Propaganda: How the CBC and Other Western Media Are Played


collage of logos of mainstream media by EJN (“what we really need in our profession are more skilled reporters”; “stories are the programming language of humanity”)

My first inkling that private and state-owned western media were being played came during the Gulf War, when it was revealed (but only to those paying attention) that the global PR firm Hill & Knowlton, hired by the government of Kuwait and sponsored by the American military establishment, scripted and presented a completely fictional account of Iraqi “atrocities” in Kuwait, complete with teary paid actors talking to members of Congress.

This charade was “bought” and presented as “facts” justifying the invasion of Iraq by all the western media, without exception, and even by Amnesty International (they later retracted their support). It was a slick production. No one was ever prosecuted for this crime, and it was just enough to convince the US to attack Iraq, with devastating and continuing consequences. Hill & Knowlton continues to operate today.

I have always been aware that warmongers, to garner political support (mostly by slandering “opponents”) and to reap profits for their corporations (mostly in the military-industrial complex), have been using massive and carefully-scripted disinformation campaigns for decades. But I mostly figured the western media, supposedly trained journalists, would at least uncover, discredit and refuse to report the most egregious examples, if for no other reason than to protect their citizens from being plunged into dangerous wars and other reckless and ill-founded military and espionage misadventures by disinformation.

But now I think I was naive. The media, increasingly starved for resources needed for real investigative journalism, and staffed with young, under-experienced and credulous “reporters” have been outgunned at every turn by massively funded, professional PR firms, “reputation management” organizations, extremist pressure groups and their military-intelligence-industrial funders. They have become, unwittingly, mouthpieces for these propagandists — they simply don’t have the smarts or the deep pockets to be anything else.

The latest case in point is yet another Sinophobic article, this one by the CBC’s supposed investigative journalism program Marketplace. The thrust of the piece is that we should not buy tomatoes that might have been produced in China because to do so is supporting Uyghur genocide. (Thanks to Caitlin Johnstone for the link.)

If you have the time, please look at this YouTube video, by a Canadian who lives in China, deconstructing the Marketplace article piece by piece, and in the process, showing just how modern propaganda is made, using western media as unwitting dupes. Again, there are standard scripts, professional actors used again and again, and a pre-developed conclusion (“China is evil; don’t buy their tomatoes”) with the sound bites and “facts” (though none of them is stated as a fact, and none of them is supported by a shred of evidence) carefully tailored with the appropriate hyperbolic tone to “support” this conclusion.

Watching it was enough to make me ill. The CBC’s journalism was so sloppy, and so credulous, that it borders on complicity to deceive Canada’s citizens and taxpayers.

And we are now being bombarded with this slick propagandized nonsense at every turn:

  • We are being told that Russia plans to invade “our ally” Ukraine, and that “international war is almost certain”, when even the Ukrainian government is telling the western media to stop wildly exaggerating the events and threats — to stand down and let the two countries deal with their own issues.
  • We are being told that China plans to invade Taiwan and that if we don’t intervene, “Australia will surely be next”. Both claims are absurd. The international status quo remains that Taiwan is a part of China, and has never been an independent country, and that it operates with great autonomy, and that this status quo is absolutely in the best interests of both Taiwan and China. But the propaganda machine would have us believe that the Chinese are “termites” bent on destroying the US in their quest for world domination.
  • We are being told that all criticism of Israel’s occupation of Palestine and its program of apartheid, is racist antisemitism that is necessarily an attack on Israel’s very right to exist and must therefore be squelched.
  • We were told of brutal atrocities committed by ISIL in Syria against its own citizens, with the gullible NYT running a whole (award-winning!) podcast series “Caliphate” about an ISIL “executioner”. But then we found out it was all made up. The NYT claimed to be a victim of the fraud and made no apologies for their shoddy research.
  • Before that we had the nonsense about Russian troops paying the Taliban in Afghanistan a bounty for “American heads”. We had endless reports about how evil the governments of Venezuela, Cuba and Syria are. And of course Iran’s plan to develop nuclear weapons for offensive purposes.

No wonder so many of us are skeptical of what we’re being told, when our “trusted” media are being so easily and totally played by propagandists!

I am not of course saying that the governments of Russia and China (or any other country) are completely innocent and above criticism (In fact Vladimir Putin has used Hill & Knowlton to do some of his US-based lobbying). I am merely saying that the recent scare-mongering about them was concocted and/or wildly exaggerated by deliberate propaganda campaigns by vested interests using western media as their hapless mouthpieces.

Who stands to gain from this?

  1. Both the Republican and Democratic party establishment in the US, and their counterparts in other western nations. Fear-mongering, warmongering and sabre-rattling are proven, highly-effective distractions from domestic bumbling, corruption, haplessness, and news of domestic social and economic upheaval and anger.
  2. Big corporations — not just the military-industrial complex, but other industries like Big Tech that benefit from increased paranoia and defence and “security” spending, and industries like Big Oil and Big Ag that benefit from the endless smokescreen of invented crises that keep their own misdeeds out of the headlines and hence out of public scrutiny and outrage.
  3. The propaganda industry — the massive PR and “reputation management” firms, the out-of-control, secretive “intelligence” bureaucracies, and the extremist media, whack-job podcasters and pundits and nut groups like QAnon that gain supporters and money from spreading and capitalizing on fear, misinformation and disinformation.

I don’t believe that the so-called “mainstream” western media actually benefit from this propaganda. They are simply clueless tools, taken in, desperate for a story that will stave off their demise for another day. The slicker and scarier and more righteous-outrage-fomenting, the better.

One of the “big” news stories in Canada these days is the trucker convoy that has “occupied” Ottawa and disrupted traffic in other cities. They have raked in $12M by duping GoFundMe when they claimed that they were a “charitable” organization. They’re serving as a money-funnel for American right-wing groups to play dirty in someone else’s country, and have also been funded by Alberta separatist groups. They have managed to offend Ontario’s and Alberta’s Conservative governments with their noisy, disruptive, and highly-polluting display, and even managed to topple the country’s federal Conservative party leader, who tried to stay above the fray and didn’t support the convoy, which “demands” that the government immediately end “all restrictive public health measures” nationally (though most of them are under provincial authority), along with more ludicrous demands. His successor, not surprisingly, “supports” the convoy.

They’re not the brightest bunch (you gotta shake your head when some of them arrived carrying confederate flags and Trump and QAnon signs), and they have clearly been effectively propagandized, and their fears and hates preyed upon, by political opportunists inside and outside Canada.

But although they’re a pain in the ass, what they’re doing is not, strictly speaking, all that different from, or much more disruptive than, what the Occupy movement did in its day. So, unlike most of the people I know, I don’t think the answer is police or military intervention. Of course convoy members who break the law should be singled out and fined, or, in the rare cases where they have threatened or harmed Ottawa’s citizens, criminally charged. But rendering a protest action illegal because it blocks traffic, even for a lengthy period of time, is a slippery slope.

I do feel for the citizens whose lives and livelihoods have been disrupted, and hope this ends soon.

But the western press has just drooled over this story, suggesting that it “threatens Canadian democracy”. Meanwhile, they stay carefully mum about the fact that real investigative journalists like Julian Assange rot in jail for revealing the truth. And meanwhile, real news like the western-backed war in Yemen that has cost millions of lives and caused untold suffering, drags on, almost entirely unreported.

We can’t “fix” the media, and there is not enough money in mainstream journalism today for proper hiring and training of journalists, or even a modicum of competent screening of falsehood from truth. And meanwhile, the political and corporate financiers of disinformation and misinformation have extremely deep pockets for deploying falsehoods.

The only thing we can do, in the face of this, yet another modern tragedy of a civilization in collapse, is to challenge everything we read and hear, insist on credible, corroborated evidence, and simply turn off media (including social “media”) that fail to demand hard evidence from their “sources” and hence inevitably fall victim to propagandists.

As Caitlin Johnstone, who has long been shouting about this subject and the dangers it poses to us, says, citing Christopher Hitchens: “What can be asserted without evidence can also be dismissed without evidence.”

And should be.

I hope the remaining competent journalists at the CBC, who are having a particularly bad year, are able to find new work with a more credible media organization (there are not many left). And that the rest of them learn how to do their jobs.

Posted in How the World Really Works, Our Culture / Ourselves | 8 Comments

Need Want Love


photo from pxhere, CC0

I promise, this isn’t a pop psychology post. I won’t try to tell you that love is when you need what you want and want what you need. Blargh!

In a healthy world, there are no ‘needs’. Maslow’s infamous hierarchy only arose to explain what we seek most urgently in a world of perverse self-manufactured scarcity. In the natural world, there is almost always abundance. Until we occupied and destroyed most of the world’s ecosystems, most of life for most creatures was easy — all life on earth evolved to thrive. Creatures that live in comfort and joy procreate, and those that live in distress and misery do not.

Or at least, that was the case up until the human invention of ‘selves’ — producing a species that lives not in the ‘now’ but in a fictitious world of the past and future, a world where suffering is seen as virtuous instead of as invitation to remove yourself from the gene pool. A world where fault-finding and dissatisfaction and hope and blame and disconnection prevail over acceptance and over just being an inextricable part of all life on the planet.

We are not meant to live this way. But, sadly, that is how we have evolved.

Until we abandoned the habitats that our bodies and capacities developed to thrive in, we mostly ‘needed’ nothing. We didn’t ‘need’ food and water any more than we ‘need’ air — we took it for granted and found it easily close at hand. We didn’t ‘need’ human companionship; we wanted it. Like many creatures, we take joy in interaction with others of our (and other) species. We evolved to become social creatures that thrived in community, because that was what we wanted. Had we not wanted that, we would have evolved (like some other primates) as solitary species. The fact that we can no longer thrive without depending on others of our species doesn’t mean we never could — such a claim is putting the cart before the horse.

