Crisis of Capitalism

According to Wikipedia, Capitalism is an economic system based on the private ownership of the means of production and their operation for profit. There are variations on capitalism on how constrained business is by governmental regulation including tariffs and environmental laws, labor rights and other forms of regulation.  “Free Market” is often idealized and strived for by the capitalist class. 

According to Wikipedia, the Free Market is defined as, “an idealized system in which the prices for goods and services are determined by the open market and by consumers. In a free market the laws and forces of supply and demand are free from any intervention by a government…and are allowed to reach their point of equilibrium without intervention by government policy.”  A free market values transactions weather they be of strawberries or visits to the chemo ward.  It doesn’t care.

A free market is what Keynesean economists and big business leaders say they strive for, but there are always rules to the economy including restrictions on particularly damaging products as well as tax breaks for some types of businesses and tariffs for some imported products.  And these regulations are manipulated by lobbyists who infiltrate government and get particular benefits for their business or industry.  We have gotten to the point where it seems business interests supplant the interests of the common citizen and are superior to the rights of nature.

I see the stage we are in of capitalism as a crisis period, when the snake is literally eating its tail, where big business is destroying the future means of production and the very biosphere, we all rely upon to survive.   Government, the mechanism for the expression of the will of the people and the proper regulator of big business and capitalism is feebly inadequate to the task.

Capitalism’s penchant for concentrating benefits and externalizing costs are a big part of this looming crisis that I mention.  While concentrating wealth is the desire for the owners of capitalistic ventures, wealth must be taken from some place.  The waste products of the massive production operations must be put someplace.  There is no away.

Most wealth is not just created anew and fresh.  Most wealth is taken legally or illegally from and to the detriment of people, governments and the environment.  Some wealth is created when new techniques or technologies are employed, and greater power and freedom comes available.  When an inventor is motivated and rewarded for his/her invention by capitalism that is seen as good.  Wealth is created, industriousness is rewarded.

When nature appeared boundless, the natural world could be mined of its riches and the benefits concentrated to those intrepid capitalist individuals without undermining natural capital in a significant way.  Now humans are so numerous, and our technological use of machines and interlocking systems of production so powerful and efficient that we are affecting the very biosphere that all God’s creatures rely upon for survival. 

One of the challenges I see with changing the economic system I have been describing is that we in the US do benefit from the status quo, from cheap goods supported by foreign manufacturing, from access to cheap oil and from not factoring the true cost of cradle to grave manufacturing that should be the standard.  We benefit, in the short term by being able to travel on airplanes cheaply, by being able to have incredible choice of foods and technology products, most all shipped long distances and packaged in and or made with non bio-degradeable synthetic materials.  We also have a government that is still in the predatory conquest mode as an unending series of wars and approximately 700 oversees military bases can speak to.

As Dickens wrote more than 150 years ago, “It was the best of times; It was the worst of times.”  While that may have been true for the bustling, crowded and quickly industrializing Victorian England, it is also true today.  We can order most anything we want and get it shipped to our door, yet, we can’t protect the polar bears or seem to be able to stop climate producing gasses from spewing, or forests from being felled, or another Walmart from opening.  We can watch most any show ever created yet many of us suffer from anxiety and depression over the existential threat we all live under.

I have gnawed on these topics for years.  How can I not be part of the problem?  I spoke with a wise friend about it last recently.  He feels that we are all part of the problem and we must through our consumer dollars choose better, buy less plastic wrapped products and use less gasoline (to make a short synopsis of what he said).  While I try to do these things and think we all should do better in these matters, I really think the problem is so much bigger than making better individual choices.  We must make better collective choices.  We as citizens in citizen groups and through local, state and federal government have the responsibility to our future generations to try to reel in the beast of unfettered capitalism.

There is a responsibility of government to regulate industry and protect the citizens from undue harm and protect the land and its productivity for generations in the future.  Yet government doesn’t seem to be up to the task.

