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In an era marked by escalating technological advancements, environmental crises, and intensifying cultural conflicts, the need for a transformative rearticulation of human values has never been more urgent. At the heart of this transformative quest lies a critical interrogation of our modes of existence, belief systems, and the economic structures that have come to define this period—not merely as the fulfillment of late-stage capitalism but as the logical culmination of its contradictions, a trajectory long recognized in critiques of imperialism and monopoly capital.

Our engagement with the world is too often confined within the narrow parameters of political economy, where even environmental concerns—issues that should fundamentally redefine our economic and political structures—remain subordinated to financial interests. This persistent framing reflects the hegemonic logic of capital, which demands that all aspects of life be mediated through market valuation and economic utility.

Yet, a critical omission in this framework is the role of interfaith engagement—not merely as a cultural or spiritual exercise, but as a structural force capable of counterbalancing the exploitative logics that define this era. Rather than an appendage to political economy, interfaith dialogue should be understood as a third pillar of human engagement, a necessary modulator that introduces ethical, moral, and cosmological considerations into the economic calculus. The systematic exclusion of faith from these discussions stems, in part, from its co-optation by power. Across history, organized religion has been instrumentalized to justify some of humanity’s most egregious crimes—genocide, slavery, expropriation, systemic fraud, and the violent dispossession of land and culture. This complicity has rightly drawn critique, but to dismiss religion entirely is to ignore its parallel tradition as a force for liberation.

Figures such as Jesus and Muhammad did not merely advance spiritual doctrines; they were radical social reformers who directly challenged the material and political structures of their time, calling for the redistribution of wealth, the upliftment of the poor, and the dismantling of oppressive hierarchies. Gautama Buddha, in his rejection of attachment to material accumulation and his emphasis on ethical living, laid out a framework for liberation that, while often depoliticized in contemporary readings, fundamentally disrupted the prevailing social and economic order.

Rather than allowing religion to be instrumentalized by capital or state power, interfaith engagement should reclaim its role as an emancipatory force. It must resist both commodification and dogmatic rigidity, positioning itself instead as a site of collective ethical reasoning—a space where economic and political decisions are scrutinized through the lens of justice, sustainability, and communal well-being. In a world where neoliberalism has normalized the commodification of life itself, the reintegration of spiritual and ethical dimensions into our economic models is not just desirable but necessary for survival.

Martin Heidegger’s seminal work, Being and Time, arguably offers the clearest articulation of “being,” echoing indigenous principles like the Fijian notion of Vakatabu—a philosophy of restraint and a “Whole of Life” sensibility. Indigenous epistemologies and spiritualities intertwine with Western humanist traditions, offering a potent counter-narrative to neoliberalism, Christian nationalism, and imperial domination.

The notion of spiritual warfare is deployed here not as a metaphor for conflict among differing belief systems but as a substantive framework for understanding the clash between humanistic, ecologically sustainable values and the destructive tendencies of neoliberalism. This article argues that our humanity, as encapsulated in the existential inquiries of Heidegger, has exposed the alienation inherent in our technological and economic regimes. Indigenous traditions and spirituality like Vakatabu offer a more integrated vision of being—one that is deeply relational, bound by place, and often attuned to Indigenous Peoples’ perceptions of the natural world.

But my friend, we have come too late. Though the gods are living,
Over our heads they live, up in a different world.

—Bread and Wine (excerpt), Friedrich Hölderlin

I. Heidegger’s Being and Time: Revisiting Existence

In confronting the crises of our post-modern era—an age defined by hyper-financialization, ecological collapse, and the algorithmic mediation of existence—we must recognize that we are not merely passive subjects within these systems but existential beings whose fundamental orientation is toward ‘Being-in-the-world’. Heidegger’s Being and Time challenges us to move beyond the superficial distractions of technological modernity and late-stage capitalism, not through nostalgia or retreat, but through a radical re-engagement with authenticity, finitude, and collective responsibility. Rather than accepting the extractive logic of the present as an inevitability, we must actively reject this era’s defining conditions, not in the sense of regression, but in a conscious movement toward a future grounded in a deeper understanding of Being—one that recognizes the wisdom embedded in indigenous epistemologies, the ethical imperatives of interfaith traditions, and the necessity of a moral realignment with the world. If we are to navigate the spiritual and existential crisis of our time, it will not be through further immersion in abstraction, commodification, or hyper-acceleration, but through aligning to ways of being that have long resisted the totalizing force of capital. In this, indigenous traditions and interfaith ethics offer not merely alternatives but vital pathways toward a more just and ecologically attuned existence, reminding us that the future is not something to be optimized, but something to be lived, relationally and responsibly, within the fullness of Being.

Heidegger challenges the traditional metaphysical understanding of human existence by exploring the nature of Being (Sein) in relation to time (Zeit). Heidegger contends that the human mode of being—what he terms Dasein—cannot be understood apart from its temporality, its situatedness in a world of possibilities, and its intrinsic finitude. His analysis reveals that modern technological society, with its emphasis on efficiency and calculability, has led to a disconnection from a more authentic way of “being”—one that is engaged, reflective, and rooted in the world.

Heidegger’s critique has often been read through a lens that neglects non-Western modes of thought. His focus on authenticity and the search for meaning should resonate with many indigenous traditions, even if he rarely acknowledged the alternative epistemologies that arise from communities with long histories of living in close symbiosis with nature. In many ways, the existential project Heidegger set forth is incomplete without a critical engagement with indigenous knowledge systems—systems that do not see time as a linear resource to be optimized but as a complex tapestry of relationships and responsibilities.

Like in the excerpt from the Bread and Wine poem, Hölderlin acknowledges that the gods have withdrawn, but their presence is not entirely lost—they exist elsewhere, waiting. Western or Indigenous, our human experience resonates with traditions where our connection to what is sacred remains dormant until it is rekindled by those who remember.

