Dissidents of(f) the grid : exploring the construction and conceptualization of off-grid living on Lasqueti Island

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D

ISSIDENTS OF

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F

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THE GRID

Exploring the construction and conceptualization of off-grid living on

Lasqueti Island

Milan Tamis

10411844

milantamis@gmail.com

Amsterdam - June 27th, 2016

Master thesis submitted to the Faculty of Social and Behavioural Sciences at the University of Amsterdam, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Science, Department of Cultural and Social Anthropology.

Word count: 27.225 Supervisor: R.J. van Ginkel

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Plagiarism Declaration

I hereby declare that this thesis meets the rules and regulations for fraud and plagiarism as set out by the Examination Committee of the MSc Cultural and Social Anthropology at the University of Amsterdam. This thesis is entirely my own original work and all sources have been properly acknowledged.

Milan Tamis 27-06-2016

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Abstract

This research examines the perceptions and practices that construct off-grid living on Lasqueti Island, an island in the North-West Pacific, off the coast of British Columbia, Canada. Living off-grid entails the practice of living without the infrastructure that provides electricity, water, gas and a sewage system. Instead, off-gridders create this infrastructure for themselves on household level, meaning that electricity has to be generated through the construction of different technological systems. I argue that off-grid living is more than a disconnectedness from the infrastructure provided by the grid and can be conceptualized as a philosophy, a state of mind that revolves around the desire for autonomy and sufficiency. This desire autonomy and self-sufficiency translates itself into a sense of otherness, self-governance and independence by constructing an alternative system. Paradoxically however, this alternative system can only be constructed through relationships of dependence that exist both in relation to the outside system, as well as within the system. In this thesis I will show how off-grid life on Lasqueti is constructed through a constant interplay between technology, the environment and both collective and individual convictions and trajectories. The aim of this research is to provide a contribution to the small amount of theory on off-grid settlements in developed nations, as well as to discuss the sustainability and simplicity of the lifestyle. [Canada, British Columbia, off-grid, voluntary simplicity, counterculture, technology, sustainability, environmental lifestyle]

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Would I be able to do this myself, live off-grid? I am not quite sure.

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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank all the Lasquetians I have met in general, and those with whom I have had interviews, discussions and conversations in particular. I could not have gathered my information without their patience, hospitality and willingness to talk to me. I felt welcome and accepted in the community during my stay and I am grateful that I have experienced living on Lasqueti: from the delicious home-made meals to the countless times people stopped their cars for me when I stood roadside with one thumb up. I will treasure the experience of staying on Lasqueti for a winter.

My stay on Lasqueti could not have been possible without the help from Gerry, Cindy and Mike. I am grateful to Gerry for the lengthy conversations, the advice and the introduction to Lasqueti Island. I am also very grateful to Cindy and Mike for their warmth, humor, support and for everything they have taught me in and around the farm. It was a joy to stay at the Old Douglas Farm.

I would also like to thank Rob for providing me with new insights and commentary while working on my thesis, as well as the different staff members of the University of Amsterdam who gave me input while I was working on my research design.

Finally, I would like to thank my parents, with whom I could discuss my doubts and worries both before I headed off into the field, as well as while I was in the field.

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Introduction

‘’Parksville should be somewhere over there’’ he said, while pointing across the sea. We stood on a hill that led down to the beach, overlooking a bay that faced south. I was staring across the sea, not sure where the finger was pointed at. It was dusk and looking at Vancouver Island from up the hill, I could see the last daylight fading away behind the mountains. The sky was clear, making the view of the sea and the mountains an impressive vista. It was then that I noticed a small but bright light shining from the spot he pointed at, making it stand out in the dark landscape. A beacon that proved that somewhere on the other side of that water, between the different shades of dark, a small town could be found. The town was too far away to see streetlights or lit houses, but this light shone bright and strong, and while looking at it, I wondered if it could have been coming from a lighthouse. I knew the light came from Parksville, the town on Vancouver Island closest to Lasqueti, with French Creek, the harbor where the Lasqueti ferry docks, as its neighbor. Looking across the sea, Vancouver Island seemed so far away. Maybe it was because I was not used to island life and thus not used to seeing land across a vast body of water. Or maybe the eight kilometers of water we were looking across impressed me more than I initially dared to admit. Ever since I set foot on Lasqueti, I realized that the only way off the island was by boat. Not a frightening thought, but I was not used to being dependent on a boat if I wanted to travel outside of a seven kilometer radius. Many inhabitants said that we were no more than 50 miles located from downtown Vancouver, but Lasqueti felt like a completely different world on its own, far removed from the hustle and bustle of North American urban life.

Not surprisingly, it is exactly North American (sub)urban life that the Lasqueti inhabitants are trying to avoid. Lasqueti is not serviced by BC Hydro, the province’s main utility company, nor by any other utility provider. Instead, through innovative use of technology, skills and environment, the grid is duplicated on micro level, leaving each house with its own power system, built, owned and operated by its inhabitants. The island lacks the local amenities one could find in most other North American municipalities and with no active enforcement on building regulations, people are free to build their houses in every way imaginable. Although this might give the impression that personal freedom is endless, Lasqueti offers little in the way of convenience, and few who attempt to make the island their home end up staying.

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Figure 1: the view of Lasqueti from its highest point, Mount Trematon

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Setting

Lasqueti Island is a small island in the North-West Pacific, with a land area of roughly 74 km2_in

the Strait of Georgia, in between Vancouver Island and the Canadian mainland. Lasqueti belongs to the Northern Gulf Islands, along with Texada Island, Hornby Island and Denman Island. Approximately 425 people call Lasqueti home throughout the year, although I have been told that this population easily triples in the summer due to all the people spending the summer at their summer cabins. A passenger-only ferry connects Lasqueti Island to French Creek harbor on Vancouver Island. The ferry runs two to three times a day, five days a week, with non-ferry days on Tuesday and Wednesday. The ride takes roughly an hour, depending on the weather conditions.

If you would look down at Lasqueti from the highest point on the island, which is Mount Trematon at 327 meters above sea level, you will find it difficult to believe that this island, covered in trees, was almost entirely logged off during the last century. With its dense forests, rocky bluffs and wild deer and sheep, Lasqueti fits the picture of Canadian rurality. Unpaved gravel roads meander through the landscape and very few houses can be seen travelling down the main road. Yet appearances can be deceiving, as this island hosts a lively community. Lasqueti’s center, or ‘downtown’ as it is often called, is located in False Bay, the area surrounding the Lasqueti dock. The few public buildings Lasqueti has to offer can be found there, including the hotel with pub and gas station, the general store, the ‘freestore’ with recycling center, as well as the primary school, the Arts Centre and a firehouse. The only other public building important to the community can be found more inland, almost exactly halfway travelling down the main road from west to east. This community hall, a large hall including a porch and kitchen, functions as the main public building for social events, such as community meals and workshops.

