Theft or inspiration? – How good ideas spread

By Joern Fischer (apart from the bits I stole from Ioan Fazey)

Academic work, ultimately, is all about good ideas. But how do you know an idea is truly yours? In this post, I reflect on some of “my” best ideas, wondering where they came from – and posing a few different hypotheses. Perhaps there’s no such thing as an original idea…

So let’s take a few examples first, as a little reflection that serves to show that some of “my own” ideas probably have not been mine at all. I’ll then get into a few hypotheses as to what might be happening.

But first some ideas. A nice hierarchical survey design of nested triangles was used by me and my co-authors in a 2004 paper in the Journal of Applied Ecology (Fig. 1). This idea came up in a meeting with my co-author and statistical advisor at the time. Later, I learned that a very similar design had been used by Josh Dorrough, who had previously worked with the same statistician. So perhaps it had been his idea? Interestingly, a broadly similar design is also used in the large “safe project” in Indonesia (see linked Fig. 1). So perhaps there is an altogether different source of this “idea”, which neither Josh nor I knew about?

Another example is the notion of slow, substantial but difficult-to-implement change, versus rapid but easier-to-implement change. This notion was captured in Fig. 1 in a 2012 paper I published with a bunch of co-authors. But a very similar notion had been communicated by Donella Meadows a decade earlier, in her paper on leverage points.

Or take our literature review on cultural ecosystem services, published in 2013. This paper came a very short time after a paper by Terry Daniel and others on the same topic; and a very short time before a paper led by Mónica Hernández-Morcillo. I could list many more examples from my own publications, or I can extend this notion to colleagues of mine – noting for example, that Ioan Fazey was working on evidence-based conservation in the early 2000s, quite separately from work by Andrew Pullin who later set up a whole centre around this notion. And so on.

Such examples are common, and if you write a lot, invariably, sooner or later someone will come to you and wonder – more or less politely – whether you stole her or his idea. Or you might see your own idea in somebody else’s work, and wonder whether they stole it from you. (If you’re fast, you’ll experience others accusing you, if you’re slow, you’ll experience feeling they stole your ideas…)

So what’s going on here, and what do we do with it? I want to lay out four different hypotheses for what is happening, and why this is happening.

Hypothesis 1: People like me consciously steal other people’s ideas. Perhaps I liked something that someone else is doing, and I think … hmmm …. perhaps I can get a paper out of something like this, too? And then I use that idea, and bingo, track record is improved and nobody noticed. Hooray.

Hypothesis 2: People like me sub-consciously steal people’s ideas! Perhaps I liked something that someone did. I then forget about it … and then later on, it comes back into my conscious mind, and I turn it into some kind of product. Possible? Yes, this is quite possible. We hear a lot of things, all the time, and I at least can’t remember all the different places in which I hear different things. These ideas all go into some giant sub-conscious storage space, and then later get drawn on, but re-combined in new ways and without explicit reference to where they had originally come from – because there is no conscious process of tracing their origin.

Hypothesis 3: Sometimes, things are simply “ripe” for a certain idea, and different people realize this at the same time. So for example, Carl Folke was writing on “environmental services” in the mid 1990s, just before Bob Costanza published his famous paper on ecosystem services, and before Gretchen Daily published her book on ecosystem services. Earlier examples of such parallel processes abound, for example Wallace’s work on evolution being at a similar time to Darwin’s.

Hypothesis 4: The universe is all just energy, everything is connected to everything else, and good ideas float about in the ether – we just need to open ourselves to them and let them flow through us. What?! Admittedly, this hypothesis is mildly less grounded in conventional physical evidence, but there are a number of spiritual thinkers who would probably support this idea. When you have a good idea – one that feels truly original – where does it come from? Where do brilliant ideas of artists, musicians or scientists come from? What, really, is a “moment of inspiration”, what is it we are accessing then? Perhaps knowledge is there, always, and when we are in a state of flow, we can access the right knowledge to make progress at the time?

I won’t be arguing for or against any of these four hypotheses. In the scientific circuit in general, I actually think it’s a combination of all four of these going on. What’s more interesting is the question, what do we do about this?

