Dave Pollard's environmental philosophy, creative works, business papers and essays.
In search of a better way to live and make a living, and a better understanding of how the world really works.



March 16, 2009

An Information Diet

Filed under: Our Culture / Ourselves — Dave Pollard @ 21:34


william haefeli listening
William Haefeli cartoon in The New Yorker; buy his stuff here

Way back in pre-Internet, pre-cellphone 1981, Ted Mooney wrote a novel called Easy Travel to Other Planets that described a disease called information sickness, a manifestation of information overload that leaves its victims disoriented and numbed to the meaning of what they are taking in. There is some palpable evidence that this disease is now upon us:

  • People in groups talking and preparing their responses, but not listening, so that to the observer it is as if everyone in the group is thinking out loud to him/herself, as if the other people in the room or on the line weren’t there at all in real time, as if what they were saying were in an article or blog post that had been written some time in the past.
  • People thinking they have communicated when they have not. Try this exercise: After a speaker has made his/her presentation, go and ask five people in attendance what they thought the most important point in the presentation was. Then relay this to the speaker. I can almost guarantee you the speaker won’t believe you. Or another exercise: Have two people at a presentation or meeting keep a mindmap of what was discussed and agreed upon, and then compare them. No one will believe they were ‘recordings’ of the same event.
  • People making nonsensical and vapid but brilliantly rhetorical speeches that flatter or reassure their completely gullible and non-critical audience that they (the audience) are doing/have done something wonderful, and getting a standing ovation in response.
  • People writing florid and inflammatory criticism that is totally ad hominem, logically flawed, tautological (e.g. that the AIG exec bonuses paid from taxpayer bailouts are immoral) or otherwise devoid of any critical value (e.g. anything said by Rush Limbaugh), and having readers (or listeners) proclaim the blather as genius.
  • People thoughtlessly interrupting, changing the subject, and forgetting what they were saying.
  • The fact that the “most e-mailed” articles and Op-Eds are usually neither actionable nor thought-provoking (so why are people e-mailing them?)
  • The fact that e-mail is reducing productivity, when it was supposed to improve it. And don’t get me started on the purpose, clarity and brevity of most e-mail.
  • The fact that the substance of most works of non-fiction can be effectively captured in a couple of pages, and that the best-selling fiction authors (Grisham, Brown etc.) are verbose and terrible writers.

The fact that we’re writing and talking more, less succinctly, less coherently, less thoughtfully, less attentively, and really reading and understanding less, is just part of the the information sickness tragedy. What we do (and don’t do) with the ‘information’ we have gleaned compounds the tragedy:

  • We still make decisions in an information vacuum: Example: uninformed (or misinformed) and overpaid ‘experts’ and executives make flawed decisions that their sycophants declare to be brilliant, but which are actually ineffectual (or worse), or not even implemented (instead, they’re “worked around” by front line employees who know better what’s really needed).
  • We take actions that, in the long run, have no effect: Example: consultants are handsomely rewarded for recommending and/or making changes in organizations, when six months or five years later there is often no evidence the change brought about any improvement, or indeed that the change was still in effect (or had been implemented in the first place).
  • We take actions in spite of information showing them to be unwise: Example: being swayed by people with money or power, or emotional influence, to do what we know to be suboptimal or worse.
  • We get paralyzed by information: Sometimes we get so much conflicting information that we end up taking no action at all.
  • We act on false dichotomies: Thanks to our inattentiveness, lack of time, and media oversimplification, we decide on one of two alternatives, when the truth is more complex and neither alternative is appropriate.
  • We mistake deciding for acting: We think deciding that something is right, is sufficient, without actually doing something about it.
  • We get persuaded to give our proxy for action to someone else: By voting for someone we don’t really know, or signing a petition, we think we’ve discharged our responsibility to do something that makes a difference.
  • We get persuaded that everything’s OK when it isn’t: We’re so overwhelmed that it is tempting to believe Lomborgians who deny there is a problem, or who tell us “don’t worry about it, we’ll take care of it for you”.
  • We get persuaded that there’s nothing we can do: Those vested in the status quo will try to persuade us there is no alternative, that the result is inevitable, that it’s only a matter of time, so why bother trying to do anything?

Change management ‘experts’ will tell you that to bring about behaviour change you have to do one of three things: (a) change mandatory processes, (b) change the technology people use, or (c) change the culture/attitudes/beliefs/values. I know a lot of people who’ve worked in organizations for more than a quarter century, and they tell me that (a) process is dead — there are no standard processes anymore, so you can’t ‘change’ them, (b) people will simply refuse to use technology that makes them do things they find ineffective or unintuitive, and (c) the only way you can change an organizational ‘culture’ is by firing everyone and hiring all new people who agree with a proposed change.

There’s also a lot of evidence that technologies, even those that seem in the short run to be ushering in great improvements in our lives or activities, inevitably cause more problems than they solve.

What’s the point of all this information, overloading us to the point of illness, if it doesn’t help us change for the better? What’s the point of being informed if it doesn’t help us do things better, or do better things? Is information getting in the way of learning and understanding, and conversation in the way of communication and appreciation?

The purpose of communication in all species, it seems to me, is to build trust, learn (and teach) capacities and learn about others’ capacities (for purposes of collaboration, survival and innovation). One-way communication of information (reading, watching, listening) is also about learning capacities and about learning about others; it’s also, to some extent, about entertainment — an audience activity. One problem is that the major media — TV, radio, and even the press and publishers — have found it cheaper and more lucrative to provide entertainment than to provide information, to the point that most of the stuff we are fed now has almost no information value at all.

How much of the information we process every day, and the communications we participate in (with varying degrees of engagement), actually provides us with useful (actionable) knowledge and useful capacities? Very little, I would argue. Just as most of our processed and ‘fast’ foods give us mostly empty calories and nothing of nutritional value (and lots that is toxic), so too, most of our information ‘diet’ is empty entertainment, designed to make us feel better without actually making us intellectually ‘healthier’ (and sometimes making us intellectually unhealthy).

Perhaps what we need, then, as a cure for our information sickness, the ‘bloat’ of information overload, is an information diet — less overall, more slowly and carefully selected and ingested. Michael Pollan’s advice for food consumers is “eat food, not too much, mostly plants”. Perhaps our advice for information consumers should be “obtain actionable and thought-provoking information, be selective (don’t overindulge), and ensure adequate context”.

I’ll have a New Yorker please. And a side of Robert Pinsky.

March 14, 2009

Links of the Week: March 14, 2009

Filed under: Our Culture / Ourselves — Dave Pollard @ 21:05
group satisfaction
Chart of group satisfaction by size,  from Life With AlacrityConnected and Alienated, Offline and On: Barbara Ganley reflects on the recent Northern Voice conference in a mournful post that resonates strongly with what I was thinking and feeling while I was there: This was a gathering of people who, mostly, had become friends and intimates online, and were now meeting in the ‘real world’ and yet, somehow, felt themselves without much of importance to say, and, worse, unable to say it compellingly. Northern Voice’s mostly-young social networkers seemed to exhibit the same malaise that I see everywhere today, in bars and restaurants and office meetings and even home parties — hordes of people engaged in halting raids on the inarticulate, desperate to make connection and communicate what is important to them, to receive attention and appreciation, all suffering from growing information sickness, and a deep-seated and disquieting sense of anxiety and grief — about the world, their future, and the lack of meaning and purpose in it all. “Something is happening here, and you don’t know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?”

Mashups of Staggering Genius: Reviewing some of Michael Wesch‘s great videos, I stumbled on the work of mashup expert Jordan “DJ Earworm” Roseman. He combines audio and video of popular and dance music to create works of art much better than any of the component songs. This guy is freaking brilliant. If you haven’t seen/heard his work, you’re in for a treat. And you can download all his mp3s from his website. Huge fun. Here’s his best stuff:

  • United State of Pop 2008 – Mashup of the Top 25 Billboard Hits of the Year
  • Together as One – Mashup of songs about togetherness by the Beatles, U2, Mariah Carey and Diana Ross (and it works!)
  • No More Gas – Priceless mashup of 11 hip hop and pop songs about cars, stopping and going (can’t get this mashup out of my head)

Why It’s Dangerous to Be a Witch in a Recession: Dave B worries that as times get worse, envy for those who have more will bring out dark and ancient hatreds.