Let us call out capitalism for what it has become, more destructive than beneficial.  Let us not shy away from the words, regulation and socialism.  Let us be what Ralph Nader espouses as the best highest form of societal duty, civic minded citizens who are participants in the decisions of our time from a local school board to if a Walmart should be built or a highway expanded from two to three lanes.  Civic participation is one antidote to the death of our democracy by under regulated capitalism.

I believe we need to re-localize.  A positive future is not one where we and our goods are madly zipping around the globe at great speed.  A positive future requires us to slow down and root down and get connected in our place in our community.  If we produce our own things nearby, we won’t stand for dumping the toxic waste in the river or ocean, we wont stand for huge open pit mines, we won’t stand for damming another river for power at the cost of a salmon run.  If we have to deal with our waste instead of shipping it to China will we continue to allow the disposablization of most things?  We, must learn how to live within our means, and we must learn how to challenge big capitalism. 

Finally, somethings in the economy are too important to be left to the capitalists.  These are the items that support survival.  I believe in rent control, in limiting capital appreciation in some ways, in taxing financial transactions and in limiting weapons production.  I believe in socialized health care.  Some things are too important to leave to the market.  It is hard to fight when you can’t pay your rent, but of course the big business capitalist know that.

There is a battle going on.  We are in it and part of the crisis of capitalism.  Can we transform it before it wipes out everything we care about?

My Life

My life is a collection of disparate worlds, I am attempting to make sense of. Recently I decided to try living in Eugene Oregon. I need a new home base. Drifting drifting is psychologically destabilizing yet I feel compelled to do it as I haven’t felt home for a long time.

I sit at a computer in Eugene Oregon. Last night feeling lethargic I let the evening almost get away from me. I had no one to go out with. It was raining. But I had a Eugene Weekly and I scanned it for things to do. There was a Contra dance at the Villiage School on Willamette street. Contra dances are great ways to make a connection with a new community! So I decided to go.

After a call from a friend and being close to 9pm I motivated and got myself out the door. I plugged in the address to my smart phone and let the computer direct me across town. It was raining softly and the windows were partly fogged. I had smoked a wee bit o ganja and let the soft rains, traffic lights and newness of the town merge into my awareness with wonder and softness.

The Villiage School on Willamette street was a fair drive across town and into the base of a hill. I drove the wet streets, generally heading south east, making four or five turns and arriving on the moderate slope of a hill. There was no one there! I had gotten the date wrong. Dumb dumb.

I pulled into the parking lot, it was small and empty. I got out and this was in fact the Villiage School. There was a handmade sign that said Villiage school and some event that the folks were organizing for. I decided to walk around the school.

The building was old but well maintained and signs that people loved this school. They had signs in Spanish and about a spanish class, Salon de Espanol. They also had a sign for the music class in spanish, salon de musica. More signs around the school about things going on. I had the distinct feeling that the people from the students, to the teachers, the parents and the administrators, loved this modest school.

I got back into my truck, a vehicle which seems to fit in in Oregon cause, yep there are a lot of big trucks up here. Mine is a 97 tacoma with an extra cab and a big dent in the tailgate. Yet the truck is too big, gas consuming and disrespectful to the planet. I do have a bike up here so I can get all my gear up and then I can bike around town. I got my tail light charged now. I need a helmet and a head lamp and maybe some reflective gear.

I headed back toward the east side of town. I went to the Whittaker neigborhood and parked. I felt my best bet would be Sam Bonds garage. There was a live band going on. Kind of like Greenday maybe? Not quite that catchy but bouncy and forward, and cocky. They were from Portland. The lead singer looked like a toehead kid who is now a young adult, lots of confidence but a little naive.

I feel. Since I am often an observer, an outsider, a chronicler, I am not without experience in this matter. I float and I feel the room. I don’t do much other than take it in for an hour or so. The cider is excellent. Then I move to the dance floor. The music is somewhat but not entirely to my taste. I move, other people move. A forward women dances into me intentionally and then we couple dance for a while.

Somehow the barriers between people, me and the world, the people out there and the other people out there, the barriers fade and we are all in this busy bustling brew hall made of wood timbers and love and we dance together, drink together and I for one feel a little bit less alone in the world. Maybe this new life experiment will be ok.


