A Precautionary Tale

by Philip Ackerman-Leist

  In 1998 participants at the Wingspread Conference issued one of the best explications of the precautionary principle:

  When an activity raises threats of harm to human health or the environment, precautionary measures should be taken even if some cause and effect relationships are not fully established scientifically. In this context the proponent of an activity, rather than the public, should bear the burden of proof. The process of applying the precautionary principle must be open, informed and democratic and must include potentially affected parties. It must also involve an examination of the full range of alternatives, including no action.7

  No one bore more responsibility than the mayor for finding a democratic path forward to protect the future of Mals.

  When Ulrich was elected in 2009, an elderly woman came up to him and offered a single piece of advice: “Uli, es ist schon das du Burgermeister geworden bist: schaue auf uns Kleine und habe ich keine Angst für die Großen.” Uli, it’s wonderful that you’ve become our mayor: Look after our little ones, and I have no fear of the Big Ones.

  He graciously accepted the counsel and considered it to be the single most important piece of advice he received after his election. He had to focus on protecting the future of the children of Mals and not become paralyzed by fear of the outsiders who bore so much power and influence. Little did he suspect, however, that it was a premonition of things to come and a mantra that he would have to revisit time and again on sleepless nights.

  Ulrich had run for mayor out of a desire to see Mals protect the splendor of its natural resources, its deep cultural heritage, the strength of its tourism, and the economic potential in capitalizing upon those three elements, without sacrificing any of them. “I grew up here, and I’ve seen how beautiful life is here,” he says. “And when one observes the changes every day, then one can gather a lot of strength from that. It’s never happened here that someone can destroy land and soil with poisons. That’s something we’ve never known. But when, with an unparalleled arrogance, the entire cultural landscape is changed, the soil is destroyed, and the air is polluted, then that disturbs me extremely. And I’m charged with doing something about it as mayor; that is why I was elected. That’s my role.”8

  But he also had a sense that Mals was different from the rest of the South Tirol, perhaps because it lies at the nexus of different countries, cultures, and worldviews. He himself was a product of that intersection of ideas. His time spent in Switzerland working for a manufacturing company provided him with more than just business experience. He also saw the contrasts in the Swiss political system and the South Tirolean approach to politics.

  For decades following World War II, the key to survival and independence in the South Tirol was solidarity, as represented by allegiance to the one dominant political party, the Südtiroler Volkspartei (SVP). That allegiance gained the region its autonomous-province status and ensured that it had a strong, unified voice in Rome. However, the party and the approach to politics became monolithic and even stifling to the younger generation at the turn of the century. Democracy and local control began to supplant lockstep unity, and the idea of “direct democracy” began to take root, not just among millennials but also among others who felt that a democracy based solely on the votes of elected representatives risked losing sight of the people’s true interests.

  Das Volk ist der Souverän. The people are the sovereign. Citizens are the supreme ruler. It’s a phrase Ulrich repeats over and over again, and he sees his role as an Ausführender—a transactor, a negotiator—who helps transform the will of the people into sensible policy and sustainable economic development.

  Ulrich was a product of “political drift.” His fourteen years working in Switzerland and traveling the world gave him new insights into how the political process can best represent the interests of the people, at local as well as national levels. In many ways, Switzerland is a long-standing pioneer in direct democracy, having commenced open-air assemblies of citizens debating key political issues as far back as the founding of the Old Swiss Confederacy in 1291. By the late nineteenth century, Switzerland had developed a federal government structure—sometimes referred to as a semi-direct democracy—that hybridized direct democracy at the local level with representative democracy at the national level. The people are still “the sovereign” in Switzerland by virtue of their ability to force the hand of elected representatives through popular initiatives (similar to the pesticide-free initiative in Mals) and referendums.9

  In May 2012 Ulrich engaged several experts in direct democracy and a local working group to develop the municipal-code change that made popular initiatives—such as the referendum for a pesticide-free town—binding. This change meant that a referendum voted upon and approved by the town’s citizens had to be taken up by the municipal council.

  Changing the municipal code took some effort, but the subsequent challenge faced by the Mals activists was much greater: how to get the pesticide-free referendum on the ballot and in front of the voters. First they would have to run the concept of the ballot initiative by the Mals Judicial Committee. Once the committee approved the concept, they would then need to collect signatures from townspeople. The struggle to get the ballot measure approved, first by the municipal council and then by the province, would prove to be the biggest challenge of Ulrich’s young political career. Even seasoned politicians with decades of experience would have failed in this endeavor, but Ulrich’s fresh approach to governance allowed him the opportunity to see and do things differently from the more calcified veteran politicians.

  The first attempt at securing the Mals judicial commission’s approval for the pesticide-free initiative had failed in February 2013, resulting in the creation of the Advocacy Committee for a Pesticide-Free Mals. With the recent successes of the Advocacy Committee, the doctors’ manifesto, Hollawint’s media push, Adam & Epfl’s mitreden (talk together) events, and USGV’s poll results, it was time to put the call for a popular initiative back in front of the commission in August.