What becomes highly evident is that ideas rarely originate in one individual. Our system of giving credit to individuals (or sets of authors) is flawed. “Breakthroughs” of any kind happen on the shoulders of many who have been there (or very close) before – funnily enough, google scholar acknowledges this when it says “stand on the shoulder of giants”. We’re all standing on each other’s shoulders, all the time, whether in physical space, or metaphysical space. No idea is truly yours, or mine, or anyone’s. And yet, we operate together in a world, and some of us have decided to operate together in ways that try to make the world a better place. It makes sense then that we should work together, rather than get hung up about who contributed what, precisely.

And yet, we live in a world of institutional incentives, and it’s probably only expert thieves (or highly inspired people? Hm…) who can afford to “not care” about who did what. The challenge thus appears to be to try to be explicit about which idea comes from where; but also to recognize that ultimately, we’re in this together – as all of humanity, that is!

So: credit where credit is due … but preferably in full recognition that we have no idea where that actually is.

(I wonder where the idea for this blog post came from. Parts for sure I stole from Ioan Fazey, and he even paid for my coffee. Pathetic, really.)


A new classification of human-environment connections

By Joern Fischer

We’ve all heard of ecosystem services, and work on “relational values” to conceptualise human-environment connections is increasing. Do we really need yet another way to classify connectedness to nature?

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In an era where leading scholars are calling for us to reconnect with the biosphere, where the loss of experiential connection to nature is seen as a possible cause for biodiversity decline (e.g. here and here), where the health benefits of engaging with nature are increasingly obvious, where capitalism is blamed for having alienated us from ourselves and the world at large … perhaps we do need a more holistic way of thinking about human-environment connections.

Chris Ives just published a new paper on this, related to our work on leverage points (stay tuned for an upcoming conference call!). In the paper, we distinguish between different kinds of connectedness — philosophical, emotional, cognitive, experiential and material (see above). Arguably, these different dimensions have not all been captured in previous conceptualisations of human-nature connectedness. Many provisioning ecosystem services, for example, are “material” in nature. But what about philosophical differences in connectedness — e.g. whether we view humanity through a Western cultural lens, or from the perspective of (as a random example) Australian indigenous people? This will fundamentally change how we view ourselves in relation to nature, which role we ascribe to nature, and as a result, how we engage with nature.

In this new paper, we try to lay out an alternative way of thinking about human-nature connectedness. We do not provide simple solutions for how to save the world based on this framework (sorry to disappoint you … I could claim we initially had this in the supplementary material but it was lost during peer review?). However, we pose a hypothesis, which may be worth examining in the future. The hypothesis is that not all types of connectedness are created equal in terms of their potential influence on sustainability — deeply “internal” connections such as our worldviews and philosophies might fundamentally shape other dimensions of nature connectedness, for example influencing how we interact with nature in material terms. In other words, dimensions of our inner worlds are likely to fundamentally influence what happens in our outer worlds — providing a strong leverage point for deep change.

Stay tuned for more work on inner worlds, and for an upcoming conference call on leverage points for sustainability at Leuphana (February 2019)!

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Transdisciplinary PhD Journeys: Reflecting on the challenge of the ‘transdisciplinary triple jump’

Social-ecological systems Scholars

This is the first post in a series on ‘Transdisciplinary PhD Journeys’ which will run for the next six months. 

Have you ever watched a triple-jump athlete? It is incredible to see how the athlete executes this three-part movement. It requires excellent technical competencies, rhythm, and the ability to manage each of the three movements in concert. “Every aspect of the jump must be perfect: the run up, the hop, step and the jump”. And each of the movements requires focused attention to specific skills, training and preparation.


The transdisciplinary triple jump: A three-part movement in which PhD scholars must learn about paying attention to scientific rigour and excellence, societal relevance and engagement, and self-respect and care (Graphic by Caydn Barker).

In our reflections on the challenges of applying principles of transdisciplinary (TD) research in our PhDs, we have come to realise that there are three critical aspects which…

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The gardenification of nature revisited

By Joern Fischer

In 1998, Daniel Janzen published a paper on the gardenification of nature. In that paper, he argued for the gentle and careful use of wild nature, rather than its strict protection from humans.

I liked the metaphor of the paper when it came out, and I recently thought of it again in the context of a second garden metaphor currently circulating: that of seeds of a good Anthropocene. What if we were to combine these two gardening metaphors?