In the natural, undamaged world that prevailed for most of our species’ brief time on earth, I would argue, we therefore needed nothing. What did we want? If you believe the arguments in The Dawn of Everything, what we wanted most of all was freedom. Even in prehistoric times, we wanted freedom from oppression — freedom to move, to disobey, to explore and to imagine and to practice different ways of living. I suspect that if we were magically able to speak with other creatures in their own ‘language’, we would find most of them instinctively want, more than anything else, these same basic freedoms.

Those freedoms have been lost as a result of our staggering dependence on our now-ruinous and now-global civilization, in all its ghastly and immiserating  interconnectedness, “efficiency”, homogeneity and complexity.

It is not surprising that this dependence fills us with hopelessness and shame. We know we’re fucked, but what we have created seems utterly beyond our control, and utterly beyond ‘fixing’. The resulting shame has many different flavours:

    • shame that we’re unable to provide as we’d hoped and promised for the children we voluntarily brought into the world, and to provide for other loved ones who now ‘need’ our support
    • shame about the personal traumas and dysfunctions that our horrific culture has wreaked on us, and shame for our incapacity to overcome them, and the commensurate ‘need’ for others to constantly support us when these seeming ‘failures of character’, which drive so much of our behaviour, overcome us
    • shame for the traumas and damage we fear we have unwittingly inflicted on other humans, and on both domesticated and wild animals and habitats
    • shame about our personal incapacity to do even the basic things we know we will have to know how to do to survive as our civilization continues to collapse around us, and terror for what the future therefore holds; and hence our ‘need’ to continue to depend on the very systems that have desolated our world and have unleashed the sixth great extinction of life on earth

So now, instead of living in a world of abundance, ‘needing’ nothing, we live in a world of created scarcity and precarity, driven by, and often undone by, our endless, humiliating needs:

Need

Want

Love

Precivilized humans, and wild creatures

nothing

freedom; beauty; peace and joy

everything, unconditionally

Civilized humans

everything that we have become dependent on our civilization for

we don’t know: probably all the wrong things that just make the situation worse, and for everything to be simple, as we nostalgically believe it once was; and to be free of  ‘needs’

anything that promises escape from ourselves, our fears and traumas and guilt and shame, conditional on continuing to deliver on that promise

It’s therefore not surprising that the expressions of helpless and shame-driven rage we see everywhere today, are manifested as demands for ‘freedom’. If we are not going to be endlessly wracked by shame and guilt turned inwards and blamed on ourselves, our only way to save face is to blame others, and ‘the system’, and demand ‘freedom’ from them.

We don’t know what we want. The nostalgic, misinformed and uneducated among us largely believe that the answer to many of our problems lies in dismantling governments and public services that were established largely to deal with the burgeoning needs of an utterly unsustainable population of, now, 7.8B people. These sclerotic, underfunded, overly-centralized, unsustainable and exhausted systems are now part of the problem, but dismantling them is not the solution. The problem is that there is no solution, but the majority of the population, full of rage and shame, cannot countenance that fact. In the simplistic human mind, someone has to be to blame, and getting rid of them is the first step to solving the problems.

And of course we want to be less needy. We don’t like being dependent. Being in a community of people is fine when it is our choice, but not when it is not. We don’t want to accept that we ‘need’ others, mostly people we don’t know and hence are hesitant to trust, to give us jobs, to teach us, to protect and heal us, to feed and clothe and house us, and to look after us when we can no longer look after ourselves.

It galls us that wild creatures, without the ‘benefit’ of technologies and language and other trappings of civilization, need nothing, while our needs are legion.

And then we come to love. I used to believe that the solution to our neediness was to transition ‘needs’ to ‘wants’, and ‘wants’ to ‘loves’, the idea being that wants entail less craving than needs, and loves entail less craving than wants, so you become more emotionally mature and less self-shackled and dependent as you transition. But this no longer makes sense to me: We have no choice over who or what we need, want, or love.

Some of my radical non-duality colleagues stress that when you talk about love you need to distinguish ‘personal’ love, which is inevitably and endlessly conditional (mostly upon whether it meets your needs and wants, or not), from ‘unconditional’ love, which entails a complete acceptance and appreciation of everything exactly as it is. It’s a nice distinction, but just as no modern human can eliminate all their needs, or select what they do or do not want, we cannot fathom what unconditional love is about either: We are stuck in Plato’s cave, and can only perceive its shadow.

But I get a glimpse of it, sometimes, when I see crows soaring outside my window, riding the updrafts between the high-rises, chasing each other around the buildings for the simple fun of it. Or when I see a group of dogs that have dug a tunnel in the side of a hill and are resting inside it, panting, as if to say “Look what we did! We made a lair!” Their love is about the simple joy of being alive and free and accepting that life is awesome. We can perhaps imagine it, but we can’t know it.

So that, I think, is the human predicament. Maybe that’s the inevitable price of having evolved a ‘self’ and a sense of separation, what we arrogantly call “a conscious mind”. Or maybe, once this tragic civilization has ceased, the survivors might find that wild creatures, and likely our ancient prehistoric forebears, had it right all along, and maybe they will live, again, without needs, with minimal and simple wants, and live and love unconditionally, without shame. The romantic in me hopes so.

Posted in Collapse Watch, Our Culture / Ourselves | 3 Comments

My Reluctant Misanthropy

mutts comic strip by Patrick McDonnell; Patrick is a huge champion of animal rescue and shelter animals, and his book The Gift of Nothing is a classic for all ages

A woman I know once told me that the reason I come across as arrogant is that, while I say “we’re all doing our best”, I really don’t like spending time with most people. It implies, she said, that “our best isn’t good enough for you.”

I can see how that comes across, but my misanthropy doesn’t come from any sense of superiority or judgement. My instinctive aversion to most people is pretty much the same as my instinctive aversion to junkyard dogs. They’re doing their best. They’ve been conditioned to be threatening and violent. They’re tragic figures. Like a lot of people I know. But that doesn’t mean I want to be around them.

Last summer, in dismissing the argument that humans are innately violent, I referred to the late Canadian naturalist John Livingston’s remarkable 1994 book on human nature, The Rogue Primate:

John argued that humans have domesticated ourselves, possibly because our species appears to have all the qualities needed for easy domestication: docility and tractability, a pliable or weak will, susceptibility to dependence, insecurity, adaptability to different habitats, inclination to herd behaviour, tolerance of physical and psychological maltreatment, acceptance of habitat homogeneity, high fecundity, social immaturity, rapid physical growth, sexual precociousness, and poor natural attributes (lack of speed, strength, and sensory acuity). We share these qualities, he argued, with most of the creatures (and many plants) we have domesticated. The only difference is, we domesticated ourselves.

Domesticated creatures, he said, are by definition totally dependent on a prosthetic, disconnected, surrogate mode of approaching and apprehending the world, to stand in the place of natural, biological, inherent ways of being. Such creatures see the world through this artificial prosthesis, instead of how it really is, and this self-domestication is what we call civilization.

When you can’t see the world as it really is, but only through an artificial, distorting lens, it is not hard to become untethered. I watch with dismay as incompetent pet owners try to “train” animals by yelling at them, hitting them with newspapers or choking them with chain leashes. Melissa Holbrook Pierson in her book The Secret History of Kindness explains how and why this negative conditioning invariably backfires. And, she says, it is precisely this kind of (usually well-intentioned) conditioning that makes humans the way we are — for better and for worse.

Domestication is defined as “adapting a wild species for human use”, though a more generous definition might be Cambridge’s “the process of bringing animals or plants under human control in order to provide food, power, or company”. These definitions might just as easily apply to the word “slavery”. Despite romantic notions that dogs and humans, for example, “domesticated each other”, domestication is necessarily a coercive process, where the once-wild species is forcibly deprived of its freedom by its domesticators — us. The Dawn of Everything explains what happens to a species when it loses its freedom.

When you live in a high-stress, high-competition, high-scarcity (artificially created) modern culture, and when all those around you live in a situation of constant precarity, it’s not surprising that our conditioning of each other — our self-domestication — produces in us mostly the human equivalent of traumatized guard dogs.

I dream of a world in which it is otherwise. There is no reason why the human experiment has turned out the way it has. In the world of my dreams, as in the world of wild creatures not yet diminished, threatened and encroached upon by the human plague, there is no disconnection, no distrust, no sense of precarity. If, awakening from such dreams, I suppress my emotions, it is perhaps because I cannot bear to think that we might all be living in such a world, had we not, while all doing our best, fucked up the planet, and each other, so badly.

So when I get even a small taste of all the suffering in the world, as when I see or hear a domesticated animal being neglected or abused, I have no choice but to turn away. I could never work in an animal shelter — I would either kill someone or go mad with grief.

And so, instead, I make up characters in my writing, characters who are more interesting, more bearable than the ‘real’ people I meet, ‘real’ people who are struggling impossibly to heal from trauma, or who have so cut themselves off from their feelings and awareness of the world (not so hard to do, as our conditioning makes this easy and acceptable) that they feel almost nothing at all. ‘Real’ people who, thanks to their conditioning, cannot (and perhaps dare not) imagine a world different or better than the one they live in. ‘Real’ people who live lives of quiet desperation with a veneer of coping and cheerfulness, convinced that, as it cannot be otherwise, their lives must be good.

The characters I create in my writing are, to the best of my ability, unrestrained by domestication — they are free, uncivilized, connected, un-traumatized humans. The kind of people I would like to meet, and learn from. Not that they would have me, I suspect.

And I also make up funny, wild, implausible stories about people I see sitting nearby in tea houses or walking on the street. And I turn off the sound of movies and TV shows to create my own plots and characters, which I find far more imaginative, more interesting and less maudlin and infantile than the manipulative, self-indulgent, simplistic, preachy, predictable, juvenile pap that Hollywood churns out.

My invented-but-not-impossible characters are the kind of people I want to surround myself with, to engage and imagine and laugh and play with, and to love. I don’t blame the world of ‘real’ people for not being that. They have had no more choice than to turn out the way they have, than the junkyard dog has had. The chains go on at an early age, and, unless you’re incredibly fortunate, never come off.

I guess that makes me a misanthrope, but not a condescending one.