The Mid West Starts to think about Protecting Nature

As the climate crisis continues to unfold with glacier melt happening at a rapid rate and climate disruptions now the norm rather than Rare, we all need to change; we need to adapt to climate change as a society but we also need to adapt our lifestyles to low carbon, low plastic lifestyles.

I have been spending time in Iowa and there is definitely talk of a changing climate. There are some great events, that highlight this growing concern. There is a forum on sustainable agriculture and a meeting at the state capitol on February 21 on citizens demands that there be a factory farming moratorium in Iowa. We also had a visit on Monday from Presidential candidate Tulsi Gabbard, (D) of HI. She spoke passionately to address climate issues and protection of the environment as well as changing the foreign policy practices of “regime change” which we are currently attempting in Venezuela.

Finally Gabbard, spoke about ending our war based economy. All for the good. Lets hope we can come together on these ideas and then get behind a strong, progressive, take no prisoners, Democratic Candidate to unseat Trump.

I also am thinking that the mid-west is vast. We grow lots of corn and soybeans here. But most of that is either exported or fed to pigs and cows. Lets be more friendly to the pigs and cows, birds, foxes, buffalo and climate, maybe we can advocate (in the upcoming Green New Deal) for giving credits to these farmers to turn the farms of death into farms of life. Return it to nature. Grass prairies and forests could return to parts of the mid-west without, I believe depleting our ability to feed ourselves. I believe we are overproducing corn and soy and under-producing, clean water, wildlife habitat and carbon sinks.

Corporate agriculture gets tax breaks and corporate welfare. This need be changed. We should as a country, not support the destruction of the planet with our tax dollars, rather, let us encourage our legislators, in this time of rapid change and growing climate crisis to incentivize a return of some of the mid-west to prairies and forests.

Yes to the Green New Deal!

It isn’t economically feasible to stop climate change

At this point most scientists and even a majority of business people and politicians admit that climate is changing rapidly. Yet when on a recent show of Democracy Now one of Trumps representatives to the climate conference was asked about belief in climate science he replied that he believed but it is not economical to do anything about it.

Now I read story in Scientific American today that all the glaciers are melting at a rate beyond which even the most pessimistic climate scientists predicted recently. Greenland is melting in an interesting beautiful yet horrifying way. Surface run off forms into rivers and melts and widens cracks in the ice. This lubricates between and under the ice helping to cause it to slip and move. When certain hard land features are overcome, glacial melt glacial flow is no longer slow (or as we used to say glacial). It happens quickly.

This is starting to happen in Antarctica as well. If all the ice were to melt in Antarctica it would raise see level 200 feet. Now if happens over the next hundred years the quibbling about the costs of changing our ways will seem so petty and ridiculous as we actually struggle to survive on a climatically destabilized and ravaged earth.

Writing can be theraputic

I feel I can get my thought clearer when I focus on writing an article about a topic important to me. Thank you Laura, Malia, Thomas, Chelsea, and other folks in Petrolia for looking at my story about Hana recently. It was a theraputic experience and I feel better and more how shall we say, loved?

Anyway other things I have been wanting to write about is our corrupt government attacking a democratically elected leader/ government in Venezuella. I am so upset about this. But more later.

Happy Indian Spring and lets hope its a good year!

Reflections on the loss of a sister

This morning in early January 2019, I go running along Lighthouse road, in Petrolia.  I ran to Doc Scheinman’s.  Not to his house specifically but to the willow forest by his house and to the river, the bend in the river that flows into bedrock, churning a deep pool.  Right now, in the morning light, the water runs choppy and turbid into the bedrock and then makes a turn to the right as it hurtles another 4 miles and becomes one with the ocean.  This is the spot where my sister Hana is thought to have ….left the realm of the living.  I look at the river, big and chocolatey after about an inch and a half of rain.  It’s a Humboldt winter storm type of day, blustery wet and somewhat electric.  The river looks substantial.  Its 100 feet wide in many places.  Plus, the wind.  The whoosh of the wind and an occasional squall of rain combining and whooshing through trees reminds us that nature is here, primal and alive.  It is a sound, an experience that is timeless for me.  I am reminded that nature existed and exists exclusive of us.