II. Vakatabu: Indigenous Restraint and the Whole of Life

In Fijian culture, the notion of Vakatabu encapsulates a sense of restraint and renewal—a principle that is not merely about self-control but is an ethical mode of being that governs interpersonal and environmental relationships. Vakatabu is imbued with the understanding that life is not an endless accumulation of resources or experiences to be exploited for immediate gain but is a carefully balanced interplay of give and take, presence and absence. This principle is directly antithetical to the consumerist ethos valuing accumulation and expansion at the expense of long-term sustainability and relational well-being.

Vakatabu leads communities to adopt a “whole of life” perspective—one that sees economic activities not as isolated transactions but as embedded within a broader ecological and spiritual matrix. In this light, ecological accounting emerges as an indispensable tool. Unlike conventional economic accounting, which focuses narrowly on monetary transactions, ecological accounting acknowledges that human well-being is intricately linked to the health of the environment. By integrating the valuation of biodiversity and social relationships, ecological accounting—what might be termed “intemerate accounting”—offers a more comprehensive measure of prosperity, one that is aligned with the principles of Vakatabu.

III. Spiritual Warfare: Hegemony, Faith, and the Political-Economic Struggle

The contemporary global landscape is marked by what can be termed as “spiritual warfare.” This struggle is evident in the contestation between ideologies that seek to impose a singular, often hegemonic, vision of humanity. On one side, we find the resurgence of Christian nationalism and contemporary Zionism—ideologies that not only claim divine sanction but also impose a rigid, often exclusionary, framework of belonging. This is evident, for instance, in the symbolic inscription of “In God We Trust” on the US dollar—a practice that intertwines religious iconography with the material power of a global reserve currency. Such gestures are not benign; they reflect an attempt to imbue economic transactions with a particular moral and theological order, one that reinforces nationalistic and imperialistic agendas.

Conversely, indigenous spirituality offers an alternative narrative—one that like interfaith, locates itself in a specific sense of time and place, and resists the commodification of belief. Indigenous traditions, with their totemic sensibilities and holistic understandings of the cosmos, challenge the reductionist worldview that underpins the neoliberal economy. They remind us that spiritual and material realms are deeply intertwined, and that the valorization of economic growth at any cost inevitably leads to environmental degradation and social dislocation.

The concept of spiritual warfare, then, might be understood as a struggle for the soul of society—a contest between a legacy of colonialism and imperial power, which exported a narrow, profit-driven view of existence, and a multiplicity of traditions that honor the intricate, interdependent nature of life. In this context, the battle lines are drawn not only in the economic or political arena but also within the realm of belief, where indigenous practices offer both resistance and an alternative model of living.

IV. Ecological Accounting and the Well-Being Economy

At the intersection of ecological accounting and indigenous spirituality lies the promise of a radically different economy—one that measures progress not in terms of GDP growth but in terms of well-being, environmental health, and social justice. The concept of “intemerate accounting” captures this alternative vision. By treating well-being as a modulator for economic performance, intemerate accounting challenges the dominant paradigm that equates value solely with market transactions.

This approach calls for the rearticulation of economic metrics to include non-market values such as ecosystem services, cultural heritage, and community resilience. It echoes the concerns raised by critics of natural capital valuation, who argue that monetizing nature risks commodifying what is inherently sacred and relational. Instead, by adopting a framework that privileges the cumulative value of our interactions with the environment, societies can begin to account for the true cost of economic activities, both in terms of ecological degradation and the erosion of cultural and spiritual practices.

Ecological accounting is thus both a technical and ethical project. Technically, it requires the development of new metrics, data collection methods, and regulatory frameworks that respect local data sovereignty and the principles of free, prior, and informed consent. Ethically, it challenges the prevailing logic of scarcity and commodification, offering instead a vision of abundance that is rooted in restraint—a vision that resonates strongly with the concept of Vakatabu. In this way, ecological accounting becomes a tool of resistance, a means to counter the hegemonic forces of neoliberalism and imperialism that seek to impose a one-dimensional measure of progress on a diverse and complex world.

V. Rearticulating Humanity: A Synthesis of Being, Restraint, and Spiritual Resistance

What emerges from this dialogue between Heidegger’s existential inquiry and the Fijian ethic of Vakatabu is a renewed conception of what it means to be human in the world. Heidegger’s call for an authentic engagement with one’s own being—an acknowledgment of the finitude and temporality of existence—finds a complementary echo in the indigenous insistence on living in harmony with nature and each other. Both perspectives challenge the relentless pursuit of profit and technological mastery that characterizes the neoliberal ethos.

In the context of spiritual warfare, this rearticulated humanity takes on a political and economic dimension. It is a humanity that refuses to be subsumed by a market logic that reduces life to a series of transactions. Instead, it is a humanity that recognizes the intrinsic value of restraint, embodied in Vakatabu, and seeks to build an economic system that is both ecologically sustainable and culturally inclusive. This rearticulated humanism stands in stark contrast to the divisive ideologies of Christian nationalism and contemporary Zionism, which serve as tools of imperial domination and cultural homogenization.

The struggle to reclaim this vision of humanity is not without its challenges. The forces arrayed against it are powerful and deeply entrenched, drawing on centuries of institutionalized power and the persuasive allure of market-based ideologies. Yet, as the global community grapples with the twin crises of climate change and social inequality, the imperative to rethink our economic and spiritual foundations becomes ever more pressing.

In practical terms, embracing a Vakatabu-inspired approach to life and economics would involve a series of transformative steps. First, it requires a fundamental reorientation of our educational and cultural institutions to valorize indigenous knowledge systems and ecological literacy. Second, it calls for the democratization of economic governance, ensuring that local communities have a decisive say in how their resources and data are managed. Third, it demands the development of regulatory frameworks that transcend narrow market logic and instead promote well-being—a regulatory vision that is attuned to the principles of free, prior, and informed consent.

