Dec 5, 2011

Elements of the American West: Water and the Future


     The idea of the Great American Desert is almost as old as the nation itself. Lewis and Clark, while they did not use the term in their official report, did mention the disturbing lack of timber and numerous dry stream beds along the upper Missouri. But Lieutenant Zebulon Pike, whose report of an expedition to the Rockies preceded Lewis and Clarks by four years, did use the term “desert” to describe what he found between the Missouri and the Rocky Mountains. In fact, nearly all of the West’s early explorers described a landscape “wholly unfit for cultivation, and of course uninhabitable by a people depending upon agriculture for their subsistence.” John Bradbury and Henry M. Brackenridge in 1811, and Thomas Nuttall in 1819 made mention of a “pathless desert” in this region. Brackenridge wrote in 1817 that, “the prevailing idea, with which we have so much flattered ourselves, of these western regions being like the rest of the United States, susceptible of cultivation, and affording endless outlets to settlements, is certainly erroneous.”
     By the eighteen-thirties “the Great American Desert was firmly established on the maps and in the American mind,” according to Wallace Stegner. Even Alexis de Tocqueville, though he never visited the region, describes the territory between the Mississippi River and the Rocky Mountains as “unequal and sterile,” where “granitic sand and irregular masses of stone, among which a few plants force their growth,” evokes “the bones of a skeleton whose flesh has been consumed by time.”
     Even such modern New Western myth-busters as Patricia Nelson Limerick still believe that the Great American desert is a myth. “This was not a desert: at the worst, this was grazing land, and, at the best, this was land for dry farming. There were cyclical rains, and rivers, and springs. The judgment ‘desert’ had been hasty—and wrong.”
     For most Americans of this frontier time period there was “no hope of immediate settlement of the plains”—it was “only a wasteland for eight hundred miles west of the 100th meridian, and from British Colombia to Mexico,” says Stegner. But thirty or forty years later, in the 1870s, a number of circumstances, combined with nationalistic exuberance and expansive wishful thinking began to erode the idea that much of the West was a desert. The 1870s were a particularly wet decade on the plains, and the growth of a stable market for crops in Denver around the gold rush had induced many farmers to try their hand in the region. William Gilpin, first territorial governor of Colorado, had already elaborated in an 1860 book the continental mission of the United States, and became one of the primary boosters of plains settlement. Manifest Destiny had, by this time, become a creed—official policy for a generation of Americans.
     The delusions of empire and the vagaries of the doctrine of Manifest Destiny necessitated the denial of the elemental realities of the West. “The semi-arid plains between the 100th meridian and the Rockies, plains which had barred settlement and repelled Spaniard and Anglo-American alike,” for boosters like Gilpin, “were no desert, nor even a semi-desert, but a pastoral Canaan.” They would even go so far as to claim that rain would follow the plow. Popular magazines and local newspapers took up the cause and all sorts of enterprises developed to move settlers onto the plains. It worked, and by 1878, entries under the Homestead Act in Nebraska, Kansas, Dakota and Minnesota had exceeded two and a half million.
     The triumph was short-lived, however. Many of these farmers soon felt themselves the victims of a grand hoax. First of all, the standard allotment under the Homestead Act of 160 acres was insufficient. It has been well testified to that no farmer, however diligent, could make a living on such a spread in a country with an annual rainfall of less that twenty inches. Beyond this, the climate was fierce. Hugh snows, particularly in the north, buried the land for months at a time; plagues of locusts came regularly and ate everything in sight; winds blew away the soil cleared of its cover by the plow; and the very marginality of the business of farming destroyed most of these homesteaders before they even got established. The relatively few that hung on did so by acquiring more land, or by tapping underground sources of water with windmills.
     Aside from farming, there were entrepreneurs on the plains who took advantage of the wide expanse of “free” grass. During the 1860s and 1870s the plains, particularly the southern half of the region, played host to an expanding cattle industry. But this episode also was short lived. Drought, overgrazing, and falling meat prices ended the reign of the cowboy. “Depauperized of much of its grass and invaded by mesquite and weeds, the region emptied out,” wrote Marc Reisner, in his book Cadillac Desert. Yet another cycle in the boom and bust history of the American West. The next boom for the plains came a few decades later, during and after World War One. A demand for bread and a decade of wet weather “sparked a repopulation, and the plains became a sea of wheat,” writes Walter Prescott Webb. This lasted little more than a decade. The Dust Bowl once again depopulated the Great Plains. This is what Webb meant when he called the American West a “Perpetual Mirage.”
     One would think that this story would hold a great lesson. A lesson that would make us think twice about the value of the West as a home for so many people. Land has a very definite and almost quantifiable carrying capacity; that is, the amount of life a region can sustain. The story of the Great Plains should—in a perfect world—cause us to question, not only our ability to survive in such a region, but also our affect on the balance of nature.
     The Great Plains, and the American West in general, has become the world’s bread basket. Today, the agricultural output of this region is huge. But have we here built a house of cards? Since World War II the West has relied heavily on underground sources of water—the Ogallala aquifer in the plains states—and, on massive federally funded water projects—dams and ditches and canals. But aquifers are a non-renewable resource and reservoirs silt up and turn dams into waterfalls.