  The judicial commission began its review of the request for the popular initiative, but it wouldn’t be until December 5 that Johannes would be invited to present the formal request. He was allotted a mere twenty minutes to present and defend the proposal. Fortunately, Johannes’s oral delivery is as fast as it is eloquent. With a rapid-fire oration, he succinctly and convincingly laid out the rationale for the request to put the popular initiative before the citizens of Mals. By the end of the night’s meeting, the judicial commission gave the go-ahead for the required collection of at least 289 signatures in support of the popular initiative.

  However, the chair of the municipal council was no fan of the request, and he and several other members did everything they could to block the ballot initiative. Finally, after they had exhausted every conceivable measure to prevent the popular initiative, they conceded. The collection of signatures was officially set to begin on February 12, 2014; the required signatures had to be collected and submitted to the town office within ninety days of that date. Within a month the Advocacy Committee would have collected more than four hundred signatures; within ninety days they had nearly eight hundred signatures. The push for more direct democracy in public affairs and the movement for a pesticide-free Mals had begun to cross-pollinate. What fruit it might bear remained to be seen. There were still some bad apples to contend with.

  Despite the agonizingly slow political process, the Malsers and their allies kept up their pressure, using the warm fall weather and the harvest season to keep their message fresh and to draw in new supporters. In September, Hollawint organized a vigil and bonfire atop the Tartscher Bichl, a prominent hill in the Mals township that seems to sprout up from nowhere amid the flatness of the valley floor; it perches above the valley with a stunning vista of Mals, the entire Upper Vinschgau, and the highest of the peaks in the South Tirol. It’s easy to imagine how archaeological evidence points to it as an important prehistoric
cultic site, which the church later claimed with a chapel.

  As they upped their game and faced ever-larger oppositional forces and the heat of controversy, the Malsers needed time to fortify their spirits and celebrate the growing solidarity they were finding in their work together. Throughout the campaign, Pia had reminded everyone that they were engaged in a spiritual quest as well as a political battle, and no matter what religious beliefs anyone had, it couldn’t hurt to pray a little. A bonfire is an equal-opportunity ecumenical experience, so the blaze on the Tartscher Bichl provided everyone a chance to offer up a mix of prayers to spirits and deities of their own choosing.

  While gathered around the fire, the women of Hollawint invited participants to take the time to share their visions for how Mals might become a model community in which environmental protection, tourism, and agriculture could be further integrated to create a healthy ecological and economic future. The community vision was beginning to broaden beyond the threat of pesticides and ever closer toward the idea of becoming a sustainable and resilient community that could inspire others as well.

  Vigils beget vigilance, and landscapes give rise to art. So it wasn’t surprising that a few weeks after the bonfire vigil, Bioland, the organic cooperative supporting Günther, worked together with the town and others to sponsor a “Cultural Landscape Days” event. In an outdoor concert, composer Gerd Hermann Ortler played his “Changing Landscapes,” and to the cheers of the crowd forester Laurin Mayer gave a rousing oration, depicting Mals as a Gallic village, fiercely defending itself from outside invaders.

  The sense of invasion—or at least transgression—continued to intensify, however. The USGV had received the results of pesticide residue testing from the schoolyard in Tartsch, the village just below the Tartscher Bichl, in June. Nine different pesticide residues were discovered in the analysis, and despite letters and other inquiries sent to provincial leaders, by the fall the USGV still had not received a single response, not even one from the provincial commissioner for health, Richard Theiner. USGV leaders sent out a press release expressing their astonishment at the lack of a response from any government leaders related to a request to find the means to protect the health of the region’s children.

  But it was an immobile flash mob orchestrated by the women of Hollawint that got the most attention. Amid the intensity of the political machinations, Margit Gasser decided that some levity was in order, so she inspired her Hollawint colleagues to take the issue to the streets at the annual Golli market in Mals, a highly celebrated farmers market that attracted large numbers of locals, tourists, and media.

  The night before the market, the women gathered in the loft of a barn and, with a note of irony, stuffed white disposable pesticide suits with precious mountain hay until the Tyvek suits took on a burly human form and were able to stand on their own. They filled the hoods with hay before giving the life-sized figures cardboard faces and adorning them with respirators, signs, and placards calling for a pesticide-free future. Then they faced the logistical challenge of getting the flash mobsters set up around the market square before too many people were out and they were identified as the pranksters. Every Tirolean village has its identified pranksters, but they usually aren’t kindergarten teachers, hairdressers, and architects.

  The women each took a hay-filled protester or two under an arm and proceeded through the village and toward the market in the early dawn hours, strategically placing them on stairs and street corners. The farmers, shopkeepers, and municipal workers who were up and about varied in reaction: Some averted their eyes, pretending not to notice anything out of the ordinary, while others gawked or bemusedly offered greetings and guffaws. By the time the market crowd began to fill the streets, signs held by the men in white were conveying details of the health impacts of different pesticides used in intensive fruit growing, reminding passersby of the types of pesticides found in the Tartsch schoolyard and the lack of responsiveness from provincial officials who were charged with protecting public health.