I run down Evergreen way to Lighthouse road and take a right.  I run east on Lighthouse for a half mile to the trail down to the river by Doc Sheinmans.  There is a steep wooden staircase down the bank and a path with a broad wooden board over water and then a few more willows and on to the sandy bank of the Mattole River.  The river runs chocolate with pieces of wood bobbing up and down in its muddy turbulent waters.  This may have been the last place my sister or what my sister became breathed her last breaths.  It’s a year, now, not to the day but close enough since Hana disappeared and then five weeks later showed up transformed into an animal carcass on the beach.   Her body, just a torso with parts of arms, legs gone, stringy hair, with white teeth.  Washed clean by the ocean.  She had become nature and returned to the nature that she so loved and revered.

I stand looking at the turbulent waters and say a silent prayer for her.  Was she drawn to enter these same turbulent waters?  Did they call to her?  Did she feel no way out from her dilemmas and confusion?

I am so sorry sister.  I am sorry I couldn’t help you more.  I am sorry I wasn’t nicer to you the last evening we spent together.

Why is what is is?  Why did she become what she became?  How did she get to be so angry and in my view so deluded about our community?  I would have never predicted this from knowing her as a child.  I would have thought she would be a Hollywood star, or in theatre with tons of friends and successful and famous.  She was stunning and outgoing.  She had friends, she had style.   

But what is is.  She was tortured these last years.  She became more and more an alien to the world.  Not the natural world, she was at home on the beach or by the river bar.  She loved the birds and would call to the ravens, “Caw, Caw, Caw.” 

But she was being left behind by the modern competitive world.  This world we live in that is become artificial, polluted, competitive, disjointed, greedy and dark.  It is this world my sister raged against, and the injustice of it.  Against the callous coldness of it.  She raged, with her tortured demons, she raged that she, who was in her mind smarter and more self riteous, was being cast aside, an aging empty angry vessel, not needed by our community.  You or I might feel the same sometimes?

Dear sister.  I honor your fierceness, your pride, your desire for justice for yourself and for all the creatures of nature that are hurt or pushed aside by the cruel world of modern society and capitalism.  I honor your tender heart.  I honor your fear and confusion.  I honor your unwillingness to compromise what you believed.  I am sorry these last years were so hard for you.  I grieve for you and for our family that was once a somewhat cohesive thing.

How to be in a crazy world?  That was a question my sister grappled with both in that she didn’t think much of what was going on in the world was right or made sense, but that also she was sometimes exhibiting breaks with reality, and I believe she was coming to see this and it troubled and saddened her greatly.  She would try to talk her problems away through fierceness of will.  It didn’t work. She was quite a talker though and some of her ideas were quite beautiful.

These ideas included having a community solar program to power different neighborhoods in Petrolia.  We should be energy self-reliant she believed. She was concerned about climate change and wanted the government to have training centers and school training centers where people would learn how to convert their cars to non-polluting, electric vehicles.  The government would help set them up and then people would go and working with mechanics, just change their vehicles over to clean running electric vehicles.

She wanted to do a healing circle where elders would bring people who had been harmed or cast aside back into the circle of community and be given a voice to air their grievances and pain.  She so wanted healing but couldn’t seem to get it.

One idea she loved was to create a writer’s retreat center at the cabin here.  Sensitive well-off writers would come and have a retreat and rent one of the back rooms.  Of-course they would need their own entrance and basic kitchen and bathroom facilities and that would be expensive.  So, this never went anywhere.  Lack of money, ie. general poverty was a big issue in Hana’s last years. 

I would say a combination of her unwillingness to do most things she found unpleasant, and her mental dis-function as well as having negative experiences when she did find work, led her to having very little work these last several years.  This in turn left her in a cut off, impoverished and depleted state.

She lived day to day and could not plan beyond today.  But as I said, she had ideas.  Lots of ideas, but they were theoretical.  She did journal and list-make but the translating into action part was not easy for her.