     The American West is “the most ambitious desert civilization the world has seen,” says Reisner. Confronted by the desert, Anglo-Americans, based on the pretension that natural obstacles do not exist, have attempted to inhabit, by the millions, a country that would, under normal conditions, countenance only dispersed groups of thousands. Huge cities and small towns dot the maps of the West. But they are widely scattered. When one looks closely at a political map of the American West, one gets the impression that this land is for the most part empty. Indeed, it is empty. The American West is an oasis civilization. Bernard DeVoto, in The Western Paradox, says: “The West is a desert. Its mountains are the oasis that make its society possible.”
     “One does not really conquer a place like this,” as Reisner has said. “One inhabits it like an occupying army and makes, at best, an uneasy truce with it.” Anglo-American efforts, over the past century and a half, to transform this desert into a Garden of Eden have been monumental—Promethean. But what have we really achieved? In reality, we have turned only a “Missouri-size” portion of the desert green—and that primarily with non-renewable groundwater. Large cities huddle like outposts against a fierce wilderness. Think of the air-conditioned make-believe world of Phoenix, Las Vegas, Albuquerque, El Paso—like the mythical Seven Cities of Cibola. What will these cities become when the water runs out?
     In 1949 Frank Zybach of Strasbourg, Colorado, invented the center-pivot irrigation system—a huge rotating sprinkler centered on a well. This new technology would have a profound effect on the plains states. “By 1979, there were more than 15,000 of these units in use in Nebraska alone, and they had transformed the plains landscape from a giant checkerboard to rows and rows of bright green checkers,” wrote Donald Worster. This was, of course, another great boom for the plains. But it has had the effect of rapidly depleting the Ogallala aquifer. “By the late seventies, farmers were mining the aquifer at ten times its recharge rate, taking out an amount over the rate of replenishment equivalent to the entire Colorado River flow.” Worster estimates that the Ogallala could be exhausted by the first or second decade of the twentieth century. The next bust for the plains states seems to be visible on the horizon.
     Turning the desert green seems almost Biblical dogma in this country. As Marc Reisner has shown in his book Cadillac Desert: The American West and Its Disappearing Water, nearly all the major federally funded water projects in the West—and, in fact, throughout the country—are big financial losers. Furthermore, the water these projects delivered was not really needed, and the hydro power generated by the dams was surplus. There was something driving these massive public works projects other than human need. Subduing the wilderness, transforming the barren wastes of the West into Canaan had become, by the latter part of the nineteenth century, “an established national preoccupation.” The implications of this prevailing ideology were unabashedly imperialistic, and the justification was “moral, patriotic, religious, economic and scientific” says Worster. It was our duty as Christians and patriotic Americans to accept and pursue this form of “progress.”
     Not everyone agreed, however. Many people felt that untrammeled wilderness had, in and of itself, intrinsic value; that human needs did not always take precedence over the needs of wild nature. On March 1, 1872, President Ulysses S. Grant signed an act designating over two million acres of northwestern Wyoming as Yellowstone National Park. This marked the world’s first instance of large-scale wilderness preservation in the public interest. The wilderness ideal had officially set itself up as an opposition to the prevailing ideology. Throughout the twentieth century and beyond the millennium this opposition would blossom into the environmental movement.
     Particularly in the West it inevitably followed that these two outlooks would collide—and it would be a safe bet that this collision would occur over water. The first major collision would be over the Hetch Hetchy Valley in northern California. The city of San Francisco, perpetually in search of a supply of fresh water, had for years had its eye on the valley as a site to build a dam and create a reservoir, both for water and for hydroelectric power. The problem was that the Hetch Hetchy Valley lay within the environs of Yosemite National Park—designated a wilderness preserve in 1890. But in April of 1906 the city of San Francisco suffered an earthquake and fire, and the added urgency and public sympathy for the city’s search for an adequate water supply helped her cause. In May, 1908 Secretary James R. Garfield approved the project.
     A bitter battle ensued and the final decision would be made by lawmakers in Washington. John Muir, founder of the Sierra Club, was at the center of the war for Hetch Hetchy. Muir and his followers, along with many other similar groups—the flourishing “cult of wilderness”—launched a national protest campaign. Though the campaign was hugely successful, Congress and President Wilson decided in favor of San Francisco, essentially stating that the needs of people and civilization were more important than wild untarnished nature.
     The ideal of wilderness preservation in America had lost the battle, but, as this controversy demonstrated, it was well on its way to winning the war. Roderick Frazier Nash concludes the chapter on Hetch Hetchy in Wilderness and The American Mind by pointing out that “the most significant thing about the controversy over the valley was that it occurred at all. One hundred or even fifty years earlier a similar proposal to dam a wilderness river would not have occasioned the slightest ripple of public protest.” He goes on to say:




“Older generations conceived of the thrust of civilization into the wilderness as the beneficent working out of divine intentions, but in the twentieth century a handful of preservationists generated widespread resistance against this very process. What had formerly been the subject of national celebration was made to appear a national tragedy… The extent and vigor of the resistance to San Francisco’s plans for Hetch Hetchy constituted tangible evidence for the existence of a wilderness cult. Equally revealing was the fact that very few favored the dam because they opposed wilderness… While placing material needs first, they still proclaimed their love of unspoiled nature. Previously most Americans had not felt compelled to rationalize the conquest of wild country in this manner. For three centuries they had chosen civilization without any hesitation. By 1913 they were no longer so sure.”



     The dam and reservoir at Hetch Hetchy Valley served for a long time as a sort of rallying cry for preservationists and environmentalists—in the vein of “remember the Maine,” or “remember the Alamo.” But in the early 1960s Hetch Hetchy was replaced by the Glen Canyon dam and subsequent Lake Powell in Utah—which impounded the mighty Colorado River and created “the biggest sewage lagoon in the American Southwest,” as Ed Abbey dubbed it—as the focal point of preservationists’ mantra. Russell Martin, in A Story That Stands Like a Dam, says that “Glen Canyon had become somehow hallowed, the most potent symbol of environmental destruction in the nation…” The damming of rivers all over the West has in fact become one of the central issues in the environmental movement. For all, no where else is there a more vivid and stunning reminder of what man can do to nature than a powerful river reduced to a sort of sewage system.
     With this American mind-shift toward preservation of wild places came a correspondingly profound shift in our attitudes toward the desert landscape. “From being a loathsome and ugly environment, the desert increasingly came to be a landscape modern people would deliberately seek out.” The explanation for this shift, according to Donald Worster, was that “for [a] generation of Americans deserts came to answer certain powerful needs, among them a desire for solitude, for beauty, for uncluttered existence, for the nonhuman.” Marking the turning point were two books; one by a disillusioned housewife and Illinois transplant, Mary Austin; the other by a stoic forty-two-year-old Rutgers art professor, John C. Van Dyke. Both authors were gifted with prose, and both approached the desert as a place of beauty and solitude, a landscape for the seeker after inner truth. Thus began a long tradition of writing about the desert that includes such figures as Aldo Leopold, Joseph Wood Krutch, Everett Ruess, Edward Abbey, Terry Tempest Williams, Barry Lopez and numerous others.
     Edward Abbey expressed what many of us feel about the American West in what has become a sort of cult classic—Desert Solitaire. At the beginning of a chapter on water he relates a conversation he had with a tourist from Ohio while working as a park ranger at Arches National Monument:


“‘This would be good country,’ a tourist says to me, ‘if only you had some water.’
     “He’s from Cleveland, Ohio.
     “‘If we had water here,’ I reply, ‘this country would not be what it is. It would be like Ohio, wet and humid and hydrological, all covered with cabbage farms and golf courses. Instead of this lovely barren desert we would have only another blooming garden state, like New Jersey. You see what I mean?’
     “‘If you had more water more people could live here.’
     “‘Yes sir. And where then would people go when they wanted to see something besides people?’
     “‘I see what you mean. Still, I wouldn’t want to live here. So dry and desolate. Nice for pictures but my God I’m glad I don’t have to live here.’
     “‘I’m glad too, sir. We’re in perfect agreement. You wouldn’t want to live here, I wouldn’t want to live in Cleveland. We’re both satisfied with the arrangement as it is. Why change it?’
     “‘Agreed.’”


Abbey has captured a growing sentiment in the West—that this place is different, and that water is the primary reason for that difference. I know personally several people who have moved to the West in order to cure their “claustrophobia.”
     I must avoid prognostication; I am no prophet of the apocalypse. But it is not prophecy to recognize that we are flirting with disaster here in the American West. We have perhaps created here the greatest desert civilization in the history of man. It is axiomatic to say that civilizations are cyclical, that they are born, grow, fade and die. History also tells us that civilizations in arid lands do not last very long. The most enduring of these examples—Egyptians along the Nile River—as Worster points out, “learned to use [the river] without violating its order,” and that “they respected the river…” Since Egypt converted to western style agriculture in the early nineteenth century the Nile valley as an agricultural region has been in steep decline.
     Social and environmental historians like Worster and Nash have shown that Americans generally lack respect for the natural world which sustains them. We have clearly not learned to use our national resources without violating the natural order. Thus it is highly doubtful we can sustain a desert civilization for as long as Egypt did. Furthermore, the Egyptian civilization was comparatively small in size and far less ambitious. The American West has outgrown itself, and in a region dedicated to growth for its own sake—the motive force of a cancer cell—the danger increases everyday. What is to happen to the huge number of people who live in these western states when the Ogallala dries up? Most of the dams on western rivers were built during a forty year period and most have about the same life-expectancy. So what is to happen when these dams begin, one or two at a time, to reach the end of their usefulness?

Nov 18, 2011

Knee Deep in the Bottle Somewhere

I wrote a fun tragi-comic parody of the song "Knee Deep" by Zac Brown & Jimmy Buffett

Gonna throw my head away for a minute
pretend I don't live in it,
moonshine gonna wash my mind away...

Had real life but I lost it,
got too dull so I faught it,
now I'm lost in the bottle
tryin' a find me a better way...

Wishin' I was, knee deep in the bottle somewhere
got the night sky breeze
and it don't seem fair
only worry in the world
are the cops gonna take my chair...
Moonrise is a pie in the sky
never been so tipsy
never flew so high,
'till I wake up it's my own kind of paradise...

Wrote a note said be back in a minute,
bought a bottle an' I fell off in it
don't think anybody's gonna miss me anyway...

Mind's on a permanent vacation,
whiskey is my only medication
wish intoxication wasn't ever gonna go away...

Now I'm, knee deep in the bottle somewhere
got the night sky breeze
blowin' wind through my hair
only worry in the world
are the cops gonna take my chair...
Moonrise is a pie in the sky
never been so tipsy
never flew so high,
'till I wake up it's my own kind of paradise...

This weak-kneed floor,
washin' under me,
it's a bitter sweet life,
livin' by the bottle see...
One day you,
will be as lost as me...
Change your mixology
and mabye you might be...

Knee deep in the bottle somewhere
got the night sky breeze
and it don't seem fair
only worry in the world
are the cops gonna take my chair...
Moonrise is a pie in the sky
never been so tipsy
never flew so high,
'till I wake it's my own kind of paradise...