I have been one of the junkyard dogs most of my life — conditioned by fear and anger, easily triggered. And that despite the fact everyone in my life has been doing their best, including their best to help me, to be what I really wanted to be — free, mostly. In recent years, for reasons I do not understand but which probably stems from privilege and good fortune in the form of the unusual people in my life, it seems the chain is no longer there, though, cautious and cowed and distrustful, I still act as if I am chained, restrained now by an ‘invisible fence’ of my own invention. I am afraid of exactly what I have always wanted. Why? Aha; that is the question.

Before, it was easy to bark and snarl at the junkyard dogs around me. Now, they just make me sad. I cannot bear what our self-domestication has done to our too-smart-for-our-own-good species, and how the mutual self-conditioning of 7.8B others keep us in thrall, keeps us believing, keeps us yanking hopelessly at the chain, keeps us believing that this is the only way to live.

Though, even more sadly, that reinforced, endlessly and relentlessly conditioned belief now means it almost assuredly is the only way for our species to live, until it collapses, soon enough. And after that, who knows? Maybe like Robert Sapolsky’s extraordinary baboon troop that lost all its brutal alpha males to poisoning and became a peaceful matriarchy, our next societies will be differently conditioned, perhaps even undomesticated and uncivilized. We can dream. I cannot bear to think otherwise.

Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Our Culture / Ourselves | 4 Comments

Inventing the Story of Me

photo_27979104
image courtesy photo505.com

One of the principal reasons we read, and write, and converse, and watch plays (including on TV and film), is that these social exchanges are essential, for each of us, to the creation of the Story of Me. And the Story of Me is essential to how we make sense of the world, and how we formulate and make sense of our thoughts, feelings, beliefs and behaviours. This is what human brains do. The Story of Me is far more than what we perceive to have “happened” to us. It’s everything we conceive about those happenings, and everything we conceive about, well, everything else.

Through stories, we become witnesses to things that mostly didn’t directly “happen” to us (and, in the case of lies and fictional stories, may not have happened at all), but that ‘witnessing’ all becomes a part of the Story of Me — what happened to me and in ‘my’ world and what I think and feel about all that, and how that has made me who I supposedly am. The veracity of the witnessed story is largely irrelevant. Sometimes we are more ‘moved’ by fiction than fact, especially if that fiction is related through a good story.

We are all story-tellers. Most of our conversations are essentially stories in the first or third person. Most news is stories. We are concerned to some extent with the truthfulness (including freedom from important omissions and deliberate or unintended cognitive bias) of the purportedly-true stories we listen to, read and watch, because it is the ‘true’ stories, we hope, that affect our beliefs and behaviours more profoundly than invented ones. But we are more concerned about whether a purportedly-true story resonates with what we believe to be true, than we are with its actual truthfulness. We want reassurance that what we want to believe is true.

If the story doesn’t purport to be true, we’re mostly concerned with its entertainment value — especially, as TS Eliot explained, its capacity to evoke feelings in us and provide us with new insights. To transport us, provoke us, and even unsettle us. Even then, it can change us, change how and what we feel and think and believe and do, all of which are part of the Story of Me.

For example, the reader may learn something about human nature by reading another’s depiction of a character, either through that character’s actions or through the narrator’s peek into the character’s mind. And although that character, and its mind, are fictions, the reader may learn something about themselves by how they relate to the character. Would the reader, in the same place and situation as the character, feel, think, believe and behave the same way, or differently, and, why, and what does this tell us about ourselves, and hence alter our Story of Me?

We are constantly rewriting this Story. Every time we think “If that had been me…”, while we’re reading or talking with someone or watching something, we are changing the script of the Story of Me. And it doesn’t matter whether the story we’re reading or hearing or watching is true or not.

One of the controversies in the literary world these days concerns the blurring of the distinction between fiction and non-fiction. There are even names for works that straddle the two — faction, or auto-fiction. At one point, a novel could be described as autobiographical or not, but now we have semi-autobiographical novels. And, as Melissa Febos recently explained, we also have works that blur the line between memoir and essay.

We are grappling with similar challenges about the veracity of stories of ‘fact’ in the news media and in our everyday conversations and reading (in person and online). Misinformation and disinformation have enormous consequences for the functioning of civil society. Societies that are based largely on blatantly false assertions and provably erroneous beliefs are called cults, and they usually — though not always — end in ruin.

We are living today in a world where many deny the very existence of ‘truth’, and assert that if enough people believe something it is effectively true, at least for them. In past, we used the word ‘myth’ to describe such beliefs (whether they were true or not). A myth is, of course, a type of story.

But it is very unsettling, and historically destabilizing, when a whole society fractures along the lines of what stories each fragment wants to believe to be true, especially when those stories are incompatible. Those fractures usually manifest in wars, genocides and civil wars. They are alarming, but not a new human phenomenon. Faced with incompatible truths, societies disintegrate and often collapse. Eventually new societies emerge within the wreckage that have enough shared beliefs in what is true to be able to function and provide enough value to their members to endure. Their members’ Stories of Me are, for the most part, cohesive, becoming, to some extent, a collective Story of Us.

Writers are probably far more concerned about whether their writing is honest or authentic, than are readers. The reader just wants a good story, and whether it’s true, or made up, or somewhere in between, really doesn’t matter.

I’ve written a lot about stories on this blog, including what makes a good story, and why stories are dangerous. (Bottom line: they’re dangerous when they perpetrate, deliberately or unconsciously, propaganda, naive over-simplification, a grievous distortion of history, or misinformation or disinformation.)

So what motivates a writer to write a truly fictional novel, or an unabashed memoir, or something in between? If readers are clear about what they want to read, and why, why do story-tellers often feel so troubled at giving that to them?

As a writer, I think it’s because we writers take our stories personally. While most others surely don’t care whether my Story of Me is true or not, I, its author, care. I want it to be true, honest, accurate. Everything I write contains at least a bit of the Story of Me — my beliefs, impressions, biases, ideas and passions. That bit, at least, has to be as true as possible, because otherwise my entire Story of Me becomes somewhat suspect, and that can have devastating consequences.

So if I mess up a memoir by putting in some things that didn’t happen, or might not have happened, it’s kind of lying — mostly to myself. And if I put a character in a story that (whether that is disclosed or not) is based on myself, and that character has qualities that I don’t have or experiences I have not had, then I am kind of telling untruths, leading both me and my readers to believe, perhaps falsely, that such a larger-than-life character is or could actually be real. I take crossing the line between relating the Story of Me, as I understand it to be absolutely true based on everything I know and have learned, and passing off untruths about myself, very seriously. Like most people, I think, the loss of the integrity of the Story of Me can be my undoing. We can lie to others, perhaps believing it’s for a good reason, but to lie to ourselves is unforgivable, unthinkable. I am the Story of Me, and if that Story is a lie, then I am a lie.

(To some extent this is also the case collectively — as I suspect white supremacists, and to a certain extent humanitarian liberals facing the reality of climate collapse, are now discovering to their dismay, If the Story of Us is a lie, then we are a lie.)

Many of my short stories and other creative writings draw on my own character, and on my thinking, feelings, experiences, ideas and beliefs, but my invented characters are generally much smarter, and funnier, and more equanimous and “always on” than I could ever be. The “Portrait” story that I published on Friday was almost true — it was almost a memoir. But I did embellish it a little. I felt bad about it, but not too bad — it made for a better story. I categorized it as a ‘Creative Work’ almost apologetically. But who actually cares if it’s not entirely true? I do. Why? Because it purports to be part of the Story of Me, but it contains untruths that cannot be in that Story.

And what this reveals, I think, is what is fundamentally and uniquely true about human selves. Without our Stories, we are nothing. And the problem is that our Stories of Me are all, entirely, fictions. My Story of Me is a fabrication that starts with this brain’s translation of electromagnetic waves and other phenomena reaching this body, into lights and colours and objects that are entirely internal conceptions of the brain. My Story of Me is entirely built on a scaffolding of representation and modelling of these perceptions as being ‘real’, upon which is layered a shitload of conceptions, all in the interest of making sense of the perceptions, about what these sensory perceptions ‘mean’.

The first layers of these conceptions are instinctual and reactive — loud noise, cover your ears; things associated as threatening (fists, or fangs), fight, flee, or freeze. All creatures share this level of conceptual capacity. But humans uniquely have additional levels of conceptualization including those around causality (beyond just association), meaning, purpose, judgement, and differentiation, most essentially the differentiation between self and other, between me and not-me. There is compelling evidence that other creatures neither have nor need these layers of additional conceptual capacity. That’s not to say they aren’t intelligent (read Melissa Holbrook Pierson’s book if you believe you need the capacity to conceive of a ‘self’, and free will, to be intelligent), and that they don’t feel pain and joy, and react emotionally — perhaps more than our self-censoring species does.

They feel all these things and do very smart things (most wild creatures have been around millions of years longer than humans), but they do not have, and certainly do not need, a ‘self’, a ‘me’, a sense of inviolable separation from everything else. In other words, they do not have a Story of Me.

How can this be? How can something that is so essential to our existence as humans that we fall apart when we lose the thread of it, or seriously doubt its integrity, be, in fact, completely unnecessary to a full and thriving life?

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become much less enamoured with the Story of Me. It doesn’t serve me well, and never really has. It seems unnecessary and often vexatious. I am stuck with it, like I am stuck with my appendix, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

When I was young, I made lots of things up. I daydreamed. I invented things. I did this not because I was urgently trying to craft the Story of Me — many of the fanciful things I made up were clearly not what everyone called ‘real’. I did it because, like writing, it was fun.

So now I wonder: Why are my fantasies (places I’ve imagined, just for fun, being, and the people I’ve imagined being there with, doing things I imagine doing together) not as authentic a part of the Story of Me as my supposedly ‘actual’ experiences? They’re all just conceptualizations. All the people in my life are, to the extent I am seemingly in relation to them, an integral part of my Story of Me, though I can never hope to even begin to know who they really are. The people I imagine them to be are a part of the Story of Me, while the unknowable people they actually are, are not and can never be part of the Story of Me!