The early white settlers on Lasqueti were involved in the mining and logging industries, as well as fishing. When the logging industry collapsed, most of the inhabitants migrated to other

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parts of the country, with only a handful of residents that stayed. From the 1950s onward, Lasqueti island became home to many North Americans with a critical stance towards ‘mainstream’ North American life. Hippies, back-to-the-landers and United States draft dodgers attempted to make Lasqueti their home and many succeeded. Most of them, now in their late sixties or early seventies, still live on Lasqueti today. Their arrival changed Lasqueti and their social and political views influenced life on the island. These newcomers did not desire to conform to the North American society of that time and many wanted to escape its influence, envisioning rural life as their future. They sought to build their homes on Lasqueti against the backdrop of a society dominated by the Cold War and Vietnam War. It is precisely this group of newcomers that would later repel the attempts for Lasqueti to be included into the grid, rejecting multiple offers from BC Hydro and protesting against their influence on the island through petitions.

This historical overview already sets the stage for the two distinct social categories present on the island. Vannini and Taggart argue that ‘we need to be cautious about romanticizing the off-grid lifestyle as clearly voluntary and simple, we ought to be very careful in portraying it as a rational political choice guided by enlightened agency and critical consciousness’ (2013: 309). The vast rurality of Canada often means that remote villages are either too far away for a grid connection, or are constrainedly forced to be disconnected from the grid due to exorbitant power bills. On Lasqueti, this is different. There are those, like the first waves of settlers, who look for rural and undeveloped land, in order to create a farm, build a homestead or focus on some other form of agriculture. In their quest for land, these inhabitants embrace the rurality of the island and often view living off-grid as a byproduct. The second group of inhabitants can be categorized as those embracing countercultural values, preferring the rurality of the island like the first group, but more so because of its absent connection to the grid and a conformist society. This dichotomy is not a division that can be observed in daily life, but it is merely a division based on motivations. Inhabitants deal with the absence of the grid by creating their own grid, based on their individual or household needs. Some inhabitants have very expensive and extensive off-grid power systems, whereas others only rely on one or two solar panels to provide power for the few electronic appliances they own.

Where the other Gulf Islands developed rapidly during the 20th_{century, Lasqueti}

experienced only a slight growth in population over the years. During the late 1960s, land development was growing rampant and then-minister of municipal affairs Dan Campbell introduced the ‘ten acre freeze’ (Sweet 1988: 61). This meant that plots of land on all Gulf Islands ought to be ten acres at the smallest and could only support one household, as ten acres was

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considered the minimum requirement of land in order to provide a family with enough space to live. Land could not be subdivided into parcels smaller than ten acres, preventing uncontrolled and undesirable land development. After a certain period of time however, the ‘ten acre freeze’ was lifted, resulting in the rapid expansion of waterfront property and a growth in population on the Gulf Islands. Amidst these developments, Lasqueti was the sole exception by keeping the ‘ten acre freeze’, stopping undesirable development and maintaining a small population. Lasqueti is thus an exception among the Gulf Islands and due to its unique characteristics, it still attracts new residents, some only for the summer, and some year-round. Although they have different profiles from end to end, varying in socio-economic position and educational background, they do have one thing in common with each other: they all appreciate Lasqueti for what it is and they all enjoy the quiet rural life the island has to offer.

Research question and theoretical concepts

My interest in Lasqueti was sparked while watching a short, sensational documentary about the island, portraying various inhabitants and their dwellings. Off-grid resonated with a sense of remoteness to me, but I knew little about the topic. Yet I became intrigued: why would off-gridders purposefully distance themselves from mainstream society by adopting an alternative and self-sufficient lifestyle? And what was needed for this off-grid lifestyle to work? These questions sparked my motivation to go on a three-month explorative fieldwork journey, seeking an answer to the following question:

How do Lasqueti island inhabitants construct and conceptualize their off-grid lifestyle and accompanying notions of simplicity and sustainability?

The goal of my thesis is twofold. On one hand, this ethnography is meant to contribute to the small amount of literature on off-grid settlements in developed nations. In the foreseeable future, this body of literature might expand alongside the growing environmental awareness that sparks interest in off-grid living and micro grids. It is precisely the assumption that living off-grid is a priori more sustainable than living on-grid that I wish to discuss as my second aim. Anthropologist Paul E. Little argues that anthropologists have the power to act as the representatives of the environmental wing of social studies and that through ethnography, we can explore the multiple ways people relate to their (natural) environment (1999: 270). I believe that as anthropologists we possess the necessary tools to analyze and describe an often complex reality that would otherwise be simplified through ‘economic analyses and environmental

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assessments’ (Roncoli 2008: 105). I also believe that present-day environmental problems require us, humanity as a whole, to rethink our ways of living in order to create a more sustainable future. I therefore propose that we, as anthropologists studying human conduct and human group life, should address pressing environmental issues if our research design allows it, by showing how people relate to their natural environment, even if they themselves are not directly the victims of irresponsible environmental behavior.

Throughout this thesis, I work with the theoretical influences of Phillip Vannini and Jonathan Taggart on off-grid practices and perceptions, Anthony Cohen on community and boundaries and Tim Ingold on environment. I do not wish to go into detail about their arguments here, as this will be done in the respective chapters where I combine empirical findings with theory. The work of Phillip Vannini and Jonathan Taggart on off-grid living in Canada provided an early introduction into the life of off-gridders while writing my research proposal, but their material also turned out to be important when putting together this thesis. Although I have benefitted from several of their arguments, concepts and empirical findings, I also criticize their material on several occasions. But most notably, our respective research designs differed in size and scale. Where my research is a case-study of an off-grid community that takes contextual factors into account, their research was multi-sited, combining rural and urban dwellers, individual and community settings. An important distinctive aspect of my case study is therefore the communal aspect of living off-grid: how does living off-grid influence community life and vice versa? It is not my aim to criticize a multi-sited approach, as I can see multiple theoretical benefits, but I do think that off-grid living is a topic of research that is easily affected and influenced by other situational factors, and it is my aim to explore these situational factors throughout this thesis in order to provide a comprehensive description and analysis of off-grid living on Lasqueti. Lastly, it is also the research on the sustainability of the off-grid lifestyle that I find lacking in most of their theoretical material, even though the idea of living off-grid on renewable energy sources as sustainable is briefly mentioned in the documentary based on Vannini and Taggart’s ethnographic material (Taggart 2015). By incorporating the aspect of sustainability into my research, it is my aim to add an extra dimension to this research by localizing this concept into the practice of off-grid living on Lasqueti, as well as the lived reality of the Lasquetians.

