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Nothing but Flowers (a short screenplay)

September 17, 2007
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EXT – Day, Deep Woods

[A couple sits under the canopy of some trees gnawing on big hunks of raw meat, chewing and chewing slowly and disgustedly. They are both dressed in tattered business suits.]

JANE

Ten years of vegetarianism gone down the drain.

ADAM

Mmmm.

JANE

This is truly disgusting.

ADAM

(beat) I wonder how Jesus is doing without me running Hostile Takeovers.

JANE

I wonder how Tarik is doing without me to get his reapplication in order. He’ll never get his Thesta-Distatica patented without me to look out for him. He’ll probably be another victim of DigestCom in fact.

ADAM

Would you shut up?

JANE

Ooooh, do I detect a little lingering loyalty to the assimilation machine?

ADAM (moping)

No. I left for a reason you know. As much as I could go for some bruschetta and a café latte right now, I’d rather be here gnawing on this half burnt half bloody deer meat than carving up the corpses of small businesses to keep Jesus and the shareholders secure in the knowledge that anything innovative will soon be theirs. I’m just sick of talking about the city. We’re better off out here.

JANE

We’re miserable out here, Adam. This isn’t food, this is a dead animal. It’s not meat it’s flesh! And this isn’t living. God I have the shakes.

ADAM

Caffeine withdrawal?

JANE

I haven’t slept more than four hours a single night since we got here.

ADAM

You haven’t slept more than four hours a single night since university.

JANE

Yes but we’re supposed to be getting past that. What’s the point of caffeine withdrawal if you still can’t sleep at night? And what’s the point of sleep deprivation if you don’t have to work tomorrow-

ADAM (interrupting)

Oh we have to work tomorrow, girl-

JANE (interrupting)

Have to but can’t. How are we supposed to work when we’re shaking like this.

[Jane holds up her left hand to demonstrate. It’s shaking heavily and she has trouble even holding it up. It’s caked in dark deer blood.]

ADAM

Yeah, I know, I know. (beat) Not to mention our eyes.

[Camera shows close-up of a bloodshot red watery eye.]

JANE

Don’t remind me, please.

[Adam holds his lids open and leans in close to show Jane.]

JANE (ctd)

What I just say?

[She grabs Adam by the face and shoves his head away.]

ADAM

Seriously Jane what do you think is causing this eye thing?

INT. Adam at a computer, typing a financial report, with his eyes mere inches from the screen.

EXT. Back under the canopy

JANE (shrugs)

I dunno. My eyes are fine.

ADAM

Yeah but your ear looks like a head of cauliflower – mmm, cauliflower.

INT. Jane on the phone arguing about a rejected patent claim.

EXT. Back under the canopy. Jane gives Adam another face shove as he leans toward her ear with his mouth open and watering.

EXT – In an open field now, Adam and Jane are hovering over a fire upon which rests a boiling Teflon pot of dark green liquid

ADAM (shaking all over as if feverishly sick)

This better work, Jane.

JANE (very defensively)

Or what, Adam?

[Adam looks at her blankly but if looks could kill…]

JANE (ctd)

Whose dumbass idea was it to come out here again? Was it, hmm, maybe, I think, yes, was it – YOUR idea, Adam!

[Jane switches to a deep, goofy voice.]

JANE (ctd)

Oh, Jane, we’re stuck in a trap here. We’re working so hard we never have time for each other, and when we do I’m so stressed I can’t even get it up anymore. Oh Jane this life is too much work for too little reward – what’s the point of all our possessions if we can’t even enjoy them together, Jane? Oh Jane, let’s move out somewhere wild, build a lean-to and live like hunter-gatherers – we can be naked all the time. It’ll be our own Garden of Eden – except we can even eat the apples, oh Jane let’s do it.

[Jane switches back to her own voice, except angrier than we’ve yet seen her, she’s yelling at the top of her lungs now.]

JANE (ctd)

Well you know what? You may be Adam, but I ain’t no Eve, and there ain’t no apples on this godforsaken island!

[Jane storms out of sight. Adam stares deep into the brewing cauldron, pulls some small berries out of his breast pocket and squeezes a milky substance from them into the pot, and stirs with a stick.]

ADAM (calling over his shoulder)

Jane, I think it’s ready.