Seeds of a good Anthropocene suggest that we have choices in the projects we create. We can initiate projects that contribute to the beauty of life on Earth – to social equity, prosperity, joy, and biodiversity – or we can initiate projects that are destructive. Those projects that contribute to the beauty of life are, essentially, seeds of a good Anthropocene.

Once we have planted such seeds, these seeds can put roots into the ground, thus becoming firmly established. And as the seeds spread, they create a garden of human endeavours. This garden can be beautiful, if we grow and look after the right seeds. Wild elements can persist in pockets of this garden, cherished for their intrinsic value as well as for the benefits they might provide. – What if we keep growing the wrong seeds? Then we risk creating a post-industrial wasteland.

Arguably, a good Anthropocene’s garden of human endeavours could harmoniously coexist with a wildland garden of biodiversity. What unites these two metaphors is a focus on an underlying ethos of gentle care and interaction. It seems futile to try to disengage from the endless connections among living beings. As Janzen stated: “A wildland garden with gentle trodding from caring gardeners just might achieve the partnership [between people and nature]. A wilderness faces certain annihilation as a battlefield.”

Coming to terms with the past in Transylvania

Leverage Points for Sustainability Transformation

Conducting a transdisciplinary case study in a long-term research setting is a privilege. Leuphana University has been present in Southern Transylvania since 2011 when it started the research project Sustainable landscapes in Central Romania. Until 2015 the project contributed to an increased understanding of the social-ecological system of Southern Transylvania, and it helped articulate four normative development scenarios. One of these scenarios, Balance Brings Beauty, benefited from an unprecedented audience and echo in the region and was subsequently selected as a shared vision by our partners, event which only increased the responsibility weighing on our scholarly shoulders. These previous science-civil society interactions and years of practice in trying to understand each other secured an increased sense of recognition, trust, and right timing for capitalising on the growing momentum. With the project “Leverage Points for Sustainability Transformation” came the wicked question of the ‘how’. How to get…

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When more of the same won’t do…

By Joern Fischer

Sometimes we reach a point where things simply aren’t moving. We keep trying to do the same thing, over and over, but we’re not making progress. We all know this from our personal lives – and unfortunately, we also know it from our experience as researchers on sustainability issues.

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From Fazey et al. 2018:

In our personal lives, we might know this situation of things just not moving from relationship crises. We get stuck, and nothing we do seems to work. This can even happen when everyone involved really wants to solve the situation – but somehow, things are stuck. How can such problems be resolved? – I’m sure there are a million answers, but somehow, often what is required is two things: a fresh perspective, and some tangible progress. Combined with a fresh perspective and some tangible “action items”, it is then possible to get apparently hopeless situations unstuck again. By contrast, if we insist on the same old perspective, and if we refuse to change anything tangible… probably we remain stuck.

Arguably, the same is true in a sustainability context. In the above, I reproduced a figure from a new paper by Ioan Fazey and colleagues. In the paper, they recommend ten essential action items for researchers working on climate change – with the goal to give climate change research a push in a direction that actually fosters social change, rather than describing our demise in ever greater detail.

The paper – as summarized in the above figure – proposes ten key action items. Just knowing more, and incrementally improving the performance of existing systems is seen as insufficient. Rather, the authors argue for a more fundamental overhaul of how science is conducted, so that it engages with society, and has the potential to facilitate transformative change that actually transcends existing problems. Engaging with normative questions of what matters, understanding science as part of social learning, and boldly striving for transformative change are among the key recommendations.

And so, funnily enough … just like in a personal relationship that is stuck in a crisis, what is needed for sustainability seems to be a mixture of taking a fresh perspective, and actually doing something tangible, in a different way. This new paper gives a valuable set of ideas for how to start getting unstuck. Worth a read, and certainly useful beyond the specific problem of climate change!

Conservation of “traditional rural biotopes”

By Joern Fischer

This blog post comes to you from the Finnish town of Jyväskylä (you-what?!), where I was invited to be the opponent for a freshly submitted PhD thesis by Kaisa J. Raatikainen.  I had such a nice experience with this that I felt inspired to write this little reflection here. Kaisa’s thesis is very much worth reading: it’s available for download here.


One of the scenarios for traditional rural biotopes depicted by Kaisa Raatikainen in her thesis.

