Towards evaluation for a sustainable and just future

Transporting logs on Rio Tapajos in Amazonia (photo by author).

Over the past eight months, the novel coronavirus pandemic has infected some 20 million people and killed more than 700,000, sparing virtually no country. The economic and social consequences have been devastating. The virus SARS-CoV-2 that caused COVID-19 crossed over from its non-human host, probably a bat, directly or more likely through an intermediate host like a pangolin, to a human in or around the city of Wuhan in China in late 2019. The exact transmission mechanism is still not known but the root causes are clear. The spill-over of zoonotic viruses like SARS-CoV-2 is becoming more common as we come into ever closer contacts with animals, both domesticated and wild.  As human activities extend deeper into undisturbed ecosystems, undiscovered pathogens are released. The destruction is driven by the expansion of agriculture and cattle ranching, logging and deforestation, road construction, mining, new settlements and urban sprawl, making space for the growing human population and its ever increasing demands for raw materials, food stuffs and consumer goods.

Although COVID-19 in itself was not known, the coming pandemic was widely predicted by scientists and there were even government taskforces set out to prepare us for its eventuality. There were precedents—SARS, MERS, H1N1, Zika, Ebola and others—although their impacts were much more modest. COVID-19 spread like a wildfire in a globalized world—there were 3 billion airline trips taken in 2019—due to its characteristics of being airborne and contagious before infected persons become symptomatic.

What does any of this have to do with evaluation, you might ask. In my view, everything. And if not, what is the relevance of evaluation to the real problems of the world? The pandemic is an illustration of the kind of challenges we face today, how interconnected the world is, and how events in one place have global consequences. It also shows how economic development and environmental degradation are intimately intertwined. As we cut down trees, not only do we come into contact with lethal pathogens, but we also undermine the forest’s ability to sequester carbon thereby speeding up global warming. As people get richer, their diets tend to become more meat-based. There are now half a billion cows and 23 billion chicken on the planet. There is a patch the size of Denmark in the Amazon, which has been cleared to grow soy beans to feed pigs in Denmark. Another consequence of the increased meat consumption is higher rates of obesity, diabetes and cardiovascular diseases even in countries that previously didn’t experience them. A recent study by Harvard University provided strongest evidence yet linking air pollution directly to higher mortality. Human health and ecosystem health are inseparable.

The pandemic has affected different groups and communities differently. In the USA, Black, Indigenous and other People of Colour (BIPOC) have been disproportionately hit because they are more likely to be employed in essential jobs that cannot be done remotely, and their living conditions are more cramped. They may also have more pre-existing medical conditions rendering them more vulnerable to the virus. Climate change affects the poor and vulnerable communities hardest, whether it is those living on the low-lying coast of Bangladesh pummelled by more frequent cyclones and sea-level rise or small farmers in African drylands suffering during prolonged droughts.

Many evaluators write about these global challenges, using terms like ‘complex’ and ‘wicked,’ but I am not sure that the practice of evaluation has kept up with the theory. Evaluation as a profession has its roots in social inquiry, where we test the effectiveness of interventions on a well-defined treatment population against a control group. We may use experimental or quasi-experimental tools, or we may lean more towards more participatory and qualitative approaches, but either way the focus is on a single intervention and its effects. Our evaluations test the effectiveness of the intervention in terms of its pre-determined objectives. The desire is to be able to attribute any changes in the outcome to the intervention—or, recognizing the complexity and presence of multiple actors, at least the specific contributions of the intervention.

Apart from being narrowly project-focused, evaluations are still driven by donor concerns for accountability and ‘value for money.’ This treats the central question as a matter of simple accounting instead of a choice between types of intervention or organization that can, say, lift the largest number of people out of poverty with the least amount of money. To make things worse, the accounting in development cooperation is for the purposes of the donors and their priorities, not for the benefit of the claim-holders that the project is intended to benefit. This accounting mentality in evaluation tends to miss the big picture and may end up doing more harm than good.

Seldom do evaluations look at the big picture: Are we actually doing the right thing? Is the intervention that we are promoting meaningful in the larger whole? Is it something that the intended beneficiaries want and need? Is it fixing one part of the problem but creating others elsewhere? Is it having unintended consequences for the environment, for disadvantaged groups, for indigenous peoples, for power relations, etc.?