And why aren’t the fictional characters I invent in my creative writing — often extensions and amplifications and satirical variations of me and people I purport to know and be close to — as much a part of the Story of Me as this rather staid and unadventurous and slow-to-learn plodder whose body I presume to inhabit? Every element of the Story of Me is a complete fiction, something made up in my head and body to try to make sense of this life that makes no sense.

And if that’s so, why shouldn’t I, child-like, tell my Story of Me (especially when relating it quietly to myself) as one of impossible, fantastic, wondrous dreams, achievements and adventures? Is it because I’m afraid that if I were held to account for the Story’s veracity (though by whom?), it wouldn’t stand up? I would have to admit that it’s a lie — all of it. The parts that say I ever did anything. The parts that say I valiantly reined in my character’s less admirable qualities and accentuated the positive, with my supposed ‘free will’. The parts that say I have made something of my life, done my best. The parts that say things are getting better, that I have improved, learned stuff, moved forward.

That, perhaps, is a truth I could not bear.

But perhaps, with not that much of my incredibly-blessed life remaining, it just might be that continuing to march to the drum of the Story of Me — this ragged, shabby, cobbled-together myth of Who I Am — might yet one day turn out to be even more unbearable.

Posted in How the World Really Works, Illusion of the Separate Self and Free Will, Our Culture / Ourselves | 1 Comment

Portrait


image by aalmeidah from Pixabay , CC0

Restless again, and enjoying the first night in over a week that we haven’t been shrouded in a thick winter fog, I wander the suburban streets. This time I’ve had the sense to follow my own advice and dress for the weather, bundled up with a toque and mitts and a scarf, and I wear layers under my coat. It is 0ºC, and clear.

When you’re not going anywhere, and not distracted by the traffic, or the weather, or other humans acting out their traumas, you can really get a sense of the vibe of a place at night. This place has no murals, except one that’s atop one of the apartment towers that no one can see. The area, a suburban city centre, is very clean, and it feels very safe, almost sterile. There are 15 high-rises in the area, somewhat bunched together; 22 more are planned for the few remaining ‘vacant’ lots. There’s a popular ‘pop-up’ park on one of them, that, in season, has table tennis tables and a sand ‘beach’ and net for volleyball, surrounded by hammocks.

Depending on the weather, the outdoor decks of the restaurants and bars are usually as full as anywhere I’ve seen during the pandemic. It seems as if everything is concrete, including the public outdoor seating. There is a lot of lighting along the streets and the open areas. Most of it is white and a bit cold, giving the area an almost futuristic feel, especially at night when the mall parking lots empty out and the brightly-lit concrete spreads out for blocks. The sleek SkyTrain that whirrs and snakes across the area on overhead tracks far above street level adds to that futuristic sense — it is the second largest driverless urban train system in the world.

The city is very cosmopolitan, with the largest visible minorities (Chinese, Korean and Persian) together actually making up a majority of the local population. If I were to just look at the faces and listen to the languages spoken on the street by those passing by, I could be anywhere in the world.

There are no tents, cardboard signs, or shopping carts piled with personal effects to be seen, even along the river paths and under the bridges. The “no trespassing” signs on the underpass ledges seem superfluous here. There are no ‘spikes’ to deter sleepers, but then there are no sleepers in evidence either*. Everyone walking after dark seems in a hurry, even those who’ve just left the bars. Ambling along slowly, stopping to sit on some of the concrete and aluminum benches, I probably look conspicuous.

One of the benches I pause at, near the ‘city’ hall and the library, is particularly well lit. I pull a small map of the area from my pocket, and find at the same time a note I wrote for myself months or even years ago. It says:

  1. Smile, genuinely.
  2. Pay attention, and notice, without thinking about what you’re noticing.
  3. Make eye contact, but don’t stare and don’t interpret what happens.
  4. Figure out why people are saying what they are saying, rather than focusing on their argument.
  5. Get out more, and listen to, and watch, wild creatures.

As if perhaps to convince myself to pay heed to these instructions, underneath the list are the reasons behind it:

  • When you smile, in an unforced way, your brain actually starts paying more attention to what’s going on “outside” it, in an attempt to rationalize why you are smiling, until it finds something worth smiling about.
  • Smiling therefore shifts your brain from a conceiving (thinking, abstracting, judging) to a perceiving (instinctive, noticing, appreciating) mode.
  • Time seems to move more slowly when you’re more attentive.
  • The distinction between you and “everything else” blurs when you spend less time thinking about yourself and about what’s going on inside your head.
  • When people converse, they’re looking for appreciation, attention, and reassurance. They’re saying: “Help me fit what you’re saying (or doing) into my frame, my worldview. Help me make sense of things.”
  • Wild creatures know there are only two natural states — equanimity and enthusiasm. Everything else is aberration — “dis-eased” states.

I wonder why I keep forgetting, or ignoring, this ‘advice’, even when I make notes to remind myself. I know it works, and without it I tend to sleepwalk through too much of my life. My life is comfortable, as stress-free as it’s ever been. I am extraordinarily blessed.

I debate with myself whether my peaceful state is a devil’s bargain, a reward for inattentiveness and disconnection, even dissociation. But I realize I am back inside my head and let it go.

The soft lights that illuminate the columns that support the Skytrain tracks are programmed to change colour at regular intervals. I stop myself from trying to predict when they will next change, and to what colour.

At night, I am drawn, moth-like, to gaze at lights —moonlight, starlight, streetlights, lamplights, headlights (especially in the rain), window lights, traffic lights even. It’s almost as if their varying frequencies and shifts are a language, speaking to me, softly, in waves. I smile now, listening to the incessant hum of the city, and parsing the sounds for tone and volume, not for meaning. Symphony without a score. It is strangely comforting. “You are not alone”, it seems to say, though of course we are, all of us, utterly.

I remember a youthful dream. It was to live in a commune surrounded by a forest garden, with gentle lights and calming music along its pathways, where everyone around me was open, smiling, without guile, untouched by anxiety and anger and trauma and grief. My imaginings of a perfect world haven’t really changed, all these years later. The only difference is that now, I no longer have any hope that they could ever be realized. Still, they’re nice to think about. Had things unfolded differently on earth, they might have been possible. This — the life I’m living right now — is as close to such perfection as I’m ever likely to get.

The streetlamp above this bench is bright, but its colour is soft, diffused. High-rise builders and institutional developers don’t bother much with planting grass, and the boulevards nearby are lined instead with rows of majestic, closely-spaced trees, mostly evergreens, casting shadows on the walkways even as they themselves are bathed in light. This city is green and grey.

A couple walking by, holding hands, are singing softly, in harmony. They stop as they get close to me, but, as I recognize the tune, I smile and sing the next line of the song — I’m a ragamuffin child, wearing a finger-painted smile — and they laugh and wave and continue the song as they pass.

At night, there are no birds here. But I know where they roost, along the riverbanks nearby. I imagine hearing them, seeing them, now.

Painting them into this picture.


*  The Coquitlam Tri-Cities area has a population of about 250,000 people. Using the Canadian average, 0.2% of us (500 people) will be unsheltered on any given day (four times that proportion will be unsheltered at some point during a given year). The Tri-Cities has fewer than 100 places available, with waiting lists. The local social services workers know where to look for the unsheltered, but beyond the one local shelter, the unsheltered are pretty invisible here compared to other cities and even compared to other areas of Greater Vancouver.

Posted in Creative Works, Month-End Reflections, Our Culture / Ourselves | 3 Comments

Microclimates

One of my small pleasures is my weather station, which is up on the roof of our apartment. (You can see the current data here.) Before we moved to Coquitlam (or kʷikʷəƛ̓əm to use its hən̓q̓əmin̓əm̓ First Nations name), last summer, the station was outside our house on Bowen Island (or Nex̱wlélex̱wm to use its Sḵwx̱wú7mesh name), where I tracked weather conditions and trends for my last five years there.

When you’re a weather nut, and worse, a data analysis nut, you end up learning a lot about the weather just trying to answer questions about anomalies in the data.

As a small, volcanic, mountainous island just off the west coast of the mainland of British Columbia, Bowen gets a lot of weather. It’s an entirely different world from (most of) Vancouver, of which it is ostensibly a suburb. For a start, Bowen is heavily treed. It sits in the shadow of Vancouver Island to the west, and its west side is buffeted by winds coming down the Salish Sea (aka Strait of Georgia) from the northwest, while its east side gets hammered by the notorious Squamish (Sḵwx̱wú7mesh) squalls coming down the Átl’ḵa7tsem (Howe Sound) from the northeast.

Bowen’s microclimates are primarily determined by (at least) three local forces:

  1. The temperature-modifying effects of the surrounding Salish Sea.
  2. The effects of altitude, notably the cooling effects of both its three iconic mountains (that take up half the island) and its low central valley.
  3. The effects of winds, both maritime and offshoring.

The result of the first effect is that some coastal parts of the island get less than a tenth the winter snow of some other parts, with temperatures varying as much as 5ºC over less than one km (warmer on the coast than inland in winter, but cooler in summer).

The result of the second effect is that, while the mountaintops often get the first and most snow, the “low-lying” areas of the central valley often see more snow lasting longer on the ground than any other part of the island. The combined effect of shade both from the mountains and from the adjacent forests is a factor, but not the largest one.

This was hard for me to get my head around, and it was frustrating because the Grafton Community Gardens are located right in the middle of the island in the valley, and the snow there, some years, takes forever to melt so that planting can begin.

You probably know that as altitude increases, air pressure decreases, and as pressure drops, there are fewer air particles, and the air particles move more slowly, so temperature drops. You’ve also probably heard the expression “risk of frost in low-lying areas”. This happens because warm air rises, leaving denser, colder air below, and it can get trapped in valleys. So paradoxically, the warmest places in Bowen’s interior are the mid-altitudes — neither too high to get the effect of lower air pressure, nor so low that they allow cold dense air to be trapped there. Of course, the coastal areas are warmer still in the winter, and cooler than the valleys in the summer.