EXT. Back under the canopy. Jane and Adam sit sipping from two Second Cup stainless steel traveler mugs, making contorted disgusted faces with each sip. Jane occasionally looks like she’s going to wretch. They sit sipping for about 15 seconds, eyeing each other suspiciously, saying nothing.

EXT. Back to the wide open field. Adam is chasing Jane. She lets him catch her, hugs him, squirms loose, runs, lets him catch her again.

ADAM

Feeling better?

JANE

Oh Adam! What did you put in that tea?

ADAM

That was no tea Jane, it was espresso, espresso au natural.

JANE

Adam, some espresso, it was disgusting.

ADAM

I think it has potential. It must be healthy, look how much better we feel. I haven’t eaten for hours and I’m not even hungry. And I’ve stopped shaking. And so have you! And I don’t feel thirsty either, it’s a wonder drink. We just have to figure out how to make it taste good and we could make millions.

JANE

I thought you weren’t interested in making millions anymore.

ADAM

Well, I’m not, but, you know. (beat) I thought you were.

JANE

I just want to get out of the jungle.

ADAM

And go back to our miserable lives working non-stop, never seeing each other or our friends, consuming unstoppably, glued to our desks, stressed, sleepless?

JANE

Let’s work on this natural espresso. Show me what you put in it.

EXT. Over the fire and boiling pot again. Through the magic of time lapse photography we see Jane and Adam trying batch after batch, making a vast diversity of contorted faces until, eureka! They make a delicious batch.

EXT. Adam and Jane selling ‘Natural Espresso’ on the side of the road to Galiano tourists, thus curing the tourists’ caffeine withdrawal. They’re talking up the customers about city life, the beauty of nature but also how one misses the finer, higher culture things in life: the theatre, the ballet, the symphony, espresso.

JANE

Oh you can’t beat Karen Kain, Minigawa’s beautiful but she doesn’t have as much grace – that’s just how it is. I wish Karen Kain would perform again, even if she’s past her prime, she’ll always have that graceful beauty.

CAFFEINE CUSTOMER

Heather Ogden is something to watch. She’s very self-assured.

ADAM

Yes, she certainly is (beat) something to watch.

[Jane elbows Adam playfully. The customer thanks them, returns to her Prius with a travel mug full of a dark green brew, and drives away.]

JANE

We’ll be rich!

ADAM

Yes, rich because we’ll be in the city we love, with a job we actually believe in – bringing this great energy drink to our fellow connoisseurs, actually having conversations with people. And we can grow a rooftop garden that will supply us with all our raw materials. Rich indeed, a kind of wealth too few people know.

JANE

Whatever.

THE END.

Fear the Monoculture

July 28, 2007
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I fear the monoculture
because I know in the time of choosing
which culture will win out:
The Dominant One
the one that eats forests for breakfast
and oceans for supper
skips lunch because it’s too busy
and can’t afford the calories
The One that never sleeps because
it’s too busy planning
its next acquisition

I fear that loss of cultural diversity
because if we all start acting the same way
we’ll be a world of bullies
in search of new victims
and only the planet itself
will be left to suffer
That would be our undoing

African Social Evolution

June 5, 2007
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As my colleague Chris Lovell points out, hunting is not so much a way of life as a way of gaining sustenance.  Hunters in Ghana have become farmers of bushmeat, but whether this change is truly more sustainable is a dubious claim.

Civilization's infringement on traditional hunting lands have provided new jobs for some, but abject poverty for too many.

African Social Evolution

Ghana International Airways provided a complimentary October 2006 copy of the New African Magazine, the front page of which proclaimed boldly ‘Africa’s Glorious Heritage.’ My pre-African introduction to Africa was to be a 27-page, multi-authored expose on one of the most prevalent myths about the continent: that before Europeans arrived there it was a massive, sprawling backwater devoid of civilized people.

As American writer Adam Hochschild wrote in his 1999 bestseller, ‘King Leopold’s Ghost,’ this myth is rooted in the racist perceptions of the colonialists themselves, who failed to see the complex societies abounding around them through their pre-conceived romantic notions of savagery. Hochschild writes:

To see Africa instead as a continent of coherent societies, each with its own culture and history, took a leap of empathy, a leap that few, if any, of the early European or American visitors to the Congo were able to make. To do so would have meant seeing Leopold’s [King of Belgium] regime not as progress, not as civilization, but as a theft of land and freedom.

