Archive for August, 2009

My Aunt Fanny!

Sharon August 10th, 2009

The chorus of “all better now” is getting louder.  Paul Krugman has joined the team, noting that even if you have moral objections to the bailout, it must have worked.  Sure.

 In order to believe this you must also believe several things:

  1.  There are no more shocks coming, since, after all, we’re still pretty shaky.  This requires that you pay no attention whatsoever to things like the state of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac.  2. That a short term recovery now is a recovery indeed. This requires you pay no attention to things depressing consumer spending, like still rising unemployment and increasing debt. 3. That you believe that the government stimulus is not just buying us a cheap jump, but actually stimulating a sustained and sustainable level of economic growth – that is, that we’re going to keep buying cars after cash for clunkers runs out of money, or that we’re going to keep buying houses after we stop paying people to do so.  4. That none of the pipers are going to have to be paid soon. And finally it requires you believe that all the news is realy as good as it seems.  I don’t, and I honestly don’t see how it is possible.

 Here’s just one point, on the recent job numbers that have everyone cheering:

 http://blogs.reuters.com/rolfe-winkler/2009/08/08/beware-the-jobs-number/

 Recovery?!  My Aunt Fanny!

 Sharon

A Tale of Two Hospitals

Sharon August 10th, 2009

We spent a rare weekend away from the farm, visiting family near Boston, and just relaxing.  It was lovely.  Meanwhile, I was only half paying attention to the news, but couldn’t help noticing the millions of people all over Europe and throughout Canada who were rioting, demanding an American-style health care system to free them from the deep tragedy of theirs.  Oh, wait, maybe I wasn’t ;-) .

 What I was watching was the inanity of the protests against “socialized” medicine and the crazy objections to the idea that poor people shouldn’t die sooner than rich ones.  The emphasis is mostly on a tiny number of examples, many of this false or based on incorrect assumptions, of people who are in some way unhappy with their European or Canadian health care systems.  Now I’m pretty sure if we worked at it, we could find an equal or perhaps even greater (gee, how unlikely is that) number of Americans displeased by their health care system, but you’d never know that.

I was thinking about this as I sat visiting with my aunt, who had recently returned from a summer trip to Ireland, where she had sojurned with her 88 year old mother and 9 year old daughter.  Now her daughter “Lucy” has epilepsy and a number of other disabilities, but hadn’t had a seizure in several years.  While they were travelling in rural Ireland, however, Lucy had a sudden, severe seizure, and my aunt got to experience British medicine first hand.

My aunt’s commentary on this was fairly simple.  She noted that in America, when you enter an emergency room, you are asked three things – your name, the nature of the complaint, and how will you be paying for this.  When she and her daughter arrived by ambulance at the emergency room in Ireland, she was asked, again, three things.  Her name, the nature of the complaint, and would she like a cup of tea?

The experienced with National Health, she observed, was hugely different from that of American hospitals after Lucy’s seizure – instead of doing dozens of tests on Lucy, they did one, the relevant one.  As Lucy was showing signs of recovery that evening, they held her for observation and released her, rather than insisting she remain in hospital for several extra days, just in case, as has happened in the US.  She was seen rapidly, the emergency room was calm and the doctors responsive, and despite the fact that they were not British citizens, there was no charge.  Like everyone I know who has ever experienced any kind of national health system, my aunt’s reaction was that if we did half as well, it would be a huge improvement.  My own observations on that front are similar.

And this, of course, is the clincher – I’ve never, ever, ever heard anyone, from any country with any kind of national health service suggest that they would rather live under the US system.  Not one. 

Contrast Lucy and my aunt’s experience in an emergency room with my last experience in an ER.  My husband’s grandmother, a few months after the death of her husband, took a wrong turn in the dark while visiting her cousin for Passover, and fell down a flight of stairs.  She broke her neck, her leg and her collarbone.  When one says she “broke her neck” it sounds as though she must have died instantly, but that’s not the case.