More of her ideas include wanting to create a bird sanctuary and maybe an office where people would work to help birds and their habitat.  She wouldn’t let us get a cat or dog partly because they would chase off the birds and squirrels.  So, we didn’t get the dog or cat.

Hana was trying to reconnect with her Armenian heritage.  She would listen to old recordings on a cassette tape of some language course.  Sometimes she would blast it, “Pari lauys, Parev.    K’ez garodtser em.  Gertam.  Gertam. “.  She was reaching for her roots.  She also loved to remember our childhoods and idealized our young years. 

She so connected with those who have been trod upon, the Native American, the black and latino peoples, women.  She identified with the “me too” movement and often talked in a non specific way about being a victim of trauma and abuse.  She claimed to have ptsd. 

Hana would talk with great venom and hatred of a short encounter or love affair that she had with a neighbor named E which ended badly.  This person is not in Petrolia any more.  Hana made many claims, some contradictory about what had happened with E, his friends and Hana.  Hana was angry about being deceived into a sexual encounter and that E had not properly shown her love and respect.  She felt there was a conspiracy amongst E and his friends to get her to have sex with him and then somehow turn this against her.  She at times though not usually using the word rape, often equated what happened to a non-consensusal sexual encounter.  She wanted ‘justice’, a word that in these last months, she was obsessed with.

Not all of this is pleasant, but it is some of the memories I have of Hana for the last years of her life.

She thought the neighbors on all sides were talking about her, plotting against her and sending mental daggers at her.  She would not take it.  She had to fight it and she did.  She would yell and rage at the perceived mental daggers.  “Predator.”, she would yell.  “I know what you are doing and I am not going to take it”.  Or one time she heard a laugh next door and she knew they were laughing at her.  She went close to the fence and laughed back at them, a cruel maniacal laugh and then shouted that they had better stop their laughs or she would call the sheriff.

One neighbor, across the creek, had cut most of their trees on their property to grow marijuana in the outlaw fashion that had become common here in Humboldt County.  One day this neighbor fired up a big throaty chainsaw and began cutting another tree in the creek zone.  Hana was incensed by this and grabbed a pot and a spatula and began banging it and calling “la la la la la” in a raucous voice.  I went and stood by her though I couldn’t get myself to join in her raucous song.  To my knowledge this neighbor has never cut another tree in the creek zone.

She was so strong in some ways that it took all I could muster to not be overwhelmed by her anger and vituperation when she raged.  She wanted the world to apologize to her and then wrap her in a warm and loving embrace and gently bring into her rightful place in community and society.  She reached out to our community in those last days, traveling to Honeydew and to various peoples and places in Petrolia she had long known here.  She went to the beach, her place of solace.  She met, walked with and spoke with a non local hiker and appeared in good spirits and full of ideas of Budhist simplicity. She went and visited people.  She talked of art with Tommy Clark and of her dreams of living as an artist in Seattle.  She talked at length with David and a little with Jane Simpson mostly of fears of death and being pursued and persecuted.  She visited Richard Gilespe.  She went to John Vargo’s, our oldest or longest family friend in the valley, but he was not home.  She stopped in on Richard Sheinman and talked of her fears and conspiratorial views.  And she talked about her thought of jumping in the river.

Then on January 25th at night, she went to the river.  The river was as it is today big, rough and chocolatey but more so.  And whether she took her own life or somehow had an accident, something caused her to enter the river on a dark and somewhat stormy night and there she died. 

One thing I do know about my sister.  Last year was a year of loss and great heart crushing disappointment for Hana.  She lost access to the best human friend she had here in the valley, Dan B.  She lost her best animal friend in the valley, a yellow dog named Yava who wandered off at the beach one day and ended up dying somehow.  Her erratic behavior was being tolerated less and it was causing people to avoid her.  She had great sadness in her heart for all that was, what could have been and now was not.  I feel it too somewhat.

Also, my parents left the valley and this was psychologically very destabiling for Hana.  They left and she could not.  I arrived in the valley on a more permenant basis, moving into the studio next to Hana about the time the folks were moving away. Her and I were ok together but she often didn’t like or trust me either.

