Concerto for blunt instrument

An irregular heartbeat from d.o. to you. Not like a daily kos, more like a sometime sloth. Fast relief from the symptoms of blogarrhea and predicated on the understanding that the world is not a stage for our actions, rather it is a living organism upon which we depend for our existence.

Saturday, December 05, 2009

A letter to my grandchildren

To my Grandchildren,

I've been meaning to write to you for quite sometime regarding the ecological disaster my generation and past generations have bestowed upon you. I want to say I have done everything possible to prevent the climate crisis and a seemingly endless list of environmental emergencies, but the truth is that I have not done everything possible. I have not for instance, burned down the New York Stock Exchange or the headquarters of any number of corporations that are complicit in the destruction of our planet. I have not ventured to the Amazon to sabotage the rapacious, illegal logging operations. Nor have I fasted to the death as a protest to the machinations of those corporations that are leaving such a poisonous legacy for your generation. And I have not abducted any of the highly flawed leaders of those corporations or their henchmen in Congress and tried to exchange them for real commitments to stop destroying the biosphere. These things, and other acts, are possible but not necessarily probable for your grandfather. Also, they might not be really very effective in creating the kind of change needed to save the planet from the human race. History, for the most part, tells us that such acts usually just reinforce the dominant paradigm of self-interest: opposing values and behaviors become even defensive, more entrenched; the growing "security state" (real security requires a healthy planet, of course) grows even more, or such acts merely fade from our increasingly short memories having little if any effect.

What I have done, and will continue to do until my dying day, is constantly sound the alarm and do all I can to raise awareness of the critical issues that face your generation and the future of life on Earth. Granted, I have been doing that for the past forty years or so, seemingly without much in the way of results. I have created and been part of organizations that prevented the construction or implementation of various ill-conceived facilities or policies, but for every victory there seems to have been as many defeats. The Machine, that all-consuming suicidal mindset humans have manufactured to conquer Nature, is vast and pervasive. Those of us standing in its path trying to prevent its awful advance are far too few and way too weak. It is for that reason that I keep trying to raise the alarm and increase our ranks. Some believe such efforts are hopeless. Perhaps these are people without children or grandchildren.

As I write this, countless civic and environmental groups, as well as so-called world leaders, are ending the largest climate summit ever held on the plant, the United Nation's COP-15 meeting held in Copenhagen, Denmark this December, 2009. The event was a failure. It was mired in the very paradigm of self-interest I mentioned earlier. It was fraught with elitism, deception and manipulation, the sad indicators of our highly flawed species. One wonders if any hope is left with this kind of political and social chaos taking place, even as time runs out for the very planet that is home to all of us.

And yet, all I have is hope and what little strength is left to me to continue the struggle. I hope that those who have chosen the wrong path, the path of selfishness or crazed materialism, will realize the error of their ways. I hope that the planet has a greater capacity than we are aware of to absorb or turn-back humanity's suicidal assaults. I hope that some sort of deus ex machina will make itself known and save the world. I hope that hopelessness will not overcome us. In the face of all this, regardless of failures like the COP-15 climate summit, I will continue to stand before The Machine with all of you in mind.




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