Blog 3: Hubris

2020 screamed into existence with a myriad of trials and sacrifices. Empyrean fires ravaged the Australian landscape, the effluvia of militaristic tension scud from some of the most powerful nations in the world, MORE fires reigned upon other landscapes and we haphazardly unearthed some prehistoric virus due to wanton deforestation.

But 2020 wasn’t some self-contained pothole over which we have rolled and will forget. 2020 was a portent of things to come; a horrent cry from the earth to get our shit sorted. It wasn’t the death knell ringing the end, but it was a chance to appreciate this fragile paradise we call home; immured as it is by the deep abortive void of space, alone, without any sign of help coming our way. And if the sustain of 2020 should carry on, then we don’t stand a snowflakes chance in hell of even making it into the footnotes of the history of the universe.

With that tawdry bleating out of the way, let me now make myself clear: we are committing ecocide and we need to drastically reduce our carbon emissions to avoid increasing the world’s temperature by 1.5 degrees. This will mean sacrifice. This will mean getting political.

I’m hopeful, in spite of all signs to the contrary, that we will alter the telling of our species canon and bring about positive climate action before we mortgage our future away. And there have been many changes made already to bolster that hope. But there is a long way to go yet.

I’ve recently become enamoured by the work of Jarred Diamond, who poses a chilling question in his book Collapse. What will passing alien civilisations wonder when they come across our abandoned planet, dressed only in crumbling ruins? Will they look upon our works romantically and wonder where everyone went? Will they speculate how we brought upon our demise?

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said — “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

I am aware that as a mere Goo-oligist (VJ) trying to make visuals for a living I have no right lecturing from my high horse. If I have come off that way, it was not intended. I’m also aware that this probably isn’t the greatest of platforms to tout my political message, however I longer think I have the right to do nothing. We each need to be more engaged with our political apparatus’ and use our buying power to instigate change. Write to your member of parliament about how you feel, do some research, read literature on the topic, buy local, be more mindful with recycling and switch to a greener bank, a greener superfund and to greener investments. It may seem daunting at first, but it’s easy and it makes a world of difference.

Let’s not reduce our civilisation endeavour to be a romantic mystery for a sophisticated alien species to speculate and fawn over. Let’s make a difference.

P.S. if you think this doesn’t effect you due to where you live in the world, you only have the privilege of carking it last.