An Idea For Finding Partners: One of the key components of Open Space methodology is the practice of Invitation, of crafting an invitation that will be powerful enough to inspire people to show up at an event (like a networking or partner-connecting event), even at their own expense. Chris Corrigan and Geoff Brown suggest that a great tool for invitation is the ‘trailer’, the compelling multi-media teaser that film studies use to invite people to see their films. How might we craft a great ‘trailer’ to attract the kind of people we were meant to live with, or make a living with?
The City That Ended Hunger: Frances Lappé describes a simple initiative in Belo Horizonte, Brasil that eradicated hunger and reduced poverty by making adequate and healthy food a right for all, and then acting accordingly.

Has Civilization Constipated Our Brains?: An interesting review of the work of psychologist Julian Jaynes, who argued that the way our human brains ‘worked’ was very different before modern civilization culture ‘rewired’ them. As a result, he argued, we have become much poorer artists, less intuitive and perhaps more neurotic. Thanks to Dale Asberry for the link.

Lessons About Ego From Ojibway Etymology: Chris Corrigan explains the original meaning of two Ojibway words that speak volumes about their culture, and ours. The word they had to invent for ‘chief’ or ‘leader’ (they had no need for such a word before contact with Europeans), oglimaw is taken from the word for the gentle poplar tree and literally means “one who influences others through kindness“. And the word for ‘all my relations’ - dineamaaganik – actually means “belonging to everything.”

Is Tom Friedman Becoming Progressive?: Several people pointed me to an Op-Ed by the conservative globalization apologist in which he acknowledges that our current economic model is unsustainable and that perhaps the economy recently passed a point of ‘inflection’ with no return to ‘normal’ possible or desirable. There have been a lot of sarcastic responses from progressives, and I tend to think that this ‘awakening’ is just the pretext for Friedman’s next go-with-the-flow book, which I suggested might be called The World Is Flat — Broke.

The Opposite of a ‘Military Academy’?: Robert Koehler writes about the foundations of a new national Peace Academy.

Town in Maine Strips Corporations of ‘Personhood”: A bold move from the town to recognize the insane power that politicians and lawyers have given corporations. The town also passed a community-based declaration of independence asserting its right to self-government and bestowing rights to the natural environment. It’s all part of a struggle with multi-nasty-al corporation Nestle, which wants to privatize and export Maine’s water. Thanks to Tree for the link.

Transition Town Movement Gains Momentum: The UK-originated Transition Town movement, which prepares local communities for self-sufficiency after the End of Oil (and now Climate Collapse as well), is picking up steam in the US, and gained a foothold in Australia. The movement so far is based on more theory than practice, but anything that advances community-based society, economy, permaculture and sufficiency is a step in the right direction. Thanks to Cheryl for the link, and the one that follows.

Our Online Networks Get Bigger But Real Friendships Don’t: A new study from Facebook: “The average [male Facebook user]—one with 120 “friends”—generally responds to the postings of only 7 of those friends by leaving comments on the posting individual’s photos, status messages or ‘wall’. An average woman [Facebook user] is slightly more sociable, responding to 10. When it comes to two-way communication such as e-mails or chats, the average man interacts with only 4 people and the average woman with 6.” This ties into the group satisfaction chart above. Wonder what the numbers would be for bloggers?

France’s 16 Million Lost Acres: Tens of millions of unexploded shells from World War I mean that 16 million acres of French forest remain off-limits to the public to this day. It will take centuries of dangerous work to clear these munitions.

China Worried Over US Debts: As holders of $1T of US indebtedness, China is justifiably worried that either (a) if interest rates spike, the value of these debentures tanks proportionately. And if they’re held to maturity, there’s a chance a collapse of the value of the US dollar will make them worthless anyway. But they’re stuck — if they tried to sell or re-denominate even a tiny portion of these assets, it would precipitate just such a US dollar collapse.

More from Orlov: Rob P points us to a video interview with Dmitri Orlov explaining his argument that bailouts can’t work and inevitably the US economy will collapse just as the Soviet one did. I linked to his main paper on this subject previously.

Not Coming Soon to a TV Station in Your Community: Patti catches an ad that shows that Argentina’s way ahead of us in progressive thinking and social tolerance.

Hawken Joins the Global Collective Rising Consciousness Cabal: This is really sad. This is the Rapture, salvationism (Hawken uses the word ‘salvation’ in this sermon — all he’s missing is the robes), wrapped in new age garb. We are not going to be saved by a collective rising consciousness. This is not in the nature of the human, or any, species. This group-hug we’re-gonna-be-OK crap is dangerous. Like any well-crafted preachy cult rhetoric, it’s seductive. Don’t get sucked in.

Just for Fun:

Facebook users can get a Friend Wheel that shows which of your friends are friends with each other. Too bad most of the people in my networks aren’t on Facebook. I need one of these for my Gmail address book.Bank of America jingle: Before (2006), when they coopted a U2 song, and then Now (2008) after the crash. Really funny satire.

Jean-Séb points us to a cute video on the virtues of art.

Liz Lawley presents a video about a fascinating experiment about collaboration and trust. Thanks to Nancy for the link.

Thoughts for the Week:

From Dave S: “If you want to understand a culture, listen to the grandmothers; the past creates the patterns into which the present and future flow.”From a new poem by Sam Mills:

Now though as circumstances ease
I examine my heart
for its former wilderness
where every filament and pollengrain
sang. Where I stumbled in company with thrumming nightjars.
Where I believe the moon is waiting for me
and the hills
shift sleepily, making room.

March 13, 2009

Friday Flashback: A Long Way Down — What’s Holding You Back?

Filed under: Our Culture / Ourselves — Dave Pollard @ 17:33


Repost of one of my articles from May 2006
suicide
Image: Suicide by Scandinavian artist Joakim Back.
Caveat: Some possible book ‘spoilers’ here. But not really, unless you’re already part way through the book.

Nick Hornby’s newest book A Long Way Down is, on the surface, about suicide. Its four protagonists, who take turns throughout the book speaking in the first person, telling their personal and collective story sequentially (not redundantly) meet atop a tower famous for suicides, each with the intention of jumping off, and become a sort of goofy self-help group. Here, as a teaser (and testament to Hornby’s extraordinary writing) is a glimpse of each of the characters in their ‘own’ words:

Martin (middle-aged, has-been, self-destructive morning talk-show host): I’d spent the previous couple of months looking up suicide inquests on the Internet, just out of curiosity. And nearly every single time, th coroner says the same thing: “He took his own life while the balance of his mind was disturbed”. And then you read the story about the poor bastard. His wife was sleeping with his best friend, he’d lost his job, his daughter had been killed in a road accident some months before…Hello, Mr. Coroner? Anyone at home? I’m sorry, but there’s no disturbed mental balance here, my friend. I’d say he got it just right. Bad thing upon bad thing upon bad thing until you can’t take any more, and then off to the nearest multistory car park in the family hatchback with a length of rubber tubing. Surely that’s fair enough? Surely the coroner’s report should read: “He took his own life after sober and careful contemplation of the fucking shambles it had become.”

JJ (young, failed rock-star): The trouble with my generation is that we all think we’re fucking geniuses. Making something isn’t good enough for us, and neither is selling something, or teaching something, or even just doing something; we have to be something. It’s our inalienable right, as citizens of the 21st century. If Christina Aguilera or Britney or some American Idol jerk can be something, then why can’t I? Where’s mine, huh? OK, so my band, we put on the best live shows you could ever see in a bar, and we made two albums, which a lot of critics and not enough real people liked. But having talent is never enough to make us happy, is it? I mean, it should be, because a talent is a gift, and you should thank God for it, but I didn’t. It just pissed me off because I wasn’t being paid for it, and it didn’t get me on the cover of Rolling Stone.

