 As
I was driving into downtown Toronto this morning I listened to the
dreary, clichéd responses from politicians to the recent upsurge in
drug-related gang shootings in the Toronto area. The answer, said the
progressives, is to stop the flow of guns from the US. Yeah, as if that's going to happen.
The answer, said the conservatives, is much steeper prison sentences
for all violent crimes (and presumably building more
staggeringly-expensive prisons to hold them). Creative, eh? And,
ironically, the conservative leader with this moronic idea claimed
"even if it deters just one criminal act" it will be worth it, and it
will provide solace to the families of victims and increase the feeling
of security in "troubled" (by which he meant black) neighbourhoods. Even if it doesn't work.
In
other news, it turns out that the heavy oil spill in an Alberta lake
from last week's train derailment not only devastated the life in the
lake and nearby land, but also contaminated the groundwater and
contained a deadly carcinogen that was not reported to cleanup
authorities. Alberta's Big Oil-dominated government's environmental
record is poor, probably the worst in Canada, but since they can blame
this spill on the feds, this is unlikely to change. I heard this just
as I drove around the carcass of a dead kitten on the road, crushed and
ignored by the rush hour traffic. There's another heat and smog
advisory here, the 35th this summer, and authorities are asking people
to conserve, yet 35% of women working in office buildings surveyed last
month claim that the summer temperature inside their offices is so cold
they have to bring sweaters and sometimes even use space heaters under
their desks. A university professor was interviewed about a plan to
build a wind turbine that could reduce the energy needs of one
university campus -- by 2%. But the one big wind turbine in downtown Toronto wasn't working at all this morning.
I
changed the station and learned that Bush has signed the
zero-conservation energy bill, paving the way for drilling in the ANWR
and including a massive drilling and nuke-building subsidy program for
Big Energy that, at most, will increase US reserves by a six-month
supply, while dismantling more environment, land development and
pollution controls across the country. He's on vacation for a month,
where he recently entertained his pal, Colombian president Uribe, and
promised him more aid to fight drugs (and leftists) despite evidence
from Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International that most of the
money has actually been going to Uribe's brutal military and
paramilitary forces and that the 'drug war' has been a devastating, utter and
abject failure.
The editorial on the station cheered us with the
news that global corporations are now so dependent on corporate
welfare, subsidies, corporate tax refunds, tax rate reductions,
handouts, immunity from litigation and other distortions of the 'free'
market that any sudden move to end the free ride would bankrupt
hundreds of multinational corporations and plunge the world into a
monstrous depression. These corporations, the economist editorialist
said, are as addicted to the money stolen from low- and middle-income
taxpayers as those taxpayers are addicted to the oil and other products
those taxes are subsidizing. Perfect co-dependency.
I began to ask myself why, when there is every indication that the world is careening out of control, that no one is in charge, that even if we were to suddenly wake up and realize what we were doing there is no one and no group
powerful enough to fix it (not even the US government, which is so
indebted to other nations it is quickly going bankrupt, and which is so
clueless, uncoordinated and incompetent it couldn't act coherently even
if it could afford to), why are we still so hopeful? Why do we still get up every day with such expectations for our future and that of our children?
What is it about human nature, and about nature in general,
that makes us go on, so hopefully, even when we, or our loved ones, or
our planet is diagnosed with a terminal disease? Even when we live our
whole lives in slavery, confinement, fear, subjugation, impoverishment
and desperation? Even in extreme and horrific circumstances, like death
camps, genocides, brutal and constant physical, sexual or psychological
abuse, torture, unbearable pain, tiny, stench-filled cages and
institutions where the only exit is on a slab?
I am fond of saying that the answer is It's the only life we know.
And I think that's true, except it doesn't explain why those who have
known or glimpsed better, who have studied and learned and seen a
better way, who can imagine another, more joyous life but have no
reasonable expectation of achieving it, also go on, hoping against
hope, that it will get better, that somehow joy will find a way.
The
explanation for this is more Darwinian: It is a failure of our genetic
makeup rather than a failure of knowledge. When life evolved on this
planet, the extent of misery and depravity that our species could
inflict on other species, and on itself, could not be conceived. Over
hundreds of millennia nature has evolved ways to cope with and mitigate
pain: An animal caught by a predator gets a brief shot of a natural
pain-killer which, it is believed, makes imminent death painless,
almost peaceful (perhaps the same euphoric experience that near-death
survivors have reported). Animals suffering serious natural injury will
often go into shock, and die quickly, unconsciously. The memory of the
dead goes quickly in nature, as predators and microbes and natural
forces return the creature gracefully back to the Earth.
But
in civilization death and suffering are not so graceful. Nature has not
had time, not nearly, to develop effective, natural ways to ease the
pain and misery that we upstart humans have wrought on each other and
on so many other creatures. Our ability to create these horrors is too
new, and has 'evolved' too quickly.
So instead, we hope. That is all we can do.
That is nature's lifelong, life-affirming instruction to us all until
she tells us, gracefully, when it is time to give up hope of a joyful
life, and let go, in peace. That instruction has been in our DNA for
three million years, a gift from the creatures from which we came, and
civilization's thirty thousand years is not enough time to create new
instructions for us and for all our victims. She is trying, with new
diseases and serendipitous outbursts (volcanoes, meteors, ice ages) to
cuff us in her motherly way to behave, to bring us into line, to stop
us from torturing our sisters and brothers. But we are not good
learners, we no longer know how to pay attention to her lessons.
So we hope. That is who we are. That is the stuff we are made of. We await further instruction. We carry on.
The sky is clearing, the night has cried enough
The sun, he come, the world to offer up
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice but
To carry on
(- Steven Stills) |
MADE IN CANADA
trust your
instincts 