The results of the third effect (winds) are perhaps even more complicated. The winds down the Salish Sea from the northwest can sometimes bring in cold arctic blasts, but they can also bring moderating temperatures when they’re localized or coming from the south. So the south and northwest coasts of the island might actually be the warmest parts of the island, overall. The Átl’ḵa7tsem winds from the northeast get the Squamish squalls, and so the northeast coast is sometimes the windiest part of the island, and can get particularly large snow dumps in winter — though every part of the island gets a lot of wind! A study a few years ago found that the “wind regime” 50m above Mount Collins on northeast Bowen was one of the heaviest and steadiest on-land wind regimes on the entire west coast of North America.

But it gets more complicated. The prevailing winds on Bowen (and much of Vancouver) for significant parts of the year are from the east, blowing offshore. This happens naturally when the warmer ocean air rises, creating a low pressure area over the water, which the air from the land to the east rushes in to fill.

In the winter, events like the polar vortex can aggravate the situation. The polar vortex is a huge arctic low-pressure zone filled with cold air, that is semi-stable. Its winds blow in a counter-clockwise vortex, but occasionally they will be disrupted, opening the vortex and allowing the mass of cold air to flow southwards at high speeds. This can be offshore, bringing the air directly down the Salish Sea, or it can be onshore, in which case there is a large temperature anomaly near the coast. When the latter happens, as the warmer air over the water rises, the colder onshore air flows out across the coasts to fill the void. Large cold air masses trapped between the mountains ranges in winter also often produce fierce outflow winds, which is why many of Bowen’s, and Vancouver’s, fiercest storms are accompanied by winds from the east, northeast and southeast. Just a month ago, Vancouver recorded its coldest temperature in 52 years, at -15ºC.

And then, there are the “atmospheric rivers”. These are principally attributable to climate change, as atmospheric heating leads to more water vapour in the atmosphere. When this highly saturated air gets picked up by air currents, it can travel thousands of miles from the southwest Pacific, turning into heavy precipitation when it rises on encountering land masses. This happens especially in La Niña years, when the temperature gradient of the Pacific, from hot in the west to cold in the east, is greatest, fuelling this air saturation and flow. This past fall and winter, most of BC’s major highways were closed in spots for an extended period due to floods and mudslides caused by an extended series of atmospheric rivers.

And, last but not least, we have “heat domes”, also exacerbated by climate change. These also occur mainly in La Niña years, but in the summer, when the oceanic temperature gradient is high, driving record hot air up into the atmosphere in the western Pacific, where it is then carried by the jet stream to North America. This creates a problem when this air pushes into a high pressure area with clear skies. The high pressure is seeking to move to a lower-pressure (cooler) area, but with the flow of hot air from the Pacific, it can’t find one. As it presses down on the air below, that air is compressed and further heated. The hot air at ground level is trying to rise, but is blocked by the high pressure heat above, creating a dome that can take days to finally break. This past June 29th, a month before mid-summer, Lytton BC, not far from here, reached almost 50ºC, the day before the entire town was engulfed and burned to the ground in a wildfire. That temperature was 6ºC higher than the previous record for any date in all of Canada, and 27ºC higher than normal; most of the province likewise surpassed previous records. Squamish hit 43ºC, and Bowen and Coquitlam and other parts of Vancouver hit 41ºC (normal high temperature for June 29th in these places is 18ºC).

These temperatures and weather anomalies also contributed to a horrific 2021 wildfire season (third worst on record), and record droughts, especially on Vancouver Island, where many wells ran dry and water rationing was widespread.

That is what climate change’s promise of “more extreme weather events” means here. Heat domes with record hot, dry summers. Increasing droughts and wildfires. Winters with record rainfall, widespread mudslides and flooding, and, at higher altitudes, record snowfall and avalanche danger. Unprecedented and sustained windstorms causing major damage. Increasing polar vortex and other outflow anomalies, leading to long periods of abnormally cold temperatures, and the ravages of ice storms. (February has recently replaced December as Vancouver’s coldest month, four years out of the last five.)

It all “averages out” to a 2ºC overall increase in temperature, and a slight overall increase in precipitation. But in no place and at no time is anything “average”. Not all years will be as extreme, weather-wise, as 2021, but some will be worse. And some places will fare much better than others, even places that are not far apart.

Our move from Bowen to Coquitlam (see map above) wasn’t that far, but I am definitely living in a very different world. Some Bowen friends were snowed in for a week this winter, despite their years of preparation and practice at dealing with the vagaries of the local weather — the first time in over 20 years that’s happened to them. Others had to drink bottled water when their wells ran dry. Some of their roads were washed out in this winter’s floods. Most of them faced the 41ºC heat without air conditioners. And this fall and winter storms have caused a slew of power outages, perilous when it’s -10ºC and you rely on electricity for your heat. The potential dangers of wildfires are ever-present.

By contrast, living in the city one can be pretty oblivious to what’s going on all around. Coquitlam is one of those ‘mid-altitude’ areas that is, unexpectedly, slightly warmer, on average, than downtown Vancouver and quite a bit warmer than Bowen. We faced the heat dome and have had lots of rain, but have had little snow, no major power outages, no floods or mudslides or avalanche closures or nearby wildfires. No worries about dry wells or downed trees across the roads or wrecking roofs. The air quality was bad province-wide due to wildfires last summer, but here they were not as bad as they were three years ago. Perhaps, so far, we’ve just been lucky.

And that’s your weather report for southwestern BC. Stay tuned for updates, and hold on to your hats.

Posted in How the World Really Works | 1 Comment

Effective Activism (a Repost)

tar sands howl arts collective
The Alberta Tar Sands in 2015, twice the size it was in 2008 and soon to cover an area larger than NY State; its toxic sludge ponds alone are large enough to be visible from space. Photo by Dru Oja Jay, Howl Arts Collective, for The Dominion CC-BY-2.0

I very rarely repost articles I’ve written in the past. I prefer to just link to older articles if I think they’re still useful and pertinent. But a recent email from Christopher Van Dyck had me rereading a 13-year-old post about my meeting with Nina Simons and Kenny Ausubel at Bioneers. Their insights about what constitutes effective activism remain, to me, the most useful guide on the subject I’ve ever heard, and at a small, informal “kitchen table” discussion back in 2008 they just laid it all out for us in less than an hour. Here is what they advised, pretty much unedited:

  1. Developing Holistic Change Frameworks & Approaches: The changes we are trying to accomplish are in systems that are all complex and all interrelated. We cannot isolate approaches to just environmental sustainability, or social justice, or health and nutrition, or quality affordable housing, or media reform, or education, or poverty, or women’s rights, or racial equality, or economic reform. We need to realize that change needs to occur in all of them, integrally, or no enduring change will occur in any of them. What is required is a coordinated “movement of movements”, a whole ecology of collaborative, shared ideas and activities. These efforts need overarching “big picture” frameworks that show the interconnectedness of the problems we face and how efforts in one area can reinforce (or impede) efforts in another. For example, we need to appreciate that many health problems have social (e.g. addiction), educational (e.g. ignorance of nutrition) and environmental (e.g. food toxins) problems underlying them.
  2. Focusing on Two Common Causes: Many of the aforementioned connected problems have our separation from nature and the weakening of local community at their root.
  3. Reaching Across Ideology to Find Shared Values: Our belief systems by themselves are not enough to bring about change. The movement has to be about more than shared ideology. It needs to build bridges, and “reach across” cultural divides to find common cause. Our opinions are not as important as what we value, because many people who differ in opinion share values.
  4. Using the Leverage Points: To be effective, we need to find the leverage points in the system, the places where the need for change is understood, where change is relatively easy to achieve, and where that change will provoke positive changes elsewhere.
  5. Relocalizing and Connecting: The change must be rooted in community, in a massive relocalization and decentralization and de-institutionalization of attention, connection, understanding, power, and effort. Communities need to coalesce, self-organize, and do things for themselves, and then connect with other communities to share their success stories and lessons learned. At higher levels, our political states are bureaucratized, disconnected, unmaneuverable, corporatist, and corrupted, and trying to reform them is largely a waste of time, money and energy.
  6. Making Change Easier: We need to focus on making it easier for people to change. We prevented an ozone layer disaster by simply making CFCs illegal, so refrigeration companies found and invented non-ozone depleting coolants, because they had no choice. Likewise, by ensuring that only energy-efficient light bulbs can be sold in the market, and that only energy-efficient, healthy new homes can be certified for sale, we make it easier for citizens to do the right thing. Working models that let people see how and why they work, and how to replicate them, are likewise useful.
  7. Educasting: A major obstacle to change is the public’s ignorance and lack of capacities to bring about needed changes. We need to start using the new media for “educasting” public information to inform and build capacities. While we should not give up trying to reform public education and mainstream media, we cannot rely on either to support educasting, so we need to work around them.
  8. Delivering to Those in Need: We need a renewed focus on delivery systems for change, so that resources get to where they’re most needed.
  9. Thinking Generations Ahead: We need long range thinking so that we always know roughly where we are going, balanced with pragmatism and effective, sustained implementation. Example: The 50 Top Future Crops for New Mexico is a long-range program that inspires and directs thinking and action about long-term food production and nutrition in that state.
  10. Speaking in Understandable, Inclusive Terms: We must make sure the language we use is inclusive and accessible to people outside our circles of activism. Jargon can be a useful shorthand but also an impediment to communication and persuasion. The terms “environmentalist” and “activist” are not helpful because of connotations of “otherness” and anger (which is why, for example, the more inclusive, positive term “Bioneers” was coined). Stories, of course, are immensely useful in increasing understanding.
  11. More Listening and Facilitating: We need to substantially and continuously improve our active listening and facilitation skills.
  12. Taking the Responsibility That Comes With Privilege: We have to understand that our privilege — just being in an affluent nation, white, working, healthy etc. — imposes on us a responsibility to help those without such privileges, and even more importantly, to take risks that, in the interest of fairness and egalitarianism, may jeopardize our own comfort or security.
  13. Learning What We’ve Forgotten from Aboriginal Cultures: We have an enormous amount to learn from indigenous communities, who still retain, and whose stories bring, important knowledge, capacities and values we have lost or forgotten, or never knew.
  14. Bridging the Generations: Our projects and thinking and collaboration must involve all generations, to bring different perspectives and cross-pollinate ideas and knowledge. This is harder than you might think. (Did you know more people visit zoos each year than attend sporting events?)
  15. Self-Knowing: Effective activism requires self-knowledge and self-awareness. We each need to discover our purpose, develop our capacities and focus our effort on the work we do best, not just what is most needed. And self-knowledge also allows us to recognize our biases and triggers and hence cope with the emotional stress and grief that activists necessarily deal with every day.
  16. Dealing With Religious Groups: In dealing with organized religions, we must deconstruct and separate their spiritual, social and political components, and use our common cause with adherents’ spirituality and social goals to enlighten them politically.
  17. Preparing for Economic Collapse and Enabling Volunteerism: As economic collapse deepens, funding for important work will get scarcer. We must be prepared to tap into more volunteer work; one advantage of unemployment is that it frees up time. Instead of sitting listening to boring lectures, why don’t we get students out repairing watersheds? How can we find space for retired people aching for something meaningful to contribute?
  18. Connecting With Social Entrepreneurs: We must get past our aversion to business and ‘profit-making’ enterprise and realize that many entrepreneurs are (or could be) part of the solution not part of the problem. The current model of psychotic capitalism is not the only model for successful enterprise. The new model is cooperatives and community-based, community-owned business.
  19. Overcoming Learned Helplessness: Too many people are still looking for people (and governments) to do things for them, to lead them, and to tell them what to do and how to do it. Activists need to activate by getting people past reliance and dependence and learned helplessness, to believe in their collective capacity to decide what needs to be done and to accomplish anything they set out to do. The new ‘leadership’ model is not hierarchical and adulating, it is one of reciprocal mentoring, balancing critical and creative thinking, supportive and challenging conversation. Finding and deploying power through, not over, people.
  20. Making the Movement Political: Holistic environmentalism needs to move from a cultural phenomenon to a political movement, like the movement for women’s suffrage and the abolition of slavery. To do this means both resisting and creating, fighting against regressive and repressive forces while innovating and acting at the local level to show how we can accomplish real change. But this does not mean becoming politicians, it means influencing and educating the politicians. And it can’t stop at petitions and protest demonstrations: We need to take Direct Action.
  21. Creating Holistic Coalitions: We need to engage cross-disciplinary innovators and knowledgeable people to help us address the intractable problems that are blocking progress. Example: If birth control pills are polluting struggling nations’ waters, rather than fighting amongst ourselves (family planners versus water conservationists) we should be tasking and helping the medical and pharma profession to innovate green solutions to this.
  22. Embracing Biomimicry: The answers are out there. We just need to ask nature.
  23. Developing a Practice of Gratitude and Kindness: We must resist the tendency to anaesthetize ourselves against the grief, anguish and pain that comes from facing hard truths and grim realities about our current world. We have to be empathetic and give each other permission to feel the powerful emotions that we will inevitably feel in our work. This is a long-term, challenging task. We need to acknowledge and feel the pain, and at the same time we must be patient, appreciative, joyful, supportive, kind to ourselves and each other, and ‘grace-full’.
  24. Balancing Pessimism, Realism, and Hope: This work, as important as it is, depends on us being true to ourselves, self-appreciative, giving ourselves permission to take risks, learning to accept compliments, “smelling fear and heading straight for it”, and managing our own and others’ expectations. We have to balance idealism and realism, perseverance and pragmatism, masculine aggressiveness and feminine perceptiveness and resilience. We must see that the glass is half full and half empty. We have to get past the internalized oppression that we carry inside us, the fear of saying and talking about what we most care about, even though doing so makes us vulnerable and may expose us to disbelief and even ridicule.

