We note, with some excitement, that the biosphere is dying. We decry pipelines, tankers, industrial pollution, the elimination of forests. We are so concerned we dress as ferns, or moss, or concerned citizens, and drive to demonstrate in front of art galleries to militantly demand government action, militantly demand that pipelines be closed, militantly demand that the tankers be stopped and the whales protected. We weep for the destruction of the Amazon forests, “the lungs of the planet’’, and militantly ignore the fact that polluting third world factories provide us with the contents of our middle-class lives, and that the mill at Port Mellon processes over 20,000 cubic meters of wood chips per day, (the equivalent of 20,000 telephone pole sized trees.)
Our serial scapegoating is absurd.
Each of us owes about twice as much as we earn in a year, some much more. We live, dance, spend, vacation, protest, and Blackfriday our way through an endless succession of blowout sales and incredible bargains on an obscenely inflated nano-thin bubble of credit, willingly paying well into the future for things we bought so long ago they’re already in the landfill, all the while taking appropriate time to empathize, of course, with the plight of the millions of refugees escaping wars we started to secure and expand our supply chains.
Is the health of the planet a reflection of the health of our souls? If we bought only those things we could buy for cash would the biosphere recover? The questions are rhetorical.