Legacies of Violence

I just finished reading Tracy Kidder's book, Strength in What Remains. I devoured it as if it were a novel, transfixed and often horrified, anxious about its charming protagonist with the improbable name of Deogracias. It brought into sharp relief the problem of what happens to people who have been through large-scale violence, because it is in part the story of Deogracias' survival of genocide in the African country of Burundi.

We know what happens on a small scale from research and stories about the lives of returned veterans, rape victims, and survivors of other violent experiences. The people are forever changed. They often suffer from disordered ways of perceiving and responding to what's going on in the world. They need to talk and talk about what they survived, and to do that talking with people who can hear and care and not be made crazy themselves. They need to find a new way of being in the world. Not a few of them find that some kind of return to the event is part of the story of their new life -- advocacy for other victims, promotion of legislation or social change to prevent what happened to them from happening to others, running support groups, and much else. And some never find a way to be part of "normal" society again.

But what happens when whole communities have been subjected to large scale and ongoing violence?

We look at the way Israel and Palestine deal with each other in the world. Both sides look just plain crazy to the outside observer. I am deeply certain that large scale and ongoing violence against the people of both sides has created this.

In Tracy Kidder's book, the protagonist returns to Burundi after being away in the United States for years. During that time he has not been subjected to the ongoing violence. He has had a chance to do a number of things that have helped him begin to heal. When he goes back, the people seem very strange to him compared to the way they were before. Kidder quotes Deogracias as saying "you know what it is? They are all crazy." (p. 214).

What can a country do when everyone is crazy?

And, shouldn't we as a country be thinking about this as we proceed with military options in Afghanistan and Pakistan? Shouldn't we be thinking about this as we get ready to leave Iraq? The aftermath of large scale ongoing violence has to be that everyone is crazy, and someone needs to help them pick up the pieces, begin to heal, and find a wholesome way to live -- maybe to find it again, maybe to find it for the first time.

If I Were Serious...

If I were serious about a smaller carbon footprint, there is so much more I could do -- and yet, some of it really feels beside the point.

I could stop using paper towels, change from plastic to glass for food storage and abandon plastic bags; I could combine projects that use the oven, and I could maintain the thermostat at a lower level in winter. I could dry more clothes in air. I could be more careful to buy things that come from nearer rather than farther. But how good is that?

Already I live in a small, well-insulated space that's really close to where I work. I use the lightbulbs. I do run a computer, but not a television set. I don't have to drive to work, to the laundromat, or to the grocery store. I even don't have to drive to the movies, the hardware store, the doctor's, etc., etc. I do have to drive to see my friends, but I'm starting to have friends here, too, my home since August of this year. I do have to drive to professional meetings, because we are not thick on the ground in this part of the world -- that could change, but it won't be soon!

Mainly, I could stop riding on airplanes. When I took a couple of on-line carbon footprint inventories, it was sobering to realize how much that adds to the weight of CO2 I contribute. That's because I live really far away from my family, and if I want to see them, I pretty much have to fly. Maybe there's another way to handle this, but that will take time.

So it comes down to this: it's time for me to pay attention to the systems that spout carbon on my behalf. Electricity. Transportation systems. Urban design. The economy itself, based as it is on "consumer spending," which basically means moving materials from one place to another, using energy to convert materials from one form to another, packaging stuff and packaging the packages

Not just my own personal choices, but the bigger choices we all make together or someone makes for us. I'm sure of it: we can have a really nice life and use a whole lot less stuff, move a whole lot less of it from place to place, the whole nine yards. It's time to start imagining it, and I feel really old to be starting. But let's. Now is the time we have.

Saving for Change

Maybe what we need is a bank. Or, a bunch of banks. We activists are often so focused on policy and legislation that we forget the creation of new institutions that could start to make the changes we want. We in our private lives (I'm thinking I don't like to call us "consumers") are saving more, spending less of the money we are still receiving. This is not surprising, since so many are boomers who just saw the market blow away their prospects of retirement. It makes sense.

So we are saving our money into a system that should be putting it back into circulation as investment, which would be spending that both creates jobs and income and creates additional productivity for the economy. Developing capacity to produce solar panels, insulation, products from recycled materials, maybe. Improving agriculture in places closer to markets, maybe. But it doesn't seem to be quite getting there.

"They" in the financial institutions seem to be waiting for the market for debt-financed consumption to firm up so they can make loans back to us. If we don't want to go there so much any more, maybe there need to be some new lending institutions that are focused on investment in the traditional sense. I'm thinking of investment in capacity-building that's close to the ground. I'm thinking of the a bunch of new New Hampshire Community Loan Funds, or a whole lot of credit unions for community economic development. The money we save could be recycled into the community in ways that would get us going on the lower-carbon way of life we are needing to achieve.

If we turned our attention, not completely, but partly, away from trying to persuade other people to do things to shrink our carbon footprint, and toward building communities that actually have smaller footprints, wouldn't that be a good use of both our passion and our newfound thrift?

The Consumer Spending Revolution

Almost every day there is yet another report of sluggish consumer spending. On the one hand, it's something that seems good. We're saving for the future, saving up in order to buy things, holding back on using those credit cards. We're feeling insecure because of the rocky employment picture, we're feeling poor because of the reduction in value of all our assets, so we're holding back.

According to the commentators, our greater thrift is holding back the economy. They sound as if they wish we would just plunge into that high-spending way of life that went before the financial meltdown that led to this Great Recession.

I say it's not consumer thrift that's the problem. I say the shift is an opportunity. Greater thrift creates an opportunity for the people and institutions who make loans to think anew about what they are doing. This is a time for investment in a new way of life, and the savings creates a funding source. Invest in green technologies, in farms closer to places where people live, in neighborhoods where people can get what they want by walking or riding a bike, in railroads that move things more cheaply, in all those things that will make real a different way of life. Invest in ways to recycle materials and reclaim waste for profitable use.

Let's not go back. Let's make art and put on plays, read poetry and do sports, go walking just for fun, hang out in coffee shops and go to church. Let's fix the equipment we already have so we won't be throwing so much away. Let's build a society where consumer goods are not the be-all and the end-all, but rather tools to enrich our relationships with one another or tools to our enjoyment of our own minds and bodies. Let's go on saving and letting the saving turn into investments that can undo some of the damage we have done to the planetary ecology on which our lives depend. We can have a nice life without so much stuff. A nicer life, even, if we open our eyes and look around at the possibilities.