C'mon in the bottle's nice
rum with a little spice
grab a coke back and ice
you'll never know until you try...

When you lose your head
might find the key to paradise...

Nov 15, 2011

My Economic Forecast; with Explanations and History

Let me first say that I am not a professional economist; I am however an astute and studious observer of economic trends. My reading in this field is vast and I have attempted to study all perspectives. The economic forecast I present here is as honest and reasonable as I am capable of.
      If you are making 50K a year today, you can expect to be making 40K several years from now; and 30K in roughly 5 years. If your home is valued today at 100,000K, you can expect that in 5 years it will be valued at 70K; and 50K in perhaps 10 years. A loaf of bread costs about 2 dollars today; a few years from now it will likely cost 4 dollars; and perhaps 5-6 dollars a few years later. Do not expect to buy a new car every 3-4 years. Forget about any real job-security; you may have 3 or 4 different "careers" in the next decade, and each new career will pay less than the previous. This is the tip of the iceberg; this is the slow but accelerating strangulation of what we once called the "middle class;" the slow and painful death of the American dream.
      Economics is called the dismal science, and with good reason. But is this disappearance of the middle class inevitable? Not necessarily (although at this point in our history the trend is probably irreversable). Appologists for the American economic system call the process a "correction," whereby the invisible hand of capitalism moves the economy back into balance. Technically, this is true in the case of the housing market; a huge inflationary bubble in the price of housing is currently in the process of bursting. The appologists leave out the fact that this bubble was caused, perhaps deliberately engineered, for the enrichment of a few people; a handful of people were willing to gamble with the economic health of the entire country, in fact the entire world, in order to enrich themselves.
      However, to claim that the decline in income is simply a market "correction" is blatanly false. Consider that today the wealthiest 1% continue to see their salaries rise, while the rest of us watch our income fall. How can that be?
      The answer is simple: the 1% has hijacked the American economy. This is not a conspiricy, but simply the result of an ideology shared by this 1% of individuals, and in fact shared by many of the rest of us as well. This ideology says, in summa, that one should do anything possible to gain wealth, let the next guy do the same, and the consequences for the larger society do not matter.
      Who or what, then, is to be blamed for this painful economic trend? To call the disappearance of the middle class inevitable is dishonest and oversimplified. A look at the history of this economic trend might shed light on the question of who or what is to be blamed. If I had to affix a specific time to the beginning of the trend line, or at least it's rapid acceleration, I would point to the Reagan administration. Hints of this economic trend were visible during the Nixon administration, and in fact it was noticed. Consider that during the 40s 50s and 60s it was possible, and indeed it was the norm, for a household to survive on a single income. During the 70s that became less and less possible--and today, almost impossible. The Carter administration was perhaps aware of the trend, but Carter was too busy with foreign policy and being a mush-headed liberal to do much about it. But durning the Reagan administration the trend was obviously well understood, and was in fact seized upon and accelerated by a few opportunists for their own benefit. The trend was clearly recognized, continued unabated and was given another shot of adreneline during the George W. Bush administration, with the Bush tax-cuts.
      The result of this trend, which I believe is now inevitable, is plutocracy: a society in which the wealthiest 1% own and oberate, for their sole benefit, the apparatus of control (e.g. the police, the military, the media, the ballot-box); a society in which that 1% rules with absolute impunity, and the rights of the so-called 99% do not matter; a society that in essence resembles the feudal societies of the middle ages, where a few individuals own and control all of the means of survival, and the rest of us are helpless slaves. Who owns the home you live in? Probably the bank. Who owns the car you drive? Probably the bank. Who extends the credit you are forced to rely on for necessities sometimes? The bank... And who owns, or at least controls, the bank? Good question.
      After the worldwide financial crisis and economic collapse of 2008, the trend is, or should be, unavoidable. President Obama is of course sympathetic to the plight of the middle class, but it is the sympathy of a millionaire, not a man in the trenches. In reality there is very little the Obama administration can do; this trend is now a wave too big to be reversed. If successful, Obama's efforts to raise taxes on corporations and the wealthy, while cutting the tax-burden on the middle class, can do little more than cushion the fall. The fact that he is likely to be unsuccessful in this, and that a large proportion of the American public are against these policies, demonstrates how much power the plutocrats already have.
      The Republicans are actively pushing forward the agenda of the plutocrats, probably without really understanding the ultimate consequences. Deregulation and tax-cuts for corporations and the wealthy, while erroding medicare and social security and other social safety-nets, continues to be the Republican mantra, even though 40 years of economic decline prove these policies are bad for the middle class. The Democrats are too busy worrying about what school kids are eating for lunch and how many people own guns and whether or not minorities and gays and women are being discriminated against; in short, social issues. They fail to recognize and address the one issue--this trend that is destroying the middle class--that renders all other issues moot. Without economic justice, no other social justice matters.
      As I said, this is not a conspiricy on the part of the 1%; it is the simple operation of an ideology of self-interest on the part of individuals. The blame rests in many, many beds. Ultimately, it even rests with the 99%. For 40 years we have ignored reality; as my dad likes to say, we were "fat dumb and happy." We were comfortable enough to be lazy and indifferent toward the big questions of economic policy; too distracted by all our menial pleasures to notice that a tiny fraction of the population was busy hijacking our future for their own benefit; too in awe of the moneymad fatcats on Wall Street to recognize that they were building a house of cards that would bring us all down, and that we would have to bail them out to keep our own ship from sinking. We bought what they were selling, and so we must share the blame.
      And what do we do now?
      Wake up and prepare for plutocracy.