In this rearticulated framework, economic indicators would no longer be the sole arbiters of progress. Instead, a suite of metrics that capture the health of our ecosystems, the strength of our communities, and the resilience of our cultural practices would come to define what it means to thrive. Such an approach would not only mitigate the ecological and social costs of unfettered growth but also forge a pathway toward a more equitable and sustainable global order.

Conclusion

If late-stage capitalism is capitalism’s final form, its expansion into environmental data marks the last frontier of commodification—where not only land and labor but life itself is financialized. This is not just an economic struggle but a fight for the right to exist beyond capital’s dictates. The question is not whether we can work within these markets but whether we can resist them entirely. Rejecting the premise that nature’s value can be measured, traded, and securitized, we must reclaim reciprocity, collective governance, and ecological autonomy. Yet capitalism’s total enclosure signals its own existential crisis, creating the possibility for rupture.

Drawing from Heidegger and Vakatabu, we can envision a future where well-being, ecological balance, and cultural diversity replace profit as the foundation of society. The struggle to redefine progress—not by monetary gain but by the health of our communities and ecosystems—is a struggle for our soul. As we navigate a world of deep divisions and competing visions, the wisdom of indigenous traditions and existential inquiry reminds us that economic, cultural, and spiritual lives are inseparable. Recognizing this interconnection is key to transforming the very foundations of existence.

References

Heidegger, Martin. (1962). Being and Time. Harper & Row.

Levi-Strauss, Claude. (1966). The Savage Mind. University of Chicago Press

Vaai, Upolu & Aisake Casimira. (2024). The ‘Whole of Life’ Way: Unburying Vakatabu Philosophies and Theologies for Pasifika Development. PTC Press

The Moss Landing Lithium Plant Fire

The Moss Landing lithium battery plant fire on January 16, 2025, at Vistra Energy’s facility in Monterey, California, should be a wake-up call for not only the energy storage industry, but for every industrial plant. As we have seen with the wildfires that destroyed Pacific Palisades and Altadena earlier this month, climate change is exacerbating previous environmental precautions and there is no promise of their effectiveness in an era where environmental conditions are shifting faster than policy adaptations.

The intensification of wildfires, for example, fueled by prolonged droughts and erratic weather patterns, exposes the inadequacy of outdated regulatory frameworks designed for a climate that is simply, just weird. Without a fundamental rethinking of mitigation strategies, disaster response, and infrastructure resilience, communities will continue to bear the consequences of a system unprepared for the accelerating realities of climate change.

The Moss Landing incident destroyed most of a 300-MW battery array and led to the evacuation of approximately 1,500 residents due to concerns over toxic smoke emissions. This event underscores the critical need for enhanced safety protocols, rigorous monitoring systems, and comprehensive emergency response plans in large-scale battery storage facilities. As the adoption of lithium-ion batteries becomes more widespread in the pursuit of renewable energy solutions, it is imperative to address these safety challenges proactively.

The fire forced 1,200 to 1,500 evacuations over concerns about toxic smoke and hydrogen fluoride emissions. Investigators suspect a fire suppression failure, raising concerns about safety at large-scale battery storage sites, especially as this was not the first incident at Moss Landing. The fire underscores the urgent need for stronger safety measures as lithium battery storage expands in the shift to renewable energy.

Regulatory Capture and Corporate Cronyism

Per capita, it should be no surprise that the United States remains the largest consumer of goods and resources and plays an outsized role in driving global extraction, production, and environmental degradation. While China has surpassed the United States as the largest consumer overall, we have to bear in mind that China’s population is ~1.4 billion, while the United States is ~340 million.

In principle, if we consume the most, we should bear the greatest risk—environmentally, socially, and economically. However, this is not how the global system is structured. Instead, risk is externalized, displaced onto other nations, particularly in the Global South, where environmental regulations are often weaker, labor protections are lower, and corporate accountability is diluted by international supply chains. So that being the case, how should we then come to understand that half of the perhaps worst industrial disasters in the last ten years have occurred in the United States? What does that say about our regulatory accountability and infrastructure, and what does that mean in the context of Trump’s new Department of Government Efficiency headed by Elon Musk, the CEO of Tesla, the largest consumer of lithium batteries in the automotive industry?

When President Trump outlined his second term by withdrawing from the Paris Agreement; cut government spending from the Green New Deal—the largest climate investment in U.S. history; lifted hydrocarbon extraction restrictions; and embraced outdated slogans like “drill baby drill” into his imperialist doctrine, what does that signal to the world about our efficacy as a nation? Is corporate cronyism still an ethical quandary, or did we leave that buried in the rubble of our so-called liberal democracy?

Rather than asserting sovereignty or economic pragmatism, these moves broadcast a retreat into a petro-imperial nostalgia, one that clings to the spoils of resource hegemony at the expense of ecological and economic stability. If there was ever a moment to bury the neoliberal fantasy of free markets correcting themselves, it is now—because climate catastrophe is not a market externality, and the world has stopped waiting for the U.S. to wake up.

Some recent examples

Subjectively measured by human and environmental health, this is a list of arguably the five largest industrial chemical and industrial disasters from the past 10 years. Each of these disasters highlights the persistent risks of industrial chemical storage and transport—often worsened by poor regulations, negligence, and inadequate disaster preparedness, and if we include the Moss Landing lithium fire, the U.S. harbors half of this global list

1. Beirut Port Explosion (Lebanon, 2020)

• Cause: 2,750 tons of ammonium nitrate improperly stored in a warehouse exploded.
• Impact: Over 218 deaths, 7,000 injuries, and 300,000 displaced people. The explosion caused toxic air pollution and released hazardous chemicals into the Mediterranean Sea.

2. West Fertilizer Company Explosion (West Texas, 2013)

• Cause: Combustion of ammonium nitrate at a fertilizer plant.
• Impact: 15 deaths, 260+ injuries, and destruction of a school, nursing home, and nearby homes..