What happened is this – her elderly cousin, sole caregiver for her husband who had had a stroke, rode to the hospital with her, after calling us to come.  We were visiting my MIL across NY City, and I immediately got up in the night, dressed and took a cab to Queens from Manhattan.  By the time I arrived at the hospital, Inge’s cousin had returned to her husband, because he could not be safely left alone.  When I arrived, she’d been at the hospital for an hour, without a single person examining her. She was still strapped to the stretcher, in an ice cold room without a single blanket (she was wearing only a light nightgown, which was up above her waste, where she was completely exposed), and was weeping with pain and cold.  When I finally managed to orient her, and asked a nurse to attend to the fact that she was in acute pain, the nurse said “Oh, yes, she had a fall, I’m sure she’s just sore.”  This was in reference to an 80 year old woman who had fallen down a long flight of stairs, and who had a visible broken bone, as no one can keep their leg at that angle.

I finally got her warm (she was in shock, very easily recognizable, dangerous and totally ignored) and pain medication, and she became lucid.  A doctor, coming to examine her (three hours after arriving) said that even though the CT scan machine was occupied and even though she was having head and neck pain, he thought she probably didn’t have any serious neck injury, and he sat her upright for her examination, even though that’s just about the first thing anyone learns when they do any medical examination – never jostle a head or neck injury about.   He told her she’d just need light surgery for her broken leg (missed the collarbone entirely, along with the neck injury) and that she could be released to rehab the next day.  I was the one who insisted that she have her neck scanned, and, of course, it turned out that she had a severe break.

We spent 12 hours in the emergency room with beds literally so closely crammed together that there was no room for a chair, and chairs were forbidden.  I was 3 months pregnant with Asher, and I stood on my feet for 11 consecutive hours, until Eric’s father arrived to take over attending her.  She was finally admitted, after the neck injury and collarbone were detected. 

Eric’s grandmother was slightly deaf, and when forced to lie flat on her back, often couldn’t understand what was being said to her.  When she realized her neck was broken and she would require massive surgery to repair it, she was very concerned that her wishes that no heroic measures be taken be respected if it seemed likely she would die.  My husband and I were the bearers of her power of attorney, and asked that it be invoked, and she agreed – we asked the hospital employees to make absolutely sure they were familiar with her documentation (which we had on hand, sent over by her attorney), and that before any major medical procedure occurred, we be consulted.  They agreed.  Then, during the early hours of the morning, while my husband and I were asleep (and yes, they knew our number) during some action that a nurse took, her neck was jarred further and my husband’s grandmother went into spinal shock.  Without our consent she was put on a ventilator and kept alive against her intentions, expressed will, every request, our request and all documentation.

Arriving at the hospital the next morning, my husband and I and her daughter spent the day trying to get the ventilator removed so that Inge could die in peace as she had always wished.  The doctor who had put her on the ventilator against her consent had “ethical issues” with letting her do as she had chosen, and as we had asked, and was in surgery and would not deal with her.  She was in a great deal of pain, and very clearly able to express her wish to let go.  Despite the fact that surgery to repair her neck injury was admittedly now impossible, despite the fact that even before she was an 80 year old woman in mixed health and there was an excellent chance she would not have survived the surgery, despite the fact that the hospital had demonstrably contributed to her condition by handling her roughly and moving her neck without support before they were certain of the extent of her injuries, despite the fact that she lacked the will and desire to live as a quadrapelegic, they felt they knew best.  I’ve rarely felt so much despair and anger at anyone as I did dealing with the hospital in this case.  I felt we’d failed her – Eric and I had promised her that this would not be the kind of death she would have.  I remember weeping hysterically in the hallway, after the fourth or fifth doctor came along to cover the legal ass of the hospital and showed absolutely no concern for Eric’s grandmother or her wishes.

