Delight Springs

Wednesday, October 21, 2020

Still in the game

LISTEN. WATCH. We finish Falter today in Environmental Ethics. It would be nice to think we're all about to finish faltering, as a democratic nation under siege of pandemic, political chaos, and climate denial/indifference. For a brief while yesterday morning, queuing to vote in the pleasant middle Tennessee sunshine outside the Bellevue branch of the Metro Public Library, I believed. 

The simple act of casting a ballot feels constructive and empowering, the very opposite of faltering. It feels like moving forward. The feeling would linger if only we could lose the electoral college that effectively denies some of us proportionate representation. Ranked-choice voting in the primaries would be good too.

But never mind, for now. Yesterday was all about the invigorating sense of democratic dignity that free people expressing their will in free and fair elections still, for now, get to enjoy in this country. Conjuring Chris Stevens' invocation of Einstein (vs. Randian selfishness) from the memory vault yesterday I've also recalled his paean to democracy in little (fictional) Cicely, Alaska. "You see, the act of voting is in itself the defining moment."

My friends, today when I look out over Cicely, I see not a town, but a nation's history written in miniature...we exterminated untold indigenous cultures and enslaved generations of Africans. We basically stained our star-spangled banner with a host of sins that can never be washed clean. But today, we're here to celebrate the glorious aspects of our past. A tribute to a nation of free people, the country that Whitman exalted. (reading) "The genius of the United States is not best or most in its executives and legislators, nor in its ambassadors or authors or colleges or churches or parlors, nor even in its newspapers or inventors, but always most in the common people." I've never been so proud to be a Cicelian. I must go out now and fill my lungs with the deep clean air of democracy. Northern Exposure Season 3, Episode 15-"Democracy in America
A lung-full of freedom is bracing. Breathe deep. Vote. Resist democracy's destabilizers and dismantlers while you can. The great game of self-governance has never in my lifetime felt so imperiled, or more worth fighting for.

But as Bill McKibben acknowledges in Falter, resistance comes at a cost. "I know so many people who have given over the prime of their lives to this fight." But he also knows "many people who've found their lives in this work, in burgeoning movements that are full of love and friendship." The tired cliche about finding meaning and purpose in causes larger than oneself is not wrong, the vivifying and ennobling benefits of personal and shared commitment are real. Resistance may be frustrating and may finally fail, but it's not futile. Remember Grantland Rice, a game well-played is its own reward. You don't have to fly the "W" to be a winner at life.

Still, though, to lose democracy, humanity, and Gaia to indifference and inattention would be tragic and stupid. Resisting the apathy and amused-to-death distraction that permit the plutocrats to plunder the planet for personal profit, is in that light not radical or subversive. You might even call it conservatism, if that word weren't already so tainted, to want and work for "a world where people are connected to the past and future (and to one another) instead of turned into obsolete software." Solidarity simply means the greatest happiness for the greatest number. Ask the Scandinavians, who consistently top the World Happiness Report. In 2018 the USA was #18 on that list. If we say we believe in humanity that should embarrass us.

Ray Kurzweil's posthuman vision of spiritual hu-machines with all the time in the world to cultivate "music, literature, beauty and artistic expression" sounds humane, to humans. But, says Todd May, "without mortality our lives would eventually become shapeless. If we lived forever... it would be difficult to sustain our enthusiasm for even many of our most significant engagements." We'd be bored out of our skulls (would we have skulls?) with time slowed to the pace of birds plucking sand grains from the Sahara.

No, we'd best learn to embrace the approaching shore while still pursuing our projects, "orient toward the future while immersing in the present."

What did Camus say? “Real generosity towards the future lies in giving all to the present.”

And Dewey?

“The things in civilization we most prize are not of ourselves. They exist by grace of the doings and sufferings of the continuous human community in which we are a link. Ours is the responsibility of conserving, transmitting, rectifying and expanding the heritage of values we have received, that those who come after us may receive it more solid and secure, more widely accessible and more generously shared than we have received it.” A Common Faith

And James?

The solid meaning of life is always the same eternal thing,— the marriage, namely, of some unhabitual ideal, however special, with some fidelity, courage, and endurance; with some man’s or woman ‘s pains.—And, whatever or wherever life may be, there will always be the chance for that marriage to take place. “What Makes a Life Significant

Or as McKibben says, "our job is to keep the human game going through our time, and to pass it on."

The game just now calls for no "magic technological breakthrough," just our best efforts to continue scaling up renewable energy, "eat lower on the food chain, build public transit networks, densify cities..." That's how we'll "reshape the zeitgeist" and "shift culture" to sustainability. It's helpful to recall that Nixon didn't necessarily want to sign the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, the Endangered Species Act, et al, back in '70, he was compelled by dedicated activists out to conserve the Earth. "The mere act of gathering" [them] is an antidote to despair.

Maturity is a good word, when understood to mean growing up as opposed to just growing. J.S. Mill's remarks on the leveling of growth would surprise most libertarians these days, suggesting that the "art of living" only really matures when we stop devoting the bulk of our energies and resources to just "getting on" and accumulating ever-more material wealth.

Why grow up? Because (as we're about to read in CoPhi) that's what it means to live in the light. Maturity is a condition of success, in the climate fight and in any game worth playing.

McKibben seems to think growing up means we ought not to go into space, even to Mars, agreeing with Kim Stanley Robinson that it's "pernicious" to suppose we can just use up this planet and then go find another to despoil. But can't we "boldly go" in the spirit of exploration and maturity, not mere consumption? A mature conversation about that still needs to be had, I think.

Are "most of us, most of the time," really "pretty wonderful"? That's generous.

"Even--especially--in its twilight, the human game is graceful and compelling." McKibben's last words are elegiac, but a mature response to them will keep us in the game at least a while longer. Let's play seven. (Go Rays!)

And then let's go to Spring Training.

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