“We are only able to continue our ravaging of the planet under the cover of pretense. How is it that we as a society take no action, when the awful artifacts of our way of life on this planet lay strewn all around us? How is it that we continue to hurtle toward an obvious abyss? It is only because we have been rendered blind and insensate. Underneath their numbers games, the banks and hedge funds are stripping wealth away from the masses and the planet. Behind every profit statement, behind every executive bonus, is a trail of wreckage: strip mines, debt slaves, pension cuts, hungry children, ruined lives, and ruined places. We all participate in this system, but can do so willingly only to the extent we do not feel, see, or know. To conduct a revolution of love, we must reconnect with the reality of our system and its victims. When we tear away the ideologies, the labels, and the rationalizations, we show ourselves the truth of what we are doing, and conscience awakens.”
-Charles Eisenstein, The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know Is Possible
“The denial of climate change, while out of tune with the science, is consistent with—even necessary for—the outlook of almost all the world’s economists. The continuous growth described by modern economics, whether informed by Marx, or Keynes or Hayek, depends on the notion that the planet has an infinite capacity to supply us with wealth and absorb our pollution. In a finite world, this is impossible. Pull the rug out from under the dominant economic theories, and the whole system of thought collapses.
And this, of course, is beyond contemplation. It mocks the dreams of both left and right, of every child and parent and worker. It destroys all notions of progress. If the engine of progress—technology and its amplification of human endeavour—have merely accelerated our rush to the brink, then everything we thought was false. Brought up to believe that it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness, we are now discovering that it is better to curse the darkness than burn your house down.
Our economists are exposed by climatologists as utopian fantasists, the leaders of a millenarian cult as mad as, and more dangerous than, any religious fundamentalism. But their theories govern our lives, so those who insist that physics and biology still apply are ridiculed by a global consensus founded on wishful thinking.”
George Monbiot, from his book Bring on the Apocalypse: Essays on Self-Destruction
But, to me, right from the start there’s been a miasma of smugness surrounding the magazine, Kalle Lasn & contributors revelling in coming across as hipster despair mongers. Using all the tools in the ad-man’s arsenal (splashy graphics, catchy slogans, minimal substance) to cleverly subvert the corporates at their own game. Mocking and vilifying the consumer mindset while making sure each issue contains at least of couple of subscription cards, not to mention plugs for “approved” gear and cool doodads. Join Team Nihilist, wear “Black Spot” sneakers and feel superior to the rest of the dumb proles in their Nike/Converse/sweatshop apparel.
At times they give the impression of a bunch of black-clad, no logo-ed arseholes who’ll be standing around when the shit finally hits the fan, going: “Nyeah-nyeah-nyeah-nyeah-nyeah. Told you so, motherfuckers!”
I don’t know who’s worse, someone like that or one of those “magical thinkers” so common these days, complete doughheads who believe that technology got us into this mess and, dagnabbit, human ingenuity will get us out again, save us in the nick of time. Just like in the movies.
Where I do agree with Adbusters is that there is a war for reality going on and we have to resist the reassurances and blandishments of capitalism (“Don’t worry, be happy”, “You’re richer that you think”, “You deserve to spoil yourself”, etc.) and see the underlying truths the string-pullers are working so hard to efface. Wipe away the smog of unreality spewed out by the spin doctors and heavily indoctrinated economists and view a world in the midst of another great extinction event. This one largely of our own making.
Ocean currents that have served as the planet’s heating and cooling system for millennia are shifting, prevailing airstreams changing, the climate around the world reacting the environmental impact of the modern industrial era. We’re seeing massive human migrations, desperate people seeking to escape privation, hunger, loss of arable land. Historically, resource scarcity is the one condition guaranteed to provoke conflict; a hungry populace will seek radical solutions the way a drowning man will grasp the point of a sword.
But what can be done? As Charles Eisenstein points out, it’s natural to lose hope, feel completely overwhelmed by the scope of the disaster confronting us. The head knows we’re probably fucked, Earth headed for a massive meltdown…but the heart insists we have to at least try, for the sake of those as yet unborn. And so we feel at odds with ourselves, a fundamental split in our being. What to do?
And, of course, it all comes down to a personal transformation. That is the one aspect of the world we can control. We have the ability to just stop buying, stop craving stuff, more crap. We can divert a small amount of our salaries each month to good causes. We can volunteer, become better citizens, contributing to our community, getting to know our neighbours. We can seek out and support political candidates who recognize the seriousness of our plight and pledge themselves to finding solutions, even if that means forsaking the status quo. We can preach the gospel of thriftiness and frugality to family and friends and we should never miss the opportunity to shame conspicuous consumption, ridicule the pretensions and props of the wealthy and stupid among us.