We must incorporate the environment into our evaluations. Sustainable development lies on social, economic and environmental foundations, yet evaluation—like national accounting—is almost exclusively concerned with the economic and, to a lesser degree, social capital, while natural capital and its depreciation are considered external to the system. According to the World Bank, low-income countries get 47% of their wealth from natural capital. This figure certainly underestimates the value of ecosystem services, in terms of clean water and air, health benefits, recreation, protection against natural hazards, etc. Evaluators must learn how to operate at the nexus of environment and development, which means understanding the interplay between human and natural systems.

Some of these lessons come out clearly in the evaluation of the GEF Global Wildlife Program, which is directly relevant to warding off pandemics such as the current one. The evaluation revealed the need to address the root causes of illegal wildlife trade on multiple fronts while also protecting endangered species in situ. Working with local communities to provide sustainable livelihoods is important, but not sufficient. It is essential to address political will, corruption and demand for wildlife products in the market countries of Asia, Europe and North America. Such interventions—and evaluating them—require holistic perspectives and a broad understanding of the dynamic systems.

For evaluation to remain relevant, it must rise above its project mentality and start looking beyond the internal logic of the interventions that are evaluated. It must systematically search for unintended consequences that may lie outside of the immediate scope of the evaluation. It must expand its vision to encompass the coupled human and natural systems and how they interact. And it must resist focusing on accountability for donors and instead make sure that it contributes to learning, for the wellbeing of the beneficiaries and nature in an equitable manner. If we achieve this, evaluation will be better positioned to contribute to more sustainable and just development in an interconnected world.

[Originally published on the website of the European Evaluation Society (https://europeanevaluation.org/2020/08/17/towards-evaluation-for-a-sustainable-and-just-future/)]

It's a matter of cultural standards

How the Japanese deal with the pandemic is illustrative of what’s wrong in America.

The US just set a new record: more than 40,000 new cases of COVID-19 infections in one day. This is the end of June 2020 when many states have been reopening their economies and people around the country have breathed a big sigh of relief: The pandemic is over and we survived it! Except that it is not over and many did not survive. So far there have been more than 125,000 deaths confirmed to have been caused by the virus in the US. This is a quarter of all deaths globally (Americans stand for just over 4% of the world population).

Meanwhile in Japan, there is growing concern that a second wave of the pandemic is about to hit the country. This widespread fear among the general population and politicians alike has been caused by the fact that over the past three weeks or so there has been an increase in the number of new cases detected daily, mostly in the capital city. It is important to note, however, that these infection figures causing the panic are entirely in a different range than those in America. On Saturday, June 27, Tokyo discovered 57 new infections. The day before that, the figure was 54 and the day before that 55. That is 55, not 55,000.

Now, your reaction may be that, well, Japan is a small country. It is indeed much smaller that the United States, just 377,975 km² (147,937 sq. miles), as compared with the 9,833,520 km2 (3,796,742 square miles) of the USA. The US thus has many times the land area of Japan, but Japan’s population of 126 million is well over a third of America’s 328 million. Japan’s population density is therefore many times higher than that of the United States. Pandemics thrive in densely populated places. Tokyo is one of the largest cities in the world—probably the largest if you count the surrounding areas the form the contiguous metropolitan area. Just the area falling under the administrative unit of Tokyo proper houses 14 million people, one-third more than New York City.

Despite this enormous population concentration, Japan has so far only had just over 18,000 corona cases, as compared with America’s almost 2.5 million. Japan also sits next to China, where the pandemic started at the end of last year, and is a major destination for Chinese tourists: 9.6 million Chinese visited Japan in 2019, some of them bringing the virus with them, especially to the northern island of Hokkaido that experienced an early surge in infections.

So what might explain these striking differences? Japan’s Finance Minister Taro Aso, as reported by The Japan Times, had a short and clear answer: Cultural standards. Aso was criticized for his insensitivity, including by some of his fellow politicians in Japan (this is not the first time that he is taking flak for blunt comments that can be seen as culturally chauvinistic), but it would be impossible to dismiss his observation offhand. Unlike in the USA where efforts to (belatedly) control the spread of the virus through lockdowns and social distancing have been met with armed protests, the Japanese never implemented any draconian closings. Sure, there were many common sense changes—restaurants would stop serving alcohol early in the evening encouraging people to return home, train service was significantly reduced—but much of It was done voluntarily.

