 Derrick Jensen's newest book, Endgame,
is a raucous, polemical, rambling, articulate, angry, relentless,
radical, poetic, fearless and brilliantly-argued tirade against
civilization, its excesses and its unsustainability. The first volume
reiterates arguments from Jensen's earlier work (notably A Language Older Than Words) why civilization cannot be reformed and must end, while the second volume presents a sort of blueprint for bringing it down.
Jensen
is through talking and arguing, and the purpose of this book is to
recruit those who are ready to fight civilization to its knees. In the
process, he goes over all the arguments one more time, raising the
arguments of deniers, apologists, "addictive copers", pacifists and
defeatists who say civilization is doing fine, doing its best, the only
game in town and/or impossible to defeat in any case, and
deconstructing these arguments. He argues that while civilization is
toxic and irredeemable, humanity is not. He argues, taking a
surprisingly catholic view, that we are too kind to abusers, from
polluters to CEO fraud artists to factory farmers to rapists to strip
miners to animal experimenters to clear-cutters to dam builders to
psychopathic warmongers, that that kindness merely feeds these abusers'
sense of entitlement to continue their abuse, and that the only
solution for them is to give them no other choice but to radically
change their ways.
He calls upon each of us to exercise outrage, understanding and personal responsibility and join him:
I
consider myself answerable to -- responsible to -- the humans who will
come after, who will inherit the wreckage our generation is leaving to
them...I can sometimes lie to myself...But to them, to all of those to
whom I hold myself responsible -- I could never lie. To them, and for
them, I give my brightest, deepest truth. So how do you know
if you're ready to join him? Jensen lays out 20 premises, which are
well-defended at length in the book's two volumes. If you buy these
premises, without even having to read the book, you're probably ready.
If you think you could be convinced, buy the book(s) and find out. Here are the 20 premises:
Premise One: Civilization is not and can never be sustainable. This is especially true for industrial civilization.
Premise
Two: Traditional communities do not often voluntarily give up or sell
the resources on which their communities are based until their
communities have been destroyed. They also do not willingly allow their
landbases to be damaged so that other resources—gold, oil, and so
on—can be extracted. It follows that those who want the resources will
do what they can to destroy traditional communities.
Premise
Three: Our way of living—industrial civilization—is based on, requires,
and would collapse very quickly without persistent and widespread
violence.
Premise Four: Civilization is based on a clearly
defined and widely accepted yet often unarticulated hierarchy. Violence
done by those higher on the hierarchy to those lower is nearly always
invisible, that is, unnoticed. When it is noticed, it is fully
rationalized. Violence done by those lower on the hierarchy to those
higher is unthinkable, and when it does occur is regarded with shock,
horror, and the fetishization of the victims.
Premise Five: The
property of those higher on the hierarchy is more valuable than the
lives of those below. It is acceptable for those above to increase the
amount of property they control—in everyday language, to make money—by
destroying or taking the lives of those below. This is called
production. If those below damage the property of those above, those
above may kill or otherwise destroy the lives of those below. This is
called justice.
Premise Six: Civilization is not redeemable.
This culture will not undergo any sort of voluntary transformation to a
sane and sustainable way of living. If we do not put a halt to it,
civilization will continue to immiserate the vast majority of humans
and to degrade the planet until it (civilization, and probably the
planet) collapses. The effects of this degradation will continue to
harm humans and nonhumans for a very long time.
Premise Seven:
The longer we wait for civilization to crash—or the longer we wait
before we ourselves bring it down—the messier will be the crash, and
the worse things will be for those humans and nonhumans who live during
it, and for those who come after.
Premise Eight: The needs of the natural world are more important than the needs of the economic system.
Another
way to put premise Eight: Any economic or social system that does not
benefit the natural communities on which it is based is unsustainable,
immoral, and stupid. Sustainability, morality, and intelligence (as
well as justice) requires the dismantling of any such economic or
social system, or at the very least disallowing it from damaging your
landbase.
Premise Nine: Although there will clearly some day be
far fewer humans than there are at present, there are many ways this
reduction in population could occur (or be achieved, depending on the
passivity or activity with which we choose to approach this
transformation). Some of these ways would be characterized by extreme
violence and privation: nuclear armageddon, for example, would reduce
both population and consumption, yet do so horrifically; the same would
be true for a continuation of overshoot, followed by crash. Other ways
could be characterized by less violence. Given the current levels of
violence by this culture against both humans and the natural world,
however, it’s not possible to speak of reductions in population and
consumption that do not involve violence and privation, not because the
reductions themselves would necessarily involve violence, but because
violence and privation have become the default. Yet some ways of
reducing population and consumption, while still violent, would consist
of decreasing the current levels of violence required, and caused by,
the (often forced) movement of resources from the poor to the rich, and
would of course be marked by a reduction in current violence against
the natural world. Personally and collectively we may be able to both
reduce the amount and soften the character of violence that occurs
during this ongoing and perhaps longterm shift. Or we may not. But this
much is certain: if we do not approach it actively—if we do not talk
about our predicament and what we are going to do about it—the violence
will almost undoubtedly be far more severe, the privation more extreme.
Premise
Ten: The culture as a whole and most of its members are insane. The
culture is driven by a death urge, an urge to destroy life.
Premise Eleven: From the beginning, this culture—civilization—has been a culture of occupation.
Premise
Twelve: There are no rich people in the world, and there are no poor
people. There are just people. The rich may have lots of pieces of
green paper that many pretend are worth something—or their presumed
riches may be even more abstract: numbers on hard drives at banks—and
the poor may not. These “rich” claim they own land, and the “poor” are
often denied the right to make that same claim. A primary purpose of
the police is to enforce the delusions of those with lots of pieces of
green paper. Those without the green papers generally buy into these
delusions almost as quickly and completely as those with. These
delusions carry with them extreme consequences in the real world.