Jess (young, impetuous, troubled daughter of a wealthy, dysfunctional family): I’d be lost if JJ and people like that got their way, and there was nothing unpersonal in the world. I like to know that there are big places without windows where no one gives a shit. You need confidence to go into small places with regular customers — small bookshops and small music shops and small restaurants and cafes. I’m happiest in the Virgin Megastore and Borders and Starbucks and Pizza Express, where no one gives a shit, and no one knows who you are. My mum and dad are always going on about how soulless those places are, and I’m like, Der. That’s the point.

Maureen (middle-aged, single mother trapped with a severely handicapped teenaged son: I wanted to tell Jess that I hadn’t even seen an English beach since Matty [her son] left school; they used to take them to Brighton every year, and I went with them once or twice. I didn’t say anything, though. I may not know the weight of many things, but I could feel the weight of that one, so I kept it all to myself. You know that things aren’t going well for you when you can’t even tell people the simplest fact about your life, just because they’ll presume you’re asking them to feel sorry for you. I suppose it’s why you feel so far away from everyone, in the end; anything you can think of to tell them just ends up making them feel terrible.

The novel has the typical Hornby sense of impending doom running throughout it, and the typical Hornby lame ending (it’s as if the author doesn’t want the novel to end, so it doesn’t, really), but it is still wonderful, utterly engaging, and thought-provoking. Perhaps this is why the movies made from his books don’t quite work — there just isn’t enough time in a two hour film for all the action plus all the reflection that the ideas in his novels warrant. Because of Hornby’s cleverness and his wry, delightful sense of humour, his novels cry out for cinematic treatment (since most movies today are so utterly lacking in both). Jess’ critique of Virginia Woolf is the most hilarious piece of writing I’ve read in a decade, and is alone worth the price of the book, but I suspect in the movie it will be just too much too fast to work — the audience will be laughing so hard they’ll drown out half the funny bits.

But it is the ideas in the book that had me shivering as I read, putting the book down and wandering around and thinking. I suspect his novels are Hornby’s cathartic way of getting these profound and troubling ideas out of his head where they can be examined more objectively (Hornby has an autistic child). There are three in particular that resonated with me, and they are all somewhat related, and a book about suicide is the perfect vehicle to illustrate them.

The first idea is that in life, as Jess puts it, we have no choice. We are who we are and we will do what we will do. This is the concept of ‘free will’, but reduced to immediate, personal terms. Despite all the New Years’ resolutions (A Long Way Down begins on New Years’ Eve), despite all the plans and self-help books and Getting Things Done tools we employ, we will ultimately do what were going to do anyway, and, more importantly, not do what we were not going to do anyway. Those who go up the tower with the intention of killing themselves consist of those who will go through with the plan, no matter what happens, sooner or later, and those who will not, no matter what happens. Hornby is saying that suicide prevention hotlines will only prevent those who would be prevented somehow or other anyway. The city of Toronto has spent a small fortune building walls and fences around its ‘popular’ suicide sites (mostly buildings and bridges) and is considering similar infrastructure in subway stations. They understate the creativity of those who will do what they will do. And those who lack imagination or knowledge or opportunity will find other, metaphorical ways to kill themselves: alcohol or other drugs, or just shutting down, disengaging. We are surrounded by the living dead, but not of the type you see in the movies.

The second idea, and the one that I think his title most refers to, is what is holding you back? Not just from committing suicide, but from doing other things you think you should be doing or wish you were doing. Here’s how Jess puts it:

Most people have a rope that ties them to someone, and that rope can be short or it can be long. You don’t know how long, though. It’s not your choice. Maureen’s rope ties her to Matty and is about six inches long and it’s killing her. Martin’s rope ties him to his daughters and, like a stupid dog, he thinks it isn’t there. He goes running off somewhere…and then suddenly it brings him up short and chokes him and he acts surprised, and then he does the same thing again the next day. I think JJ is tied to this bloke Eddie he keeps talking about, the one he used to be in the band with. And I’m learning that I’m tied to [Jess' older, accomplished, inexplicably missing sister] Jen, and not to my mum and dad — not to home, which is where the rope should be.

The distance from the top of the tower to the bottom, from intent to realization, seems short, but is, in fact, a long way. While we are who we are and will do what we will do, it is not quite that simple. We are social creatures, and as we go through life we find ourselves limited by people, and held back, not so much by who they are as by what they stand for, the role we, or they, or fate, has chosen for us. Are these ropes, these people and things and circumstances that hold us back, imposed on us, or are they our own self-imposed lifelines? If we have no choice, is that to some extent because of the restrictions we have somehow chosen to impose on ourselves?

When I met my wife, I was pretty messed up, and she has kept me on a pretty short lead ever since. I owe her everything for that, I think. In recent years, though, now that our* amazing children no longer need our support, she has loosened the lead somewhat. Or maybe I tugged the lead out of her hand. Or perhaps it wasn’t ever there at all, just a figment of my imagination, self-imposed. (It’s a good thing she doesn’t read my blog; I wonder if that is deliberate, too?)

You can perhaps guess at the third idea in this book, since it follows somewhat from the other two: What happens when we suddenly lose our lifeline? Martin says:

A long time ago, I worked with an alcoholic. And he told me that the first time he failed on an attempt to quit the booze was the most terrifying day of his life. He always thought he could stop drinking if he ever got round to it, so he had a choice stashed away in a sock drawer somewhere at the back of his head. But when he found out that he had to drink, that the choice had never really been there, Well, he wanted to do away with himself, if I may temporarily confuse our issues. I didn’t properly understand what he meant until I saw that guy jump off the roof. Up until then, jumping had always been an option, a way out, money in the bank for a rainy day. And then suddenly the money was gone — or rather, it had never been there in the first place. It belonged to the guy who jumped, and people like him, because dangling your feet over the precipice is nothing unless you’re prepared to go that extra two inches.

We cling to our presumed choices, our dreams, our distant plans and hopes, as if they were lifelines keeping us from careening off into space, and perhaps they are. I imagine myself an activist, a much-published and influential author, a founder of intentional communities, an incubator of natural enterprises, a change agent revolutionizing the way we teach, the way we treat animals, the way we produce energy, the way our economic and political systems work, the way we think about the world. All of these valiant roles I picture myself filling, yet I inch towards them so slowly that progress can barely be measured. Are these my lifelines, my tower ledge, and do I know in my heart that none of these heady roles is my destiny? Is that why I grabbed onto the non-philosophy of John Gray, giving me permission to fail at all of these because, as he says, it is not in human nature that any of these changes can occur on any meaningful scale? Is his infuriating belief that the best we can do, all we can do, is to be a good model for those in our immediate communities and to be open to and aware of and fully participating in life’s astonishing joys — is this my new lifeline, thin and frayed and shabby as it may be in comparison with the awesome, grandiose ones I clinged to before?

And what would become of me if I were to lose this lifeline too?

The questions in the two paragraphs above are rhetorical, but these three are not — the great take-away from Hornby’s book is how we, each for ourselves, decide to answer these questions when we close the book’s cover:

  • If we have no choice, how can we best stop fighting the inevitable, stop wasting time trying to be what are not and cannot be (and trying to make others what they are not), get real about our hopes and dreams, and accept and understand the way things are and why, and make the best of who we are and what we are inevitably going to do and be anyway?
  • What is holding us back? What is keeping us from being what we are going to be and doing what we are going to do? Why is it holding us back? Unless it is self-delusion (the dangers of idealism again) that is holding us back, there may be no changing these restrictions, no loosening of the ropes, but at least we should be able to recognize them and understand their purpose. In Jess’ ‘stupid dog’ analogy, we can accomplish a lot within the constraints of the leash without unnecessarily and foolishly choking ourselves all the time.
  • What happens when we suddenly lose our lifeline? There is a terrible story in today’s Toronto Star about a water-loving dog who slipped his leash, ran off, and ended up drowning in a municipal reservoir whose sides were too steep to climb. Some lifelines are useful, even essential to our health and sanity. Others merely hold us back, delay us from being who we really are and doing what we are meant to do, waste our lives away in illusionary imprisonment. What is frightening is that we don’t know which is which, and we don’t know what we will do, and feel, if we suddenly lose our lifelines. But perhaps by imagining what would happen if we did lose them, we might free ourselves from the ones that are merely unhealthy, merely holding us back from being something more than who we are. 