Those of you who read yesterday’s post on this blog and may hence find the tone of this post surprising, you should know that Dave #2 and Dave #3 were not consulted in the decision to repost this one. They insist that it’s too late, or impossible, for any action stemming from the above to make any difference in where we are now headed. They are probably correct, and our ‘progress’ since I posted this article in 2008 is certainly not encouraging. But Dave #1 insists that if it is still possible to make a difference, this is how it will be done.

Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Our Culture / Ourselves | Comments Off on Effective Activism (a Repost)

Characters of Our Own Making


scene from Le Roi de Coeur

“All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players” — WS

One of the places that the enormous cognitive dissonance in my life often plays out, is in my volunteer activities with various non-profits. Dave #1 (the activist “me”) wants to make the world, or at least our civilization, better. Dave #2 (the collapsnik “me”) believes that’s a waste of time, that civilization’s collapse is accelerating and we’d better adapt to a radically different emerging post-collapse world. And Dave #3 (the radical non-dualist “me”) believes there is no free will (and, even worse, no ‘one’ to have it), so ‘improving’, and ‘adapting’, are both impossible and unnecessary.

As I recently told my friend Djö, this cognitive dissonance is pretty easy for me to handle. The differences between the three Daves are mostly intellectual and abstract (they’re different understandings of what really is, and how the world really works) rather than emotional or existential. The three get along reasonably well, take their turns being “me”, and are comfortable, even intrigued, by uncertainty and ambiguity.

In our Teal group meetings, where we are currently working with a local group managing a still-under-construction village for the unhoused, it is Dave #1 who is usually engaged. This Dave loves to learn, and the group is a powerful network of people who share knowledge, insights, ideas, experience, expertise and connections.

So it was fascinating to hear one member of our group say, at our last meeting, “We’re all characters in a story of our own making, wanting to be better characters”. Suddenly, Dave #3 woke up, wondering if this was his cue to take over. And then another member of the group introduced the Drama Triangle model, which asserts that we often see ourselves (and others) variously as playing the role of victim, rescuer, or culprit in different situations, which usually turns out to be an utterly dysfunctional perspective for dealing with these situations.

It was probably a good thing that I had joined the meeting via Zoom, and that we had a bad connection, or Dave #3 might have muscled himself in and embarrassed Dave #1. Instead, the two Daves just paid attention and listened, shrugging at each other.

Caitlin Johnstone and Indi Samarajiva, two of my current favourite political and cultural writers, must have similar alternate personas. They have both written recently, and more than once, about non-duality and our lack of free will. When they do, it must strike readers as as jarring as it does me. It’s like “Huh?! What?!” You can’t follow a rant against despots and corrupt corporatists with a post that says, essentially, everyone is doing their best and no one is to blame! But they have done so, and I completely understand. These views cannot be reconciled (though I’m guessing Caitlin and Indi would disagree with that),  and that’s OK.

So, getting back to my own cognitive dissonance, and the neo-Shakespearean statement that woke Dave #3 from his slumber: “We’re all characters in a story of our own making, wanting to be better characters”. Of course we are. Dave #1 nods, acknowledging that, metaphorically, we are our stories, and that we all want to make these stories better, with a happier ending, and strive our whole lives to do so. We all love stories, and metaphors!

But to Dave #3, this is not a metaphor. The story of our own making, the story of ‘me’, he asserts, is a complete fiction, since without free will, all of our ‘wanting’ and ‘striving’ is futile, serving only to cause us, and others, distress. What we do and what we believe are entirely the result of our biological and cultural conditioning, given the infinitely complex and variable situation of each moment. Nothing is preordained, but nothing is within ‘our’ control, either, including our own behaviours and beliefs.

Of course, the Teal group would be wise not to go there. That is not what they meant at all, though they may harbour some doubts about free will, which they may well quickly put out of their minds as dangerous, or irrelevant, thoughts.

So Dave #1 and Dave #3 look at each other: Is there some way of reconciling these two worldviews? Can we be activists and still acknowledge that everything we do is our conditioning, over which we have no agency?

A number of philosophers (with IMO limited cognitive capacities) have warned that, while “thinking men” (these boneheads are invariably male) might absolutely accept that we have no free will, we would not ever want this knowledge and understanding to be known and accepted by everyone. They couldn’t handle it; they would commit suicide or become nihilists, unrestrained thrill-seekers running riot in the belief that since they’re not responsible, they can do anything. It’s an absurd and obviously fatally flawed argument, but you still hear it a lot.

The worst that would happen is that everyone would wrestle, and learn to live, with the cognitive dissonance that they are compelled to believe and do things over which they have no control, but that they must suffer when what is done is not what “should” have been done, and try to do their best and to make things better nevertheless. “For us”, TS Eliot wrote, “there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.”

As for the Drama Triangle, which toys with the idea of us having unhelpful personas, the two Daves are again unable to come to terms. Dave #1 asserts we must move beyond roles and labels and work with each other in more mature and nuanced ways, as attentive and respectful equals, each with knowledge, insights, ideas, experience, expertise and connections to usefully share.

Dave #3 just smiles and laments that, lacking free will, we cannot do any of our “musts” and “shoulds”, no matter how fervently we believe in their urgency and necessity. We will do what we will do. Should we brush up against people who know about the dangers of roles and labels and judgements and other dysfunctional behaviours and beliefs, and who expose us, at the right time with the right framing (and story), our conditioning may shift accordingly. Meanwhile others (or we ourselves) will brush up against people who make emotionally compelling arguments for dysfunctional and destructive behaviours and beliefs, telling the ‘right’ story at the ‘right’ time to condition them to make things, from our perspective, worse.

It will be fun to see how it all plays out. Dave #2 has just woken up, and he wants to have his say about all this, too. But apparently my conditioning is such that he won’t get the chance, at least not today.


Thanks to Gabe Piechowicz and Alberta Pedroja for the quote about stories, and the introduction to the Drama Triangle, and to the whole Teal gang for keeping Dave #1 on his toes, and engaged with the world. (Or so he thinks.)

Posted in Illusion of the Separate Self and Free Will, Our Culture / Ourselves | 2 Comments

There Is No “Why”

Another of Dave’s annoying and pointless radical non-duality posts


drawing by Jonathan Bartlett in this intriguing NYT article

Back when I was being paid an absurd amount of money as a management consultant, we occasionally used a technique called “Ask Why Five Times”. The idea was to do a root cause analysis, figure out possible interventions that would ‘fix’ the root cause, and hence solve the business problem. It’s really rather amazing that most people’s critical and imaginative thinking skills are so stunted that they would have to hire someone to show them how to do this.