There’s no such thing as fair play in this war for reality, no Geneva Convention guidelines to follow. There’s too much at stake. The corporates and their shills have their greasy mitts on the levers of power and those of us who still hold out some hope at preserving a semblance of human life on this planet must employ the mindset and tactics of guerrilla warriors since antiquity—speed, stealth, cunning—to achieve our objectives. Nibbling at the edges, gnawing away at the underlying supports and institutional foundations. Sowing seeds of dissent, doubt. Subverting authority, sabotaging power structures. Never failing to offer alternatives, fresh perspectives, while stubbornly withstanding the temptations and treasures dangled before us by our insidious foes.
There comes a time when each of us has to make a choice, balance our current, comfortable lifestyles against a near future where our grandchildren suffer because of their ancestors’ indifference, profligacy, selfishness. Once you make that choice there’s no going back, no compromise possible.
Welcome to the Resistance, comrade.
Now do you have the courage and mental strength to face your final test?
Which will it be: the blue or the red pill…
Photos by Liam Burns
For a minimum of five bucks, you bought your ticket and took your chance (I don’t suppose either Messrs. Harper and Trudeau were among the contributors).
I didn’t win and I think that’s a shame.
It would have been a very interesting meal.
First of all, we’d likely be dining in some fancy-shmancy Toronto establishment–decidedly not my type of joint. I’d have no idea which fork to use, the proper placement of a cloth napkin and, as a rule, only wear neckties for weddings and funerals. Out of nervousness, and since the Party would be picking up the tab, not taxpayers, I’d quickly order a ripping good scotch (“a double, please”) and the evening would start going downhill from there…
* * *
Mr. Mulcair’s colleague, Andrew Cash, and my co-winner (let’s call her Mary, a retired art teacher from New Brunswick), try to keep the conversation on safe ground, discussing the weather and Liberal policies (both of which are judged to be too fickle, ha ha), but I’m having none of that. That first-rate scotch is working wonders on my system and, after all, this is my chance to talk turkey with one of the big boys.
First off, I’d want to know Tom’s views on Tony Blair’s “New Labour”. Before he had time to lower his eyebrows, I’d go on a tirade about Blair’s invertebrate ideology (i.e. its utter spinelessness). He purged the party of its leftwing, its visionaries, the folks who carried the red flag and espoused traditional socialist causes like unions, class equality, progressivism, etc.
“Oh, sorry, Tom, I used the ‘S’ word, didn’t I? By the way, do you, in any way, still consider yourself a socialist? Do you believe in a classless society, do you favor universal, state-sponsored health care, a tax regime whereby the wealthy pay their fair share and economic policies that strictly legislate financial institutions and corporations, etc.?” A waiter hovers beside him and Mr. Mulcair raises his eyes hopefully but now I want to know if the Leader is familiar with the work of Nobel Prize-winning economist Joseph Stiglitz, his book The Price of Inequality. I remind him that even the IMF now says that “trickle down economics” (priming the pump at the top of the human food chain) doesn’t work and, in fact, only institutionalizes inequity. Those bastards at the Chicago School of Economics must be chewing the furniture in frustration. Decades of neo-liberal horseshit discounted in one press release…and hardly anyone noticed. Too busy following Caitlyn Jenner’s hijinks. What a bunch of fucking monkeys we are.
“I’m wondering, Tom, if you’ve given much thought to the level of taxation North Americans, particularly Canadians, are willing to absorb in order to guarantee the kind of ‘cradle to the grave’ protection they deserve. The highest income tax bracket in France is something like 70%, isn’t it? Must be the same with those Scandinavian countries leftists are always trotting out as their idea of Utopia. What is it here in Canada? Nowhere near that kind of threshold, I’m afraid. Are you willing to follow the lead of your socialist brothers abroad?” The waiter drifts away and the Leader slumps in his chair.
“And don’t you think it’s time to forget about the PST and GST and instead come up with a GCT—that is, Grotesque Consumption Tax. Targeting those greedhead, hedonistic assholes who spend more than forty thousand dollars on a vehicle or a million bucks on a house. McMansions, fancy boats, lakefront properties; conspicuous consumption far beyond what this planet can possibly sustain.”
The Leader’s eyes light up. He has a set patter on the environment, a power point presentation he’s learned by heart. But does his plan involve:
“…extraordinarily high fines for polluters and serious jail time for the most grievous offenders. Anyone embarking on an enterprise that could be potentially harmful to the environment must put aside a significant pool of money so that after the logging/mining is done, all the environmental damage must be fixed and the land fully rehabilitated. And the transition away from oil, gas and coal (which should have started immediately following Kyoto) must be made official, with a hefty carbon tax, higher fuel taxes, higher plane fares, etc.”