Nothing simple here. Beneath the brilliant raucous humour of Hornby’s writing lie some very dark issues, matters of life and death, like a black hole twinned with a star going nova.

(*hers biologically, though I am honoured and humbled that they call me their father, considering the deliberately small role I played in their upbringing)

March 12, 2009

Blog Post for May 6, 2012

Filed under: Creative Works — Dave Pollard @ 22:38


future home

Well, it took me two years longer than I had expected to find the place I was meant to live, but it was worth it. I have a twenty-year lease on a piece of rainforest that is so staggeringly beautiful it almost hurts my eyes. I have constructed a roundhouse into the side of a hill with large walls of polarized glass so that animals and birds see it as opaque and don’t crash into it, but to me, when I awake each morning, I see floor-to-ceiling panoramas of forest and waterfalls, and I am a mile trail hike from the ocean beach, and a mile trail hike in the opposite direction to the road and the small village where I can get groceries and other supplies I need.

My typical day is the kind most people only dream of. In the morning I harvest fruit and nuts from the trees growing wild around me, and grains from my small garden, for breakfast. I go online and do a bit of research and video chat with friends all over the world online, using a new Virtual World software that allows my avatars (one that looks just like the real me, only a bit better; the other is my fantasy avatar, an eco-hero BirdMan) to collaborate with others, watch videos, look at documents etc. together as if we were together in real time and real space.

I have a steady stream of visitors from all over the world, so the rest of the morning is often consumed by a walk in the forest or along the beach or to the village with them. Our trips and chats are automatically video-recorded using our miniature headband cameras, and automatically electronically transcribed and posted on this blog with a link to the video. On days when I am alone I still sometimes record my morning walk, accompanied by a personal travelogue or perhaps a story I have written and memorized. Or, like today, I might do more ‘traditional’ blogging like this post.

Afternoons are my volunteering time. I do some teaching about natural enterprise, innovation and sustainability, both in the nearby village and online, where my ‘courses’ are available for free download and self-paced learning, and where my ‘office hours’ for real-time questions and mentoring are posted. The evenings are my time for writing, most of it creative writing these days (stories, plays, films, music, and poetry), but also sometimes essays, research and new ‘courseware’ and blog posts like this one.

I’ve nearly achieved zero footprint. I consume nearly nothing other than my vegan foods, most of which grow wild and local. No need for heat or air conditioning in this perfect human climate. My small electricity and lighting needs are produced by solar energy, and I’ve nearly forgotten what it’s like to wear clothes. Water is collected from the abundant rains and waste is composted. Most of my pension goes to projects to help others reduce their footprint, since I have almost nothing to spend it on.

Everything I do is allotted more than enough time, because I’ve learned that by doing things much more slowly I get much more accomplished, more effectively, more creatively, more attentively, and I have slowed my life down to the point that I am beginning to sense how animals in the wild live in Now Time. The only things I do are the ten things I blogged about three years ago as being what I was meant to do: exploring and discovering (mostly within a short walk of my front door), reflecting and imagining possibilities, writing, loving (people, here and virtually, and the wild creatures I live among and belong with here), learning, conversing, sensing and listening and paying attention and just being present, playing, coaching and showing others what I know and what I imagine, and self-managing (just trying to be an example for others of how to live responsibly, sustainably, and joyfully).

Virtually everything I produce I give away, and I remain astonished and humbled that I am given in return far more than I could ever use, so I just keep passing it forward. My vision of living in a natural, intentional community has come true, I think, but not in the way I had imagined. My community is everyone, and every creature, who happens to be here, each day. I am simply a part of it. This community has no ‘permanent residents’, not even me. I’m just here, for now, in this physical community, and in the virtual communities of which I am a part.

The world remains in crisis, and I am sad about that, but I do what I can, and what I must.

Category: Fables

March 11, 2009

Bottom-Up Democracy: Selecting Our Representatives Face to Face

Filed under: How the World Really Works — Dave Pollard @ 22:55


congressional districts cartogram
There has been a lot written lately about the need to reinvent our economy from the bottom up — community-based natural enterprises owned and operated by people right in the community, providing local products to local customers, responsibly, sustainably, and powerfully connected, with each community only exporting goods that are excess to the needs of the community and importing what cannot reasonably be produced in the community.

A major problem with this ideal is that our political and economic systems are to some extent inseparable: As long as we have a top-down political system whose officials are disconnected from local economies and citizens and beholden to very wealthy and powerful multinational lobbyists, that political system is going to be at loggerheads with a bottom-up community-based economic system. This political system will do everything in its considerable power to disrupt and destroy an entrepreneurial economic system that would take away all its financial funders’ power, wealth and influence. In fact, our political system has already and always done so — trade regulations, legal indemnifications, tax breaks, corporate ‘rights’ and massive subsidies are all skewed in favour of multinationals and against the interests of local enterprises, labour, the environment and local communities.

Many anarchists (that is, people who believe the less government the better) espouse simply eliminating government power and infrastructure, but that actually plays right into the hands of the corporatists, since it essentially leaves corporations to govern themselves. You only need consider Exxon Valdez, Bhopal, GMO, well-financed climate change deniers, all the Bush war profiteers, and all the corrupt and incompetent bankers that gave us the current economic collapse, to see what deregulation and self-regulation produces.

A few political thinkers have suggested that we could replace the current hierarchical political system with its precise opposite — a bottom-up democracy where each community would pick its own representatives from among people they knew well, those representatives would in turn pick their representatives at the next-higher level, face to face, and so on. This approach has some obvious problems, but let’s see how it might work.

Suppose we designed a computer to create two hundred Regions of one-two-hundredth of the total number of eligible voters in a country each, in such as way as to make them as contiguous as possible (i.e. no opportunity for gerrymandering). So, for example, suppose the US has 200 million voters. Each Region would have one million voters. Each Area in each Region would have ten thousand voters, and the Areas would be computer-generated in the same way. There would be 100 Areas in each Region, or 20,000 Areas in the country as a whole.

Now suppose that within your Area, comprising the ten thousand voters in your contiguous area, you could self-select to belong, with anywhere from 75 to 150 others, to a designated Community. You would have to choose one, and if you didn’t want to do so, you would be automatically assigned, by the same computer program, a Community of the 100 people in your immediate contiguous proximity. Every four years you would have the opportunity to self-select a different community, or stay with the one you were in (provided you were still living in the same Area).

Next, every four years, your Community members (75 to 150 people) would get together and select a Community Representative (CR) from among their own members. The one hundred (or so) CRs in an Area would get together and select an Area Representative (AR) from among their members. These CRs would also constitute the government of their Area. The one hundred (or so) ARs in a Region would get together and select a Regional Representative (RR) from among their members. These ARs would also constitute the government of their Region. And the RRs would constitute the federal government, and select a President or Prime Minister and a Cabinet. Powers would be allotted to the President/PM/Cabinet, to the Federal Government (the 200 RRs), to the 100 Regional Governments (each with 100 ARs), to the 10,000 Area Governments (each with 100 CRs), and to the one million Community Governments (each with 75-150 voters/members). Hopefully with no overlap!

Could this work? Imagine if you could choose 75-150 people from among the ten thousand voters living closest to you to constitute your political Community. Can you imagine self-organizing this way? Can you guess who you would choose as your CR? Is s/he currently an elected official? Now draw an Area around where you live consisting of about ten thousand voters. Who might the 100 CRs in this area select as their AR? Is s/he currently an elected official? Could this whole system be corrupted by party organizations preying on citizen indifference to corral people into faux communities they could control?

Now consider that your Community (unlike your Area or Region) is made up of people who are not necessarily living contiguously — they are people from all over your Area. What powers and authority, currently residing with some anonymous group that just happens to live in the same town or neighbourhood, would they have, and what kind of power shift would this represent?

I have a pretty good idea who I would end up with in my Community. I also know who would aspire to be our CR, and I think I know that the person we selected to be our CR would not be one of those politically ambitious members. It would, instead, be someone we trusted, someone we would choose precisely because they lacked political ambition.

Imagine if it worked like this all the way up — CRs, ARs, RRs, all selected because they were modest, trustworthy individuals. Would we have a real democratic political system, immune to lobbyist influence, party bullying, manipulation and power politics?