Finally, after a very long, miserable day, Inge was removed from the ventilator on which she should not have been placed, and allowed to die.  She had incurred tens of thousands of dollars in medical costs, received terrible care, and was kept waiting even for death, by the estimable American medical system so many people are fighting so foolishly to keep. 

What’s notable about this story isn’t the story itself, it is that I could actually tell two or three other ones about the American medical system, but won’t, for lack of space.  I could, for example, talk about why my son, at 6 weeks old, was admitted to a hospital to be treated for a disease he did not have, and for which the only evidence was a screw up by two separate lab technicians.  In the meantime, he was tortured – he had 6 spinal taps in a matter of a few days, and we consented, because every time we questioned the doctors, we were told he would die if we took him out of the hospital, and it would be our fault.  And no, I do not exaggerate here. 

I could tell other stories, belonging to friends and family – but all of them are mostly the same – they talk about a health care system where doctors, nurses and administrators have been forced to be so fearful of a lawsuit that they run up costs beyond reason, but where competence and kindness cannot be rewarded.  I could tell more stories of long waits to see specialists (we’re always threatened with waiting – but I’ve never waiting longer in any country than the US to see people), of bankruptcies, and early deaths, and more commonly, unnecessary suffering. I could tell you terrible stories that work in every direction – of doctors driven out of practice by escalating insurance costs and huge amounts of paperwork, of patients deprived of basic medical care, of desperation.

And I can’t tell you those stories in other countries, not because there are no horror stories, not because no one in any other country has ever had a bad experience with medicine, or wanted something they could not have – but because en masse, there is no one who would choose the American system over any other rational system.  If you can name a large population from a developed country with national health care clamoring for an American style system, please, enlighten me.  Instead, what I hear overwhelmingly from across the world (and have heard for decades) is Thank G-d we don’t have American health care.

The big question, of course, is whether we can afford it.  Well, if you’ve been watching the news about Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, you will see that they are slowly but definitely sinking into the sea, and about to create an economic crisis far greater than anything Bear Stearns or Lehmans ever could.  We will certainly spend money we can’t afford on that.  There will almost certainly be more stimulus we can’t afford.  There will certainly be more bank subsidies we can’t afford.  We are spending money in Afghanistan and Iraq we can’t afford, at huge cost to human lives and to the nation.  Our whole world is things we can’t afford.

The difference is this – a reasonable health care system actually gets us something. It will save us billions in wasted ass-covering.  It will give people access to a basic need – everyone gets sick or hurt eventually.  It will create a society of greater equity and lower suffering.  Of all the things we cannot afford, it is the only one proposed that’s really worth having.

Sharon

The Department of Redundancy, Redundancy Department

Sharon August 6th, 2009

Today I’m starting another Adapting-In-Place Class, beginning with the basics of evaluating whether you have a future where you are, what your other choices are, and then triaging your situation, but I’ve already written a good bit about those things, so I want to a basic and essential element of triage – establishing redundant systems.

Why redundant systems?  Well, for the simple reason that, as Yeats put, things fall apart.  We all know this – in fact, we all rely regularly on redundant systems.  For example, when your commuter vehicle breaks, you take the bus, carpool with a neighbor, borrow from your spouse or a friend or rent a car.  Implicit in your commitment to your job is the reality that your car will break, and that you will find yourself in need of a redundant system to back you up.  If you have children, you are are intimately familiar with the filling out of forms that list several “emergency contacts” – that is, people who can be trusted to tend your kids if you are not there.  This is a form of redundancy – thus, if your son takes sick at school, you have a neighbor or relative who can respond, and if not them, usually another person still who can be tried.  The assumption is that with parents plus multiple redundant backups, someone will always be there for your kids.

But most of us don’t have good redundant systems for our home and our lives, if the basic assumptions of our existence, which include full access to grid power and other utilities; an immediate government response to a crisis and the availability of replacement parts, utilities and tools, as well as people to install them and the money to pay for it are all available.  That is, the redundancy in our system all presumes a fully functional economy, energy system and a fairly stable society.  In the absence of each of these things, most of us are tremendously vulnerable.