Central in understanding Lasqueti off-grid life is the theoretical concept of ‘voluntary simplicity’. Vannini and Taggart state that ‘[Canadian] off -gridders embrace values typical of the voluntary simplicity philosophy’ (2013: 295). Voluntary simplicity is pivotal in the life of Lasqueti inhabitants. It is reflected in many aspects embedded in the local culture, such as countercultural

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values and lifestyle politics, as well as daily life, such as consumption and the use of technology. Archival research in the form of documentaries and books showed that this sense of simplicity and counterculture has been present on the island for several decades, stemming back from the first wave of hippies, United States draft-dodgers and back-to-the-landers.

Entry into the field

During my time in the field, I stayed at two different locations on the island, working for food and lodging. This meant that during workdays, if I was not undertaking any research-related activities such as interviews, I would be working with my host(s) on their property. This arrangement meant that I experienced the work and energy that inhabitants of Lasqueti invest in their everyday lives first-hand, making participation a valuable research method.

Gerry (56) was my first host and I stayed on his property during the month of January. Gerry lives on the west side of the island, not that far from the ferry. He has lived on Lasqueti for 15 years and owns ten acres of land, most of which remains untouched. The central building on his property was his plastic yurt, a hexagon shaped tent made with wooden poles and industrial plastic. This tent functioned as our kitchen, our living room, a storage room and as Gerry’s bedroom. It contained a two-pit propane stove, a woodstove, several counters and shelves and a makeshift table with three chairs. There were several smaller constructions scattered around the property, all connected with a pathway and none of them adjacent to each other. These buildings included an outhouse, a shower, a shack with a Wi-Fi modem and a desk, and the ‘playhouse’. This last building, a 1,5x1,5x2,0 meter wooden structure with a plastic roof, built on a large stump, functioned as my bedroom.

The situation Gerry finds himself in is exceptional; most inhabitants live in somewhat sizable houses, have a well set up off-grid system to supply themselves with power and find themselves enjoying a higher level of comfort, although still somewhat different from on-grid standards. Gerry’s current residence, which we can call basic at best, is not meant to be permanent, as he is in the process of building a new house. Progress is slow, but that is not surprising, considering that Gerry works on the house on his own, whenever he has the time and resources available. Although Gerry maintains contact with some of his immediate neighbors, he is not involved in the larger community and during my stay, Gerry often expressed the wish that Lasqueti would only be a residence for those who aspired a more secluded life. Gerry refuses to make use of the ferry and instead relies on his own boat to go over to Vancouver Island to gather supplies.

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Very different from the place that Gerry is building for himself, is the residence of Mike (59) and Cindy (57), my hosts during the months of February and March. Their farm, ‘The Old Douglas Farm’, named after the Douglas’s who originally built the farm, is situated on the south side of the island. Mike and Cindy have been living on Lasqueti for the last 27 years and moved to the island because they were looking to buy land, which they were able to do so on Lasqueti. The Old Douglas farm has a large farm ground with orchards and fields, and contrary to Gerry’s place, a well set up off-grid power system and water purification system. The farmhouse itself is by no means large, and presumably not bigger than an urban apartment in surface. Yet it is cozy and provides a high level of comfort to its residents. There is enough power to run appliances without having to worry about the power output, and with Wi-Fi in and around the house, I experienced off-grid living on a different level than I did in January.

During my stay with Mike and Cindy, my residence was a self-contained cabin, which made me experience off-grid living differently: turning on some lights meant that I had to run the generator, which was situated about 200 meters from the cabin up the hill. Although the act of turning the generator on and off in the evening became routine after a while, I became aware of what was needed to live here. My position shifted even more from spectator to participant, and I was often surprised by the actions I had to undertake in order to enjoy some level of comfort:

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hauling firewood, filtering water and making sure I had enough power to run the lights. I remember pouring gas into the generator on the hill, turning it on and staring at the blue fumes coming out of the rear as the engine started to roar. I suddenly became very aware of my carbon footprint. I looked around me, standing on top of the hill. I could see the trees and ponds, I could hear the frogs and birds, and I could smell the wet grass. A sense of guilt overwhelmed me: the generator fumes were polluting this beautiful environment just because I wanted some lights on in the evening for my own comfort. I quickly justified my own action by telling myself that my carbon footprint here was undoubtedly much smaller than at home. Or so I hoped. But I still felt uneasy every time I turned the generator on and a deep loud buzz interrupted the evening silence.

Very carbon friendly, on the other hand, were my ventures around the island. Getting around the island and visiting people did not pose a problem: the abundance of cars on Lasqueti made hitchhiking very easy and the friendliness of the Lasquetians made hitchhiking a pleasant experience as well. Occasionally I had to walk a greater distance than I hoped for because few cars were on the road, but walking in the Lasqueti nature is far from punishment. Then there was the rare occasion where I used a bike or when I was a passenger on a boat. All these different modes of transportation allowed me to see every corner of the island.

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Methodology

Like any ethnographer, I too had to adjust my research methods to the reality of the field, although luckily not to a great extent. As a member of the community during the three months, (participant-)observation, informal interviews, document research and photography made up the bulk of my research methods. The in-depth semi-structured interviews that I set out to use, did not prove as fruitful as I had anticipated and at the end of January I therefore decided to only use informal interviews from that point on. However, with all the information from the earlier semi-structured interviews, I was able to obtain a clear overview of shared themes and notions among the inhabitants, as well as other relevant topics that I did not take into account when making my research proposal and interview format. I thus used this first stage of interviews to get a clear overview and used in-depth informal interviews as a second stage of interviews to explore particular topics that were relevant for my interlocutors.

The reason informal interviews worked so well was because of the diverse population of Lasqueti. Not per se diverse ethnically, socially or culturally, but diverse in their interests, specialization and personal trajectories. There was never an interlocutor that did not have some skill that was put to use for the community, or a perception that was not outspoken. Informal interviews allowed me to discuss the same topics with different interlocutors, but still elaborate on some topics more than others, depending on the expertise and convictions of my interlocutor. If I had an interview planned, or wanted to see if someone was available for an interview that day, I ventured out with my notebook, my recorder and my phone, which had its prime use in being a camera. With the limited power available in January, I had to postpone making digital notes and transcriptions on my laptop until I made my residence at the farm in February. It was therefore key that I scribbled down the answers to my questions, as well as other topics we talked about, in my notebook as detailed as possible.