March 10, 2009

Naming Your Sweet Spot, and Your Passions

Filed under: Our Culture / Ourselves — Dave Pollard @ 21:38


ftss circles

In a post last summer I wrote:

Know yourself. With self-knowledge, anything is possible. Without it, you are just everybody-else.

When I wrote last month about What is the Name That is Big Enough to Hold Your Life? I was speaking metaphorically. It is not enough, I asserted, drawing on the work of Meg Wheatley and Chris Corrigan, to identify yourself by what you do “for a living”, or by your affliction, or your role or status. Who you are is much more than that. But I was not recommending that we all change our given names, as some of you seemed to think. What I was talking about was ‘naming’ in the sense of clarifying, specifying, everything you are and do and intend to be and to do. This we should do mostly for our own purposes, so that we do not constrain ourselves to how others see us, define us in terms of everybody-else, but also because, when we start to identify ourselves to others in a certain way, we tend to start to move towards and embody that broader, more self-aware and aspirational, intentional self-identification.

So when I say that the name big enough to hold my life is “a writer who helps people imagine possibilities”, that is not merely a reflection of what I have done, but also who I am, where I find meaning and purpose, what I’m competent at but have not been recognized for, what I love and want and intend to do and to be. It’s a shorthand version of my story, past, present and future.

It occurred to me in writing yesterday’s article about attention and appreciation that the process of learning about ourselves, which I encouraged in order to better understand and wean ourselves off our addiction to the attention and appreciation of others, could also be useful in coming up with this “name big enough to hold your life.” I suggested using the three-circles diagram above, from my book Finding the Sweet Spot, to find your own sweet spot, the place where what you are uniquely good at, what you love doing, and what is needed in the world that you care about intersect. Is the ‘name’ of what is in that sweet spot also the “name big enough to hold your life”?

I think it is in part. Part of our lives should be to be of use to others, but that is not all we should do, or be. There are things we love doing, things that bring us joy and meaning, that are not in the sweet spot, either because they are not needed, or because we are amateurs at them, not good enough to ‘make a living’ at them. The word ‘amateur’ literally means ‘lover’ — to be an amateur at something you need only love doing it. It is only, tellingly, in the last two centuries that the word has come to mean a dabbler, someone who is not a ‘professional’. Similarly, the word ‘profession’ literally means something you have declared openly, “put forward”, and only later came to mean something you declare yourself skillful at.

So, in the chart above, you are an ‘amateur’ at anything in the red circle, in areas 1-4, and you are (our could say you are) a ‘professional’ at anything you are good at, anything in the green circle, areas 2, 3, 5 and 7.

What, then, is the name that is big enough to hold your life, that, as Chris puts it, “what you tremble to live into”? Is it how you would describe yourself in a personal ad about yourself seeking someone to love? Hopefully not. Is it how you would describe yourself in a resume, including your “career ambitions”? Definitely not. Is it how you would describe yourself at a business social, or a cocktail party*? 

I don’t think “the name big enough to hold your life” is how you describe yourself in any of these ‘selling’ or ‘matchmaking’ occasions. Such events will inevitably cause you to identify and define yourself in others’ context, in the context of ‘everybody-else’.

I come back to Passions: the the things you love doing, and being. I don’t think the things you do just because you’re good at them, or just because they’re needed, define you at all. Your “big enough name” is everything in the red circle, in areas 1-4. The fact that some of these things are in your sweet spot, or aren’t, and why, is part of your “big enough name”. The “ten things I do” — exploring/discovering (people and places), reflecting/imagining possibilities, writing, loving, learning, conversing, sensing/being present, playing, coaching/showing, self-managing — are mostly (except imagining possibilities and writing) outside my sweet spot, but all of them are in areas 1-4.

Perhaps my full “big enough name” needs to embrace all ten things, and the two in my sweet spot (“a writer who helps people imagine possibilities”) is my “big enough nickname”.

Why is this “big enough name” so important?

  • It gives our life direction, helps us decide what to do, and not to do.
  • It gives our life intention, and purpose.
  • It can help make us happier, by knowing better (and telling others more honestly) who we are and what we care about and what we’re capable of.
  • It can help us decide where we belong, and with whom, and what we’re meant to do, what we can do that is of use.
  • It helps us rediscover nobody-but-ourselves, and fend off the gunk that makes us everybody-else.

Does this make sense? Is it useful? Do I need to add more exercises that people can try to discover what’s in their sweet spot, and what they have a passion for (that they may not realize) that is part of their “big enough name”?

(*As an aside, I remain infatuated with NTag technology for such social occasions, an MIT spinoff that just, to my surprise, filed for bankruptcy — has anyone reading this used it?)

Category: Human Nature

March 9, 2009

Our Addiction to Attention and Appreciation

Filed under: Our Culture / Ourselves — Dave Pollard @ 17:26


homeless
Image of homelessness from the now-defunct Italian blog Moving & Learning.

For a million years, the desire for social interaction with other humans has been coded into our DNA, because social human groups survive better than lone wolves. Not surprising then, that almost from the moment of birth we begin to crave the attention, and later the appreciation, of other humans.

When I was a young child, my peer group was happy and stable, and so was my family environment. Laughs and mutual compliments and the near-automatic pleasure of others’ company was something I just came to expect. At this age, love and affection were abundant, and I thought nothing of them.

As I got older I realized that a couple of people just outside my peer group were troubled. We tended to avoid them, but they were aggressive and relentless. Soon, it seemed, their behaviour had begun to affect ours. We became less generous with our affection, and then less honest. These unhealthy behaviours were reinforced by others propagated in the school system: reticence replaced enthusiasm, bullying replaced playful debate, silent obedience to (and fear of) authority replaced openness and honest dissent. A social ‘pecking order’ emerged, based on who had power, who used force, who was more physically attractive, or more socially clever, or more facile.

It was a rather brutal indoctrination into the insidious power of pathological people and institutions to corrupt everyone they touched, until we were all poisoned.

As we emerge as adults from this toxic cauldron, it only gets worse. The media seem to be designed to inure us to the pain of our endemic social brutality by presenting us with incessant numbing graphic violence. The workplace is a continuation of the pathology of the schoolyard, except the power dynamics are more explicit, and, thanks to its elitist hierarchy, attention and appreciation are even scarcer, since criticism (and enforced self-criticism, the type on most “performance self-assessment forms”) and anxiety-creation are far more effective at achieving the desired obedient behaviours. Advertisements, clubs, and other influencers of social behaviour are designed to exclude, to make you feel inadequate, and even to belittle and ridicule. Cowed, self-loathing individuals who do what they’re told out of ignorance and fear and peer pressure are ideal passive, ‘productive’ citizens in a world that is horrifically overcrowded, with far too few resources to go around. Just as the Chinese built the great wall, not to keep the Mongols out, but to keep the stooped, malnourished peasants in, our modern societies are prisons of psychopathic intimidation and cultured self-imprisonment.

No surprise, then, that for most of us, social activity is not sought for pleasure as much as to sate a desperate and unfulfilled longing for attention and appreciation. The world, our teachers, our bosses, our bullying and strutting and fiercely competitive peers, may all hate us and ignore us and shun us, but we love each other, right, and we’re going to cocoon ourselves and console each other for all the hurt the world has ever inflicted on us.

This addiction to attention and appreciation is the sign of a culture in the throes of crisis and collapse, a consequence of the violence and antisocial behaviour that is evident in all overcrowded and mostly-starving cultures of all species. And now, like true addicts, we crave attention and appreciation continuously, and we envy and begrudge others who have more of it than we do. The damage this has done to our individual and collective self-esteem is massive.

Although it’s a generalization, it’s been my experience that most men crave attention more than appreciation, and most women crave appreciation more than attention. So many men speak louder and dominate conversations, to the point they are so busy trying to get others to pay attention to them that they fail to listen to or hear anything anyone else is saying. And many women live for stingily doled out compliments, as if it were their life’s sustenance.