From this perspective, it is plain why Africans want to make it clear that Africa already had numerous complex societies in place by the time Europeans found their way there in the 15th century, particularly the northern part of sub-Saharan Africa, places we now know as Ghana, Nigeria, Kenya, Tanzania. The New African magazine was making this point abundantly clear as a follow-up to Black History Month, and they were doing so to restore a most precious resource in Africa: pride.

African pride has been much maligned by the experience of colonialism and the unprecedented scale of the trans-Atlantic slave trade. The Nigerian writer Chinweizu described this phenomenon in his seminal work ‘Decolonising the African Mind.’ Colonizing the mind describes a centuries-long form of psychological warfare aimed to separate the colonized from their cultures and convincing them of their own cultures’ inferiority to that of the colonizer.

This practice is commonly used by colonizers and often leaves the colonized to love their oppressor. In 1964 Ghanaian novelist Ayi Kwei Armah observed this love of the white oppressor in his classic novel ‘The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born’ as follows: “That is all anyone here struggles for: to be closer to the white man. All the shouting against the white men was not hate. It was love. Twisted, but love all the same.”

Unfortunately, this mindset remains present among many of the Ghanaians I met during my time working there as a journalist, many of whom were desperate to leave their home and travel to the West for riches and glory. To live among the colonizers.

In order to decolonise the mind, African scholars, activists and writers are determined to re-write history, this time as told by the colonized, to create African pride in African history, while at the same time elucidating the great injustice that was done.

Scholars draw on archaeological, anthropological, historically recorded, and orally traditional evidence to distance Africa from the ‘primitive’ ways of living. One journalist writing for the New African, when writing of Yoruba artworks (found in modern Nigeria) wrote that “uncivilised people cannot produce artwork of this high quality and sophistication” as one means of proof that the continent was indeed rife with civilizations by the time the Europeans arrived.

This fact of history is beyond reasonable academic debate. The evidence is overwhelming, and the Yoruba empire itself, complete with a large capital city, goes back to the 11th century. In many cases African civilizations pre-date European ones, and their knowledge of the lunar cycle was well developed before it occurred to any European to think about it. Many scientific and artistic firsts can be traced to Africa.

These truths are important, and I wholeheartedly support the effort to erase racist mythologies, but I lament that the source of African pride, or anyone’s pride, should be linked to civilization. Civilization, defined by large, centralized, hierarchical societies usually surviving from the toil of the few, is the most oppressive, unjust, cancerous system of human organization in all of history. Those ‘pre-civil’ societies that Africans (and most other people too) are distancing themselves from never committed genocide, never extinguished so many species, never destroyed their own environments to the extent that ‘civil’ised people do.

It is ironic that African scholars’ efforts to create African pride are so linked to the very system of living that created colonialism. In a sense this latest effort brings Africans one step closer to the oppressors that have become so beloved by so many who are oppressed.

Read on: Civilized Oppression

Isolation — the human condition II

February 12, 2005
By

Went into the Cit-y
Escaped from the trees
away from the lions
chasing me

Bought me a robot
to fix me drinks
so I could sit on my porch
and do nothing but think

Planes overhead
through clouds of smog
shut the factory down
No more jobs

Homeless for miles
but the coal still burns
Bums on the freeway
amphetamine turns

Get me out of here
Can’t take it no more

Get me out of here
Garbage on the rat-race floor

Went back to the farmland
put the tractor in gear
Tilled my fields
until they were clear

Cut down the trees
for my fireplace
Looked in the mirror
at a stranger’s face

Worked the good earth
fought the pests to death

Grew me some veggies
but the flowers sold best

Lonely worked the land for years
Lonely now there’s nothin’ left

Get me out of here
Can’t take it no more
Get me out of here
Life is a series of chores

Went into the forest
back to the trees
Prayed for redemption
on fragile knees

Walked through woods
lived on berries and leaves
Wandered forever
alone with me

Went stark raving mad
Fought with myself
for seven years
Living in hell

Surrounded by beauty
Nothing to do
No one to share
What would you do?