One of the first and most basic presumptions we all need to make is this – failure is normal.  This is not a prediction – I am not claiming that any particular scenario is likely.  But the reality is that nearly everything breaks, falls apart or is vulnerable in some way to not-terrifically-unlikely disasters.  Your plans for the future should work from the assumption that things will unfold messily, and with copious system failures.  I’ve written more about this here: http://sharonastyk.com/2008/12/13/inconceivable-why-failure-is-normal-and-should-be-part-of-the-planbut-isnt/  I wrote about our strange reluctance to seriously consider the possibility of failure on both a personal and world scale,

“…this leads to a painful  reality – despite the fact that winter power outages happen out my way all the time, we know for a fact that the extended outages in my region there will leave us with people who are freezing, and hungry, isolated and unable to cope.  They won’t have the batteries for their flashlights, or any strategy for cooking or eating. At best, they will come out of this traumatized and miserable. At worst, some of them may actually die.

 But we also know that these folks will be deemed normal, and their lack of preparation will be treated as normal.  Just as people in California with no earthquake preparations or folks in Florida with no preparations for a Hurricane will be treated as normal.  We treat a lack of preparedness, in our society, as completely reasonable and rational, even expected.  Thus, if you are in line at a Red Cross shelter because you have no food and water in your home 48 hours after a hurricane hit Gainesville, odds are no one will even raise an eyebrow and ask why in heck you don’t have any food.

My point is not to pick on anyone (and yes, I know that there are some people who don’t have enough food access to have a reserve, but that hardly describes everyone) - in fact, I think the reason that we look upon the lack of personal contingency plans as so reasonable is that it isn’t just personal – our society as a whole has very few contingency plans – much less strategies for adapting to failure.  We regard planning for anything bad as a sign of an unhealthy focus on the negative.  We feel it is so unhealthy that we find that at every level of our culture – from the purely personal question of whether we have a strategy for dealing with common disasters to the international policy level where no one seems to have ever asked any questions about what might go wrong on a host of subjects – we have no contingency plans.  Not only do we not have them, but we dismiss and deride anyone who suggests we make them.

All of which suggests that we have a very troubled relationship to the idea of failure.  Speaking as someone whose entire body of work could probably be summarized as “Ummm…have you thought about what happens if something goes wrong?”  I’m acutely aware of how unpleasant and frightening most of us find the idea of failure – and because we find it unpleasant and frightening, we are likely to dramatically underestimate its likelihood and frequency, and be truly shocked when failures happen.  But in fact, we shouldn’t be shocked – failure is far more routine and normal than we expect.  Not only is it normal, but treating it as normal might actually reduce the likelihood of disaster.”

And if we do have backup systems, often those systems are themselves vulnerable to failure, and we may or may not have further redundancies in the system.  Now some systems don’t need much redundancy – for example, if you mostly keep ice cream in your freezer, even if you are very fond of ice cream, you don’t actually need a backup plan or system to compensate for the failure of your freezer – one doesn’t actually need Ben and Jerry’s to live, even if it is Cherry Garcia ;-) , so no redundant system is required.  But let’s say that your freezer holds most of your stored food, including a lot of high value meats and produce that you rely on, and that would cost you more than 1,000 to replace.  Well, you think, I’ll get a generator.  Maybe you even install it, and store some gas for it.  But the problem is that a generator is a short term solution – it is great for a few days of power outage, and will keep that food cold.  But what if, as happened last year in Kentucky, Massachusetts, New York, Iowa, Texas and several other states, the power is out for more than a few days?  What happens when the gas for the generator runs out, and the gas stations have no power to pump more?  Your redundancy assumes that things will get back to normal quickly – but what if that’s not the case?