3. Tianjin Chemical Blasts (China, 2015)

• Cause: A storage facility containing hazardous chemicals, including sodium cyanide, exploded.
• Impact: 173 deaths, widespread toxic contamination of air, soil, and water. High levels of cyanide and heavy metals polluted nearby communities and water sources.

4. Ohio Train Derailment (USA, 2023)

• Cause: A Norfolk Southern train carrying hazardous chemicals derailed in East Palestine, releasing vinyl chloride and other toxic gases.
• Impact: Immediate evacuations, toxic air and water contamination, and long-term cancer risks from dioxins and PFAS. Many residents reported health symptoms, and wildlife & aquatic life suffered massive die-offs.

5. Chemtool Fire (USA, 2021)

• Cause: An explosion at a lubricant and grease manufacturing plant in Illinois, releasing toxic PFAS and heavy metals.
• Impact: Mass evacuations, hazardous air pollution, and long-term groundwater contamination. Residents reported respiratory and neurological effects.

Shouldn’t this mean that the U.S. should take on greater regulatory responsibility? In theory, yes. If consumption dictates accountability, then U.S. regulatory frameworks should not only govern domestic industries but extend across supply chains—ensuring that environmental and labor standards apply where materials are sourced and goods are produced. However, the reality is different. Corporate interests prioritize cost-cutting and efficiency over precautionary regulations, and free trade agreements often limit the ability of producer nations to enforce stricter environmental protections.

The paradox is that while wealthier nations benefit from high consumption, they also shield themselves from the worst consequences. Even in the face of climate change, industrial accidents, and toxic exposures, the U.S. has more resources to mitigate harm—access to cleaner water, better medical care, and financial tools to rebuild. Meanwhile, communities in resource-rich but economically vulnerable nations suffer in ways that are often invisible to the consumers driving demand.

If there is to be any justice in this system, accountability must be redefined. The U.S. and other major consumer economies should not only implement stronger regulations at home but should also demand higher safety, labor, and environmental standards from corporations operating abroad. Otherwise, the cycle of externalized risk will continue—where the benefits of consumption are centralized, but the costs are exported on those least equipped to bear them. In other words, to make regulations effective, “tax the rich, stupid!”

The Lingering Toxicity of Lithium Fires: Health Impacts and Environmental Risks

When a lithium battery plant burns, it does not merely combust; it transforms into an industrial volcano, spewing forth an array of toxic metals, corrosive gases, and carcinogenic particulates that settle into the air, water, and soil. Unlike ordinary fires, which often subside with suppression efforts, a lithium fire’s impact is insidious, extending far beyond the moment of ignition. It infiltrates the body, the environment, and the very systems that sustain life. In an era that celebrates lithium as the linchpin of a renewable energy revolution, its unintended consequences demand scrutiny. The health implications of lithium fires are not a distant possibility but an unfolding crisis that must be understood, mitigated, and prevented.

The combustion of lithium-ion cells expels an intricate and deadly mixture of heavy metals, toxic chemicals, and fine particulates that persist in the environment and bioaccumulate in living organisms. Cobalt, nickel, and manganese—critical components of lithium batteries—become airborne toxins, each with a distinct capacity to damage neurological, respiratory, and cardiovascular systems. The presence of lead and cadmium, often introduced during manufacturing, turns the smoke into an even deadlier cocktail, seeping into bones and organs, disrupting hormonal functions, and inducing long-term carcinogenic effects.

The danger is not merely in what burns but in how it burns. Lithium fires do not behave like conventional fires; they burn hotter, faster, and with a self-sustaining chemical reaction that makes suppression challenging. Unlike organic fuels, which require oxygen, lithium fires produce their own oxidizing agents, allowing them to persist even in environments where traditional fires would be snuffed out. As lithium compounds react with atmospheric moisture, they release hydrofluoric acid, an exceptionally corrosive agent that penetrates human tissue, dissolving bones, attacking nerve endings, and disrupting cellular functions with little external indication of damage until it is too late.

Immediate Health Impacts: The First Wave of Toxicity

Inhalation is the primary and most immediate vector of harm during a lithium fire. Those exposed to the thick, metallic-laden smoke often experience acute respiratory distress, characterized by inflammation of the lungs, difficulty breathing, and persistent coughing. The fine particulates—many of them smaller than 2.5 microns—penetrate deep into lung tissue, impairing oxygen exchange and exacerbating pre-existing conditions such as asthma, chronic bronchitis, and cardiovascular disease.

The danger of a lithium fire does not dissipate with the last ember. The release of heavy metals and toxic compounds ensures a lingering legacy that embeds itself in the ecosystem and, consequently, in human bodies. Lead and cadmium, once airborne, settle into the soil and water supply, where they leach into crops and accumulate in fish and livestock. The bioaccumulation of these metals means that even those far removed from the site of the fire are at risk.

The neurological effects of chronic exposure to lithium fire byproducts are profound. Lead is a well-documented neurotoxin, particularly harmful to children, where even minuscule exposure levels can cause cognitive impairment, developmental delays, and behavioral disorders. Cobalt and nickel, both linked to neurodegenerative diseases, may contribute to conditions such as Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s when exposure occurs over extended periods. The presence of these metals in drinking water sources exacerbates the crisis, ensuring that contamination is not an isolated event but a generational affliction.

Water Contamination: A Crisis Beneath the Surface

Lithium battery fires do not merely pollute the air; they also threaten groundwater supplies. The deposition of heavy metals and corrosive compounds into surface water bodies initiates a cascade of ecological damage. Runoff from firefighting efforts, particularly when water is used to suppress flames, carries dissolved toxins into aquifers and rivers, where they are taken up by plants, ingested by animals, and concentrated in the food chain.