Before we move to more personal matters, let’s start with some science. Kaisa’s thesis focuses on what she calls “traditional rural biotopes”, namely wood pastures and meadows, in Finland. In a situation somewhat analogous to other parts of Europe (including Transylvania, where my own research group did a fair bit of work), traditional land use practices had maintained high levels of biodiversity; and were also tied to cultural heritage. And — again, analogous to many other parts of the world — as such practices are no longer economically profitable, they are being lost, and with them, the biodiversity that they support is declining.

Kaisa’s work is an addition to a growing body of thought on how we might deal with this. There are no simple solutions. But still, Kaisa’s thesis is worth taking a look at for a number of reasons. First, it covers a very impressive range of methods and different approaches. There are two chapters that are essentially empirical field ecology; one that uses a reserve selection algorithm; and one that looks at stakeholder perceptions via the q-method. Moreover, there is a very nice synthesis section, which few people will ever see, unless Kaisa manages to somehow publish bits from this, too … I hope she will! The synthesis includes four plausible future scenarios, one of which I reproduced above in the form of Kaisa’s painting.

What I like about this thesis is that it combines the ecological and social sciences, at a level where both are of a nice quality. As many readers of this blog know, this is also what my research group tries to do. But still — when you look around the world, there really are very few “real” (i.e. field experienced) ecologists who also manage to competently navigate at least some social science methods and ways of thinking. This is a great shame because there is so much to learn by shifting between different perspectives!

On a more personal note, I would like to share with the world that the unpronounceable city of Jyväskylä has a number of very nice people living in it, some of whom I got to meet at the defense and subsequent party yesterday. Thanks, Panu (Halme), for inviting me! This is also where the next European Congress of Conservation Biology will be held —  that’s in June … — meaning you still have time to learn how to pronounce this impossible place. I learned yesterday they’ll have sauna boats for discussion sessions, in case that floats your boat (ha).

It’s nice when good people get to meet. I arrived in Jyväskylä, not knowing how to pronounce it, and not knowing a single person here. I’m leaving with very good impressions, thanks to the many nice people I got to meet. Cheers to Kaisa!

Scenario planning in Ethiopia

By Joern Fischer

Looking at our publication list, one would think not much is coming from our work in Ethiopia. But there will be! It’s a sad fact of scientific life that others only get to find out about your work three years after you’ve done it. In this post, I would like to summarise experiences from six days of workshops on scenario planning in southwestern Ethiopia.

Preamble: This work involved many people! It was led primarily by Ine Dorresteijn, with important contributions by Jan Hanspach, Tolera Senbeto, Feyera Senbeta, Jannik Schultner, Birhanu Bekele and Dadi Feyisa.

About two years ago, we individually met with 30 different groups of stakeholders, from the local to the zonal government level. With each group, we uncovered possible social-ecological changes and their uncertainties, and with each group, we developed causal loop diagrams of the local dynamics – particularly around food security and biodiversity conservation. Participants ranged from local farmers (many of whom never had the chance to attend school) to policy experts at the zonal level.

We took the information and synthesized it into four plausible draft scenarios. This is a step that is a bit different from what many people do in scenario planning: many draw up the scenarios directly with stakeholders. We preferred to get a greater range of input (30 individual workshops), then tidy up systems dynamics into a coherent causal loop diagram ourselves; and work with changes and uncertainties we had heard about repeatedly in the initial workshops.

Our draft scenarios were now presented back to the initial stakeholders in six separate workshops, which combined different stakeholders at three governance levels. We asked participants whether the scenarios were plausible, or if not, how could we make them plausible? We also asked them about opportunities and challenges in the scenarios, and how they might be overcome.

Not least due to fantastic organization of the logistics by our Ethiopian colleagues, we had six very constructive workshops. We included a feedback round in the workshops at the end, and aside from minor misgivings by a small number of participants, we received very nice feedback. What I was most excited about is that people really “got it” – from policy level to local community, we could see how discussions between stakeholders in breakout groups revolved around what is good, and what is bad, and why. We had “extracted” local understandings, and given them back in a format that encouraged (and hopefully empowered) people to think about their future; and take steps to work towards desired outcomes.

Our next steps will be to write up this scenario work, both as a scientific paper, and as a small booklet in local languages. We’ll also prepare some materials that are meaningful to local farmers. And then … in some months, we’ll be back in Ethiopia to distribute the final scenarios and discuss these with a wide range of stakeholders. We hope this work can stimulate fresh thinking about a sustainable future for southwestern Ethiopia. This trip certainly gives me hope that our scientific work isn’t just an ivory-tower, self-indulgent waste of everyone’s time!