The reality is that if your redundancies depend on fossil fuels, on just in time delivery of parts you don’t keep on hand, on government response being there on the ground quickly, on disasters being so localized that nearby other places can send help, rather than widespread, on somehow, things working out, your redundancies aren’t adequate – period.

Now this could end up an infinite reduction game – you could make the case that the need for redundancy never stops, and on some level, you’d be right. Let’s say my backup plan for that freezer is different – it involves me taking my pressure canner and canning up the meat in the freezer on my wood cookstove.  Now someone could legitimately say “well, but what if your stove breaks, or the canner does.  Doesn’t that mean you need an infinite number of canners, a backup woodstove and an infinite number of monkeys to type while you do the preserving?

There’s some truth in this – all things fail, all good things come to an end.  On the other hand, the wood cookstove I own comes from a brand where 100 year old models are routinely used.  Mine is less than 5 years old.  There are a couple of parts that might break, and that’s why I keep a stove gasketing kit around, and have my own chimney brushes.  And it is possible that some unusual situation might occur.  Which is one of the reasons I’m glad I know how to make a rocket stove – and have a big old can big enough to put a canning kettle on, although I haven’t made it yet.  I also make sure that there’s nothing in my freezer I can’t afford to lose – yes, I like what I have there, but I don’t allow myself to rely on it as my primary source of food.  If worst came to worst, we’d invite all the neighbors for a feast and go forward from there – I don’t really need more than that plan in my head, because I know I can lose the stuff there.

So a set of redundant systems depends on several things.  First, a backup that is well made and simple – or if cheap and complex, a bunch of them.  Given that I don’t like the idea of buying a lot of cheap stuff, I’d prefer the former, but sometimes that may not be viable.  Second, if the system is essential, you need the tools and equipment and ability to take care of it and repair it.  That means looking critically over your backup systems and asking what parts might break, and how to fix them if they do.  I have a box in my closet that contains only repair kits for things – often, when making a major purchase, the item comes with an inexpensive repair kit, that contains replacement pieces of things that are most likely to show wear – rust remover and stove gaskets for a cookstove, bearing oil and replacement bearings for my spinning wheel, a sewing machine belt and replacement needles for a treadle machine, etc…  Now occasionally these are a scam, providing cheap parts rather than useful ones, but with well made equipment, often they aren’t.  Making sure you also know how to use them – that you’ve downloaded instructions, say for, say mending harness or replacing parts on your water pumping wind turbine. Ideally, try it before you have to do it in the rain, at night, by flashlight, since that’s how it always works.

The other thing that’s needed is a mental plan to deal with failure – ok, what if my well pump breaks just when I need it?  Well, I know I can filter water from the creek, and from my rainbarrels.  Let’s just make sure I have enough filters or water purifying tablets.  Also, how much do I mind the idea of my final, mental back up plan?  I think I’d find hauling all our water from our creek really annoying.  If that’s the case, and I can afford it, I should probably make sure that we have a backup well pump system.

If you do want a complex, and fossil fuel based backup – ie, you want solar panels to keep your freezer running or a generator or whatever, make sure you a. know how to fix it and b. keep tools and parts on hand.   And also make sure you have a non-fossilized backup, just in case.

Redundancies can and should include sharing with others, relying on others for help, etc… We don’t always need a tool, so much as we need people.  But if your plans include these, ask yourself – am I lending a helping hand now?  Do I have relationships to rely on for this?  If not, time to make them happen.

How much redundancy do you need?  At a minimum, I think you should be as unreliant on high energy, high complexity systems as possible.  For some people, comfortable living with very little, in a simple way, this will mean almost no complexities.  For those tied by major illness to high energy medical systems, or caught in situations where they cannot live without these, it may still be possible to minimize resource use elsewhere, while building up as much of a safety net as possible elsewhere.  Not every person will be able to do every thing – but the more you can build redundant systems into your plan, the happier and more comfortable your lives will be. 