The problem with the technique, of course, is that the problems at hand that don’t have obvious solutions are mostly actually predicaments — they are so complex, and have so many inextricably interrelated variables, that root cause analysis is impossible and becomes just an exercise in dangerous oversimplified thinking. Things are the way they are for a reason, and often, it’s impossible to know why. That’s why creatures smarter than we are look for adaptations and workarounds rather than trying, impossibly, to ‘fix’ predicaments.

But the human brain is fascinated, and often preoccupied to the point of addiction, with asking “Why”, at least until we reach the age and stage where our culture has finally managed to drive the curiosity out of us. Then we become addicted to dopamine or adrenaline instead. Our conditioning is nothing if not effective.

For some reason of maladaptation, I’m still insanely curious. I still love to ask “Why”. Of course, since I know that question, whenever it’s interesting enough to ask, is practicably impossible to answer, I realize that playing the “Why” game is just that — a diversion, an ancient and uncurbed compulsion. But that doesn’t stop me playing it.

My fascination with radical non-duality sparks a lot of “Why” questions, even though I ‘understand’ the radical non-duality message well enough that I can tell myself “There is no ‘Why'” even before I ask them. Everything is just an appearance, just as it is, already, for no reason. There does not have to be a reason for everything to be as it is. Every reason we come up with for anything is just a story, a child’s attempt to make sense of the monster under the bed. It’s just the patterns we observe, the apparently related occurrences we cobble together, like images we see in clouds, or the reasons we invent for things that ‘happened’ in our dreams.

My obsessive curiosity doesn’t stop with asking “Why” just once. I’ve been conditioned (and sometimes even paid) to keep asking until I “get to the bottom of things”. Here, without my usual self-censoring of this foolish game, are some of the rabbit holes that asking “Why” the message of radical non-duality might be true, or not, and why it’s so appealing to me, have taken me down.

  • Why are the illusions of self, of separateness, of ‘me’, of the passage of time, of things ‘causing’ other things, so damned compelling, so obvious even, if  they are just illusions?
    • Because they have been reinforced by every other self these bodies we presume to inhabit has encountered over a lifetime — if you’re told something often enough, you will usually eventually believe it. But Why do we behave this way?
      • Because that is how we are conditioned and have been conditioned. We have no choice but to perpetuate these illusions, with our children and everyone we, apparently, interrelate with. But if it’s illusory, Why has this conditioning evolved?
        • It hasn’t evolved; there is no real time in which things can evolve. This conditioning is just how it is, what it is, what is apparently happening, for no reason. But Why is it, if it’s all just a useless, distracting illusion, that humans, so distracted and preoccupied and conditioned by mere illusions, haven’t vanished, disappeared from the gene pool?
          • There are no humans, no evolution, no gene pool. It is all just an appearance, for no reason. There doesn’t have to be a reason for  illusions to arise in the midst of appearances. Ugh, that’s a very unsatisfactory answer. OK, Why is that such an unsatisfactory answer?
            • Because I don’t want to believe it. Because it makes everything I do and have done purposeless and meaningless. OK, then Why don’t you want to believe it, and Why does doing purposeless and meaningless things bother you?
              • I don’t want to believe it because there is no safety, no comfort in not knowing, in believing everything is meaningless and not even real, and because it’s humiliating to think that I’ve invested all this energy, passion, and reputation for my knowledge and insights, when they’re all just fiction, useless to me and to others. In other words, you’re saying you’re suffering from a near-universal human affliction with no cure that many people think is not an affliction at all, or else one which most people think you have handled very competently. Well, that’s a big help. So the ‘solution’ is to just get over it, which of course ‘I’ can’t do. Yep, ‘fraid so. No solution, no path, no making sense of. Completely hopeless.
    • Well, maybe it’s because nature evolved us, as an experiment with large brains, to invent these illusions and mistake them for reality in the interests of our survival. Nature does this, tries constant changes and adaptations and mutations to see if they are a better ‘fit’ with the rest of life on earth, and with our environments. The ‘truth’ has nothing to do with best fit for survival. But this has already been addressed, above: There is no evolution, no time, no life or death and hence no ‘survival’. That’s all just a story, a conception to try to make sense of our perceptions. A model or map that does not even vaguely resemble the territory.
    • OK, then maybe it’s because these so-called ‘illusions’ are highly credible. They fit with what we all understand, and sense, most of the time anyway (except for that ‘earth revolves around the sun’ thing). They fit with scientific theories, models and observations. Why would all these things fit so well with what we believe to be reality, free will etc if they weren’t actually real? It doesn’t ‘make sense’.
        • Conspiracy theories, wars and genocides, hatred and jealousy and shame and grief and guilt all ‘make sense’ if you use the right points of reference. The appearance of B and the apparent or reported observation that A appears to cause B doesn’t mean A is correct, whether A is a lab leak or a ‘self’. Our sense, and science, of ‘what is’ is merely a reasonably complete and seemingly coherent and consistent story. It may be that it’s all correct, or that it’s entirely false, an illusion, a misunderstanding. Or worse, still, it may be that it’s all just a story, a theory, with no bearing on reality at all, and that actual reality is unknowable. We once believed, most of us, that diseases of all kinds were caused by devils, or vapours, or the anger of gods. They were apparently highly credible theories at the time. And if you’re thinking that theories that endure have more credibility, then see the thread above about evolution and time. OK, but Why are you so sure your ‘alternative theory’ of radical non-duality isn’t just another story?; there is no evidence to support it.
          • Well, setting aside some scientific evidence that does seem to support it (since I’ve already acknowledged the fallibility of scientific theories), I’m not sure why I’m, for now, kinda convinced the radical non-duality message is true. I have now met and spoken with at least a dozen people who say, quite eloquently, that it is seen ‘there’ that there is no ‘you’, no thing, no time, no meaning or purpose etc. They assert that this is not a ‘theory’ they are espousing; it’s what’s obvious ‘there’. They have no axe to grind and are not making a living from this message. The message seems to me far more consistent, more coherent, more complete, and less full of holes than any theory, about ‘what is’, that I’ve ever heard or studied. There is a sense, here, that our selves make things much harder for us than they need to be, or that they are for any other apparently living creature. And then there have been the ‘glimpses‘, where the truth of the radical non-duality message was obvious, beyond debate.
            • Oh, geez, here we go with the glimpses again. Perhaps the reason why you believe this message is that it’s easy, it lets you off the hook from thinking, from responsibility, from doing serious work. Perhaps the ‘glimpses’ were just something inside you so desperate to believe this unprovable and ludicrous ‘get-out-of-jail-free’ message that you just made them up to support your belief?
              • That’s entirely possible. We believe what we want to believe. The message appeals to my laziness, and sometimes eases some of my fears, for sure. I’m open to another alternative, a different message, if one that makes more sense to me were to come along.
                • Why do you think so? If these dozen radical non-duality ‘messengers’ were to tell you, now, that they made it all up, just as a test of human credulity and our propensity to join cults and believe preposterous things shared by other members, would you not still believe it? Good question. I guess we’ll see.
Posted in Illusion of the Separate Self and Free Will | 5 Comments

Links of the Month: January 2022


view out my window, of Lafarge Lake with holiday lights all around it, photo taken the other day

I’m like a wolf, brought up in the city, out of its element
And now uncomfortable, anxious, wherever I go.
I hide in the shadows in places I will not be noticed.
In this odd, ill-fitting, anonymous clothing
I pace the streets, at night, and, just as warily, during the day
Never having learned the art of survival, anyplace
I am a stranger here, and everywhere

For how much longer?


COLLAPSE WATCH


Thomas Cole’s ‘Destruction’, the fourth of his five-panel series ‘The Course of Empire‘, 1836 (referred to in the essay by Ed Simon, linked below). Public domain.

Letter from the collapse: Ed Simon writes a moving, mourning elegy for our collapsing civilization and its victims. It concludes as follows:

I’m only a writer, and the most recondite type, an essayist. Could there by any role for something so insular at the end of the world? In The Guardian, novelist Ben Okri recommends “creative existentialism,” which he claims is the “creativity at the end of time.” He argues that every line we enjamb, every phrase we turn, every narrative we further “should be directed to the immediate end of drawing attention to the dire position we are in as a species.”

I understand climate change as doing something similar to what Dr. Johnson said the hangman’s noose did for focusing the mind. It’s not words that I’m worried about wasting, but experiences. What’s needed is an aesthetic imperative that we somehow live in each moment as if it’s eternal and also as if it’s our last. Our ethical imperative is similar: to do everything as if it might save the world, even if it’s unlikely that it will. Tending one’s own garden need not be selfish, though if everyone does so, well, that’s something then, right?

I’m counting the liturgy of small blessings, noting the cold breeze on a December morning, the crunch of brown and red and orange leaves under foot, the sound of rain hitting my office window, the laughter of my son and the chirping of those birds at the feeder who delight him. I’ve no strategy save for love.

“The world begins at a kitchen table,” writes Poet Laureate Joy Harjo, in a lyric that was introduced to me by a Nick Ripatrazone essay. “No matter what, we must eat to live.” Harjo enumerates all of the quiet domestic beauties of life, how the “gifts of earth are brought and prepared” here, and “children are given instructions on what it means to be human” while sitting at this table, where “we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and/remorse. We give thanks./Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and/crying, eating of the last sweet bite.”

That, finally, is the only ethic I know of as the oceans flood and the fires burn, to be aware of our existence at the kitchen table. When the cicadas come back in 17 years, I wonder what the world will be like for them? I hope that there will be bird song.

The end of growth, deferred but still on track: Richard Heinberg’s latest ‘Museletter’ reviews our ‘progress’ over the past decade at ruining the planet’s capacity to sustain life.


