camp: with Bill deBuys, Northern New Mexico
I
am the last generation to be born and raised on cheap energy with the promise
of a better life.
I
am the first generation slated to be poorer and die sooner than my parents.
I
drive past clear cuts, open pits of coal, landfills, smokestacks belching black
clouds into the air. I am seduced by the vision of industry, impressed by the
sheer magnitude of the changes we have made on this land. I don’t want a world
without city-sized industrial fortresses or Superfund sites, because then I
would have nothing left to fight.
I
know we’re past the point of saving the planet. I hope we’re past the point of
saving ourselves. I’ve always wanted to watch the apocalypse.
I
like the idea of fighting a losing battle. Winning is black and white, its
narrative a simple recollection of events. The story of losing requires nuance,
character, tragedy. I’ve always found the Trojans a more compelling people,
Hector a better hero than Achilles. Valor and heroism are determined not by how
many victories you win, but by how your defeat finally occurs.
I
find the world a more beautiful place with such clear imperfections. I like the
causes, but no the effects. I find smokestacks terrifyingly beautiful, but not
dissolving coral reefs. I see moral contradiction written on every landscape.
I
know industrial capitalism is killing the planet. I don’t want industrial
capitalism to go away because I want to see this awful comedy play out until
the bitter, bloody end.
I’m
tired of being sad and too numb to be angry. Some days, all I want is a house
with a garden and lot of books so I can come home to someone I love and put all
the frustration and passion and uncertainty I have into loving them, before we
make dinner together and ignore the fire raging all around us.