 Sharon

Palin's Face, Klein's Language and the Problem of Self-Diagnosis

Sharon August 5th, 2009

I don’t like Sarah Palin, and I do very much admire Naomi Klein, whose book _The Shock Doctrine_ was one of the most important books of the decade.  Had you asked me a few days ago whether I’d write an essay criticizing Naomi Klein for, among other things, her representation of Sarah Palin, I would have suggested that the odds were, to say the least, extremely low.  And yet I find myself doing precisely that, which just, as they say in the song, just ”goes to show you never can tell.”

The problem with Naomi Klein’s essay, originally given as a speech, is not that we disagree about many of her basic observations about the problems we face, but rather that I think she’s allowing a cheap shot, and a false description of a moment to blind her to the scope of the real problem, and to throw up barriers to what needs doing.  In the end, Klein and I agree about a lot – but the devil is always in the details, and in this case, her use of details troubles me.

Klein begins her essay using Sarah Palin as the embodiment of a moment in time, as the human version of the idea that our culture can go on as it is forever.  She writes:

“I usually talk about the bailout in speeches these days. We all need to understand it because it is a robbery in progress, the greatest heist in monetary history. But today I’d like to take a different approach: What if the bailout actually works, what if the financial sector is saved and the economy returns to the course it was on before the crisis struck? Is that what we want? And what would that world look like?The answer is that it would look like Sarah Palin. Hear me out, this is not a joke. I don’t think we have given sufficient consideration to the meaning of the Palin moment. Think about it: Sarah Palin stepped onto the world stage as Vice Presidential candidate on August 29 at a McCain campaign rally, to much fanfare. Exactly two weeks later, on September 14, Lehman Brothers collapsed, triggering the global financial meltdown.

So in a way, Palin was the last clear expression of capitalism-as-usual before everything went south. That’s quite helpful because she showed us—in that plainspoken, down-homey way of hers—the trajectory the U.S. economy was on before its current meltdown. By offering us this glimpse of a future, one narrowly avoided, Palin provides us with an opportunity to ask a core question: Do we want to go there? Do we want to save that pre-crisis system, get it back to where it was last September? Or do we want to use this crisis, and the electoral mandate for serious change delivered by the last election, to radically transform that system? We need to get clear on our answer now because we haven’t had the potent combination of a serious crisis and a clear progressive democratic mandate for change since the 1930s. We use this opportunity, or we lose it.

So what was Sarah Palin telling us about capitalism-as-usual before she was so rudely interrupted by the meltdown? Let’s first recall that before she came along, the U.S. public, at long last, was starting to come to grips with the urgency of the climate crisis, with the fact that our economic activity is at war with the planet, that radical change is needed immediately. We were actually having that conversation: Polar bears were on the cover of Newsweek magazine. And then in walked Sarah Palin. The core of her message was this: Those environmentalists, those liberals, those do-gooders are all wrong. You don’t have to change anything. You don’t have to rethink anything. Keep driving your gas-guzzling car, keep going to Wal-Mart and shop all you want. The reason for that is a magical place called Alaska. Just come up here and take all you want. “Americans,” she said at the Republican National Convention, “we need to produce more of our own oil and gas. Take it from a gal who knows the North Slope of Alaska, we’ve got lots of both.”‘

And to a degree, all of this is true.  But the problem with holding Sarah Palin up as the embodiment of business as usual, is that it is a cheap shot.  I don’t like Sarah Palin, and I sure as heck don’t want her to be in charge of anything bigger than the local Elks Club.  But if we are going to use Sarah Palin as the embodiment of our failure, to imply that our doom comes from the right, we need to ask what alternatives the left has proposed?   That is, who isn’t Sarah Palin?  Is there someone out there who stands up as the essence of this new, progressive movement that Klein claims is in progress, and that undermines our situation?