On the days when I had planned an interview, I encountered busy Lasquetians working on mundane daily tasks: unloading a van filled with groceries, cutting firewood or repairing a water wheel. Sometimes this meant that interviews were held while performing these tasks, as they were happy to talk to me, but had very little spare time to actually sit down. So we talked while unloading groceries, I jotted down some words while my interlocutor was splitting wood and we had a discussion en route to the broken down water wheel. I valued those experiences, especially in the first weeks, as this was a means to become acquainted with the Lasqueti lifestyle. But more often than not I was able to sit down with my interlocutors, record the interview and write information down in my notebook. I was often welcomed in homes, workspaces and gardens with much hospitality. I have fond memories of the delicious homemade foods that were

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offered to me, from blueberry muffins to vegetable soups. Interviews usually started in the living room, on the comfort of a couch or fauteuil and were usually followed by a tour of the house and garden, where we would continue the conversation.

Thesis overview

In the first chapter, I will explore my interlocutors’ personal trajectories and motivations to live off-grid. I will show that the concepts of voluntary simplicity, lifestyle politics and counterculture are closely interwoven with one another, by showing their presence in emic trajectories. Off-grid living functions as the means to achieve this ‘simplified’ life, but does not make life necessarily ‘simpler’. Central in this chapter is the notion of autonomy created through voluntary simplicity and off-grid living, symbolizing an aversion to the comfort and dependence on the grid and as a form of counterculture against the overwhelming and so-felt homogeneous northern American culture. I will furthermore argue that it is this sense of autonomy and self-sufficiency, in combination with the awareness of harmful structures in modern society, as well as the fear for natural disasters, that allows inhabitants to be classified as ‘survivalists’.

The second chapter will revolve around sociopolitical relations and community life, showing that autonomy and self-sufficiency are not only relevant at the individual level, but at the level of the community as well. Where independence and partial self-sufficiency are seen as prerequisites at the micro level, the meso level is dominated by notions on self-regulation, cooperation and political autonomy. I will show that the combination of island life, rural life and off-grid life produces a strong sense of cohesion among islanders, uniting themselves in their ‘inconvenient’ lifestyle and sense of otherness. A central catalyst in this sense of otherness and strong sense of community is the shared characteristic of living off-grid. Consequently, I will show how this sense of otherness is not only present in discursive social settings, but is also articulated through political relations in a larger governmental body.

In the third and final chapter, the different ways inhabitants relate to both technology and their environment will be central. I want to show how the reliance on both the natural environment and the artificiality of technology makes for an interesting interplay that shapes off-grid homesteads and daily life. Inhabitants position themselves in a natural environment that they rely upon but delicately try to preserve from harm as well. Due to the use of natural materials, and the absence of building regulations, off-grid dwellings are usually planned projects that materialize over time. Subsequently, I want to highlight the role of technology in both public and domestic settings and illustrate how the environment and technology are interconnected to one another.

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Chapter 1

Introduction

According to Vannini and Taggart, living off-grid means living ‘without the infrastructures that make everyday life convenient’ (2013: 297). This means, as I showed earlier, that no utility company supplies Lasqueti inhabitants with a flow of propane, water and electricity, and a community-wide sewage infrastructure is non-existent. Living off-grid comes with certain perceptions, challenges and oddities that affect everyday life in various ways: where do I get my power from? How is my water supply? Do I have enough firewood?

On Lasqueti, propane, used for cooking, can be acquired by filling up a propane canister at the large propane storage tank on the island ,and water is often supplied through the nearest pond or creek. Yet by far the most effort has to be invested in the system that produces electricity. In essence, there are four ways for off-gridders to generate their own power: through gas or diesel generators, wind turbines, micro hydro systems and solar panels.1_{Each of these four}

methods require an external source in order to generate power: diesel or gasoline, more than a light breeze, a steady stream of water or plenty of sunlight.

1_{The term micro hydro is used by Lasquetians to refer to a water wheel.}

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During interviews, interlocutors were proudly telling me what energy sources they utilized in order to obtain power and where on their property they received their water from. Many even showed me their installations, explaining me what kind of system they designed, how many volts their systems ran on, how old their batteries were and how easy inverters made living off-grid nowadays. Off-gridders are not only the consumer of the system, but they are the designer and mechanic of the system as well. Uwe (49), who grew up on Lasqueti, explains how he feels about his off-grid power system:

UWE: I think that I have been able to create pretty much the same kind of power system as you would be used to be having in the city. It does have its limitations, but I guess the advantage of it is, is sort of feeling like I am able to do it myself. There’s that… independence from… I am not reliant on, or beholding to big corporations or something like that. I mean, I have got my system and I keep it working and if it works, it works, and if it doesn’t, it’s up to me to fix it.

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Uwe illustrates an important concept by highlighting the work he needs to invest in his own system: independence. Whenever I talked about off-grid systems and what people valued most about off-grid living, independence always came up as synonymous to off-grid. Independence means freedom from utility companies, and hence no bills and no unexpected power shortages. But independence also means that off-grid systems are the owner’s own responsibility. Broken or malfunctioning systems cannot be fixed by phoning a maintenance service but have to be fixed by the owner. The process of maintaining and repairing an off-grid system fosters creativity as quick fix solutions usually do not exist, since a drive to the hardware store cannot be made. This is where the difference between off-grid in an urban setting and off-grid on Lasqueti, a rural island, becomes apparent. Lasqueti lies on the intersection where island life, rural living and off-grid come together. In the next section I will show how inconvenience, independence and isolation are constantly influencing the lived reality of off-grid living on Lasqueti.

Abundance through scarcity

As mentioned in the introduction of this thesis, Vannini and Taggart argue that ‘we need to be cautious about romanticizing the off-grid lifestyle as clearly voluntary and simple, we ought to be very careful in portraying it as a rational political choice guided by enlightened agency and critical consciousness’ (Vannini and Taggart 2013: 309). Yet I want to argue that we should ascribe a certain level of agency to the Lasqueti inhabitants and that, in the case of Lasqueti, living off-grid is indeed for the majority of inhabitants a rational political choice. Only a fraction of the inhabitants I met during fieldwork grew up on Lasqueti and even less were originally born there. For many inhabitants, living off-grid was thus not the lifestyle they grew up with. These inhabitants moved to the island over the course of their lives. As I have stated in my introduction, not every inhabitant moved to Lasqueti dreaming about creating and maintaining a sociotechnical off-grid system. Some wanted to abandon the existing North-American grids and most, if not all inhabitants, longed for the quiet rural lifestyle. Therefore their move to the island is voluntary and consequently, in this voluntary move, Lasquetians fully embrace the consequence of moving to a place not serviced by any grid by adopting an off-grid lifestyle. During many conversations, I curiously asked what would happen if BC Hydro would come by and offer their services to the islanders. I soon found out that all the Lasquetians I spoke with desired to remain off-grid. The reason for this, as I will hope to make clear, is exactly because moving to Lasqueti, and living on Lasqueti, is a rational political choice and off-grid living is a calculated consequence. We should therefore ascribe agency to the Lasqueti inhabitants. Not because off-grid living itself functions as a mechanism to pull newcomers in, but because the absence of the grid does.