Get me out of here
Can’t take it no more
Get me out of here
I’m just too bored

Went into the city
Escaped from the trees

Morality v. Tolerance, Round II

August 19, 2004
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In his ancient marble tower
an Archbishop’s Divine Power
is impenetrable, unquestionable, his right
He makes promises for an hour
as the people below him cower
then shed money from fists once tight

For to reach the Immaterial State
with too much food on your plate
is harder than pulling camels through needle eyes
Poverty is but the first rule
and there are more of them than fools
for those seeking bliss when they die

You’ll ne’er find it here on Earth
It’s too dire; too much dearth
so you’d better get on your knees
These are the Words of holy men
from tongues and from pens
this is what they’d have us believe

So there’s a pious fool
for everyone of their rules
and there’s as many play a new game
Though their gods have different looks
and they read different books
their righteousness is much the same

They’ve increased in quantity
Their enforcers have gained enmity
but we don’t know which rules to follow
Thank Sony for TV
and Fox for apathy
and Civilization for the ruts where we wallow

Leave morality to the experts
only they know its worth
We just want to be entertained
Let the Saints fight the Baddies
as they dictate so madly
in victory something must be gained

But the risks aren’t ours to take
these are battles we forsake
it’s work enough to pay the bills
With men so certain on both sides
even if you think you know who’s right
war ain’t exactly a thrill

When it’s Evil v. Good
(the very extremes that would
fight eternally given the chance)
we’re begging for moderation
hoping on toleration
as an end to the Carnal Dance

But what if two fighting extremes
are really the same thing?
just two kinds of fundamentalism?
What if all these rules
made by and for fools
for dictatorships or environmentalism

are all on the moral high ground?
So their followers can look down
on those of us watching TV?
And what if we’re the other extreme?
Living our American dream
laughing our canned laughter so freely

While evil and good duke it out
and spread collateral damage about
our contribution is sitting by
polluting the planet with our breath
denying others what we possess
and watching humanity die

The Obtuse Angel of Irreversible Alterations (& Irresistible Alliterations)

April 1, 2004
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Everybody knows (by now) about Adam and Eve and ‘Let there be light’ all cast into (surreptitious) darkness by an overzealous Angel of Such: Beelzebub. Lesser known, though, is Beelzebub’s younger brother Bozzlebub, who is more commonly known, to those few who know him, as Boz.

This eclipse is not so unusual; many sibling sets have a star and schmuck, and in the first family of evil and mischief Boz is the real fuck-up. In the bizarro ethic of the Family Bub, that means Boz toils away in the obscure shadows of archangels and the Ultimate Entity, while Big Brother Beelze rules the Underworld and Hollywood Squares, often spoken of but rarely seen in the flesh (as it were), famous beyond riches.

Sociologists are at a loss to explain so many of these imbalanced sibling performances; nature v. nurture is irrelevant in these cases because both factors are the same for both siblings. It’s like the movie ‘Twins’, where one guy gets all the looks, brains, height, muscles, charm, and good-heartedness, and the other guy gets all the waste bi-product. In the case of the Brothers Bub, Beelze is a big strong man with good sets of hooves and horns and a brilliant instinct for wickedness. Boz is short, pale, crooked-nosed, skinny, lacks leadership skills, he’s half deaf and doesn’t understand sarcasm, and has no knack for evil.

His naïve nicety, from the perspective of the Top Rung on the Pentecostal Ladder, is Boz’s one redeeming feature (not quality), and the one that earned him a high level (and low profile) position of Prayer Correspondent when the Orchestral Oligarch became too busy to maintain this one of many Cosmic Duties. (This all happened right after the human population of Planet Earth reached a quarter of a million people and the total number of species plummeted below 4,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 (4 octillion) for the first time since just before the Great Creator took a 7th day nap.)

Boz’s reaction when informed of his promotion from Guardian Angel of what is now New Jersey District (where he’d had mixed results) was incredulousness, and questioning, as in “Why me?”

To which the Top Banana responded, “You’re a good kid.” Boz had reached a pinnacle with the Good Guys closer to his over-achieving Evil brother’s rank with the Bad than he’d ever expected in all Eternity.

Like any young up-and-comer in any new job, especially a newly created position, there was a period of adjustment, during which the role and its relationship to the rest of the jobs in the organization needed to be clarified and revised as necessary. In this case it took six millennia. You may say to yourself, “Well, that’s not bad, on the clock of Eternity.” But try telling that to any God-fearing Prayer Merchant born in the past 12,000 years and suffering a life-time of hit-or-miss messages sent from the close-eyed hands-clasped raspy-voiced dark, sent out fervently with hopes of some small improvement to a crash-test world.