The logical candidate, of course, would be Obama.  And while I am always a fan of the lesser of two evils, and give Obama sincere credit for some of his actions, I think an attempt to imply that our disaster comes from an ignorant right is a deeply false and troubling one.  The contrasting figure, Obama, was a senator from the midwest, fully complicit in the massive ethanol boondoggle that helped create a new starving class worldwide, as cars competed with people for food.  He is and was an advocate of so-called “clean coal” – despite the fact that there is no such thing, despite the fact that carbon capture and storage is a non-starter.  He is certainly an advocate of continued economic growth, and I find myself queasily forced to admit (since I like George W. Bush a whole lot less than Sarah Palin) that I think Bush’s stimulus package, which at least put money in the hands of ordinary people who needed it, was more populist, more successful and more humane than Obama’s funding of the auto industry and a whole lot of re-paving and highways projects. 

It would be just as accurate, and far less petty for Klein to state that the figure that represents business as usual, going on as we are, is Barack Obama.  And in giving a speech to a group of people at a celebration of _The Progressive_ it would have been a whole heck of a lot more honest and more just.  That is, the problem is not just the world vision embodied by the people you already don’t like, it is the problem embodied by the people you do, and in fact, by the people you are. 

Klein claims that last August, we were actually “having that conversation” about the urgency of dealing with our ecological crisis.  After all, polar bears were on the cover of Newsweek.  I’m casting my memory back to last summer, and trying to recall a sense of invigorated national dialogue on the subject of climate change.   I’m not finding it.  If the subject was coming up in discussion more, which it probably was, although not nearly as much as Obama’s birth certificate or McCain’s fits of temper, or who would be VP, well,  great.   But the terms in which the discussion was occurring were still completely unrelated to the scale of action that we must function on to address climate change – and they still are.  Yeah, there were polar bears on the cover of a national magazine – why not, they are cute, and as long as the issue is framed in terms of how much we care about fuzzy bears, it is conveniently placed outside of our own future and our own survival.

Now Klein goes on to frame our discussion in precisely necessary terms – she turns us to the basic idea that we have to end growth, that we can’t live on a planet that engages in the kind of rapine, endless growth modern capitalism that we have.  I’m thrilled that she did so, and I think this is the important essence of the discussion – and Klein’s use of her platform to have it matters a great deal.  She says,

“The President tells us he wants to look forward, not backwards. But in order to confront the lie of perpetual growth and limitless abundance that is at the center of both the ecological and financial crises, we have to look backwards. And we have to look way backwards, not just to the past eight years of Bush and Cheney, but to the very founding of this country, to the whole idea of the settler state.Modern capitalism was born with the so-called discovery of the Americas. It was the pillage of the incredible natural resources of the Americas that generated the excess capital that made the Industrial Revolution possible. Early explorers spoke of this land as a New Jerusalem, a land of such bottomless abundance, there for the taking, so vast that the pillage would never have to end. This mythology is in our biblical stories—of floods and fresh starts, of raptures and rescues—and it is at the center of the American Dream of constant reinvention. What this myth tells us is that we don’t have to live with our pasts, with the consequences of our actions. We can always escape, start over.

These stories were always dangerous, of course, to the people who were already living on the “discovered” lands, to the people who worked them through forced labor. But now the planet itself is telling us that we cannot afford these stories of endless new beginnings anymore. That is why it is so significant that at the very moment when some kind of human survival instinct kicked in, and we seemed finally to be coming to grips with the Earth’s natural limits, along came Palin, the new and shiny incarnation of the colonial frontierswoman, saying: Come on up to Alaska. There is always more. Don’t think, just take.

This is not about Sarah Palin. It’s about the meaning of that myth of constant “discovery,” and what it tells us about the economic system that they’re spending trillions of dollars to save. What it tells us is that capitalism, left to its own devices, will push us past the point from which the climate can recover. And capitalism will avoid a serious accounting—whether of its financial debts or its ecological debts—at all costs. Because there’s always more. A new quick fix. A new frontier.”