LIVING BETTER


cartoon by Will McPhail from his website

Will South Korea be first to introduce UBI?: The current leader in the March 2022 race for president, Lee Jae-myung, is proposing to introduce a UBI, a land tax to reduce inequality and homelessness, and a substantial carbon tax to address the climate crisis. Politics in that country are notoriously volatile, though, and Lee has only a narrow lead over a Trump-style extreme right-winger.

Cuba shows the way on the climate crisis: Cuba, which has learned resilience in the face of decades-long, cruel embargoes from US ideologue governments, survived the collapse of the Soviet Union, which had helped them deal with the embargoes, by revolutionizing its agricultural practices, and now looks likely to handle climate collapse better than any other country. Its Tarea Vida program is decades ahead of other nations, writes Dr Helen Yaffe, who has made a documentary about the program. Thanks to John Whiting for the links.

Building peace through laughter: Israeli comedian Noam Shuster shows how comedy, and the disruptions of CoVid-19, have helped build bridges between some Palestinians and Israelis. Thanks to Raffi for the link.

Cascadia’s indigenous forest gardens: New ecological studies of the north Pacific coast reveal that forest gardens were planted and maintained there that are as elaborate and advanced as those previously found in Central America. Thanks to Kavana Bressen for the link.


POLITICS AND ECONOMICS AS USUAL


BC CDC CoVid-19 data for the last two weeks, by vaccination status; data for other jurisdictions tells the same story, even in the US, though its reporting in some US areas is now seriously lagging

Is the ‘Great Resignation’ a thing?: Derek Thompson in the Atlantic thinks it is here to stay, and so do Dorothy Wickenden and Cal Newport in The New Yorker. But they seem to see it only as a CoVid-19 phenomenon and a back-to-balance power shift. Could it be a symptom of a larger ‘walking away’ from capitalism, and from the broken, foundering civilization that now depends on it?

Why the supply chain ‘problems’ aren’t going away soon: A truck driver explains who benefits, how we all lose, and the perils we face, if we don’t address the crisis that has paralyzed our seaports and transit terminals. Thanks to Paul Heft for the link.

The New Misogyny: Christine Rosen describes how some of the supposedly ‘progressive’ demands of trans extremists are hostile to all women and could, unless arrested, lead to a form of “female cultural erasure”, setting back many of the women’s movement’s most important accomplishments. It is truly sad that it’s right-wing journals, not progressive ones, reporting on this important subject, and sometimes using it as a ‘wedge’ issue. Progressives, wake up, you’re being played!

Corpocracy, Imperialism & Fascism: Short takes:

Inequality: Short takes:

CoVid-19 Becomes the Pandemic (mostly) of the Unvaccinated: Short takes:

    • The US CDC really has become a “dumpster fire”, according to the Atlantic’s Katherine Wu — incompetent, inconsistent, unclear and self-defeating guidelines, and lousy communications that jeopardize the health of US citizens. Her colleague Ed Yong summarizes the blunders and lays the responsibility on the erratic and often incoherent director, Rochelle Walensky. And Zeynep Tüfekçi weighs in on the director’s latest missteps. This is what happens when public health agencies are starved, for years, of adequate resources and professional (especially communications) staff.
    • Testing is easy to get in a few places, and still difficult-to-impossible in most places, due to chronic government screw-ups just about everywhere. Good-quality masks are also still very hard to come by in many areas, for the same reason.
    • So here it is again, short and simple: First, look at the chart above.
      • Get vaccinated and boosted.
      • If you are lucky enough to have access to adequate, affordable testing in your neighbourhood, get tested before and after any risky (ie crowded, maskless, extended close-proximity, and/or indoor) activities.
      • Wear a properly fitting N95 or similar medical-quality mask, or double-mask if N95’s don’t work for you or aren’t available near you, whenever you’re indoors with other than immediate family for any significant period of time. Here are the best-rated reusable masks, one of which will certainly work for you, if it’s available.
      • Here’s what to do if you get omicron, and what not to do/take. Obviously, isolate for at least 5 days (10 if you can), and wear a mask and wash your hands regularly for 10-14 days, but if your symptoms aren’t mild, then short of hospitalization there are now some additional options, along with all the quack cures, explained in the above link.
      • Omicron is considerably less serious than previous variants, but that doesn’t mean it’s not very dangerous, especially if you (or those you’re in close contact with) haven’t been double vaxxed and boosted. And then there’s the risk of Long CoVid to consider, even if you’re asymptomatic.  (Thanks to Kavana Bressen for most of the links above.)
    • Omicron case rates are peaking in many areas, and hospital rate increases are slowing. A month from now we should again be on the downside of the curve in most places, barring additional variants.
    • Socially distancing, while less critical than vaccination, masks, and frequent testing-and-isolating, is still useful, especially when you’re near people who are or may be infected. Proximity matters. It’s not unreasonable to assume that in areas with high case rates, as many as one of every 20 strangers you encounter could be infected. If they’re unmasked, or poorly masked, or talking loudly, keep your distance. Thanks to John Whiting for the link.
    • A legal, inexpensive, and easy-to-produce acid from hemp plants has shown great promise in preventing coronavirus infections. Stay tuned.

FUN AND INSPIRATION


New Yorker cartoon by Liana Finck — she has a new book coming out too!

It wasn’t my character’s fault: Have writers and filmmakers overused the hero-or-villain-as-victim-of-childhood-trauma plot?

All depends how you ask the question: In a recent survey, where the questions were asked in a rather deceptive manner, a majority of Republicans opposed teaching of Arabic numerals in schools, and a majority of Democrats opposed the teaching of the Big Bang theory of the universe’s creation. Thanks to John Whiting for the link.

On the edge of non-duality: I’m fascinated to read Caitlin Johnstone’s occasional forays into non-duality, squeezed between her articulate tirades against corporatism and imperialism. Now, another of my favourite political essayists, Indi Samarajiva has written a post on non-duality. I’d love to meet them and explore how they deal with the cognitive dissonance: Clearly, to me at least, if there is no self, there can be no free will, and if that’s so, how can we blame anyone, no matter how iniquitous their actions?

How writing is like cricket: In another fascinating article by Indi, he shows how the sport of street cricket is an essential part of the culture of his native Sri Lanka.

Our calendar makes no sense: Hank Green hilariously proposes a more sensible one.

The ‘superior mirage’ phenomenon: In which an iceberg is seen floating off the coast of BC. The mountains in question can be seen from my window, and, despite the recent ‘atmospheric river’ here, show no signs of becoming maritime anytime soon.

Fat-phobia consequence, eight letters: New Yorker puzzler Anna Shechtman explains how crossword puzzles became part of her coming-of-age story.

The tree of life: OneZoom shows the entire tree of known life on earth, on one highly zoomable chart. Humans, delightfully, are an insignificant part of the tree, a twig on one ordinary branch. Thanks to Ben Collver for the link.

Science goes to the dogs: A Canadian science reporter engages a much larger audience by including his dogs, and his scientist guest’s dogs, in his ‘pawdcast’. You can hear all the episodes here, featuring Bunsen the Berner.


THOUGHTS OF THE MONTH


from the Memebrary; *last line added by Kavana’s friend Karon’s sister

From Anahid Nersessian, in NYRB:

It’s all very well to say “capitalism turns us into commodities, that’s degrading, human beings shouldn’t be degraded.” But how should we be treated, and how should we live? What would love and sex—among other things, like health care or having a job—look like in a good world? It’s important to take the risk of answering those questions, even if the answers are messy and provisional.

From The Beaverton: “Artist, paid in, dies of, exposure.”

From Michael Parenti, via Caitlin Johnstone, on public opinion:

“But they [military industrial complex] don’t care about what we think. They turn a deaf ear to us,” some people complain. That is not true. They care very much about what you think. In fact, that is the only thing about you that holds their attention and concern. They don’t care if you go hungry, unemployed, sick, or homeless. But they do care when you are beginning to entertain resistant democratic thoughts. They get nervous when you discard your liberal complaints and adopt a radical analysis. They do care that you are catching on as to what the motives and functions of the national security state and the US global empire are all about at home and in so many corners of the world. They get furiously concerned when you and millions like you are rejecting the pap that is served up by corporate media and establishment leaders.

By controlling our perceptions, they control our society; they control public opinion and public discourse. And they limit the range and impact of our political consciousness. The plutocrats know that their power comes from their ability to control our empowering responses. They know they can live at the apex of the social pyramid only as long as they can keep us in line at the pyramid’s base. Who pays for all their wars? We do. Who fights these wars? We do or our low-income loved ones do. If we refuse to be led around on a super-patriotic, fear-ridden leash and if we come to our own decisions and act upon them more and more as our ranks grow, then the ruling profiteers’ power shrinks and can even unwind and crash—as has happened with dynasties and monarchies of previous epochs.

We need to strive in every way possible for the revolutionary unraveling, a revolution of organized consciousness striking at the empire’s heart with full force when democracy is in the streets and mobilized for the kind of irresistible upsurge that seems to come from nowhere yet is sometimes able to carry everything before it.

There is nothing sacred about the existing system. All economic and political institutions are contrivances that should serve the interests of the people. When they fail to do so, they should be replaced by something more responsive, more just, and more democratic.

From WH Auden:

The Fall of Rome
(for Cyril Connolly)

The piers are pummelled by the waves;
In a lonely field the rain
Lashes an abandoned train;
Outlaws fill the mountain caves.

Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
Agents of the Fisc pursue
Absconding tax-defaulters through
The sewers of provincial towns.

Private rites of magic send
The temple prostitutes to sleep;
All the literati keep
An imaginary friend.

Cerebrotonic Cato may
Extol the Ancient Disciplines,
But the muscle-bound Marines
Mutiny for food and pay.

Caesar’s double-bed is warm
As an unimportant clerk
Writes I DO NOT LIKE MY WORK
On a pink official form.

Unendowed with wealth or pity,
Little birds with scarlet legs,
Sitting on their speckled eggs,
Eye each flu-infected city.

Altogether elsewhere, vast
Herds of reindeer move across
Miles and miles of golden moss,
Silently and very fast.


 

 

Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Our Culture / Ourselves | 2 Comments