Cadmium contamination of groundwater is particularly alarming. Once it enters the human body, cadmium mimics essential minerals, integrating into biological processes where it remains for decades, causing kidney damage, skeletal deterioration, and immune suppression. Similarly, arsenic—a common impurity in lithium production—seeps into wells and reservoirs, increasing the risk of cancers and endocrine disruption.

Additionally, what we’ve learned from deep seabed mining is that the ocean, often considered an ultimate repository for industrial runoff, is not spared. Lithium, cobalt, and nickel found naturally in marine sediments, when disturbed, poisons benthic organisms, disrupting food webs. Also, most studies conclude that industrial runoff kills coral reefs, already under threat from climate change, and that the additional stress from metal toxicity, weakens their structures and alters their symbiotic relationships with marine life. The ripple effects of lithium battery fires extend from the depths of the ocean to the highest levels of human society, where the very technologies meant to sustain a green revolution threaten to undermine ecological stability.

Human Exposure Through Agriculture and Diet

Heavy metals introduced into farmland through airborne deposition or irrigation with contaminated water are absorbed by crops, entering the human diet through grains, vegetables, and fruits. The contamination of soil translates directly into food insecurity. Rice is particularly adept at accumulating arsenic and cadmium, posing a severe risk to populations reliant on rice-based diets.

Livestock and fish suffer similar fates. Cows grazing on contaminated grass accumulate lead and nickel in their milk and meat. Fish exposed to high levels of cobalt and manganese exhibit neurological impairments, affecting their ability to evade predators and reproduce. The result is a tainted food system, where the very act of sustenance perpetuates exposure to the lingering toxins of a single fire.

Regulatory and Industrial Blind Spots

Despite the clear and present dangers, regulatory oversight remains inadequate. Fire response protocols for lithium battery incidents often treat them as conventional chemical fires, failing to account for their unique properties and long-term consequences. Moreover, lithium battery production and disposal regulations focus overwhelmingly on efficiency and cost rather than safety and environmental impact.

The rush to electrify transportation and transition away from fossil fuels has created a blind spot in policy discussions. While lithium-ion technology is lauded for its role in reducing carbon emissions, the full spectrum of its environmental and health costs remains obscured. Manufacturers are not held accountable for the toxic legacies their batteries create, and communities affected by lithium fires are left to contend with contamination that could last for generations.

Mitigation and Accountability

Addressing the risks of lithium fires requires a multifaceted approach that extends beyond firefighting tactics. Industrial design must prioritize safer battery chemistries, reducing reliance on the most toxic elements. Emergency response protocols must be updated to reflect the true hazards of lithium combustion, incorporating specialized protective equipment and decontamination procedures.

More importantly, communities must demand accountability from manufacturers and policymakers. Just as environmental justice movements have fought against the unchecked pollution of fossil fuel industries, a parallel movement must emerge to address the consequences of lithium extraction, processing, and combustion. The transition to a renewable energy economy cannot be built on the same extractive and exploitative models that defined the fossil fuel era.

Without immediate action, the specter of lithium fires will not merely haunt industrial zones but will define a new era of environmental and public health crises. The imperative is clear: safety cannot be an afterthought in the pursuit of technological progress. The legacy of lithium must not be measured solely in terms of energy efficiency, but in the preservation of the human and ecological systems it affects.

Elon Musk heading the Department of Government Efficiency while simultaneously being involved in industries like Tesla and SpaceX should be a regulatory red flag raising the most obvious concerns about conflict of interest.

Disinformation about China “selling” TikTok or the Chinese government’s supposed authority over ByteDance reflects a strategic effort in international media to shape perceptions, often serving broader geopolitical and economic objectives. Such narratives not only misrepresent the reality of ByteDance’s ownership and operations but also play into larger efforts to undermine China’s standing as a global tech innovator.

By portraying Chinese companies as mere extensions of the state, these stories fuel skepticism among international consumers and investors, casting doubt on the independence and credibility of Chinese enterprises. This framing serves to justify policies like bans, restrictions, or forced divestitures under the guise of protecting national security, particularly in the U.S. and its allied countries. At the same time, it erodes trust in China’s burgeoning technology sector, deterring partnerships and discouraging foreign investment, effectively stalling the global momentum of companies like ByteDance.

China’s Approach to National Industries and Foreign Markets

Historically, China has been cautious and strategic about allowing foreign ownership of its State-owned industries. of which TikTok is not. This approach has been shaped by the following:

1. Early 20th Century Colonial Influence and Resistance:
   During the “Century of Humiliation,” foreign powers dominated China’s trade and industries through unequal treaties and concessions. These experiences instilled a deep mistrust of foreign control over national assets. To make matters worse General Chiang Kai-Shek—a puppet of Western powers—took over the Kuomintang (Republic of China) from Dr. Sun Yat-Sen, the progenitor of China’s revolution, and conceded to give away China’s key industries and infrastuctures to foreign control.
2. Post-1949 Nationalization:
   After the founding of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, the government nationalized key industries, emphasizing self-reliance and avoiding dependency on foreign capital. This set the tone for China’s guarded approach to foreign involvement in critical sectors.
3. Reform and Opening-Up (1978 Onward):
   Under Deng Xiaoping, China opened its markets but maintained strict control over key industries, such as energy, telecommunications, and media. Foreign companies were allowed limited entry, often through joint ventures with Chinese firms.
4. Tech and Data Sovereignty in the 21st Century:
   China views technology as a strategic industry and heavily regulates it, particularly in areas like social media, data storage, and artificial intelligence. Laws like the Cybersecurity Law and Data Security Law ensure that sensitive data remains within China’s borders.

ByteDance and TikTok

While ByteDance operates internationally, its headquarters are in Beijing, and it is subject to Chinese laws and regulations. The government has significant influence over companies like ByteDance, particularly when national security or data sovereignty issues arise. For example:

• Export Restrictions on Algorithms:
  In 2020, China updated its export control laws to restrict the sale of certain technologies, including TikTok’s proprietary recommendation algorithm. This meant ByteDance could not sell TikTok without Beijing’s approval, effectively granting the government a veto over potential deals.
• Strategic National Asset:
  TikTok is considered a major technological success story, representing China’s ability to compete globally in social media. This symbolic importance makes China reluctant to allow outright foreign ownership.