Why on earth am I quibbling with someone who gets so much right in this speech?  She goes on to call our modern economic models a leaky pirate ship, and suggests we need to destroy the ship and buid a whole new vessel.  And she’s absolutely right – that is, our economic models, our whole way of life, our assumptions that there are always more resources, have to change – they will change, one way or another, by virtue of climate change and energy limitations.  Our only choice for a softish landing is to change them voluntarily, before we have no other options, and our window for doing so is getting very, very, very narrow.  And the only possible option is to change as we must – that is, not as we want to, not as we are comfortable with, not as would be easy for us, but as the facts demand.  And that change is going to be quite profound.

Klein gets the problem right.  She gets that we can’t continue to live this way.  But she still is attached to old enlightenment political categories that simply do not function well in the face of our crisis.  She imagines a rapine right, selling the Business As Usual model, and a at least partially critical left.  There is some truth in this analysis (and there is often some truth in the criticisms of the left from the right) - but not enough to take us where we need to go.  Because the left has been complicit in creating other myths, just as false.  It is the left who created the idea that we could buy our way out of this, simply because we want to retain our identity as consumers.  It is the affluent left that has told us that if we just buy better products, if we just recycle more, it will be enough. 

 It is leftist environmentalists who have understated the scope of the problem, and who have told us over and over again that our economy will grow again, this time with plenty of green jobs for everyone, that sacrifice is not necessary. But when you look closely at the studies that support this idea, they all involve radically lower emissions cuts than those that are necessary, radically longer time frames, the viability of technologies that do not presently fully exist and the assumption that we have all the energy in the ground and all the money in the world to do it.  All of those assumptions are fundamentally false – they are still working with old numbers, often with 450 ppm rather than 350 ppm, and without acknowledging that many of the things we thought we had a lot of time for – the melting or arctic ice, the leaking of methane out of the permafrost – are happening now, decades or centuries before even the IPCC reports expected them.

Left and right, working together, have conspired to create a culture of denial, have declined, for the most part, to offer clear terms to the general public.  The right has claimed that we can drill our way out, the left that we can build solar panels in the desert and capture our coal emissions.  Neither one has a remote handle on climate change, much less climate change intersecting with peak oil and economic crisis.

And this is why her talk bothers me so much – she gets the answers right.  But until you frame the discussion correctly, we’re back to banging on the same old drums – back to arguing over who is better, Obama or McCain.  Sure there’s a difference, and an important one, but that’s not the central question – the central question is how do we get to a leader who will actually deal with realities.  Sarah Palin is one face of our disaster.  Barack Obama is another one.  And all of us wear that face too – every one of us who does not want the solutions to be too hard, too extreme, and thus, declines to fully understand the evidence in front of our faces; every one of us who desperately wants the solutions offered on both sides to be true, and thus, chooses lies over truth.

We do have to end growth.  We do have to sink the pirate ship and build again.  We also have to acknowledge the true state of our ability to do that – the pressing limitations on our capacity to rebuild.  We do have to acknowledge what that actually means, and find a way to make it politically palatable to people on both sides of the aisle, because it is the vast middle, those people who are mostly neither left nor right, but who move with our political tides towards where they think their future lies, that matter most. As a leftist, of course, I’d prefer that wasn’t true – but we don’t have the time to change the world in every respect before we deal with the impending crisis.  So the question becomes this – in what terms do we speak?  How do we move the majority in the direction of the painful and necessary alterations that we face?  And I don’t think we do it by making Sarah Palin the rhetorical face of our failure. Not when that wears so many other familiar faces.

 Sharon

If You Thought It was Too Late to Take the AIP Class…

Sharon August 5th, 2009

It isn’t! I’ve still got two unfilled spots in the Adapting-In-Place class.  Click on “classes” on the sidebar to find the syllabus and all the details – class starts tomorrow!  Email me at jewishfarmer@gmail.com if you’d like a spot.

 Sharon

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