Systems Analysts will tell you that the flaws in any hierarchy have less to do with the Dude at the Top than they do with the complex series of relationships running throughout. In fact, that’s exactly what they told the Universal Parent when they were asked what was wrong with the Prayer Correspondence Division.

But in this case, they were dead wrong.

The problem with consultants is they answer more questions than they ask. The consultants would have got it right if they’d, instead of consulting their charts, graphs, theories and matrices, had only asked one Ashfad Mersk about the time he joked with his friend Sulwood Kalev, “Imagine if we never had to hunt again, if only the animals would stay calm in our presence and we could have them all together, take our pick for the slaughter.” The two men had laughed heartily at the absurd notion, but within the year an invading nation had introduced full-scale agriculture and, their hunting skills considered obsolete, they found themselves slaving the fields for an overseer, dusk till dawn, until their merciful deaths.

Speaking of slavery, the consultants could have also consulted with Sheniqua Okri, who one day while cooling her naked body from the hot sub-Saharan sun in a tributary of the Nile, commented sarcastically to a jumping fish, “Oh, what a haaard life, if only someone would take me from all this!” referring to the cool sweet water and surrounding lush plant-life, and the jumping fish to whom her sarcasm was directed, and his animal brethren, all of which she loved too much for seriousness, and of course her new husband Kibu, whose baby she hoped would soon visit her belly.

Next thing she knew, she and Kibu, and her whole family, were at the bottom of a boat in chains and the land she loved was transformed into a memory.

Had only the consultants bothered to ask the group of Mohawk children playing Alien Invaders that time, when the ones pretending to be Mohawk Warriors were winning over the ones pretending to be Aliens, and the one girl playing an Alien said in frustration, “I wish there really were Alien invaders and you’d all see you weren’t so tough!”

(And you know what happened next: Europeans, Aliens, same thing to the Mohawk, at that time.)

Had only they asked that little girl they’d have realized the root of the problem with the Prayer Correspondence Division: the guy in charge doesn’t understand sarcasm!

Not only that, but because Boz is half deaf he’s missing half the serious prayers we’re making down here!

The worst part is, I suspect, Beelze is most likely starting to realize that his brother’s inability with verbal irony and the ensuing irreversible alterations are causing more evil, worldwide, than all the nuclear notions Beelze has put into men’s minds (and more recently women’s minds) and even his latest porno plot of Bush and Dick in the White House don’t compete with his little bro’s unintentional evil. So, what’s Beelze gonna do if the consultants ever catch on and Boz’s name gets more media — what kinda hell’s gonna flow from that subterranean sibling rivalry?

A Vision for Johnny Cash

December 25, 2003
By

Cash sang a lot about jail
the long term kind without bail
Those paying for sins part theirs part ours
men and women at extremes
under the American dream
fermented and left out to go sour

But is not America
in itself a chimera?
What fools thought they could tame what God made
on the backs of Africans
and by theft of Indians
pretending men are equally made

Blood’s slippery foundation
built many a strong nation
only to see it fall after rise
America is not new
nor sins its powerful do
It won’t be the last corpse to breed flies

Power is a psychosis
All the world ought to know this
Pinochet Amin Seko and Bush
The most powerful men
are doing all that they can
Pushing all the buttons they can push

and on a much smaller scale
killing sprees by men on bail
while bystanders get an injection
Vengeance spreads like a disease
the pesticides in the trees
root in our hearts as an infection

but it’s time and time again
powerless women and men
receive discipline and punishment
It’s delivered as jail time
a career ladder to climb
either form equates shoes of cement

Seems Cash was a lucky man
Besides his millions of fans
he believed — was able — to speak truth
His religion did decree
That the truth shall set you free
and he took likelihood over proof

Not that religion is key
though wise is humility
salvation need not come after death
There are human qualities
That could save us — set us free
Humbly we learn secrets of the depths

Imagine how freedom feels
dancing out in sunlight squeals
using our true gifts working with friends
In this ancient place I walk
on a geologic clock
that’s just the means folks used to meet ends

You can think it in your head
or else use your gut instead
these things combined will tell you what’s right
and if we use all our skill
and if we use all our will
we can make societies work right