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However, the inhabitants of Lasqueti island are not only marked by their absence from the grid, but also by their practices and lifestyle politics (De Moor 2014; Gane 2001). Lifestyle politics are a way of addressing social challenges through the individual’s choice to take responsibility for the allocation of common values and resources (De Moor 2014: 4). Lifestyle politics depart from the conscious idea that one’s everyday decisions have global ramifications, which in turn should affect lifestyle choices (Giddens 1991: 223). I want to build on de Moor’s idea of lifestyle politics and I argue that lifestyle politics on Lasqueti are inward oriented, and refer to the politicization of the individual’s choices in any dimension of everyday life (2014: 12). De Moor conceptualizes this form of identity politics as the ‘individual lifestyle change’, to which he refers to individual lifestyles choices based on political, ethical and moral considerations (ibid.: 7). The inward oriented aspect of lifestyle politics refers to the focus on individual lifestyle changes: changing one’s pattern of consumption or the allocation of money and time. Inhabitants are usually excited by their own off-grid lifestyle but are not actively trying to encourage on-grid dwellers to go pursue an off-grid lifestyle as well, although many have friends and relatives who are interested. Tony (73), who works on the island as the postmaster and likes to paint and fish in his spare time, illustrates how personal the pursuit of a lifestyle can be:

TONY: If you want to live your lifestyle, that’s fine with me. I am not going to judge you, it’s just that my personal quest is sort of quenched, because I feel like I have been able to come to terms with the forces that I felt about living.

As I have shown in my introduction, Vannini and Taggart (2013) argue that voluntary simplicity is central in the life of Canadian off-gridders. I want to argue that voluntary simplicity is the central concept in the lives of Lasqueti inhabitants as a result of lifestyle politics and countercultural values. People who ’downshift’ their lifestyle according to certain ethics, morals and (environmental) values can be conceptualized as ‘voluntary simplifiers’ (Alexander 2011: 1). Voluntary simplicity predicates the idea that people can live meaningful and infinite diverse and rich lives ‘while consuming no more than a sustainable and equitable share of nature’ (ibid.: 7). Voluntary simplifiers consider the ethical consideration of the environment and the social impact of their consumption choices, applying a sense of self-restraint in order to address social and environmental problems at the level of consumption and lifestyle (Shaw and Newholm 2002: 171; Librová 1999: 369).

Voluntary simplifiers can be seen as reflexive and socially conscious individuals who resist high consumption lifestyles, who developed a high sense of social responsibility and choose to

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live less work-oriented and money-oriented lives (Craig-Lees and Hill 2002: 188; Alexander and Ussher 2011; Alexander 2011). Voluntary simplifiers seek to maximize their direct control over their daily activities by minimizing their consumption and dependency on external sources (Leonard-Barton 1981: 244). The lifestyle is conceptualized as ‘voluntary’, because it refers to a deliberate act of choice made by the actors to convert to a lifestyle that is more driven by certain values and the awareness of harmful structures in the global society (Elgin and Mitchell 1977: 3; Vannini and Taggart 2013: 303). This choice is voluntarily done by those who have the financial means to do so and not by those who are financially forced to downshift their pattern of consumption (Leonard-Barton 1981: 244).

Voluntary simplicity is often phrased as a countercultural stance towards present-day consumerism, being labeled as an ‘anti-consumerist lifestyle’ and an oppositional living strategy (Alexander 2011). Through ethical considerations and the rejection of conspicuous consumption, voluntary simplifiers often voice criticism against social issues and challenge ‘the standard etiquette and aesthetics of ‘’Western Civilization’’’ (Suri 2009: 46). On many occasions I heard Lasquetian speak out against the hegemony of the United States, Genetically Modified Organisms (GMOs), neoliberal governance, the exploitation of holidays and celebrations through consumer capitalism and a variety of other topics. Yet however countercultural one’s process of simplification might be, the practice of voluntary simplicity is usually situated within consumer capitalism and not in complete opposition to it (Shaw and Newholm 2002: 170). Dwellers of urban environments cannot live independent from the services provided around them and although rural dwellers might be self-sufficient to a much higher degree, they too require supplies and services found in more urban environments. Voluntary simplifiers, in their downshifting, still rely on the dominant system. Lasquetians are well aware of this reliance and use their agency within this system to purchase supplies based on ethical and moral considerations. Even though Lasquetians have little choice in their decision to be part of the dominant (economic) system, they still express their agency by ‘voting with their money’: rejecting the exploitative capitalistic nature of consumerism by opting for local, organic and sustainable products.

Typical practices of voluntary simplifiers found in Lasqueti inhabitants are not only purchasing organic groceries at wholefoods stores, but also recycling waste materials and reusing clothing, books and even electronic appliances through the ‘Freestore’.2_{Voluntary simplifiers}

value that which is created local, and Lasqueti inhabitants say that they would much rather invest

2_{The Freestore functions as a re-use and recycle center. Old garments, electronic appliances, books and other}

attributes can be donated and taken by whomever likes, with the precondition that donated goods have to be in decent shape in order to be fit for re-use. At the backside of the Freestore, a well-used recycling center can be found.

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in the local economy by buying their organic foods from their neighbors, than buying them elsewhere off-island. Voluntary simplifiers, and Lasqueti inhabitants alike, often consider the social impact of consumption on community life by investing in the ‘community economy’ through barter and work-trades, creating ties of interdependence (Huneke 2005: 531; Gibson-Graham 2006).

Vannini and Taggart argue that ‘rather than instrumentally planned utopias marked by countercultural values’ it would make more sense to view off-grid sites ‘as affective spaces shaped by greater spatialization processes which draw individuals in’ (2013: 309). I partly agree: as I have shown so far, most Lasquetians were drawn to a rural, quiet and disconnected lifestyle which they found on Lasqueti (ibid.). However, given the specific historical case of Lasqueti, I find it unwise to dismiss the idea of countercultural values as a motivation to initiate this ‘pull of removal’. The idea of simplifying one’s life as a countercultural stance might draw newcomers to Lasqueti. In other words: the idea of a tactical removal denotes that one wishes to reside in a rural place. But then the question remains: why move to Lasqueti and not elsewhere? Because one is willing to face the consequence of moving to Lasqueti and live off-grid. As I will make clear in the following pages, countercultural values, especially in the form of voluntary simplicity, form Lasqueti as both an affective space that draws people in, as well as an instrumentally planned site.

