Interview with a Scholar: Dr. Anders Riel Müller / Song Yeonjun (Assoc. Prof. in City and Regional Planning)

I am surprised by the continued strong faith in technological advancement as the solution to the many ecological and social crises we are facing . . . We simply refuse to acknowledge that the crises we are facing today are of societal, political, and moral character. My research in recent years has dealt with this question of pursuing technological solutions to social, political, and moral problems.

You are part of the research network on Smart Sustainable Cities at the University of Stavanger that currently covers 24 projects and involves 48 researchers and 23 doctoral fellows. Can you tell us a bit what this research network is about, e.g., how did it get started, what are its goals, and what is your role in it?

I was hired in 2019 to lead this new research network. It was an ambitious project in which the university wanted to bring researchers together from different disciplines to work with industry and regional and local authorities to strengthen the efforts to make the smart city concept a central economic development plan for the Stavanger Region. The Smart City gained popularity around Europe back around 2010 as policy-makers and industry imagined that new wireless technologies and computing power would solve the big urban challenges of today such as climate change. In Stavanger, the smart city became popular in the aftermath of one of the biggest economic crises in the offshore oil and gas industry back in 2014, which makes of 70-80% of the total economic value of the region. Smart city was imagined to combine two aspects of a new economy: 1) fostering new “smart” technologies and solutions building on the expertise from the oil and gas sectors and 2) building new regional competencies within the area of the so-called green transition, i.e., moving out of oil and gas. With the war in Ukraine both motivations ended. Oil and gas is booming so the interest in the smart city as an economic development has dissipated. The city of Stavanger is however still pursuing climate-neutrality, so this is an aspect that we are still working on.

The goal of the network was really to bring together researchers from different disciplines to work on questions of smartness and sustainability, and work closely with public and private stakeholders in the region. So, it was both a collaboration across disciplines and a collaboration across sectors. But when the oil crisis was replaced by an oil boom in 2020, the interest faded away, both with the university management and regional policy-makers. The city closed its smart city office in 2023 and the university followed suit. We just closed down the remains of the network in June 2025 after six years. We surely did not achieve what was officially intended, and I would probably describe the research network as a sort of contingency plan, if the oil and gas sector should fail as a consequence of the 2014 oil crisis. But it didn’t and hence, there was no interest in pouring more money into it.

We did manage to build a large network both regionally and internally at the university. I think more than 50 researchers and 25 PhD students have been actively engaged in the network and it did help us establish new collaborations across disciplines and sectors, including 10+ externally funded projects and a book published in April 2025 that explores 10 years of experiences with the smart city concept in Stavanger. That was a nice way to end.

What has excited or surprised you the most about the Smart Sustainable Cities research network and the research you have done as part of it?

What has surprised – or probably frustrated – me the most, is how difficult it is to convince policy-makers and decision-makers to stay on track. Most strategic initiatives like these only last a few years before new policy-makers or managers need to start up new strategic projects to show initiative. The attention span is so short, and a lot of energy and resources is spent building up these initiatives. But without continued commitment and funding, such grand regional projects, like the Research Network for Smart Sustainable Cities, quickly fade away again. I probably should not be surprised as regional development strategies is one of my main research areas, but it is frustrating, nevertheless. So, the lesson learned on the personal level is to stay away from strategic initiatives in the future. I am happy I tried, but I would not do lead another strategic initiative if management asked me. At a more intellectual level, I am surprised by the continued strong faith in technological advancement as the solution to the many ecological and social crises we are facing. It is as if we continue to take the red pill (for those of you who have seen the first Matrix Movie). We simply refuse to acknowledge that the crises we are facing today are of societal, political, and moral character. My research in recent years has dealt with this question of pursuing technological solutions to social, political, and moral problems.

In your discipline, do scholars typically turn their PhD dissertation into a book or journal articles? Depending on what you did, what was your experience of the process like and do you have any advice for soon-to-be or recent PhD graduates who are trying to get their research published for the first time?

I do not think it is so much a matter of discipline, but rather a matter of geography. In Scandinavia, most theses today are article-based, and you very often do not get rewarded for turning your thesis into a book… or perhaps, more precisely, you are not given the time to turn your thesis into a book. We are still in a publish-or-perish system where peer-reviewed journal articles are encouraged. I think it is too bad. I prefer books where arguments and empirical materials can be unfolded in more detail, and I do not like the very schematic structure of journal articles – they are often boring to read.

In Norway the publication system is currently under revision, and I hope the new system will encourage other ways of publishing than journal articles.