Many of you have seen the Netflix show “Murder Mountain”.  In the first episode Humboldt is cast as a place where lost or tormented souls go to hide out.  A place where an outlaw culture around the cultivation of marijuana is present.  A place where people disappear and a place where people are murdered and often never found and or the perpetrator is not brought to justice.  This first episode has a segment several minutes long where Hana’s disappearance is covered.  There is a scene at the Petrolia fire department where a briefing is being conducted by sheriffs (I believe it was Kerry Ireland) and the fire chiefs, Drew Barber and Travis Howe about the missing individual and the ensuing search.  Then a scene of a search with a dog for a body.  No body is found in the episode, as it was not found in reality, for about a month.

I was not at that first sheriff/fire department briefing.  I was at a second one that happened the following weekend.  I heard however that Travis and Drew told the Netflix film crew to leave and so they did, but not after getting some footage and talking with some people.

What I wanted to say about this is that I have now seen this first episode as well as the second of “Murder Mountain” and I am very glad this story is being told.  However, the story is only tangentially related to the disappearance of Hana Hammer.

The story that “Murder Mountain” (what a horrible name) attempts to tell, somewhat sensationalistically, is the story of the back-to-the-landers that came to Humboldt in the 60’s and 70’s wanting to escape modern society and all its evils.  That these back to the landers worked together, came together to build houses, farms, communities in a somewhat utopian way (for some) and that they somewhat by accident found that growing a patch of marijuana could allow them to raise kids and build their houses without having to participate in the rat race they were mostly running away from. 

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. As the next generation appeared and the “green rush” arrived to Humboldt, a dramatic shift occurred. The story follows how this beautiful, idealistic early culture got hit hard by military style helicopters that raided marijuana gardens and then finally had a golden period where mostly people were left alone to grow as they pleased. Then after Medical legalization slowly a culture of greed, criminality, and disregard for environmental and community norms arose. 

This early culture has largely been overwhelmed by the greedy profit motive of industrial size marijuana farming from within and without and that though not extinguished, much of this early living in harmony with nature and your neighbor, is no more.   Finally, that this culture and it’s criminal element has meant that some of the workers have ended up missing and ultimately dead. Thankfully with legalization and regulation, many of the worst operators are being busted and regulated out of existence. Unfortunately, many if not most of the old-style small farmers are also being regulated out of existence.

Hana’s story is juxtaposed to other missing people’s stories in Humboldt County around the outlaw marijuana world.  If one watches this first “Murder Mountain” episode and they didn’t know Hana, they might be confused into thinking she was another out of town kid who got involved in a dangerous sketchy marijuana scene and disappeared. This is not correct.  However, the fact that she lived in Petrolia, one and a half hours from a major town, and in a community where a lot of illegal marijuana was grown, did in some ways contribute in her death. 

There is a culture of distrust of law enforcement in Humboldt and when Hana’s behavior was inappropriate or sometimes bordering on not law conforming, people would not call the sheriff.  Instead they called our parents and asked them to control and reprimand their wayward child.  Well, Hana was 45 years old and a very headstrong women, so this did not work.  An intervention by law enforcement could have changed her patterns and required some mental health treatment.  I know that our parents actually wanted this to happen, but it never did.

Also, although Hana had a desire to get some medical attention for some physical complaints she had, she had no money and did not trust the medical community.  She also had a car that wasn’t in good shape and so she kept putting off getting medical check-ups. 

Finally, I will say hesitantly, because I live here and both love and detest things about Humboldt, the feeling in Humboldt (for those who were not making bank from mary jane) from say 2013 to 2017 was progressively more aggressive, secretive and generally negative and Hana felt this acutely.  After medical marijuana (prop 215) was voted in in 1996, there was a period where people could grow marijuana with minimal chance of being busted.  Every year this increased.  Very few people were being busted.  There was much uncertainty in the law.  I believe this to some extent hamstrung law enforcement for a time, and that growers saw little restraint to “blowing it up”, meaning grow grow grow.  This was the “Green Rush”.  Some people made millions of dollars.  Lots of shady shit happened and some people disappeared.  What this did to the local communities was complicated.  Lots more cash money was floating around.  Local radio stations flourished.  There were lots of great festivals.  People supported community centers and the arts.  People had money and bought cars, trucks, food, houses, trips, things they needed, things they wanted.