Where some inhabitants take living more simply as something inevitable when it comes to living rural, other inhabitants view the simplification of their lives as a major goal in life to pursue. Tony, who I introduced in the previous vignette, belongs to the latter and has done so ever since he and his wife dropped anchor on the shore of Lasqueti with their boat in 1973. Tony explains how he and his wife initially set sail for Alaska, but ended up on Lasqueti:

TONY: Our major pursuit in life was to simplify our lives and to get away from needing so much that North America upbringing teaches you that you need. Like machines, cars, washing machines, all that stuff, the whole thing. So I saw an opportunity here to live very simply and to live kind of free from the grid, free from the pipeline. And so we totally went for it. We didn’t have a car, even in French Creek on the other side we didn’t have a car. No chainsaw, no nothing. Just a diesel engine and a boat. But the boat gave us a lot of freedom. It was like we lived in a small house but we had a whole coast because of our access by boat. And that felt really good.

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Tony, in his explanation, is not an exception on the island: many inhabitants have similar ideas about their lifestyle, yet Tony stands out by using the word ‘simplify’ in his narrative. Tony illustrates how ‘simplifying’ his and his wife’s lives was an active pursuit and how this is combined with a certain sense of counterculture: the grid, the pipeline and the general North American upbringing are not things Tony holds in high regard. Tony shows social consciousness of a high-consumption lifestyle, which voluntary simplifiers often reject (Craig-Lees and Hill 2002: 188). Authors on voluntary simplicity argue that there is a growing number of people that realize happiness is not obtained solely through work and material possessions, and that people in this lifestyle partially restrain themselves in some direction, to secure greater abundance of life in other directions (Craig-Lees and Hill 2002: 189; Shama and Wisenbilt 1984: 231). If we take Western standards as the norm, Tony is restraining himself by not using certain machinery and equipment and by refusing to buy a car. Securing greater abundance of life in other directions means that Lasquetians pursue artistic, technical and intellectual projects, sustainable living ventures and spiritual exploration, all of which primarily require more time than money. Many inhabitants did not work a five-day workweek: they did not need a fulltime salary and usually longed for more hours in a week to pursue their own projects or spend time on everyday tasks and chores. Lasqueti inhabitants in general tend to be content with giving up the connection they might have had to the grid before they moved to the island. They often refer to living on-grid as ‘convenient’ and ‘easy’. What is striking in this vignette is the fact that Tony ends on a positive note: he connects the pursuit of simplifying his life to the feeling of freedom he got from only owning a boat. Although Tony shows countercultural values by referring to the ‘North American upbringing’ in a negative way, he chooses to politicize these values in his everyday life by making an individual lifestyle choice based on personal considerations (De Moor 2014: 7).

Inconvenience, practices and effort: apprehending simplicity

However, the term ‘voluntary simplicity’ sounds deceptive, as it implies that the idea of downshifting one’s life inevitably makes life ‘simple’. Elgin and Mitchell (1977) even refer to it as ‘the simple life’. Yet as I have shown thus far, off-grid life is filled with inconveniences and complicated practices. Librová argues that the idea of ‘simplicity’ refers to the complex and harmful ballast of everyday western life, which is considered something to get rid of, returning to the modest lifestyles of previous generations (1999: 375). Various other authors complement this notion by arguing that simplicity refers to smaller scale forms of living, often embracing more modest and energy-efficient homes, and adopting a critical stance towards the consumption of fossil fuels and preferring renewable energy (Alexander 2011; Vannini and Taggart 2013: 304).

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According to Alexander, voluntary simplicity is a ‘philosophy of living that advocates a counter-cultural position based on notions of sufficiency, frugality, moderation, and simplicity’ (2011: 8). Authors on voluntary simplicity define the concept as a philosophy: the realization that life can be rearranged in a different way.

Based on my own participation and observation, I therefore want to argue that simplicity cannot be found in practices, but rather consists of a certain minimalist elegance due to the sense of freedom from so-experienced modern societal complexities and demands, and the contentment that comes from limited, but sufficient and conscious, consumption. Simplicity is therefore not finding the easiest way to go about things, but rather behaving in an ecologically and socially responsible way, embracing a sense of basicness by making voluntary choices based on ethical considerations. Accordingly, I agree with the notion that voluntary simplicity is a philosophy by arguing that it cannot be found in practices: living on Lasqueti is demanding, inconvenient and far from simple, precisely because the practices of Lasquetians involve a certain do-it-yourself attitude. One could make a meal with store-bought products, heated in the microwave, but Lasqueti inhabitants prefer to collect their ingredients from their garden, cook it on their woodstove, and create a meal by using their recipes. Practice-wise, these acts require more effort than a trip to the grocery store, yet these practices get their simplicity charm from being close to the sources and from the do-it-yourself attitude by relying on one’s own craftsmanship and cooking skills. Islanders thus let go of modern complexities and convenience by trading it in for stewardship over their own practices. Although some activities take more time on Lasqueti than they might take elsewhere, inhabitants often experience their hands-on attitude as rewarding. Consequently, voluntary simplicity is interlinked with independence and this can also be situated within the working lives of Lasquetians: most inhabitants are self-employed and self-taught, or learn a trade from another community member. Voluntary simplicity denotes the idea of a ‘simple life’. Yet as several authors have pointed out, very little about ‘living simply’ is actually ‘simple’ (Alexander and Ussher 2011: 16). Ergo, a ‘simple life’ is not a lifestyle wherein practices simplify a life in terms of easiness, but denotes from the notion of a counter-cultural philosophy in which a person rearranges his or her life based on social and environmental considerations.

Living off-grid thus requires careful consideration, planning and both knowledge and skills. Many inhabitants are constantly aware of the utility infrastructure they have to create, operate and maintain. One of them is Laurence (68), who has lived on the island since he was eleven, but also enjoyed several years of residence in London:

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LAURENCE: It’s inconvenient to live here and it takes a lot of effort. I always say when people ask me from town [Parksville]. I say, the very three things you never ever think of when you are in town: your electricity - your power - your water and your heat. You think of all the time here! You spend all your time thinking about those things. So it does make things a little bit trickier and more difficult. But I always loved that inconvenience because that’s what keeps it [Lasqueti] much the way it is. If it’s inconvenient to come to a place you tend to not attract lots of people.