There are different forces at play. One is that the Japanese tend to be on the average a well-educated populace with a high science literacy. This naturally comes with a respect for scientific authority. People would heed the advice that epidemiologists and medical professionals would give them. This is the first obvious contrast to the US where an anti-science bias has long and deep roots, as documented by the historian Richard Hofstadter in his 1963 classic Anti-Intellectualism in American Life. Many people simply reject scientifically proven facts. Even during the COVID-19 crisis, there have been people claiming that the pandemic is just a liberal ploy to destroy the American way of life.

Secondly, Japan is ethnically and socially a very homogenous country with very low numbers of foreigners and relatively small differences between the rich and the poor. This homogeneity has maintained centuries old social structures and hierarchies. It is also a society with generally a high level of trust: between people and between people and the government. Needless to say, nothing could be further from truth when it comes to the American society today where divisions run deep between different groups and where distrust of the government has in recent years risen to feverish levels.

The Japanese homogeneity is of course not pure idyll. Its downside is that people who are different are often frowned upon, even ostracized. During the pandemic earlier in the spring, “virus vigilantes” would harass those seen as breaking the social rules and putting other people at risk. There were also reports of discrimination against people who would be—rightly or falsely—suspected of carrying the virus, including quite unreasonably health care workers.

Respect for rules and other people’s safety and comfort, however, runs very deep in the Japanese culture. This would be part of the “high cultural standards” that Taro Aso was referring to as helping ward off the spread of the virus. Having lived in Japan for almost a decade and visiting frequently since then, I can attest to the extreme politeness and considerateness that people show to others. Wearing surgical masks has for decades been par for the course during the flu and pollen allergy seasons, not to protect oneself but out of consideration to others. Inconveniencing other people is highly embarrassing. So when the pandemic started, everyone naturally started wearing a mask. Cleanliness overall is at a remarkably high level in Japan, so again few adjustments had to be made in terms of hygiene.

No formal travel limitations had to be put in place as people censored themselves. My wife hails from Iwate, an area between the central mountains and the Pacific Ocean in the northern part of the main island, Honshu. Iwate has been the only prefecture in the country where no COVID cases have been recorded throughout the pandemic (they may well be there, but no-one has got sick enough to require hospitalization). This fact is thanks to health checks of people entering the prefecture that were not mandated by the central government and, notably, by self-regulation by travelers. Like my wife has pointed out: Being the person who gets to be known as the one who brought the virus to a hitherto uncontaminated place would bring unbearable shame to the person and her/his family, so people would rather not risk acting as the vector.

So, now there is a resurgence of the virus in Japan, which has led to quick action by both the authorities and regular people. Scientists have been able to trace the infection clusters that have emerged in the past few weeks since Japan started getting back to normal after new cases almost disappeared towards the end of May. These new clusters are almost all traceable to entertainment areas in Tokyo—karaoke bars, clubs and gyms, “associated with heavy breathing in close proximity,” as a new scientific paper put it.

This same pattern is, of course, visible in the States. Partying over the Memorial Day weekend resulted in a new spread of infections. The pandemic has now moved south, to places like Florida, Arizona and Texas that opened up their economies prematurely, crowding beaches and bars as the weather warmed. On Friday, June 26, the governors of Texas and Florida were again forced to close down bars as new COVID-19 cases shot through the roof. Florida alone reported 8,942 new cases in one day alone.

The question now is, what will happen next. There may be a second wave hitting Japan but it is bound to be a very small one that will again be curbed in a few weeks, as people refrain from behaviors that put themselves and others at risk. It is hard to see the pandemic contained as easily in the US. The rudderless and reactive government response, self-centered instant gratification-seeking behavior of individuals, hugely divided society, and distrust of authority will guarantee that.

The renowned political scientist Francis Fukuyama recently wrote in Foreign Affairs that the factors that have determined successful response to the pandemic across countries are state capacity, social trust, and leadership. The United States has failed in all three. Others have observed that Americans seem to have simply given up on the pandemic, focusing on different things instead. Some are serious—like the Black Lives Matter and police brutality—but many people just want to get their lives back, whether it’s getting on with work and making money or simply enjoying the summer. Now it’s coming back to bite us—and the world watches in stunned bafflement as the country that used to lead the way in so many ways now only leads the way to a downward spiral. In the meantime, the European Union (EU) mulls a travel ban for American visitors and countries like Japan require a 14-day quarantine for anyone arriving there, leaving people like us spinning our wheels at our homes and watching as every new day brings more and more misery that could have been avoided.