What do we value?

By Joern Fischer

In 2012, I led a paper on “Human behavior and sustainability”. Alongside that paper, I wrote a blog post encouraging people to reflect on what it is what we truly value. This was summarized in an open letter, which you can find here.

I thought it’s a nice time to reflect on where my own thinking on this topic is at. With a few years of distance between that initial paper and the open letter and now, some things I see much the same way – and others I see a bit differently.

In the open letter, I implied that many of us probably don’t truly value “ever more stuff” as their deepest life philosophy, but yet we are not actively pursuing what it is that we actually are interested in having more of in our lives. Much of humanity acts as a passive victim of the institutions it created in the past. We’ve locked ourselves into certain trajectories – starting with our mindsets, which are too uncomfortable to question, and our institutions, which are rigid and complex, and it’s hard to know where to even start to fundamentally change anything.

Despite its imperfections, I still think the central tenet of the letter from 2012 is right: we need to start having a conversation about what we truly want. And I think it’s still fundamentally correct that if the answer is “gluttony, even if it’s unjust”, then all is well in the sense that we’re moving in precisely that direction. But … for most of humanity, I don’t think “gluttony, even if it’s unjust” is the philosophy by which they would really like to live. People thrive on good social relations, on balanced time budgets, on a healthy environment, and on “enough” material wellbeing rather than ever more stuff.

Still, this is contentious. In the following, I want to highlight three ways in which my own thinking has slightly moved on since that original paper.

First, there appears to be a clash between two paradigms: the paradigm that we can’t change values, and therefore should work within existing value sets – versus the paradigm that changing values might be hard, but since this is the root cause of our problems, we’d better get started on engaging with this difficult topic. This clash was nicely exemplified in a discussion between Manfredo et al. and Ives and Fischer in a recent issue of Conservation Biology. We argued that value change within instants may not be likely, but social change including fundamental changes in value orientations has been common in human history – and to discount this possibility (when it looks like it’s a necessity) and the possibility of fostering such change seems … well … not so useful. Another nice idea related to societal change and value change is that of a “ripple effect”, which implies that changes in the world can permeate up and down scales – from individual to society, or from society to individual. Things (including values) can change, and do change, and we all play a role in it.

A second area in which I think we can poke around in more is that of deep leverage points – places in a system where small interventions can lead to major changes. Truly deep leverage points relate to shifting to new paradigms and on that basis, re-define system goals. This is very much in line with the idea of reflecting on what we truly value – if the goals of our global system of “gluttony for those who can afford it” are not actually in line with what we want, we’d better change them. This is not straightforward, but would be very influential as a leverage point for social change.

And finally, some colleagues and I have been thinking a bit about how to bring change in our inner and outer worlds into alignment. Sustainability science has firmly focused on our external worlds, but has largely discounted the hidden lived experiences within individuals. Arguably, those are the origin of external phenomena, and it’s only through inner change that stable changes for the better will emerge in the outer world. For now, I’ll just point you to an Abstract of a paper that Rebecca Freeth presented at Resilience 2017 – a full paper on this topic is in preparation.


What does training in translational ecology look like?

By Chris Ives

What kind of a workforce do we need to tackle current and future environmental challenges? This is the question that Mark Schwartz and colleagues recently tried to answer in their recent paper published in Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment. They call for the training and development of “translational ecologists”. But what exactly is a ‘translational ecologist’? Is it a useful concept for navigating future research and teaching or is it just a new buzzword with little substance? In this blog I summarise the paper and provide a few personal reflections. I then mention some exciting job opportunities at the University of Nottingham for new staff contributing to a new holistic, practice-based environmental education programme, similar to those advocated by Schwartz et al.

So what is a ‘translational ecologist’? Schwartz et al. define one as “a professional ecologist with diverse disciplinary expertise and skill sets, as well as a suitable personal disposition, who engages across social, professional, and disciplinary boundaries to partner with decision makers to achieve practical environmental solutions.” The authors highlight three fields of training that is needed for equipping ‘translational ecologists’: (1) multidisciplinary knowledge, (2) practical skills, and (3) personal aptitudes. While I don’t feel a strong personal attachment to the term itself, I really liked the paper because it emphasises qualities and capacities that are often overlooked in environmental training and practice.