The jails will crumble and fall
and so we’ll end office stalls
No longer will we cower in fear
Dictators will be reduced
to harmless psychos cut loose
but we’ll welcome their antics with cheer

and a peace flame will be fired
commemorating desire
for ever flattened hierarchy
The poor will climb up higher
C E O s will be rehired
to build homes for guys in factories

Farmers will earn vacation
for having fed all nations
since the fertile crescent got big press
We’ll all dance in hopes of rain
as God takes control again
we’ll remember that gods do it best

With human diversity
and biodiversity
cooperation over control
Cash’s truth will prevail then
No more slaves human or hen
Smoke will clear — life will spring from this hole

The Question is Why?

August 12, 2003
By

Leave it to the likes of Shell Oil and The Economist Magazine to pose this inanity: “Do we need nature?” This question was the topic of their annual essay writing contest this summer.

The question is one children are too clever to ask. “Daddy, do we need nature?” just doesn’t fit with the other big ones that give parents the shakes, like ‘where do babies come from?’ or ‘what happens when you die?’ Children’s questions, unlike those of oil executives and financial magazines, are about exploration, wondering how things work and why things are the way they are. Need is never an issue with children. If you ask a child if we need nature, you’ll likely receive a resounding “YEEEES” as a response. [Then again, you might get the same response if you ask if she needs the new Summer-time Barbie play-set.]

What children don’t know yet, and perhaps the top of the capitalist hierarchy has forgotten, is that a need can be defined only by an objective — there is no absolute, solitary need, and no need without want. One does not need to eat unless one wants to live.

Whether we need nature therefore depends on two deeper questions: 1. what do we want?, and 2. what the hell is nature anyway? Dangerous as it is to universalize human wants, Psychologist Abraham Maslow took a reasonable shot at it and came up with five big ones: 1. physiological goals — having the immediate physical means for survival such as food, water, shelter, and sleep; 2. security goals — feeling that the means of survival will be maintained; 3. social goals — having human relationships including friends, family, and community; 4. esteem goals — feeling valuable or important; and 5. self-actualization goals — feeling that one’s skills are being properly utilized and personal growth is being achieved with a positive impact.

As for defining the word nature, definitions range from the all-inclusive ‘material world and its phenomena’, to the more exclusive ‘primitive state of existence, untouched and uninfluenced by civilization or artificiality.’ Does nature include human beings among the material world, or are we a separate entity? This question has great impact on whether we need nature to meet our wants. If we are part of nature then surely we need it if we want to survive long enough to meet all those other lofty goals of safety, love, and esteem. On the other hand, if we are separate from nature, perhaps we can get by without it. Then again, perhaps it can be used to our advantage somehow. The latter, all too common perception of humanity as separate from nature, is a major threat to our species chances of meeting our ‘needs’.

Any definition of nature which assumes that humans stand above, or apart, from the rest of the material living world is delusional. There is a natural legal system that is as true and unforgiving as gravity, though more complex and unpredictable. It is the true invisible hand, but it has proven its own existence time and again.

Take an example of a law within this system: the more food a population has access to, the more that population will grow; if the population grows too fast eventually it will reach a point where food is scarce, and the population will fall again. This law applies as much to humans as to rabbits. However, assuming that we are above or separate from this natural law, we grow more food using new technologies in order to solve our global hunger problems.

Paradoxically, our political policies and actions allow vast quantities of food to be destroyed by farmers, distributors, retailers, and end users of food; and more than half of the people living in the political West actually suffer from an overabundance of food, as obesity sets its sites on becoming the world’s leading health concern.

The all-inclusive nature has distinct cause and effect rules of conduct. The decisions we make with regards to nature are crucial to not only our survival, but also our loftier needs. Any decision made with the aim of circumventing nature’s laws and controlling the situation ourselves, consciously or not, is doomed to failure, as the ‘green revolution’ of the 1970s aptly demonstrated. The more scientists tried to help poor farmers in ‘underdeveloped’ countries with pesticides, poisons, and other subtle manipulations, the worse the situation became — the pests grew bigger, badder, and more resilient — in short, they adapted. The green revolution took a shotgun approach, poisoning not only pests but also soil and water, which in turn poisoned fish and birds, which then poisoned their predators. Humans were ultimately poisoned by high levels of toxins throughout their environment, especially in the flesh of the animals they ate. Despite the abundant lessons in this massive experiment gone wrong, we still use many of the same pesticides today, and in many cases with the same shotgun approach. Furthermore, we are now doing similar experiments with genetically modified crops, using them abundantly around the world without yet achieving even a laboratory understanding of the potential results.