Published in Medium.

Coping with the Post-Pandemic Commute

The US Centers for Disease Control, CDC, has issued interim guidance for businesses and employers as employees start returning to work while the COVID-19 crisis is still ongoing. Some of these guidelines are outright environmentally detrimental, which is both ironic and shortsighted given that it is clearly established that the pandemic is a direct result of environmental abuse and degradation. It is a clear indication of the challenges we face if a high-level scientific body like CDC is unable to think more holistically and only focuses narrowly on its immediate mandate.

Most of the measures recommended by CDC are necessary. These include hazards assessments and improving ventilation systems at work places, as well as requiring workers to wear protective masks and enforcing social distancing. These are needed because in the US—unlike in some other countries (notably in East Asia) where government action was early and decisive and the public responses were disciplined—the pandemic is nowhere near its end. In fact, despite the upbeat atmosphere and hopeful calls for a summer of freedom, we still see thousands of new infections and hundreds of deaths on a daily basis. It is great that there are responsible and sober-minded adults, like those at the CDC, who keep realism in the picture. I have nothing but respect for that.

What I am talking about pertains to the parts of the guidelines that state:

"If feasible, offer employees incentives to use forms of transportation that minimize close contact with others (e.g., biking, walking, driving or riding by car either alone or with household members)."

None of us is clamoring to get on a crowded subway or bus during peak rush hour, but encouraging people to ride alone in their private cars should not be the default solution. That would serve to turn back time by several decades. We know that for many Americans driving is virtually the only transport option. Effective public transportation is available only in a limited number of large cities, mostly on the East Coast. It has taken decades to build up the infrastructure, which still is far from perfect even in the best places.

Take New York City. The Second Avenue subway line, that was initially proposed in the 1920s, has been under construction since 1972. The first three stations uptown only opened in 2017. The project has faced many headwinds over the decades, from fiscal crises to political and resident opposition, reflecting generally how hard it is to promote public transportation (or any other public service, for that matter) in the United States. Contrast that with how Beijing expanded its subway system by 40% (at a cost of $3.3 billion) in just about 3 years during the build-up to the 2008 Summer Olympics.  This would be possible even in the States, if the political will were there.

Encouraging employers to subsidize private car use for commuting would be a further blow to the development of sensible transport policies. Note further that the CDC guidance calls for people to drive either alone or with household members, so even carpooling is off the books. Incentives would presumably include free or subsidized parking and perhaps gas money (currently, in Washington, DC, where I live, many employers subsidize employees’ metro and bus fares). This would inevitably lead to increased congestion, not only in the city but on the roads towards it (again in DC, the surrounding Beltway is already notorious for its hellish traffic).

Apart from congestion, the increased car traffic would reverse all the benefits that we’ve gained in terms of reduced air pollution, which in itself is a huge factor in human health. In fact, the lockdowns in response to the COVID-19 crisis have had a significant positive effect on global air pollution levels as traffic and industrial production have been suppressed. Research reported in the Lancet detected measurable mortality reductions in China in response to the reduced air pollution levels. In this case, CDC is thus sacrificing the long-term health of citizens for short-term control of the pandemic.

To be fair, the CDC guidance first mentions walking and biking as preferred modes of commuting, as they should be. The problem of course is that these are challenging options for many people who either live too far from work or who live in places where safe infrastructure—such as sidewalks or biking lanes—are missing. And there are so many such places in the USA, while Europe in particular is way ahead in this respect.

Much depends on urban planning and city design. And transportation is key: how can people move where they have to go—and equally importantly, how far do they have to go. Public transportation should and will remain important but it needs to be made safer through improving health and hygiene measures. Rides on crowded subways have been understandably reduced everywhere but there are things that can be done to make them safer and more pleasant. The peak morning rush hour ridership in Tokyo’s famously packed subway system decreased by nearly 60% between the end of January and end of May 2020. In Seoul, South Korea, one of the most successful places to curb the pandemic early on, crews disinfect the stations after the last train of the night has gone. While New York City has recently restored its subway and bus services during daytime, the MTA has suspended overnight service indefinitely. On June 10, 2020, the New York Times reported that the subway has never been as clean as it is now.