Premise
Thirteen: Those in power rule by force, and the sooner we break
ourselves of illusions to the contrary, the sooner we can at least
begin to make reasonable decisions about whether, when, and how we are
going to resist.
Premise Fourteen: From birth on—and probably
from conception, but I’m not sure how I’d make the case—we are
individually and collectively enculturated to hate life, hate the
natural world, hate the wild, hate wild animals, hate women, hate
children, hate our bodies, hate and fear our emotions, hate ourselves.
If we did not hate the world, we could not allow it to be destroyed
before our eyes. If we did not hate ourselves, we could not allow our
homes—and our bodies—to be poisoned.
Premise Fifteen: Love does not imply pacifism.
Premise
Sixteen: The material world is primary. This does not mean that the
spirit does not exist, nor that the material world is all there is. It
means that spirit mixes with flesh. It means also that real world
actions have real world consequences. It means we cannot rely on Jesus,
Santa Claus, the Great Mother, or even the Easter Bunny to get us out
of this mess. It means this mess really is a mess, and not just the
movement of God’s eyebrows. It means we have to face this mess
ourselves. It means that for the time we are here on Earth—whether or
not we end up somewhere else after we die, and whether we are condemned
or privileged to live here—the Earth is the point. It is primary. It is
our home. It is everything. It is silly to think or act or be as though
this world is not real and primary. It is silly and pathetic to not
live our lives as though our lives are real.
Premise Seventeen:
It is a mistake (or more likely, denial) to base our decisions on
whether actions arising from these will or won’t frighten
fence-sitters, or the mass of Americans.
Premise Eighteen: Our current sense of self is no more sustainable than our current use of energy or technology.
Premise
Nineteen: The culture’s problem lies above all in the belief that
controlling and abusing the natural world is justifiable.
Premise
Twenty: Within this culture, economics—not community well-being, not
morals, not ethics, not justice, not life itself—drives social
decisions.
Re-modification of Premise Twenty: If you dig to the
heart of it—if there were any heart left—you would find that social
decisions are determined primarily on the basis of how well these
decisions serve the ends of controlling or destroying wild nature. For
those who are ready, but might think the task hopeless, the odds too
overwhelming and the opposition too powerful, Jensen argues that doing
something meaningful and effective to undo the damage of civilization
is remarkably easy, because civilization is so power-concentrated and
overextended that it's brittle, fragile and hugely vulnerable,
constantly fighting an endless battle against the very laws of nature
and of thermodynamics. "There is no fighting force in the world that
can survive the death by a thousand cuts of a dedicated partisan
movement", he quotes one expert in guerrilla warfare as saying.
Undoing
dams, blocking deforestation, hacking systems, interrupting
distribution and power generation systems, "breaking the people's
faith" in the reliability and viability of the entire economic and
political system, undermining leveraged and overextended corporations,
and wearing down imperialist, corporatist infrastructure by strategic
and repeated industrial sabotage -- all of these are activist tools to
take down civilization, and the longer we wait to start this action in
earnest, the more horrific the inevitable collapse of civilization will
be. And these offensives together are just one of six simultaneous
thrusts that we must undertake, in small, loosely knit, locally focused
groups, to mitigate the terrible and unavoidable fallout of
civilization's collapse. The other five are:
- changing
ourselves (eerily similar to what I called Let-Self-Change in my post
earlier this week) to be informed and ready to do what we must
- healing and relieving the pain inflicted by civilization
- defending against the incessant attacks of civilization on our land, resources and persons
- restoring and remediating the damage that civilization has already wrought
- preparing to resist future attacks, planning additional offensives, and getting ready for the collapse and life after it
So
we have six roles to choose from, depending on our competencies and
passions. And throughout the world, especially in some struggling
nations, the resistance has already begun in earnest and its champions
have a great deal to teach us about how to fight the dragons of
civilization and win.
So where do I stand on all this? I admire
Jensen's bluntness, and his courage (he suffers from Crohn's disease,
the more sinister sister disease to my ulcerative colitis, so he'd have
some easy excuses for staying on the sidelines of the war against
civilization if he wanted to take them, and he doesn't). I love his 20
premises and find their logic compelling, even unassailable.
Am I ready to join him? Depending on the role, yes and no. I am not yet
ready to be a radical activist, to take what would be perceived as
violent steps to counter the outrages of civilization. I am not sure
why not. I would certainly rejoice to see the end of dams and factory
farms and imperialist wars and megapolluters and corporatism and animal
testing and other monstrous abuses of power and wealth. I would
celebrate and support those who took offensive action to bring such
ends, provided the violence was measured, not gratuitous, and not
disproportionate to the violence it was countering. But I suspect that,
at heart, and despite my outrage, I am no warrior myself. And I am not
by nature an enforcer.
I am going through a huge self-change
process right now, as regular readers are aware. I suspect it will
leave me just as radical in my beliefs but more modest in my
self-expectations, more focused on what I can do that will make a real
difference now and for future generations within my own communities. I
think it will leave me better able to coach others who are changing
themselves to be ready for the struggle and collapse ahead, and to help
develop models that will help future generations cope with the
aftermath of that collapse.
Perhaps that means I won't be on
the front lines of Jensen's war. But I wouldn't count me out yet. We do
what we must, and my guess would be that as the bankruptcy of our
culture becomes more apparent to millions and then billions, and the
army that is prepared to bring it down before it brings us all down
swells, I won't be able to resist being in the middle of things. My
gift is imaging possibilities, and my purpose is provoking change. I'm
going to be needed. So are you. |