready for the ongoing struggle toward a solarpunk future.

P.S. You can buy a copy of A Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers from your local bookstore, borrow one from your local library, or read it for free here!