The Leader is turning green, and I don’t mean in the David Suzuki sense. But I know the numbers and one of the guys I absolutely revere is Bill McKibben over at 350.org. He says this planet is already in the red, environmentally speaking, way past the point of no return, and if we want to mitigate the damage for our children and grandchildren we need radical, profound solutions today, rather than mealy-mouthed liberal-democratic claptrap about “improving sustainability”.
I’m furious that the closer the NDP has come to power—and, to be fair to Mr. Mulcair, his predecessor Jack Layton was equally guilty—the less it has reflected its leftwing, progressive roots. I believe that Canadians are looking for a true alternative to the depradations of capitalism they witness every day, locally and internationally. They want the elimination of entrenched power elites and a more egalitarian society where the rule of law is equally applied and citizens pay their fair share.
The alternative of capitalism is not libertarian economics–that merely preserves the cruel philosophy of the survival of the richest, the most cunning and ruthless continuing to have their day. No, the only viable, credible ideology for a near future of shrinking resources, economic uncertainty and the perils accompanying climate change, is socialism. Undiluted and unapologetic, reflecting its root themes: class struggle, equality, human rights.
Socialism demands that we confront our problems together, none among us allowed to shirk responsibility—it’s a way of approaching the world that requires local cooperation, participation on a grassroots level. Councils and bodies created to deal with pressing concerns, the membership constantly rotating to avoid the accumulation of power and influence. The purest form of democracy I can envision.
I see little of that in the NDP platform. I see a lot of talk meant to placate the business and financial communities, letting them know they have nothing to fear from Tommy Mulcair and his crowd. They’re the “new” kind of New Democrats, hugging that yellow streak in the middle of the road, virtually indistinguishable from the Liberals (except for Justin’s commendable stance on marijuana).
At the conclusion of the meal, the Leader politely shakes my hand…then grabs an aide from a nearby table and as the two of them hustle off, it appears “our next Prime Minister” is savagely berating the poor man. I hear him growl “….and be sure to fire whatever dumb sonofabitch thought up this stunt in the first place.”
Ah, well. I tried.
The night is still young and Toronto offers some fine book stores.
Think I’ll go looking for a biography of Rosa Luxemburg.
Remember her, Tom?
There was a gal with the courage and integrity to match her convictions.
Can you, in all conscience, honestly say the same?
“It is not enough just to identify a symptom and eliminate it, with either medicinal plants or the intervention of positive magic. To heal the body, one has to seek realignment, not only with the supernatural realm but with the Earth itself, the source of all life. It is movement through sacred geography that makes atonement possible. This is the meaning of healing. To make whole. To be holy. To give of oneself to the Earth and thus rediscover balance, the foundation and essence of well-being.”
-Wade Davis, The Clouded Leopard
“Anecdote of the Jar” appears about halfway through the book. Like all the best poetry, it manages to be, simultaneously, deceptively simple and yet enormous in its implications.
I can’t cite the poem in its entirety without paying a stipend to Stevens’ estate (and more power to ’em), but I can tell you that it succeeds, in three brief stanzas, at revealing humankind as the ultimate invasive species, spreading our cargo cult of garbage and useless detritus to the farthest reaches of our planet. Pepsi cans and cluster bombs dropping like manna from the heavens, a “north Atlantic gyre” of Walmart bags and accumulated human waste and debris, literally an island of filth to navigate around, map and study.
Understand, I know nothing of the genesis or conception of “Anecdote of the Jar”, this is purely my take on it, a highly subjective interpretation. The poem was likely written in the 1920’s or 30’s, long before the full scope of our crimes against the environment was apparent. Was Stevens’ prescient, somehow aware of what was coming? I’m not qualified to answer. I do know that quite often poets are like a canary in a coal mine, detecting dangerous elements and tendencies within our society the rest of us either don’t or (more likely) won’t acknowledge.
Just by its mere presence on a hillside in Tennessee, a jar, the simplest and most basic of objects, defeats that ancient landscape, forever marring it. Nature, in an instant, overtaken and violated, no longer pristine, untouched by human hands.
I think “fair use” permits me to quote two crucial lines:
The wilderness rose up to it/And sprawled around, no longer wild…
That’s what happens when you drop a fast food cup in the woods or toss your garbage from a moving vehicle. A single thoughtless act that spoils the scenery for the rest of us.
Remember the backpacker’s credo: Take nothing but photographs, leave nothing but footprints.
And, even so, I beg you, make sure you walk on tiptoes…