In the wake of this and other evidence that manipulating nature does not help us meet our needs, here are some child-like how-to questions Shell and the Economist might consider: If attempting to control nature is ill-advised, how can we make wiser political, social and economic decisions that meet human needs? Controlling and manipulating nature hasn’t seemed to work, so perhaps we should simply let nature take its course, and leave those whose needs aren’t met to fend for themselves. The problem with this approach is that it was humanity’s attempts to control nature that have left so many people’s needs unfulfilled, so continuing on our current path seems rather unjust, even unethical.

Surely we need programs. Of course all the programs designed to correct our societal ills and imbalances have either outright failed, had unintended consequences, or simply weren’t enough to solve the problems we had already created, and are still creating. Why, with our big brains, our adaptability, our innovation, can we not create programs that meet our needs and fulfill our goal of living well?

Author Daniel Quinn has compared social and political programs to sticks in a river designed to impede its flow, and has said that the river’s source is vision. Our current vision is one of dominion and control of nature as a means of meeting our needs, i.e. our wants. This vision isn’t working — how many of us can truly say we’re content with our world, that it meets our needs for love, community, security, esteem and self-actualization? So many of us don’t even have the basic means of physical health or survival.

So what kind of vision might allow for the kind of world that meets our needs? The answer is held in that complex and unpredictable web of life, in which no other species is damaging the planet or its own members to the extent that human beings are. In this web also live groups of people who still manage to meet their needs and live well, surviving mostly untouched by Western civilization. The members of these tribes possess all the same flaws as the rest of us, selfishness, anger, hate, jealousy; and yet they are not tearing each other apart with crimes, terrorist acts, extortion, or civil war. Am I saying we need to live exactly like them? No, but a shift in our cultural vision from one where humans either need or don’t need nature to one where humanity is part of nature would be a great start. Perhaps a side benefit would be that pedantic needs analyses on nature would transform themselves into awestruck, childlike how-and-why musings.

Perpetual Political Autopoiesis

July 10, 2003
By

I recently read a paper by John H. Little of Troy State University called ‘Autopoietic Social Systems And Self-Referential Government: How Unlikely Is Democracy?’.

It’s too bad the paper was so laden with complicated jargon, because from what I could follow it was quite an interesting topic: How Unlikely is Democracy? Is democracy possible? The debate is based on a systems point of view, borrowed by social scientists from biologists, and revolves around the issue of how closed government is versus how much influence voters can have on politicians.

This question reminded me of a recent meeting I had with Toronto’s Deputy Mayor Case Ootes, who also happens to be the elected City Councillor for my Ward of the City (Toronto-Danforth). Along with two other activists I met with Case to discuss the proposed pesticide by-law that would implement a ban on cosmetic pesticide use in Toronto over a one-year period. This was a controversial proposal that had City Councillors split.

The lawn care companies had lobbyists working overtime trying to kill the by-law, while environmental groups in the city had volunteers writing letters, attending Council meetings, making deputations and visiting people like Mr. Ootes. The lawn care lobby argued that the pesticide by-law would inhibit the freedom to have a beautiful lawn and hurt the economy through diminished pesticide sales. In an interesting piece of circular logic they also argued that a pesticide by-law was unenforceable.

The environmental lobby argued that the by-law would go a long way to improving the health of the city because pesticides are known to cause health problems in pets, children, and even the adults who spray them, and that switching to organic methods could in fact create economic opportunities for companies willing to help their clients make that change (as has happened in other Canadian municipalities that have implemented similar by-laws).

My cohorts and I had read an article, published in a large Toronto newspaper, written by Mr. Ootes arguing that the by-law was unenforceable and should therefore be stopped at the proposal stage. We entered the meeting prepared to argue that most by-laws, when coupled with public outreach to inform people of their existence and purpose, do not require intense enforcement to affect change in behaviour.