Laurence underlines the inconvenience of having to take care of your own system, always being mindful. Yet what is interesting in this narrative is the difference felt between those from town, living on-grid, and those who think about their electricity, water and heat all the time. Whenever I asked about off-grid life, not only during interviews but also during other conversations in public or private settings, inhabitants would compare themselves and their way of life with those living on grid. In this instance, Laurence refers to them as ‘from town’, but when making such a comparison, many inhabitants would refer to on-grid dwellers as those from ‘the other side’.3_The

phenomenon of an island-centric view where islanders distance themselves from citizens living on the mainland is not exclusive to Lasqueti, but can also be found in other anthropological literature on islanders (Van Ginkel 2009). All Lasqueti inhabitants agree that living on ‘the other side’ would be much easier in terms of comfort and convenience than living on Lasqueti. They acknowledge the inconveniences off-grid life offers but they take it for granted and often even have a penchant for it: inconvenience weeds out those who want to live on the island but cannot because they cannot keep up with the work and inconveniences. Hence, the inconvenience of living off-grid often fosters a sense of exclusiveness as well. Inhabitants feel ‘lucky’ to be able to live off-grid on this rural island and are very much aware of their unique position. Some inhabitants even envision themselves to be right underneath the symbolic ‘one percent’ in terms of how well off they feel they are.

Up till now, I have argued that voluntary simplicity is a central concept in the lives of Lasqueti inhabitants, both as lifestyle politics and as a countercultural stance. Off-grid living is experienced as a way to secure independence from the grid and this independence is often a lived reality in the lives of Lasqueti inhabitants. Nevertheless, I also noticed that this independence was not only created through household grid systems, but was felt as a necessity in other aspects of Lasqueti

3

With the term ’the other side’ Lasquetians refer to Vancouver Island in general and the town of Parksville in particular (Hamilton and Olesko 2014: 69).

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life as well. Lasquetians are well connected to the outside world and well informed about possible threatening worldly events, yet this is in sharp contrast with the sense of isolation they feel on Lasqueti. I argue that this duality between the felt isolation and the awareness of outside threats give rise to what I will call a sense of ‘survivor mentality’. I will illustrate this by using Giddens’ concept of ‘risk’. In order to introduce this concept, I will first explain the isolation felt by Lasquetians and the corresponding acts of self-sufficiency this felt sense of isolation brings forth.

Figure 8: the ferry landing stage on Lasqueti

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All in the same boat

Lasqueti inhabitants are well aware of the isolation Lasqueti provides in the Strait of Georgia and the isolation by the water is often a felt reality. With only Texada Island as the closest landmass, islanders often joke that Lasqueti has a moat. This consciousness is raised by what might be considered the main social institution of the island: the ferry. The ferry, as a point-to-point transport service, allows many non-boat owners to cross the waters and set foot on Vancouver Island. The ferry is a shared experience: all islanders need to go off-island eventually, and taking the ferry is often easier than going by one’s own boat. The ferry is a place for islanders to share stories, talk about travel plans or read and relax. The ferry itself can almost be viewed as a liminal space, transporting people between the on-grid and the off-grid world. It is this felt sense of isolation, the idea of a separation from the surrounding region, that draws newcomers in. They appreciate the rurality and the lack of traffic coming through the island, as the island’s isolation makes Lasqueti a destination and not a place to travel through. Whenever I asked islanders what made them experience Lasqueti as a pleasant place to reside, the stillness was inevitably in the top three of answers given.

The ferry is viewed as both a source of convenience and inconvenience. It allows inhabitants to take groceries and supplies from Vancouver Island to Lasqueti, but with unpredictable waters the ride could be far from pleasant and might even be cancelled moments before departure. But the convenience of the ferry is ultimately a matter of perspective: some inhabitants, such as Gerry, would much rather see the ferry be discontinued, where others use the ferry quite frequently out of necessity. One of these necessities is the act of grocery shopping. Hauling groceries, and any other supplies for that matter, is often a labor-intensive practice. It requires a car parked in French Creek, driving to a supplier or grocery store on Vancouver Island, putting everything into the car there, in order to then drive back to French Creek to take everything out of the car, onto the docks and then onto the ferry itself. On the few occasions that I was waiting in French Creek for the ferry to take me to Lasqueti, people would drive down the docks with their cars to unload their groceries. We would line up on the dock, waiting for the ferry with heaps of large plastic boxes scattered around the docks. Occasionally, pets, bikes and different forms of hardware find their way onto the ferry as well. On Lasqueti, people have to take their groceries off the ferry, carry them up the hill, store them in their cars and then drive home to take everything out again and store them in their pantries.

This means that even though Lasquetians value their independence, they still rely on the mainland for most of their groceries and other supplies. However, Lasquetians are actively trying to minimize this relation of dependence. When it comes to victuals, most inhabitants try to

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minimize this degree of dependence through gardening. During my stay, I met very few – if any – islanders, who did not garden. In fact, some inhabitants even told me that gardening was a prerequisite to live here, as it was considered a norm by the community. Many Lasquetians admitted that they aspired self-sufficiency through agriculture as much as possible, but they were realistic about the situation. They cultivate a wide array of different fruit, nut and vegetable plants, all kinds of crops and some even grow corn and potatoes. Wheat and other grains, however, do not grow on the island and need to be shipped over. Many islanders keep at least several hens or have a larger flock of chickens. Fish is caught locally and some inhabitants prefer to hunt the local deer and sheep for their meat. Food is often canned to be preserved and stored in large pantries. As I took some pasta sauce from Mike and Cindy’s pantry, Cindy assured me that she had enough pasta sauce and other canned food for at least the next couple of months. As a result, most inhabitants do not only supply themselves with their own power, but with a large part of their own food supply as well.

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Yet even with the absence of the grid, the inconvenience of the ferry and the moat, there is one modern infrastructure that makes life far more convenient on Lasqueti than it did before: the infrastructure of telecommunications, in particular the internet. The internet allows inhabitants to order some supplies at home, uphold an internet community via the community website and to work from home if the profession allows for it. Lasqueti even has its own internet society, the Lasqueti Island Access Society (LIAS), providing high-speed internet to households on Lasqueti. Internet is certainly convenient, but most inhabitants agree that it makes the island feel less isolated. Silverstone and Hirsch argue that communication and information technologies are not mere objects, but they are media (Silverstone and Hirsh 1992: 13). They argue that as media, these communication and information technologies have a functional significance: they provide a link between members of a household with the world beyond their front door - or on Lasqueti, beyond the ferry (ibid.: 13). Most Lasqueti inhabitants are highly tuned into this world beyond their front doorstep and make use of radio, televisions and the internet to do so. They have outspoken views on worldly events and are very up-to-date. Topics talked about during my stay were issues such as the influx of Syrian refugees or how the low price of gas was harming the Canadian economy. In the light of counterculture and voluntary simplicity, inhabitants often

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criticize capitalist consumerism and neoliberal politics, which is not surprising considering the countercultural history of the island. Lasquetians often argue that our planet cannot sustain our ‘western lifestyle’ and that profit-focused ventures are destroying the earth by neglecting environmental needs.

