Abstract
Antarctica, as a continent inhabited almost solely by scientists and people who support science programs, helps us think about the contrast between our notions of spectacular, wild nature and the cultures of expertise that surround environmental policymaking. In response to the insightful reviews above, I consider the relationship between our two earthly poles, the nearly interpersonal-level of power in Antarctic policymaking, how my relationships with my interlocutors inform my scholarly voice, and recent shifts in the political power of experts, particularly in the United States. As I show in The Technocratic Antarctic, cultural, natural, and political arrangements intended to prioritize expertise only work partially, as these arrangements become bound up in the other histories, meanings, and values of Antarctica in relationship to the rest of the world.
The notion of the polar regions as related, with the rest of the world between them, can be intellectually productive and, in some cases, makes good sense, especially when we consider their histories of exploration and colonialism. Powell notes that The Technocratic Antarctic does not engage substantially with the Arctic; I had different intentions with my emphasis on the Antarctic as a relatively isolated place. The Technocratic Antarctic is centred on New Zealand’s Antarctic scientists and policymakers, and their Antarctic program is distinctly southern, not a part of a bi-polar program that supports science and policy decision-making on both ends of the earth. Other states have different institutional arrangements, which colour how diplomats and scientists interact with each other and the pole(s) that they affiliate with. Many of my colleagues – such as Antonello, Brady, Chaturvedi, Dodds, Hemmings, Howkins, Leane and Salazar – have made significant contributions to understanding the relationship between the state and the polar regions.
The Antarctic, like any other place, is about human power and inequality, as Carey points out. This power comes in the form of formal state authorizations, the burden and optimism encapsulated by the slow, boring work of international consensus-based decision-making, and the ways experts can deftly tip the scales through various informal and formal channels. The exclusion of developing countries from the Antarctic Treaty System, and the uphill struggle that newcomers to the Antarctic Treaty face in making their national Antarctic priorities work with the rhetorics and procedures in the international regime, create monumental barriers to meaningful and substantive participation. Also, the Antarctic community is small and therefore highly contingent on personality and individual agency. The human scale of Antarctic science and policy forms outsider/insider dualities that are both productive and limiting.
In The Technocratic Antarctic, I demonstrated how science-based governance can take up the forms and practices of both science and international diplomacy, calling these processes ‘epistemic technocracy’. King, MacKenzie, and Tadaki noted that ‘rarely if ever does O’Reilly argue that Antarctic science should be done differently’ and suggest that my critiques are implicit, perhaps because of the power exerted by my interlocutors or because I hope to work with them again. This is a smart observation, considering that my interlocutors read my work and critique it and, in some cases, publish with me. My interlocutors are indeed part of my audience. I considered my language and approach in making productive critiques, grounded in my theoretical mélange that helps me understand and communicate how scientists and policymakers wield expertise to make, manage, and learn from the political, cultural, and natural landscape of Antarctica, always imperfectly.
My box of my books arrived shortly after President Trump was being inaugurated. One immediate impact of the new administration was the downscaling of scientific and nongovernmental experts, within federal agencies and on advisory committees. I wrote The Technocratic Antarctic with the view that expertise imperfectly and sometimes messily informs policy decision-making: this perspective is one that assumes the power of experts. That expertise and experts are being marginalized in the US federal government has been alarming to scientists, unaccustomed to experiencing downgrades in their authority, and to people who value evidence-based decision making. It will be interesting to see how climate scientists respond to these threats with their conventional political forms as well as those adopted from longer-practised and longer (and more deeply) marginalized communities.
The science/policy technocrats who enliven my ethnography are skilled at negotiating the fabulous and ponderous world of Antarctic governance. They typically are incrementalists, viewing progress pragmatically and necessarily slow when 53 nations must approve any policy decision. They also manage to be idealists, too – the long-timers in the Treaty System have an unabashed love for the continent and even the meetings that manage it. In their work, they implement management strategies for a place of environmental superlatives as well as global environmental threat. For a system sometimes and accurately characterized as a throwback to Cold War diplomacy, its requisite deployment of scientific expertise may become its strength as expertise is devalued elsewhere.