Historical Examples of Foreign Ownership in China

China has rarely sold significant national assets to foreign markets. Instead, it has used partnerships, mergers, or limited foreign investment as a way to maintain control while benefiting from external resources. Some examples include:

1. Joint Ventures in Automotive and Aviation:
   Foreign automakers like Tesla have been allowed to establish wholly-owned factories in China (a rare exception to joint venture rules), but this is typically limited to industries where China sees mutual benefit.
2. HNA Group Asset Sales:
   During financial difficulties, HNA Group (a private Chinese conglomerate) was forced to sell foreign assets, including stakes in hotels and airlines. However, these were external assets, not strategic domestic industries.
3. Lenovo Acquiring IBM’s PC Division:
   Instead of selling a national company to a foreign buyer, Lenovo’s acquisition of IBM’s PC division in 2005 symbolized China’s preference for expanding its global footprint rather than reducing control.

Challenges of Selling TikTok

If TikTok were sold, it would likely occur under intense scrutiny from both Beijing and international regulators. Obstacles include:

1. Data Security Concerns:
   Both China and foreign buyers would worry about the ownership and storage of user data.
2. Geopolitical Rivalries:
   Selling TikTok to a U.S. buyer like Elon Musk would risk being seen as a concession, potentially harming China’s image as a rising tech power.
3. ByteDance’s Autonomy:
   ByteDance has resisted external pressure to sell TikTok, emphasizing its independence as a private company. However, it operates under China’s regulatory framework, which complicates its decision-making.

Broader Implications

China’s reluctance to sell TikTok to Musk aligns with its historical approach to protecting strategic industries and resisting foreign dominance. While ByteDance is nominally private, its ties to Chinese regulatory oversight mean any deal would require Beijing’s approval. This is less about direct “ownership” by the Chinese government and more about ensuring that strategic assets align with national priorities.

In essence, the situation reflects a tension between China’s goals of global technological influence and its need to safeguard sovereignty over critical industries. Historically, this strategy has allowed China to maintain a degree of control while benefiting from global markets, rather than ceding any of its industries, even at the expense of sanctions or a ban.

As such, Platform Capitalism addresses some of the most profound processes and pressing challenges of our times, including digitization, neoliberalization, financialization, globalization and deglobalization, uneven development, power, and inequalities, (in)security, the environmental crisis, and the role of finance in building more sustainable economies.”

—Bassens, D. (2024). “Finance in the age of geoeconomics: intersections of finance, production, and digital technology.”

Platform Capitalism

As a postscript, while it is both wonky and too long for this posting, I’m linking to a recent paper that highlights details of Platform Capitalism, one that highlights the Trump/Musk agenda for reshaping the rules of the global economy. The paper was recently published in Finance and Space, an “interdisciplinary journal focusing on diverse aspects of the spatial production of finance and the financial production of space.”

It is this very intersection between Global Financial Networks, Global Production Networks, and Global Digital Technology Networks, that demands over TikTok take place. This is not just technological warfare, this is existential for moving the economic needle back toward U.S. unipolar hegemony.

A brief on what Proposition 30 might have accomplished.

After the devastating fires began in Los Angeles, I searched for all California tax propositions that recently failed, and was surprised that I only needed to go back to 2022 to find Proposition 30 (Provides Funding for Programs to Reduce Air Pollution and Prevent Wildfires by Increasing Tax on Personal Income Over $2 Million. Initiative Statute).

In the 2022 California election, voters were presented with a proposal that sought to impose an additional 1.75% tax on income over $2 million. The revenue generated would have funded zero-emission vehicle initiatives (80%) and wildfire prevention programs (20%). Despite California’s escalating wildfire crises, the measure was rejected.

While it’s unlikely that the rejection of this bill played a role in the perfect storm of high winds, drought, and dry vegetation that led to the fires, I cannot help but consider that the resistance of the wealthiest to pay higher taxes hindered collective efforts to address what has resulted in an existential calamity for Los Angeles.

Proposition 30 could somewhat decrease state and local government costs related to firefighting, clean-up, and recovery if the additional funding for wildfire activities ends up reducing the severity of future wildfires.
—Legislative Analyst’s Office

The rejection of Proposition 30 came at a time when the evidence of California’s vulnerability to wildfires was obvious. Wildfires have increased in frequency and intensity, fueled by climate change, poor land management, and unchecked urban sprawl. But to be fair, the proposition also came right after Mr. Tax Avoidance himself Elon Musk decided to move Tesla manufacturing from California to Texas (apparently because of the pro-transgender environment, but more likely because of unionization efforts).

In 2021 alone, wildfires consumed over 2.5 million acres, displacing thousands and inflicting billions of dollars in damages. It was within this context that the government sought resources from those most capable of contributing to an equitable solution. The wealthiest residents, representing the upper echelons of the state’s income spectrum, would have borne the brunt of this taxation.

The lost revenue from Proposition 30 could have catalyzed a series of interventions.

In the immediate term, California might have fortified its emergency response infrastructure, equipping first responders with advanced firefighting tools that might create faster, more reliable evacuation systems. Vegetation management efforts, including the strategic clearing of overgrown areas and the establishment of firebreaks, could have been scaled up to reduce fire risks. Moreover, public education campaigns would have empowered communities with the knowledge to mitigate their vulnerabilities, fostering a culture of readiness in the face of an ever-present threat.

