(. . . continued from July 24 . . .)
I recently heard an interview with Rutger Bregman, author of the recent Humankind: A Hopeful History. Like Rebecca Solnit, Bregman argues against the “Veneer Theory” — the notion that sociability and civility form a thin veneer over a human nature that is durably nasty and brutish. He argues that the historical record indicates that most people, in most times and places, are basically decent. “With one proviso,” he adds: “Power corrupts.” This is a hell of a proviso. The people in power set the rules for everybody else. And if those rules are as corrupt and vicious as the rulers, it’s no surprise if the subjects become mean-spirited, selfish, suspicious, and vengeful, too. This is a great argument for Anarchism: by devolving power to the individual and small community, power and its attendant corrupting influence can be diluted to a non-lethal dosage. But it seems like there’s always some asshole who’s going to fuck it up by taking over. There’s always a Jonathan Blue in the wings, and many people are gullible enough to follow him wherever he leads (no spoiler, I!). So it’s no surprise that Solnit’s examples are local and temporary: San Francisco in 1906, Halifax in 1917, Mexico City in 1985, New York after 9/11, New Orleans after Katrina (one might add Barcelona in 1936-7). But maybe the localism of these moments is in itself is useful information. Moms in Portland are coming out to protect their and others’ kids against militarized federal police: it’s possible one’s local community will lend a hand when one can’t depend on the national government. But then it can work the other way around, too (e.g., Kennedy's and Johnson's nationalizing the National Guard to enforce civil rights legislation in southern states). The Lightest Object in the Universe gets a little corny at times (which probably says more about me -- and maybe readers in general -- than it does about the book); but it is a refreshing and unique look at a possible post-collapse scenario that isn’t altogether bleak. And it’s got well-defined characters and a lively plot. As I think about climate fiction (or plays or poetry), I wonder if more of it might not leaven the dystopia with utopia a bit — or at least imagine ways a rapidly heating world could be made livable. It's certainly unlivable right now for people in East Africa, South Asia, Central America, and elsewhere. That’s why they must move (in very large numbers, as a recent New York Times article shows), so any "-topia" has to imagine a lot more people in less space. It will probably mean everybody in the world living more like everybody in the global south does today. And maybe those from the south have a thing or two to show those in the north about surviving adversity. Who knows — that might even be the premise for a novel.
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June 2021
Kristin Prevallet Author/Editor
I'm a writer & teacher in Lawrence, Kansas who actually believes the scientists. I wrote a book of poems called Of Some Sky that seems to have something to do with all this. |