But in this, there was also shiestyness and some criminality.  Out of town trucks, cargo vans and shiny cars drove into the valley making wholesale deals.  Some people got ripped off.  Some of those people who got ripped off, attempted to take justice into their own hands (though truthfully little violence occurred actually in Petrolia).  It was as the show “Murder Mountain” talks about, a feeling of wild west outlaw culture mixed with of stacks of cash money.  The feeling in these small sleepy towns was definitely not so quiet and sleepy anymore.  There were lots of big trucks on our small rural windy roads.  Roads got tore up, big patches of forest felled, plastic green-houses got thrown up everywhere.  Everywhere.  The community feeling was frayed.  Land prices skyrocketed as out of towners and locals sought to cash in.  It was a troubling anxiety creating time for sensitive earth loving people.  I felt it.  Hana felt it. Hana raged against the feeling of it.  Sometimes she referred to Petrolia as a cult.  I was never exactly sure what she meant by this, but I do think it had something to do with the changes that were going on in this community.

So, what happened to Hana?  It’s complicated.  I don’t fully know.  But her mental health was not good these last several years.  She felt isolated.  She felt under siege.  She wanted to defend nature and she wanted to defend, what she felt like, were attacks on herself. 

She was also very impoverished.  She couldn’t figure out how to make a living.  She didn’t know how to fix her many problems.  She was in a funk.  She was very sad and lonely.  And she felt like she didn’t have enough support. With that, though not complete I will stop.

Anyway.  It is one year since her passing, more or less, I hope she is in a better place.

Greta Thunberg shows us how we must approach Climate Change

We must act, we must live as if the climate matters.

I heard this young women today on Democracy Now! This is coming from Poland at this years climate talks. The following is what she said.  I am impressed with her clarity, her committment to do right by the climate, and her bravery to take this stand.  Read for you self:

GRETA THUNBERG: For 25 years, countless of people have stood in front of the United Nations climate conferences asking our nations’ leaders to stop the emissions. But clearly this has not worked, since the emissions just continue to rise. So I will not ask them anything. Instead, I will ask the people around the world to realize that our political leaders have failed us, because we are facing an existential threat and there is no time to continue down this road of madness.

So, when school started in August this year, I sat myself down on the ground outside the Swedish parliament. I school-striked for the climate. Some people say that I should be in school instead. Some people say that I should study to become a climate scientist so that I can “solve” the climate crisis. But the climate crisis has already been solved. We already have all the facts and solutions. And why should I be studying for a future that soon may be no more, when no one is doing anything to save that future? And what is the point of learning facts when the most important facts clearly means nothing to our society?

Today we use 100 million barrels of oil every single day. There are no politics to change that. There are no rules to keep that oil in the ground. So we can no longer save the world by playing by the rules, because the rules have to be changed. So we have not come here to beg the world leaders to care for our future. They have ignored us in the past, and they will ignore us again. We have come here to let them know that change is coming, whether they like it or not. The people will rise to the challenge. And since our leaders are behaving like children, we will have to take the responsibility they should have taken long ago. Thank you.


Rich countries like Sweden need to start reducing emissions by at least 15 percent every year to stay below a 2-degree warming target. You would think the media and every one of our leaders would be talking about nothing else, but they never even mention it. Nor does hardly anyone ever mention that we are in the midst of the sixth mass extinction, with up to 200 species going extinct every single day. Furthermore does no one ever speak about the aspect of equity, clearly stated in the Paris Agreement, which is absolutely necessary to make it work on a global scale. That means that rich countries like mine need to get down to zero emissions within six to 12 years, with today’s emission speed. Because how can we expect countries like India, Colombia or Nigeria to care about the climate crisis if we, who already have everything, don’t care even a second about our actual commitments to the Paris Agreement?