My own thesis was a monograph, and I still dream of turning it into a book – hopefully before I retire haha. I would encourage PhD graduates to try to publish a book based on their thesis. It just feels so much better with a real book in your hand – and you may even be lucky to reach an audience outside of academia.

An academic’s life is busy. How do you manage your writing and publishing with your research and other workload, and life in general (partner, children, other commitments)?

I don’t. Academia is life-consuming. My partner is an academic too, so I guess we just have become used to our work controlling most aspects of our lives. But I do try to say stop. I have, for example, decided not to work on any scientific articles this summer and instead spend my time growing, preparing, and eating food. I also compiled a long list of books and podcasts (all academic – it is not healthy. I know) that I want to read and listen to this summer. I want to spend my four weeks of freedom from e-mails and endless meetings to learn new things. Let us see how it works out.

I noticed that a lot of your older research relates to food and – back in 2005 – you even founded an organic urban farm in Denmark that focused on “preserving older non-commercial, but genetically and culturally important, vegetable varieties.” I’m very curious: does that farm still exist? And, are you aware of any similar efforts in Korea?

Yes, that was a fun project, but it was unfortunately shut down by the municipality when funding ran out and the municipality got a new mayor. I guess we were also a bit ahead of time – there are plenty of other, similar initiatives in Denmark now.

There are also many examples in Korea of similar efforts. There is, for example, a farm on Nodeul Island in the middle of Seoul. The Korean Women’s Peasant Association (KWPA) and the Hansalim cooperative also run seed saving initiatives to preserve non-commercial plant varieties from going extinct. I have visited several of these projects and I am quite impressed with their efforts. For example, the pigs raised by Hansalim are fed with barley from the “Save Our Korean Barley” project. I also visited villages where KWPA members grew old varieties and saved seeds that they then exchange with each other. Such initiatives are important in so many ways. Many commercial seed varieties may give higher outputs, but they are also susceptible to certain diseases. By saving old varieties, these farmers help plants that may have important characteristics that may be useful in a changing climate. Perhaps most importantly by saving seed varieties they also preserve knowledge that is invaluable. 

You also published a journal article titled “Kimchi Identities: Transnational Korean Adoptees and the Politics of Food.” I would love to hear more about this topic, perhaps – if you don’t mind sharing – in relation to your own experience as a Korean adoptee?

That conference paper is a sore point. I never published it, because I haven’t had the time to finish it. It was a side project to my PhD that explored the messy emergence of Korean beef (한우/Hanu) as a national cultural icon. But in essence my article on Korean adoptees as food ambassadors explores the proliferation of Korean adoptees becoming Korean food “experts” in the “West”. Most Korean adoptees have not been raised eating Korean food, but their knowledge of European/North American consumer culture make them the perfect ambassadors. They become mediators between a version of Korea and a (mostly) white, middle-class consumer.

The consumption of Korean food has become an important aspect of the Korean adoptee identity formation. Through the preparation and consumption of Korean dishes, adoptees can approach a culture that they have been torn apart from. But there are important pitfalls. Because most Korean adoptees have little personal experience of Korean food, many tend to reproduce official Korean government narratives of what Korean food is. And that is exactly what the Korean government wants – ambassadors that fit the superficial image of Korean food that the government wants to promote. But I would argue that Korean food is so much else than kimchi and bibimbap, and the histories of Korean food are multiple and varied. I would very much hope for Korean adoptees to delve deeper into learning about the intricacies of Korean food cultures rather than becoming ambassadors of a superficial understanding of Korean food.

Lastly, if there’s anything else you would like to share – what you’re working on right now, advice for early career scholars, a recommended read, anything really! – please feel free to do so!

I have recently turned my attention to questions of what we can learn from indigenous, postcolonial, decolonial, and anti-imperial struggles of the past in dealing with the current crises (ecological, social, and political). I want to think about both the promises and shortcomings of previous struggles and how we can learn from them by imagining and developing pathways to alternative futures that are more than just for both human and non-human forms of life.  Living in the oil capital of Europe (Stavanger) has made this question ever so present in my daily life. I would argue that oil and gas extraction, as well as many so-called technological green transition initiatives, such as electrical vehicles, are perpetuating imperial modes of dispossession and extraction. We must think of alternative futures that do not only promise technological advancements but explore different ways of relating to humans and non-humans, and I think there is much we can learn from indigenous, postccolonial, decolonial, and anti-imperial ways of thinking. I know, that sounded very theoretical, but I think our current crises need different solutions than those offered by the mainstream.

This interview is part of the Interview with a Scholar series.