A key to a safe mass transit seems to be to manage passenger numbers, especially at peak hours. This would point to the need to maintain regular schedules—and increase the number of trains and buses, rather than the opposite like has been the tendency in some places. What businesses and employers can do is to regularize telework, so that fewer people have to take the transport at the same given time. If more people can work more of the time from home and if the hours spent at the office are more flexible, then the peaks can be evened out. Of course, these solutions only apply to office workers. People in services and other essential professions will still need to keep regular schedules, but reducing the need for office workers at specific times would still make a big difference in commuter numbers.

Where private cars dominate, pedestrians are squeezed onto narrow and crowded corridors. Research has shown that widening sidewalks and reserving areas for pedestrian streets limits crowding and allows for more physical space between people. Parks provide public amenities where people can relax and which can be pleasant passages for moving from one place to another. Trees clean the air from pollutants and provide habitat for non-human animals. In continental Europe, there has long been a trend towards reserving city centers to pedestrians, from Copenhagen and Louvain to Munich and Zurich. In the US, New York again is taking some bold steps. The city has announced plans to roll out 20 miles (32 km) of new car-free bus lanes. It has also closed off some 35 miles (56 km) of streets from car traffic and created 9 miles (14 km) of protected bike lanes to allow for social distancing during the pandemic. These are a good start and one hopes they will remain permanently.

Mixed neighborhoods that combine residential and commercial uses reduce the need for transportation time and favor walking and biking.  Paris mayor Anne Hidalgo promotes the notion of a 15-minute city where citizens' needs for living, shopping, work and leisure could be met within a 15-minute radius.

Some good things have come out of the COVID-19 tragedy. Some have to do with the reduced traffic that has had a visible impact on air pollution and led to associated health benefits. We’ve also seen reports about wildlife (not only rats) reclaiming areas in urban parks and even streets. It has also led to some rethinking about how our lives and especially our urban areas could be turned into more sustainable and environmentally friendly ones. Let’s build upon these positive developments, rather than going reflexively back to our old ways.

Overall, what is good for mitigating pandemics, is also good for the environment and human health more generally. Mixed neighborhoods potentially reduce suburban sprawl. Parks provide open spaces for people, clean the air and give some room for other species. Reduced dependence on cars reduces air pollution and induces people to move more. And people will also have more leisure time with less spent commuting.

 

The Pandemic and the Global Environment: Which Way Next?

The COVID-19 pandemic has brought home the fact that humans do not exist outside of the Earth’s ecological system. The SARS-CoV-2 coronavirus is zoonotic, meaning it has originated in animals and crossed over to humans. The causes of the increasing occurrence in zoonotic pandemics lie in the higher frequency of encounters between humans and animals (both wild and domesticated). This is exacerbated by how we exploit and abuse the natural environment, and how human influence has become ever more pervasive in the Anthropocene.

The pandemic has revealed significant vulnerabilities even in the North, with severe economic consequences likely leading to an extended recession. Much will depend on how we respond to the crisis and how we approach the recovery. The crisis will present an opportunity to rethink what kind of development we as a society want to pursue. We should take this opportunity to reconsider how to restructure the economy towards more sustainability, respect for nature, equality and participation.

The 2030 Agenda recognises the three pillars of sustainable development, but the environment is usually relegated to a subservient role. A certain shift in attitudes is detectable, but powerful interests will push to restore growth at any cost. The slowed economic activity has in a short period resulted in measurable environmental and associated health benefits to arise. Human health and wellbeing are closely related with a healthy natural environment, including ecosystem integrity, clean air and a stable climate. Should we return to business as usual after the crisis subsides, we will pay the price and the next pandemic will be waiting in the wings.

Policy Recommendations

• Future policies and societal directions should be based on the principles of sustainable development considering the social, economic and environmental dimensions in a balanced way. Decision-making must be informed by science.
• More funding—and funding that is sustained and reliable—is needed for medical and other scientific research to help cope with future pandemic risks. This research should encompass both social and natural sciences. Strong public-private partnerships are needed.
• The sustainable development discourse must recognise the close interlinkages between human health, ecosystem health, climate change, disasters, equality and economic development. This also means that environmental concerns other than climate change, such as habitat destruction and biodiversity loss that are directly linked to pandemics must receive more attention.

 This article was published in Global Policy. The full article can be accessed here.