In the medium term, the funds might have been directed towards reshaping urban and suburban planning practices like the creation of green belts in London, Seoul, and Delhi to act as natural buffers against advancing flames. Community wildfire resilience hubs, located across the state, could have emerged as vital centers of training, resource distribution, and coordination, enabling a more localized and proactive approach to fire management. Investment in advanced predictive technologies, such as satellite-based monitoring and AI-driven risk assessment, could have revolutionized early detection capabilities, which would have undoubtedly provided ample warning. Imagine an AI to predict the storm rather than the AI used to predict when Palestinian fathers would return home so that missiles would be used to blow up entire families (“Lavender” and “Where’s Daddy”).

The long-term vision enabled by Proposition 30 could have changed fire response and mitigation. Forest restoration projects, could have reinstated the natural balance of fire-prone ecosystems, while extensive reforestation efforts with native, fire-resistant species might have mitigated the risks of uncontrolled burns.

Beyond immediate fire management, the measure could have catalyzed broader climate strategies, including investments in renewable energy infrastructure and carbon sequestration initiatives. These efforts would at least address the root causes of the crisis, rather than merely its symptoms.

Furthermore, rather that insurance companies cancelling home insurance policies, public wildfire insurance programs might have been established to ensure that affected communities received equitable and timely support in the aftermath of disasters, reducing displacement and cancellation from insurance companies.

The rejection of Proposition 30 should remind us of the stark inequity in how burdens and benefits are distributed. The wealthiest sectors, shielded by their means to deploy private solutions—such as fortified homes or private fire or security services—effectively abdicated their responsibility to contribute to the collective good. This refusal not only perpetuates the vulnerability of the less affluent but also erodes the moral fabric that underpins democratic governance. Progressive taxation is not merely a matter of fiscal necessity; it is a cornerstone of social justice, a mechanism through which privilege can help to provide our General welfare with a more just and resilient society.

If another measure should appears on the ballot, it is imperative that the 1% grasp the stakes and choose to prioritize a future of shared responsibility. A regulatory revolution paid for by taxes from the 1% is probably better than being surrounded by private fire and security services. Simple, right?

(originally published on Facebook on January 10)

Sometimes, in the Worldhood of the World—at least as I understand Friedrich Heidegger’s chapter in Being and Time— naming something clarifies it for what it is. Naming carries the weight of recognition, forcing us to confront what lies before us. For example, we didn’t need the International Court of Justice to formally proclaim that Israel was engaged in genocide in Palestine. We recognize genocide as it unfolds in our time and across history. We recognized the slow genocide in Palestine for decades. For those who seek to look, we see it in West Papua by Indonesian occupation. We saw it in Darfur and Rwanda, in Bosnia and Herzegovina, during the Holocaust, and in Nanking. We recognize genocide in the Transatlantic Slave Trade and the decimation of our First Nations peoples, including the occupation of Hawaiʻi. Obviously, naming these atrocities acknowledges their existence, yet it also indicts us for the inaction that so often follows such recognition.

The lack of reparations is, too, an example of this inaction. Of course reparations is the correct response to the atrocity of genocide, slavery, and dispossession, and it is easy to get bogged down negotiating a financial settlement, however, providing victims with access and infrastructure should be a no-brainer. The racism is still present, as is the evidence of occupation. The systemic structure of colonialism and neoliberal privatization inherent with capitalism is that the victors continue to revel in the spoils of their atrocities, until they can’t.

When we consider the liberalism that democracy evokes, we summon ideals like freedom of speech, equality before the law, individual rights, the rule of law, and popular sovereignty. These principles are enshrined as categorical moral imperatives, ideals that democracy claims as its foundation, as if they were innate and immutable birthrights. But what are we now, when these once-vaunted ideals are overshadowed by inaction, indifference, apathy, systemic hypocrisy, and moral complacency? If our supposed universal values are now selective and conditional, we have not only failed to uphold them but actively betrayed them.

Where does this leave us, except morally bankrupt, with systems that are inoperative, incapable of responding meaningfully to crises? We find ourselves displaced, not just geographically, as refugees or exiles, but existentially—estranged from the ideals we claim to hold dear. We are a society hollowed out by contradiction, proclaiming justice while perpetuating injustice, invoking human rights while trampling on them, championing democracy while silencing dissent. For many, we measure our democracy by what we consume, ignoring the fact that our consumption is the material manifestation of systemic exploitation, environmental destruction, and global inequity. It is the outward sign of an economic order that prioritizes profit over people, convenience over justice, and the immediate over the sustainable. Consumption becomes not just a personal choice but a political act, one that sustains the very structures of hegemony, extraction, and oppression that democracy claims to resist.

This moral displacement is not merely a failure of action but a failure of Being. In Heideggerian terms, it is a fallenness into inauthenticity, where we no longer engage with the truth of the world but are consumed by distractions, denials, and deceptions. Without a personal radical reckoning, without an acknowledgment of our complicity and a commitment to genuine restoration, we remain estranged from the world and for many, from ourselves.

The collapse of belief systems, particularly when tied to the ideals of justice, human rights, and environmental stewardship, is disorienting yet fertile ground for rediscovery and growth. The ongoing genocide and blatant occupation in Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, and Jordan with the support of our so-called liberal democracy reveals a moment in history that is not merely a crisis but an existential reawakening.

With all of its personal and immediate benefits, the distraction of social media, particularly the data hegemony associated with platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and X, has fundamentally altered how we engage with the world and with ourselves. These platforms are not neutral spaces for connection or self-expression; they are deeply embedded in systems of surveillance capitalism, commodifying our interactions, thoughts, and even our identities. They foster a false sense of community while fragmenting genuine relationships, reducing complex ideas to soundbites, and encouraging reaction over reflection. In doing so, they mediate our experience of the world in ways that diminish our capacity for authentic engagement and understanding.

“Perhaps we are here in order to say: house, bridge, fountain, gate, picture, fruit tree, window—at most: column, tower… But to say them, you must understand,

oh to say them more intensely than the Things themselves ever dreamed of existing. Isn’t the secret intent of this taciturn earth, when it forces lovers together, that inside their boundless emotion all things may shudder with joy?”