  Regardless of how creative and democratic the Malsers could be within their own town, they knew that they needed additional support and guidance from outside the South Tirol. One community’s model town is another political party’s black sheep. Neither increased democracy nor reduced pesticides were in the interests of Big Apple and its core cronies—all of whom had a lot of reach and heft far beyond the borders of South Tirol. The Malsers, still working primarily within their own small regional network, needed another infusion of wisdom and contacts from outside the provincial borders.

  Realizing that the powerful international group Pesticide Action Network (PAN) did not have an Italian chapter, Martina’s husband Koen Hertoge recruited another Malser, Friedrich Haring, to establish what would become a critical new ally, PAN-Italia. Koen was a native of Belgium, and his fluency in a number of languages as well as his contacts in Brussels, the heart of the EU, enabled him to put the Mals campaign in the national and international spotlight by way of the new organization, which would be based in Bologna. Interestingly, though, Koen had no political or advocacy experience whatsoever. Nor did he have any experience or expertise with agriculture and pesticides. He decided, however, that he was representing the majority of civil society: people without that kind of firsthand knowledge of food and agriculture who were, nonetheless, consumers. His role was to be their voice while also advancing the cause of his new home community. Suddenly Mals had a new mouthpiece and podium, one that would, in fact, soon help set it apart as a model community in the eyes of the world at large.

  The recognition of what was happening in Mals was beginning to build. In December 2013 Hans Rudolf Herren, winner of the Right Livelihood Award, known as the Alternative Nobel Prize, wrote a letter of support to the Malsers. A Swiss entomologist and agricultural researcher, Herren designed the most comprehensive biological pest management ever implemented, in which he introduced a parasitic wasp from South America to combat the cassava mealybug in Africa, potentially helping to avert a famine that might have killed as many as twenty million people.

  Then, in March 2014, Adam & Epfl was selected for the coveted Cultura Socialis jury prize, which honors an initiative that exemplifies the development of a new social and political consciousness in the South Tirol. Adam & Epfl was commended for using open dialogue and a courageous culture of discussion to help the people of the Upper Vinschgau “discover how today they—and tomorrow, the next generation—can enliven, inhabit, and cultivate this landscape.”10

  As a ballot measure for a pesticide-free Mals gained traction and recognition, not everyone admired the direction in which things were going. It was then that Johannes faced death threats, the desecration of his family grave, and, a few days later, the destruction of his gardens. Lawsuits would follow, targeting him personally for sponsoring what some persons considered to be an illegal referendum through his role as the elected spokesperson for the Advocacy Committee. According to those opponents, a referendum must come forward from the people, not through the efforts of an established advocacy committee, and Johannes was therefore liable for serving as point person for this initiative. Johannes expended countless hours and untold sums of his own money to support the initiative and defend himself, his family, and his property.

  Other members of the committee also made personal and financial sacrifices while facing challenging discussions with neighbors and other acquaintances. Hinting at how difficult some aspects of the campaign were, Peter Gasser noted that many on the Advocacy Committee had the advantage of having known one another for decades. They knew one another’s strengths and limitations, and they knew how to laugh together when things got particularly challenging, or even absurd. In May 2014 Johannes and the Advocacy Committee were awarded the Ilse Waldthaler Prize for Civil Courage at a ceremony in Bozen.

  The world was beginning to pay attention to the small town with so many big dreams. The timing of the recognition was helpful. It wasn’t
an easy spring.

  Some conventional apple growers, perhaps with the support of the South Tirolean Farmers’ Association (SBB) and other Big Apple supporters, launched a new campaign directed explicitly at the Mals initiative. Dubbed Bäuerliche Zukunft, A Farmer’s Future, it promoted the ballot initiative as illegal and inappropriate and touted the safety of “integrated fruit production.”11 But it was too little, too late. The Advocacy Committee and the other organizations already had a firm foothold in Mals. Nonetheless, not all the activists’ battles were to be won, even when the absurdity of the opposition seemed extraordinarily high. When a legislative proposal was put forward to require the regular testing of all school grounds in the South Tirol for pesticide residues, to be followed by a report of the results and any recommended actions needed to protect the public from potential health hazards, it was defeated, seventeen to twelve, with two abstentions. Not everyone seemed to be getting the drift of the changes in the air.

  In Mals, though, the spring brought a flurry of activities sponsored by the various groups. Hollawint sponsored a lecture and panel discussion focusing on the freedom of farmers to pursue organic practices in the face of intensive fruit production. In early May, Adam & Epfl recast their event from the previous May into a magical sequel on a perfect blue-sky day. Paradies Obervinschgau, the Paradise of the Upper Vinschgau, was less a guerrilla theater event this time and more of traveling culinary and informational event, featuring foods from the region, hikes, wagon rides, a wine tour and tasting, and a new grain exhibit by the Bernhards, set up in the Puni Whiskey Distillery. Ägidius hosted everyone in his magnificent gardens, where musicians played while participants ate, drank, and learned about his permaculture-style garden methods. At the local food co-op in the nearby town of Schluderns, everyone gathered to sample treats made with traditional foods: Palabirnen, poppy seeds, heritage grains, and of course organic apples.