As it turned out, Ootes’ argument focused more on a lack of ‘facts’ and ‘proof’ that pesticides actually hurt human health. We countered that organizations ranging from Toronto Public Health to The Ontario College of Family Physicians had deemed the health risks of pesticides too great for household use. Ootes countered that the positions of organizations are merely opinions, and cannot be considered proof. I pointed out that a similar argument was once made about cigarettes, which have now been banned from most public spaces in Toronto. Ootes, in his own piece of circular logic, countered that cigarettes are a proven health hazard.

I tried coming at him from every angle I could think of. I pointed out that more labour intensive organic lawn care techniques would actually create jobs and help the economy. I mentioned the precautionary principle, which says that if something is likely, if not positively, going to cause harm it is better to avoid that something. I argued that there had been numerous studies linking pesticides to cancer, and that pesticides are designed to kill and are therefore likely dangerous for all living things. I gave examples of other campaigns that had successfully changed consumer behavior by coupling a by-law with a public education campaign. I pointed out that 50 other municipalities in Canada had successfully implemented similar by-laws with no apparent adverse economic impacts. I pointed out that advertisements used to encourage house wives to use DDT as a household cleaning product before scientists could prove how dangerous it was. My cohort handed him a petition signed by more than 200 of his constituents urging him to sign the by-law. She told him a recent poll indicated that an overwhelming majority of his constituents favored the by-law. Ootes stood firm, saying he refused to risk jobs or economic success unless he was convinced that pesticides were a real health threat, and he just didn’t believe that they were.

Any activist knows how hard it is to communicate with politicians, let alone actually influence them. Some systems thinkers might describe government as a closed system, in which case it is difficult if not impossible for it to be controlled externally, according to theories postulated by German Sociologist Niklas Luhmann in the early 90s. This theory seems to counter that of democracy, in which governance is conducted by representatives of the people, who have chosen said representatives. The people are supposed to control the politicians — we’re supposed to be the bosses. So why was Ootes so resistant to what we and the vast majority of his constituents were saying?

According to Ootes, “There are all kinds of polls, saying all kinds of things. But these are just opinions. I’m looking for facts.” The fact was that the vast majority of his constituents wanted him to vote in favor of the by-law. It seems though that, like so many politicians, Ootes is a master of maintaining the status quo.

According to systems thinkers, there are at least two distinct ways to think of a social system: as either an open system of action, or as a closed system of communication. In the former, actors (people) in the system are influenced by their external environment. In the latter, people shape their own version of reality and define their own boundaries of what actions are appropriate and acceptable using the communications they themselves develop. The system is closed because it defines its own boundaries, beyond which certain behaviours, messages, or actions are unacceptable. It is self perpetuating.

The problem that arises from this way of looking at a society is that we can’t be sure how effective communication is. Do people ever really understand each other? Did Ootes understand what I was trying to convey? Did I understand his counter-arguments? If human beings have such trouble sharing information and understanding one another, no wonder our democratically elected leaders break so many promises and do so many things counter to our wishes. Maybe we just don’t understand their promises. Maybe they don’t understand our wishes.

Perhaps, since democracy is such a failure, it is time we asserted ourselves as our own political representatives rather than relying on people who can’t understand our wishes, or as John H. Little put it, begin “expanding the boundary of the administrative subsystem to increase the numbers of people who are participants of that [political] system, rather than outside observers.”

On the other hand, Case Ootes strangely ended up voting in favour of the by-law in a 26-16 victory for the environmentalists, so maybe we just need to learn to be more forward in letting our elected representatives know what it is we want.

A Systemic Policeman’s Poem

July 5, 2003
By

I hate the man who appreciates the hatred
Can’t stand the one who tolerates them all
Least of all can I abide the ones
who set them up just to watch them fall

I love the woman who deals with my anger
I envy those she talks to in the hall
I ponder on those who think they own her
wonder why they bother at all

I oppose all who think they can plunder
control freaks who think they own it all
I’ll fight them till I’m six feet under
I’ll stand up until they force my fall

The seasons’ cycle is never-ending
She dances at our annual ball
She’s naked inside the meandering river
she’s seen a lot but she hasn’t seen it all

Her Jesus accepts things as they are
That doesn’t mean she never feels appalled
at the world’s complex web of lies
and the prisons of cubicle stalls

The world tends toward the complex
but if I had a crystal ball
I’d hide it away where it can’t be found
I’d surrender my illusions of control

I’d dispossess anything that you can name
and I’d skip randomly through my patrol

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