This makes us as a society completely dysfunctional. We become selfish and introspective, filled with fear of losing, or never finding, love. We buy things that we hope will attract attention and appreciation, regardless of their lack of any intrinsic value. We don’t say thank you or give spontaneous compliments privately or unless it’s absolutely called for, because giving attention or appreciation without appropriate fanfare (an awards ceremony, or some other major “appreciation event”) could be considered gratuitous and insincere.

Contrary to Maslow’s hierarchy, I would argue that attention and appreciation are now, for most, our greatest needs. They’re what drives politicians to run, and to lie. They’re what drives the unsustainable consumer economy, from muscle cars to cosmetics and cosmetic surgery to self-help books and psychotherapy and new age spiritualism to diet fads and penis enlargers and logo clothes and knock-off jewelry. They’re what drives our endemic levels of stress, which is now producing the greatest health crisis in a century. They’re what drives so many of us to misery, tears, all-consuming jealousy, violence and despair.

It is a vicious cycle, which serves the rich and powerful corporatists very well, but it is also largely a result of our own doing and acquiescence. As long as attention and appreciation are scarce, anyone who is generous with either is likely to be so swamped with needy takers (telemarketers and hucksters, sob-storytellers, the lovelorn, stalkers, cult followers etc.) that she will likely rein in that generosity out of sheer self-defence. We come to hoard attention and appreciation because it has become dangerous to do otherwise. This is tragic, monstrous.

There is no top-down societal solution for this. It’s something we have to fix inside each of us. It starts with self-knowledge and self-understanding — knowing why we feel unduly needy for attention and appreciation (there’s nothing wrong with liking and wanting these things; it’s when it becomes a pathological need that it becomes a problem). The next step is taking control of our own lives, or what I’ve called writing (and acting in) our own story. It’s only when we feel helpless to fulfill things ourselves that we become desperate to get them from others. This helplessness can be overcome by giving ourselves attention and appreciation, realizing that we do have the power to write our own story.

ftss circles

I have found that the ‘sweet spot’ model I describe in my book is helpful in doing this — learning enough about ourselves to appreciate what we are uniquely good at and what we really love doing (it’s amazing how few people have this self-knowledge, because most of us have only had the courage to try a few possibilities), and then finding an application in the world outside where those Gifts and Passions can be put to good use, and will hence get attention and be genuinely appreciated (area 3 in the chart above). To the extent battered self-esteem is behind our addiction to attention and appreciation, I think this is a way forward.

My book also describes how to do world-class research, and I think this is also a skill that can help us overcome our addiction to attention and appreciation. Such research is mostly primary i.e. face-to-face not done online, and entails a lot of listening to others, asking important questions, and helping them to imagine something better. It’s my favourite form of learning. And learning, as we’ve been told, is the best way to overcome sadness, even when it is caused by feelings of not having enough attention and appreciation in one’s life.

That leaves us with the age-old problem of how to find life partners — the people who will give you the attention and appreciation you want, without having to be compensated for it, and who you will likewise get personal satisfaction and joy from giving attention and appreciation to. I confess I’m still working on this, though I’m increasingly convinced that part of it is developing the capacity to love many others unjealously and unexclusively. It just seems to be illogical to expect one person to be everything you want in a partner. To the extent you are getting a bit of attention and appreciation from a lot of people (and reciprocating as generously as you can, without exhausting yourself or allowing people to get addicted to you because of it*) I think it can help wean you off your own addiction, and perhaps help others do the same.

My final thought is that you will be less likely to crave an excessive amount of attention and appreciation from others if you learn to enjoy your own company, and that entails finding something that you genuinely love to do alone, that you can get lost in, completely caught up in. That is probably something in the red “Your Passions” circle above, but it need not be something in area 3. Our society has a strange propensity for laying guilt trips on us when we do something alone and purely self-indulgent, and that can of course cause problems if we let ourselves feel guilty. But if we’re also doing something in the area 3 sweet spot, why should we feel guilty for indulging our own private passion?

need want love

What do you think? What other things can we do to help ourselves and others overcome our addiction to attention and appreciation? How can we move “receiving attention and appreciation” from a consuming need, to just something we want and love?

* There is a real risk that if you’re generous with love, affection, attention and appreciation, people will start to want more and more of it, to the point they will expect too much of you, and end up making you both unhappy.

Category: Human Nature

March 8, 2009

Links for the Week — March 8, 2009

Filed under: Our Culture / Ourselves — Dave Pollard @ 22:55


Gobekli Tepe
12,000 year old frieze from Gobekli Tepe stone circle excavation, Turkey, which archaeologists think might be the ‘garden of Eden’ and/or the birthsite of our civilization

Scrambling to catch up after neglecting to do links of the week last week; more from this week next week, as a result.

No One Is In Control: Stunning photography, beautiful music, ambitious objective, but the remarkable 25-minute documentary “What Would It Look Like?: Global Oneness” filled me with despair. The argument is for the need for cultural diversity and equality, while at the same time for unity and collaboration and staggering collective human effort to deal with accelerating crises. Obama and others are shown making rhetorical speeches, talking about hope and change and human capacity and meaning and the power of love, but all I could see and hear was our culture coming apart like (as David Ehrenfeld** described it) a giant flywheel, with gears and springs and pulleys flying off in all directions, and I kept hearing the words of Ronald Wright: “If we fail — if we blow up or degrade the biosphere so it can no longer sustain us — nature will merely shrug and conclude that letting apes run the laboratory was fun for a while but in the end a bad idea.” (thanks to Tree for the link, for the Gobekli Tepe link above, and for the link that follows)

Retrofitting Suburbia: A new book suggests that as oil runs out and demographics change, we can redesign the world’s suburbs to keep them functional. Interesting idea, but our history has been to abandon areas that are no longer useful, rather than fix them up. Just look at any of the brownfield areas in the inner cities (polluted, abandoned, toxic industrial sites). Or look at New Orleans.

All That We Can Do…: Well, Bill McKibben and Wendell Berry and Jim Hansen and a crowd of supporters managed to shut down a coal plant in Washington DC — for four hours. Berry has been protesting mountaintop coal removal in Kentucky since 1964. Is this progress?

...And What We Must Do: The 1000th and final edition of Rachel’s News (named after Rachel Carson) lists the 17 things we must do to deal, at last, with the limits to growth and the threats to our planet. It’s an imposing list. Thanks to Eric Lilius for the link (the end of the newsletter also summarizes an interesting new study of the relationship between environmental toxins and the epidemic increase in chronic diseases in affluent nations).

  1. Learn to live within limits
  2. Commit seriously to the precautionary principle (if in doubt, don’t do it)
  3. Limit the means to commit violent acts
  4. Shift to a steady-state economy
  5. Work towards a global culture of fairness and sufficiency
  6. Promote cooperation and full employment
  7. Identify and communicate achievable alternatives (“show people the lifeboats”)
  8. Acknowledge and combat our self-deception and denial
  9. Recast environmentalism as a “democracy movement”
  10. Create infrastructure that supports a better, less selfish way to live
  11. Support the union and cooperative movements
  12. Understand the three “environments” that need renewal: natural, built, social
  13. Move towards zero waste and cradle-to-cradle production
  14. Enable local living economies
  15. Reform the political financing system so that money cannot buy political influence
  16. Reform corporations to reduce their power and ‘rights’ and increase their responsibilities
  17. Replace all current sources of energy with clean, renewable sources

Taking the Job: Hendrik Hertzberg, one of the finest essayists on the planet, says that, at least, if anyone is up for the job, Obama is. To me, supporting Obama is not something one does because one believes he is on the right track, or that what he is trying to do will work; it’s about being hopeful, keeping an open mind, and giving him, and all of us, a chance.

Context is Everything: Great Op-Ed in the NYT explaining the dangers of listening to mass media sound bites out of context, and assuming you have absorbed what the speaker really had to say. We have to learn to take time, Stephen Carter says, to really listen. But who has time?

How to Make a Map of Every Thought You Think: A 5-year old article by Lion Kimbro. Absolutely fascinating. I have absolutely no idea if it works. He promises: “Your thoughts will be clearer to you than they have ever been before. You will see things you have never seen before. When someone shows you one corner, you’ll have the other 3 in mind. This is both good and bad. It means you will have the right information at the right time in the right place. It also means you may have trouble shutting up. Your mileage may vary.” This guy is very smart. Tell me what you think, please, especially if you’ve actually tried it.