A calculated risk

The discontentment inhabitants voice with contemporary society and global developments is strengthened by the felt-reality of isolation geography-wise and the desire to minimize the dependence on the mainland. Anthony Giddens argues that in our modern society, the focus from traditional external risks, such as natural disasters, is shifting to that of internal manufactured risks, manufactured risks that arise from our own intervention in nature (Giddens 2000: 44). He defines risk as ‘hazards that are actively addressed in relation to future possibilities’, meaning that a risk is always connected to an uncertainty (ibid.: 40). Internal risks are ‘out there’: they originate from man’s intervention and could also possibly be brought to a halt by man’s intervention (Douglas and Wildavsky 1982: 10). Giddens argues that these internal risks are more threatening than external risks and that these new internal risks contribute to a new sense of uncertainty, as they have no historical precedent and cannot be calculated for fully because they remain largely unknown (ibid.: 44). Both these risks, whether internal or external, lie outside of an individuals’ sphere of influence. According to Giddens, these feelings of uncertainty and powerlessness give rise to what he terms a ‘survival mentality’ (1991: 193). Giddens defines a ‘survivor’ as ‘someone who feels deprived of adequate social mastery in a threatening series of personal and social environments’ (ibid.: 193). A survivor, in terminology often referred to as ‘survivalist’, seeks mastery in everyday life by finding ways to overcome the threats that might occur in the future (ibid.: 193; Rivers 1975).

Consequently, in his quest for mastery, a survivalist is looking for an alternative system where the susceptibility for risks can be minimized (Rivers 1975: 34). Hence, the alternative self-sufficient system on Lasqueti is a form of risk management and a way to improve one’s resiliency (Giddens 2000: 52). This alternative system finds its foundation in the independence and self-sufficiency produced through off-grid systems and the cultivation of food, and is strengthened through the sense of isolation provided by the surrounding waters. Hence, this alternative system is a countercultural move where the normal code of conduct, as well as dominant economic relations, are not fully reproduced.

As I left the store one day, I noticed a newspaper article that was cut out and displayed on a wall on the patio of the store, among different flyers around it. The title read ‘Ready for

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Anything?’ and was about emergency preparedness on the Gulf Islands in the case of an earthquake.4 The article concluded with the following paragraph:

‘’These basic essentials are usually within arm’s reach under normal circumstances, but a raging forest fire, sudden earthquake or extended power outage can make the most convenient task problematic, with routine swiftly replaced by uncertainty. Taking a moment to invest in the basics should be everyone’s priority. Survival is worth the effort.’’

As I have showed earlier, the awareness of internal risks is very present among Lasquetians. But there is also a present awareness for external risks, more specifically, earthquakes, forest fires and natural hazards caused by global warming. Prior to my stay on the island, on December 29th_{, an}

earthquake with the magnitude of 4.8 on the Richter Scale occurred on the south of Vancouver Island, with the epicenter close to Victoria. The effects of the earthquake were felt on Lasqueti and many of the other surrounding areas. Many inhabitants told me that somewhere in the future, could be tomorrow, could be in twenty years, this region of British Columbia would experience a heavy earthquake. They expressed their skepticism about the state of preparedness the rest of British Columbia was in, as well as institutions that ought to regulate this state of preparedness. Karl (69) has spent most of his lifetime on Lasqueti, and is one of those inhabitants:

KARL: Vancouver Island has less than two days, two and a half days’ worth of food on it. That’s it. That’s a known fact to the people in the emergency business. If there is a major earthquake or something, which will damage most of the marine terminals, there’s no food on Vancouver Island. […] The one thing is about Lasqueti, that anybody who has been here for any length of time knows, that if there is a big earthquake, it’s going to be months before the bureaucrats even wonder or remember that there was an island named Lasqueti. […] And literally: we are on our own. Totally. On. Our own. And we know it. There’s lots of people on the island just with what they grow, they’re sitting on four months’ worth of food. Or more.

During the interview, I noticed that there was no indication of despair in Karl’s explanation. The scenario he outlines has a grim character: in the event of a major catastrophe, Lasqueti would be

4_{The digital version of the article can be found here:}

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forgotten. Admittedly, even I find that scenario somewhat likely, isolated as the island felt during my stay. Yet in his calm and determined explanation, Karl talked about this possible future scenario as if he had told this story many times before. Karl does not show a daunting prospect of an apocalyptic future, but rather a possible new inconvenient aspect of living on Lasqueti that requires preparation and adaptation. Karl, and many other islanders, show adaptation in the form of what Giddens calls pragmatic acceptance (1990: 135). Whether these risks are inevitably going to happen or not, awareness of them does not in any way disturb daily life. Lasquetians know that self-reliance is the key to survival if Lasqueti is indeed going to be forgotten in all the possible tumult. Lasquetians already know that they are independent from the grid, and aspire this self-sufficiency in other areas of life as well. But aspiring self-self-sufficiency in food production is part of everyday life on rural Lasqueti Island and not confined to the idea of survival. There is no desire to withdraw from participation in the outside world completely, although some inhabitants monitor their relation of dependence more intensively than others.

One of the most prominent global internal risks discussed among inhabitants is Global Warming. Many inhabitants believe that fostering sustainability is our only future as the spread of ‘internal risks’ and the collapse of the system as we know it will be inevitable otherwise. Librová argues that proponents of the green simplicity movement fail to conform to reality and that living environmentally friendly in the 21st century is more complicated and difficult than most people might imagine (2008: 1112). She claims that sustainable living is based on a certain self-restraint that emerged out of the need to address environmental problems on the level of lifestyles and consumption patterns, which I have argued is done through Voluntary Simplicity (1999: 369). The idea of sustainability is derived from a certain conscious rhetoric called ‘sustainable development’. Sustainable development can be classified as a type of socio-economic development that understands today’s society and its needs, but does not want to compromise the needs of future generations (Gawor 2008: 130).

The awareness of a degrading global environment, as well as the excess that North American urban life brings with it, make most inhabitants choose for sustainable alternatives. As a result, the presence of risks works as a mobilizing force for change (Giddens 2000: 42). A few inhabitants told me they would rather go without the use of oil and gas, but once I became aware of all the objects that required gas - with the most important ones being cars, boats and generators - I realized this was a brave aspiration in theory, but a difficult practice in reality. Especially the younger generation on Lasqueti views living off-grid as far from being environmentally sound, even though they all agree that efforts should be made to live (more)

Dissidents of(f) the grid : exploring the construction and conceptualization of off-grid living on Lasqueti Island

D

ISSIDENTS OF

(

F

)

THE GRID

Exploring the construction and conceptualization of off-grid living on

Lasqueti Island

Milan Tamis

10411844

milantamis@gmail.com

Plagiarism Declaration

Abstract

Acknowledgements

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1