Rainer Maria Rilke— excerpt: “The Ninth Elegy,” Duino Eligies.

Approaching Heidegger now, with these distractions in mind, returning to the quiet and disciplined philosophical and poetic roots that shape our existential inquiries, feels both necessary and urgent. It is a means of resisting the shallow immediacy of our current moment, where attention is continually hijacked by algorithms designed to exploit our impulses rather than cultivate our thought. Heidegger’s meditations on time and Being offer a counterpoint to this frenetic culture. His insistence on Dasein—the grounding of human existence in Being-in-the-world—calls us back to a deeper, more deliberate engagement with the world and with ourselves.

In this return, we are reminded of the importance of dwelling—of lingering in thought, experience, and connection. Heidegger’s concept of temporality, where past, present, and future are intertwined, encourages us to see our actions and choices as part of a larger continuum rather than isolated moments of gratification or consumption.

In returning to Heidegger, we also return to the poetic—to the language and art that reveal the world as it truly is, not as it is mediated or manipulated. This act of returning is not a retreat but a way to resist, a way to reclaim the quiet, deliberate space necessary for confronting the existential crises of our time. It allows us to untangle ourselves from the web of distractions and rediscover the essence of Being-in-the-world, grounding our lives in thoughtfulness, presence, and purpose.

Our Interfaith Moment

In the beginning was relationship! Relationality is in our blood. We came into being through relationships. And it is through us that relationships will flow and continue. Therefore, as Pacific isalnders, we don’t just understand. We understand according to the rhythms of relationships, We don’t just interpret. We always interpret through the lens of relationships shaped by a particular Pacific Itulagi (lifeworld). Hence, we don’t just decolonise, Decolonisation is always fashioned by our particular relational worldviews.

—Relational Hermeneutics: A Return to the Relationality of the Pacific Itulagi as a Lens for Understanding and Interpreting Life— Upolu Luma Vaai

In the following quote on relational hermeneutics, I am reminded that the Pacific has had to re-engage with the colonial establishment of Christian doctrine with its own indigenous wisdom and world view. From the shore of the Pacific, the practice of interfaith is an extension of relational wisdom, rooted in the rhythms of connection and guided by the harmonies of indigenous lifeworlds, so very specific to the experience and identity of Pasifika.

This relational wisdom, deeply attuned to the interconnected nature of existence, mirrors Heidegger’s own insistence that understanding is never static but a dynamic process of interpretation. The act of not fully understanding, of grappling with the ungraspable, is central to a hermeneutic journey. Heidegger’s own approach to Being is fundamentally interpretative, requiring us to continuously reframe and re-engage with what it means to exist. This struggle leads to a solipsistic yet divine encounter, reflecting the very nature of Being as relational and dialogical—anchored in the ontic— the concrete or factual— crises of the world yet pointing toward something greater: the possibility of understanding our epistemological place in the chaos. This contradiction is not a failure but a fertile space for reflection. This is a process of unconcealment—where what is hidden emerges in moments of clarity, only to retreat again. The personal engagement with faith, philosophy, and crisis becomes a mode of Being that is open to the divine while remaining grounded in the material realities of global injustice.

Interfaith dialogue and the role of houses of worship become central to this reflection, offering a critique of their absence or manipulation in the framework of political economy. This resonates with the ontological necessity of belief systems in shaping collective understandings of justice and resistance. Heidegger’s notion of worldhood underscores this, as faith traditions create networks of meaning that guide communities through existential crises and political oppression. Interfaith discourse as a pathway to resist hegemony aligns with the historical and philosophical roles of religious figures like Jesus and Mohammed, who can aptly be described as brothers against hegemony and injustice. Their teachings, pertinent to the resistance against imperialism, materialism, and social stratification, reveal faith as a profoundly political act. Similarly, Buddhism and Hinduism, with their emphasis on navigating suffering and injustice, provide frameworks for resilience and ethical engagement in a fractured world.

The exploitation of belief systems by global hegemony, and the commodification of faith to serve power, highlights a profound alienation from the divine and the communal. This alienation is central to the fallenness that Heidegger describes—where systems of meaning become co-opted, reducing authentic engagement with faith to mere functionality or control. This manipulation reflects the very crisis of Being that Heidegger warns against: a world where the sacred is eclipsed by the profane, and faith becomes a tool for domination rather than liberation. Yet, the irony is that the very figures and systems of belief rooted in justice are exploited to sustain injustice. This points to the necessity of reclaiming faith as a counter-hegemonic force. The ontological grounding of faith traditions, when authentically engaged, offers pathways for resisting exploitation and reorienting our collective systems toward equity and justice.

To argue for faith’s equal place within the framework of political economy is to challenge the modern separation of the sacred and the material. Heidegger’s emphasis on Being-in-the-world provides a philosophical foundation for this integration. Faith traditions, as expressions of worldhood, shape the relational totality of human existence. They influence ethics, governance, and community-building, and their exclusion from political economy reflects a profound misunderstanding of their ontological significance. Reintegrating faith into the discourse of political economy does not mean a theocratic imposition but an acknowledgment that systems of belief are foundational to how communities navigate crises and construct meaning. Faith, when authentically engaged, can counter the alienation and fragmentation wrought by neoliberalism and global hegemony, offering a framework for solidarity, resilience, and justice.

All this to say, the security of our humanity will not be safeguarded by the wrestling of political economies within the G20 or by the debates between freemarket capitalism and communism. However, if we center our collective indigenous and traditional faith networks within the framework of political economy, we might reclaim their potential to guide us toward collective liberation, navigating injustice with grounded and sacred resilience. The virtue of faith, of Dasein, is resolutely anti-imperialist, and only by supporting the remaining vestiges of decolonization will forge our human security forward, providing us with the regulatory zeal needed to manage what remains.