Alberta Tar Sands in National Geographic: Scraping bottom, indeed. Every time I see or think about this I start to cry. If we can justify this, we can justify anything. Thanks to Graham Clark for the link.

The Prometheus Project: Could low-power community-based radio stations be the micromedia lubricant to re-creating meaningful, self-sustaining communities?

A Better Way to Measure ‘Progress’: We have to stop referring to and using GDP as a measure of anything other than wasteful consumption. Edward Kennedy has a plan.

Thomas Homer-Dixon on Complex Adaptive Systems: The author of The Upside of Down talks about the inevitable loss of resilience of growing complex systems, in the context of economic and civilizational collapse in an online podcast. As long as we try to sustain growth, he says, the harder and more severe the crash will be. Listen to minutes 7-22 and 27-36. Thanks to Paul Heft for the link.

(Not) Just for Fun:

Don Klein, while holding up a glass with some water in it to a ballroom full of community psychologists: “The optimist looks at the glass and says it is half full. The pessimist says it is half empty. The Appreciative Inquiry practitioner looks at it and says, ‘I wonder how it got half full? Because if we could figure that out, we could get it all the way full!’” (thanks to Tree for pointing me to the quote, and for the two links below)

The Shift Hits the Fan: Comic Steve Bhaerman writes a brilliantly clever synopsis of the world in 2009, full of wonderful plays on words.

The Job: Video portrays what it would look like if executives of the future had to fight for jobs the way farm migrants have to today.

Thoughts for the Week:

From Ian McEwan, quoted in an extraordinary Op-Ed by Roger Cohen about our willingness to ignore the truth around us when it suits our purpose, its consequences, and what that says about our responsibility as human beings: “Narrative tension is primarily about withholding information.”

From Second Life denizen Acu (thanks to Cheryl for the quote):

I began the SL/RL (Second Life/Real Life) Relationships Group discussions as I sought answers around SL relationships, and only recently have I discovered that it is my relationship with SL that is now of primary concern and importance for me.

The question has always been, “Who am I and what am I supposed to be doing?” I grew so tired of the rigor of RL and the constant anxiety around fulfilling some societal, predetermined life purpose, that ultimately I was forced to surrender to something outside of myself (out of my realm of control) to give me guidance and direction.  It was then that I found SL. The connections I have made here have filled me with joy, fear, pain. Through exploration and experimentation, I have experienced many of the fantasies and ideals I had convinced myself would fulfill my RL if given the opportunity. I learned, however, that many of these fantasies were more facades which only continued to distort my view of who I am and my purpose for being. Regardless of who I pretended to be, the end result was always the same…a feeling of being unfulfilled.

Krishna (as cited in the song Sojourn of Arjuna, by Bela Fleck and the Flecktones) says “A man must go forward from where he stands. He cannot jump to the absolute, he must evolve toward it. At any given moment in time, we are what we are, and we have to accept the consequences of being ourselves. And only through this acceptance can we begin to evolve further. We may select the battleground. We cannot avoid the battle.”

I believe that I chose my life journey, prior to being conceived. That somehow I was predestined to walk this path of self-discovery over the infinite possibilities. To discover my “self”… who it is I am destined to be. As I’ve traveled, however, I have been waiting for this discovery as though it would just show up one day and set me free. I would have arrived at my destination, achieved the goal! What I am beginning to understand is that life is not a destination or discovery….it is a choice, a decision, a process of creation. I am learning that I can create whatever life I want in each moment if I can let go of needing to control the outcome. Letting go of the disappointment of things not turning out exactly as I had planned, but accepting and appreciating that I may be (co-)creating something new, which I would have never planned for or expected on my own.

From David Ehrenfeld (describing, in 1993**, the impending collapse of our civilization):

It is like a massive flywheel, spinning too fast for its size and construction, coming apart in chunks as it spins,

There goes a chunk — the sick and aged along with the huge apparatus of doctors, social workers, hospitals, nursing homes, drug companies, and manufacturers of sophisticated medical equipment, which service their clients at enormous cost but don’t help them very much.

There go the college students along with the VPs, provosts, deans and professors who have nor prepared them for life in a changing world after formal schooling is over. There go the high school and elementary school students, along with the parents, administrators and frustrated teachers who have turned the majority of schools into costly, stagnant and violent babysitting services.

There go the lawyers and their hapless clients in a dust cloud of the ten billion codes, rules and regulations that were produced to organize and control an increasingly intricate, unorganizable and uncontrollable society.

There go the economists with their worthless pretentious predictions and systems, along with the unemployed, the impoverished and the displaced who reaped the consequences of theories and schemes with faulty premises and indecent objectives. There go the engineers, designers and technologists, along with the people stuck with the deadly buildings, roads, power plants, dams and machinery that are the experts’ monuments.

There go the advertising hucksters with their consumer goods, and there go the consumers, consumed with their consumption. And there go the media pundits and pollsters, along with all those unfortunates who wasted precious time listening to them explain why the flywheel could never come apart, or tell how to patch it even while increasing its crazy rate of spin.

The most terrifying thing about this disintegration for a society that believes in prediction and control will be the randomness of its violent consequences. The chaotic violence will include not only desperate ruthless struggles over the wealth that remains, but the last great violation of nature. What will make it worse is that, at least at the beginning, it will take place under a cloud of denial and cynical reassurances.

March 5, 2009

The Story-Weaver

Filed under: Creative Works — Dave Pollard @ 22:53


storyteller by cris ortega
The Storyteller, by Spanish artist Cris Ortega

The crowd wandered in, speaking in animated tones, looking with curiosity at the array of beverages laid out for them: juices, ayurvedic teas, smoothies, concoctions of herbs and berries — açai, ginger, currants, hemp. A young woman in a long multi-coloured gown was playing the piano.

The visitors had been told that this was a two-hour ‘reading’ of their businesses from which they would learn an enormous amount about their companies, the economy, the market, and even about themselves. The event was unadvertised — attendees signed up based solely on word of mouth from previous attendees, people they trusted — and attendance was capped at forty. There was no set fee for the event — attendees would pay what they thought it was worth, in accordance with the Gift Economy.

The room was large and round, filled with curves of wood and blocks of stone, with a huge skylight open to the trees, and later, the stars. Forty chairs were arranged in a single circle, and on the floor in the centre there were dozens of strange artifacts — antique photos, pressed flowers, old postcards, strange coins and ornaments. Three projectors displayed pictures from around the world simultaneously on the wall at 120-degree intervals, so that they were visible from anywhere in the circle.

As the guests settled, the woman who had been playing the piano came into the room playing a tongue drum. She finished playing, set the drum down, took a deep breath, and… told a story. It was about a rabbi, and as she told it she turned slowly around the circle and spoke personally to every person in the room. Then she paused, and said:

Thomas King tells us: The truth about stories is that that’s all we are. The Nigerian story-teller Ben Okri says that “in a fractured age, when cynicism is god, here is a possible heresy: we live by stories, we also live in them. One way or another we are living the stories that are planted in us early or along the way, or we are also living the stories we planted — knowingly or unknowingly — in ourselves. We live stories that either give our lives meaning or negate it with meaninglessness. If we change the stories we live by, quite possibly we change our lives.”…

And then she told another story, and another, weaving them together into a tapestry of western culture and a dozen other cultures. Personal stories, worker stories, vignettes, success stories, animal stories, inherited stories, customer stories, love stories, weltschmerz stories, business “war” stories, anecdotes of astonishing beauty, joy, courage, anguish and grief. She spoke slowly and deliberately, pausing after each image, each description of character or event, each extraordinary conclusion. The audience was transfixed, each person internalizing each story with his or her own details, context, understandings, making that story their own, learning it as surely and completely as if it were the lines of a play in which they played an integral part, preparing to add to it and to retell it.

For an hour and a half she continued, using the artifacts on the floor to embellish the stories, passing them around to touch, hear, smell, changing her voice to become the characters in her stories, changing her dress, her facial expression, her inflection, her accent, the way she moved her body. The pictures on the screens around and behind her flashed photographs, lines of poetry, drawings of exotic people and places, while the music changed to match the tone of each story she told.