The first attribute of translational ecologists is multidisciplinary training. While I do agree with this, I thought it was the least novel dimension of the paper as the need for diverse expertise in addressing environmental challenges has been recognised for a long time. Indeed, conservation science and sustainability science have both been defined as broad interdisciplinary pursuits. Similarly, it’s not new to advocate for scientists to engage with stakeholders (see Cook et al 2013). What I did find useful was the presentation of knowledge as a ‘T’ – i.e. the need to have both deep knowledge of a topic (e.g. metapopulation dynamics in agricultural landscapes), the ‘downstroke’; and a breadth of knowledge from other fields (e.g. law, psychology, toxicology), the ‘cross-stroke’.

The second attribute of translational ecologists is a set of non-scientific skills essential for generating change. According to the authors, such non-traditional skills include negotiation, group leadership, facilitation skills and ethics. These are so often under-valued in my experience, yet are essential to making change happen. Recognising the importance of these skills certainly raises challenges for traditional academic institutions, where academics often (understandably) focus on scientific skills and knowledge.

One reason why I really liked this paper was its emphasis on ‘personal disposition’ as essential to impact. This is the third attribute of translational ecologists. Personal attributes include ‘emotional intelligence’, being comfortable with uncertainty, an ability to view problems from different vantage points along with traits such as patience, humility and a professional focus towards society. I fully agree with all of these and they certainly relate to individuals’ inner worlds as being important ‘deep leverage points’ for societal change (see here and here, for example). One question that came to my mind however was whether such qualities can be cultivated as part of a training programme or whether they are to be considered ‘prerequisites’ for training in ‘translational ecology’.

After outlining these three attributes of translational ecology, the authors (helpfully) presented them into a schematic that helps individuals identify their suitability as translational ecologists and perhaps areas where further growth is needed. Figure 1 shows a number of potential locations of interdisciplinary scholars (depicted by a ‘T’) according to their capacity along two axes: translational skills (the second attribute), and personal disposition. I think it usefully demonstrates that simply having a grasp of a diverse range of intellectual insights may not be sufficient to be someone who brings about real-world change for the environment.

T graph

Figure 1. A depiction of where interdisciplinary ecologists may sit along the two additional axes of translational ecology: translational skills and personal disposition.

Although I very much enjoyed reading the paper, there are a couple of points of critique I thought I should mention. First, is that there seemed to be an underlying assumption that change comes through engaging formally identified ‘decision-makers’ – this is true in many instances but in many parts of the world change may come more effectively through bottom-up influences. Also I was concerned that the term ‘translational ecology’ elevates ecology over other fields of environmental scholarship. While it is understandable given the journal and the authors’ backgrounds, the concept could equally be termed a ‘translational geographer’, ‘translational climate scientist’, or ‘translational sustainability scientist’.

The second half of the paper includes discussion of how training for ‘translational ecologists’ can be achieved. The authors argue that the need for ‘translational ecologists’ is going to increase dramatically particularly in boundary organisations outside of academia. They then discuss the importance of education and training for equipping individuals for this task, both within and outside of traditional academic institutions.

This timing and content of the paper was particularly pertinent to me, as I’m currently helping to develop a proposed new MSc programme at the University of Nottingham in “Environmental Leadership and Management”. Schwartz et al.’s assertion that “traditional graduate training, which continues to emphasize the importance of curiosity- and theory- driven inquiry, is often insufficient for developing aptitude to inform practical solutions” resonated with my and my colleagues’ recognition that this new teaching programme must equip students to be agents of positive change and not just a source of academic knowledge about the world. Developing training for practical skills and personal aptitude will be an exciting challenge going forward.

In the School of Geography, we are looking to employ a number of new academic staff from September 2018. We are looking for individuals with expertise in areas such as sustainability science, environmental decision-making and stewardship, environmental humanities, health geography, climate risk, and geomorphology. In addition to the opportunity to pursue research along these themes, these positions represent a chance to contribute to developing a transformational, interdisciplinary environmental master’s programme. This is an exciting time for our school, so if these posts would be of interest to you or someone you know, please take a look here: – 4 posts for Assistant and Associate Professors – Fixed term Assistant Professor until 31st January 2020