Saturday, September 27, 2008

Are you OK?

Was (Not Was) asked the question. As a side note, can I explain the name? The Was brothers at the heart of the group always had to explain how to say their name, much like I do. It’s pronounced “wahz”. Not “was”.

Seems like they were on a hiding to nothing.

Anyway, the question was one of concern. And people do get concerned. People care about other people. People care a lot more about some people than others, but there is an overwhelming amount of consideration going on.

How does that scale up in society? In a static society, it means that everyone knows about everyone else’s problems and the majority looks after the minority. In nomadic cultures, everyone is aware of how delicate life’s balance is and everyone looks out for everyone.

Maybe that’s a bit over-simplistic, or even rosier-then-reality, but I do think there’s more than an element of truth in it. And I also think there’s more than element of truth in the assertion that large-scale societies don’t have the same tendency to care for the vulnerable.

Like climate change, nuclear waste disposal, child labour and poverty, there is a tendency to see caring as something for others to deal with—somebody else’s problem.

If a centrally organised society will not support those in need, can a devolved one do any better? Obviously, I think it can. By taking responsibility for anyone that strays into your community, it ceases to be anyone else’s problem.

There are a couple of real-world examples that strenuously test my assertion. First, my experience of a successful “intentional community”—what would be colloquially termed a commune. Second, the way the most difficult-to-deal-with homeless people in my own neighbourhood.

One of the longest-lasting intentional communities in the United States, if not the world, is in rural Virginia and I had the privilege of staying for a night and meeting many of the members. One of the reasons it might have been so successful is a refusal to deal with members with serious mental health issues: minor problems and idiosyncrasies were almost de rigueur but the members would ask anyone that was, in their opinion, too disruptive to leave.

If the world were composed of intentional communities, where would that leave its most vulnerable? I would like to think that, like many things that require concerted effort, that resources would be pooled to help those that need specialist care, while retaining a sense of responsibility for each individual. That, I have to admit, is still a sizeable issue.

The other instance worth mentioning are the homeless, here in Shepherd’s Bush. We have a hostel (or two) in the area, in which very few local people have any involvement (me included). I like to think that most people feel that their presence is no major inconvenience. At worst, it is depressing to see people in bad shape, begging, living from one can of beer to the next, or sometimes exhibiting the behaviour typical of smack addicts. At least, we can think, they have somewhere to sleep and get some hot food.

But even these hostels cannot accommodate anyone and everyone. Like the intentional community, without extra help, some people are just too disruptive. Excluded from shelter, their situation only gets worse and their attitude more belligerent.

One particular individual, Paul, was a real nuisance to everyone. Before they started locking the gate, he was sleeping in the parking area behind my flat, usually with his girlfriend, which was no big problem in itself, except they would scream at each other at all times of the night, fight, and break anything that came to hand. During the day, they would demand money on the street, still fighting each other, and turn on random passers-by.

The result for the community was edginess and extreme discomfort. The police were often called and eventually they used the only tool available to them—an anti-social behaviour order (ASBO) that excluded Paul from the area altogether. I’ve been told that ha has accommodation elsewhere, but essentially they made it clear that this was someone else’s problem.

Again, how would a world of intentional communities have dealt with Paul? And again, I can only suggest that individuals as difficult as him would have to be supported with the pooled resources of several communities, whether that meant improving the resources of the local hostel (in current terms) or having a specialist institution shared between, say, all West London.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Heroes Season Two

Having wittered on about the difference between fictional heroes and those worth giving some credit as humanity’s great achievers (might I also mention that I want to distance myself from childhood idolatry—something I don’t believe I ever really suffered from), I only had time to credit Per Gahrton as my first “hero”. This time, I won’t hang around.

Obviously, as someone calling himself a Gandhist, the Mahatma is a hero of mine. I’m not as widely read as I would like, but I deeply admire what I’ve discovered. I don’t believe in perfection, by which I don’t want to offend those who believe Gandhi achieved spiritual perfection, but I do want to acknowledge that there might be a grain of truth in accusations about his ego or sexuality. But his spiritual quest is not what makes him a hero of mine anyway.

The two things Gandhi did that I most admire are: that he professed a unity of faith with the conviction of Akbar, in which he saw common spiritual, but also highly practical, bases for all religions; and that he put his beliefs into practice with complete conviction. I think of what he did and said whenever I am trying to resolve issues of principal.

From the same country, but still very much alive and influencing people is Vandana Shiva. If anyone is the inheritor of Gandhi’s legacy, she is. She and I are also physicists first, but I have yet to see any influence on her ecological writing.

Shiva would be my hero for her chapters in Ecofeminism, which she co-wrote with Maria Mies, but she is also a leading light in the anti-globalisation movement (defending poor farmers against the grasping food multinationals). There are times when it is difficult to reconcile ideas in one area (such as feminism) with those in another (such as ecology), and it’s invaluable to have someone as lucid and sane as Shiva to guide you through.

At another point in my life, when I had joined the Green Party, read the manifesto, and a handful of books and pamphlets, I needed to make sense of how it all fitted together. If ever there was book to satisfy a need for a deeper understanding of green politics, it is Green Political Thought by Andrew Dobson.

I’ve met Andy Dobson (I’ve been in the presence of Vandana Shiva, but couldn’t find the courage or words) and he’s incredibly easy-going and approachable. Should I be surprised? After all, he’s provided an intellectual yet easily understood text contextualising almost all of ecopolitics.

My guess is that everyone in green politics has been inspired by the books or speeches of certain individuals: Henry Thoreau, John Muir, Petra Kelly, Jonathon Porritt, Ralph Nader, Al Gore, and even David Icke. These are many people’s heroes and deserve credit for the inspiration they have provided.

And I have one more to add, who I can’t quite call a hero because of a racist and sexist edge to his writing. Yet his writing is still inspirational: the original monkey-wrencher, Edward Abbey. Go read The Monkey Wrench Gang and consider blowing up a dam.