It was as if she wasn’t telling the stories at all — the stories were telling themselves through her. She just held the frame for them, opened space through which they escaped. She wound into her stories the I-you philosophy of authentic encounter of Martin Buber (and his sphere of the between). She told stories about stories (“you don’t have to be anything but the story that comes through you”), and explained that the essence of relationship (business, loving, or therapeutic) was the capacity to create space to allow others to tell their stories.

And when she had finished, she remained quiet for a long moment, and then said:

Thomas King says: “I weep for the world I’ve helped to create. A world in which I allow my intelligence and goodwill to be constantly subverted by my pursuit of comfort and pleasure. And because of knowing all of this, it is doubtful that given a second chance to make amends for my despicable behaviour, I would do anything different, for I find it easier to tell myself the story of my failure as a human being, than to have to live the story of making the sustained effort to help. The proof of what we truly believe lies in what we do and not what we say. We’ve created the stories that allow the ethics of what we do and don’t do to exist and flourish. They didn’t come out of nowhere, from another planet. Want a different ethic? Tell a different story…”

The truth about stories is that that’s all we are. Today, for many of us, most of our stories are lies. We know they are, but we keep telling them to ourselves and to each other. We keep living them and living in them. And because our stories are inauthentic, we too become inauthentic.

We can change that, each one of us. We each write our own story. If the story that you are acting out today is not the story that you want to live, you have the power to change it. No one else can or will do it for you. At the end of your life, you will either be happy with the story you have lived, or filled with remorse. The choice is yours.

And then she turned to each person in turn, and bowed her head, said “thank you, and good night”, and slowly walked out of the room.

(Thanks to Natalie for the inspiration.)

Category: Short Stories

March 4, 2009

Why Insurance Makes No Sense in a Natural Society

Filed under: How the World Really Works — Dave Pollard @ 22:51


broker society

One of the largest expenditures of the modern family in affluent nations is insurance: on our lives, our cars, our homes, our mortgages, our health, and our continued employment. 

In struggling nations, and in ‘uncivilized’ cultures, there is no need for insurance. We look after each other, in community — when one of us suffers a loss, the others take up the slack. Such communities and cultures ‘self-insure’.

The need to ‘buy’ insurance is one that has been created out of the loss of community. If we’re not prepared to look after each other, then we need to look after ourselves, in isolation. If we can’t do that, we have to buy a ‘policy’ that will compensate us, at least financially, when loss occurs. This ushers in huge insurance conglomerates who insure millions of people, so that the risk is spread and the insurance company can offer compensation without going bankrupt.

But so much is lost in this sad transition:

  • The insurance company needs to make a profit, so it charges us much more for insurance than it actually costs them.
  • Based on greed and self-interest, the insurance company has an inherent motive to commit fraud — to offer and charge people for insurance but then deny them compensation, using armies of lawyers writing mountains of small type to design policies that deprive the maximum number of people of the compensation they thought they were buying. The result is denied claims, cutting off ‘high-risk’ customers, and immense human misery.
  • The hawking of insurance ‘products’ gives rise to another scourge: the insurance ‘broker’ or ‘agent’, an intermediary who skims off even more of our premiums for the ‘service’ of handling the selling and paperwork of the insurance companies. These intermediaries argue that they can find the best rates for customers, but as James Surowiecki has explained, they are in a blatant conflict of interest situation: they are compensated by the very institutions they are supposedly assessing to give us the best deal, so what they do is sell us the product that gives them the best deal. This they have in common with all agents, brokers and go-betweens (see chart above): they are just one more zero-value-added link in a fragile economy that features millions of people leeching off the very few who actually create products of real value.
  • Although I think it is an overstated concern, with insurance from big anonymous corporations the issue of moral hazard emerges: if insurance ‘covers’ you, you may be more likely to engage in risky behaviour than if you have no insurance. If this is the case, the number of claims will inevitably rise, and the cost of insurance relative to the real risk of an insurable occurrence will be even higher.
  • And when you get the worst of all zero-value-added intermediaries — lawyers — wading into the muck, encouraging people to sue insurance companies and the people they insure at no risk to themselves (the sleazy lawyer just takes 50% of what he can extort from his victim), the costs and abuses soar.

So what’s the answer? For health care it is unquestionably Universal Single Payer coverage. This is not really “insurance” at all — it’s an acknowledgement that a civil society should do its best to ensure all citizens have the right to competent health care. I’m absolutely opposed to two-tier health care systems that refuse to acknowledge this — they pay for ‘basic’ health services but allow the rich to buy more extensive health services. If it’s an essential, reasonably affordable health service, it should, I believe, be made available without charge to all who need it. If it’s not essential, then it should not be provided by health care practitioners paid for out of the public purse; people who want it can buy it from unlicensed people on a caveat emptor basis. And if it’s not affordable, it should not be available at all, at any price — the idea that the rich should be able to buy a better quality of life than the poor is abhorrent. I know this idea is far too radical for most Americans, but that’s because they’ve been so well brainwashed by the medical ‘profession’ and big pharma. This means, of course, price and salary caps for medical practitioners and medical products.

How about other forms of insurance? Car and home insurance should work the same way: Universal Single Payer systems, so that if you’re unfortunate enough to suffer a fire, theft or accident, you’re made whole. What if it’s your own fault? This is a tricky one. Are people who get sick more than others at fault because of their poor diet or lack of exercise, and should they be penalized accordingly? It’s a slippery slope. I believe in no-fault programs. If someone breaks the law, they can be prosecuted. That’s a separate issue from compensation for loss, no matter whose fault it is.

Unemployment insurance is a cumbersome and expensive-to-administer system. A much better solution would be a negative income tax — if your income falls below a certain level (I’d suggest 1.5 times the poverty level) you get a tax ‘refund’ to bring it up to that level, even if you haven’t paid any tax.

Life and mortgage insurance could be handled similarly. The purpose of life insurance is to protect the survivors (dependent family members, mortgage-holders, and co-workers who lose someone’s essential skills). A negative income tax, and wealth taxes to reduce inequality in wealth and incomes, would eliminate the need for survivor benefits.

I believe that, on death, asset ownership should revert to the community, to be held as common property and/or redistributed to poorer members (including, if they need it, the survivors of the deceased). This is a radical belief but one that makes a great deal of sense if you believe in equity and that we belong to the Earth, not the other way around. In a healthy natural community, no one is a ‘dependent’ on any one other person. If you can’t pass on your wealth, the need for and purpose of life insurance disappears.

I don’t think people should get into debt in the first place, but my sense is that if someone wants to lend money to someone who later gets ill or dies, the debt should be extinguished. Businesses take risks all the time — on commodity prices, employees, market demand — lenders should just write off debts that can’t reasonably be repaid because of circumstances beyond anyone’s control. This would eliminate the need for ‘mortgage insurance’ to protect against eviction under such circumstances. It would of course also reduce the number of risky loans and mortgages, preventing people from getting into debts they are unlikely to be able to repay — I think that would be a good thing.

If one business wants to ‘insure’ (bet against) something happening, and ‘buy’ that risk from another, then that’s a risk both parties have agreed to take — one will win, and the other lose. This is what happens in hedging and many other business activities. The winner’s profits are of course taxable.

So, to recap:

  • a better solution for health insurance is Universal Single Payer health coverage
  • a better solution for home and car insurance is Universal Single Payer no-fault loss coverage
  • a better solution for unemployment insurance is a negative income tax
  • a better solution for life insurance is a negative income tax and a 100% estate and excess wealth tax
  • a better solution for mortgage insurance is to transfer all risks of default for reasons beyond the mortgagee’s control, to the mortgagor

These alternatives to insurance are effectively an emulation of the way people take care of each other in times of loss or hardship in natural communities. If you feel obliged to buy insurance today, it’s because the corporatists, the lawyers, the big industry oligopolies, and the brokers and agents have conspired to rip us off, with a system that is massively expensive, mostly heartless, grossly inefficient, and designed to perpetuate inequity of wealth, income, and all that money can buy. So if you instinctively grind your teeth when you write out your insurance cheque, now you know why.

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