Oct 22, 2011

Drink Therapy

People who do not drink, and have never been drinkers, like to give advice. The popular notion that drinking to deal with emotional pain is a bad idea, and is dangerous and unhealthy, is propagated by people who have no real experience with the subject. Heavy and prolonged drinking is, of course, another story, and I do not deny the existence of alcoholism as a serious condition. But, for most of us, the reality here is not quite so simple, not quite so cut-and-dry.
     The idea seems to be that drinking is a means of suppressing ones emotions, or distracting one from the problems they face in life. The reality, for most of us, is quite different. In fact, drinking forces emotions to the surface that might otherwise be repressed. The kind of emotional honesty and self-reflection that alcohol engenders, and sometimes makes impossible to ignore, is ultimately healthy. Getting drunk from time to time can indeed affect a catharsis, an emotional release of feeling that has been repressed, that might otherwise fester and do more damage. For most of us, drinking is not a means of escaping reality, but rather a way of confronting a reality that we find difficult to face. Drinking does not help us to avoid feelings, if forces us to confront feelings that ultimately have to be dealt with one way or another. In many cases, drinking brings out feelings that we were unaware of, thus forcing us to deal with them. Those who do not drink have no way of knowing these things.
     I am certainly not advocating drinking as the only way of dealing with emotional problems; nor am I saying it is the best way. There are other ways, of course, with verying degrees of effectiveness and consequences. These are, of course, personal decisions, and everyone is different. I say merely that occasional drinking is not an unhealthy way of dealing with the many problems of life. I say merely that the stigma attached to drinking is unfair, oversimplified, and ultimately incorrect. I say merely that if you are hurting, or feeling confused emotionally, or are needing clarity on some personal issue, do not regard getting drunk (in a safe setting) as a dangerous or unhealty strategy in sorting those things out.  I merely wish to correct some misconceptions within our cultural dogmas regarding drinking.
     Lighten up! Have a beer! Cheers!

Jun 20, 2011

Sunrise Symphony: excerpt from "Trouble in Paradox", chapter 9 "Only a Madman".

On this wild excursion I have with me a canine alarm clock. Kiowa sets my sleep schedule for me, regular as the river. Each morning here in Paradox, just about an hour before dawn, as the birdsong begins to echo off the canyon walls and the stillness of night is giving way to the gentle burgeoning of reawakened life, he rouses me with a cold nose and damp doggy-kisses to unzip the tent door and let him out. Age has taken his ability to hold his bowels and bladder. As he ambles off into the privacy of dawn to answer the inveterate call of necessity, I fix myself a cup of coffee on my little backpacking stove. When he returns we sit together in the foyer of the tent and watch the opening performance of the new day. As my mind come slowly out of the night's torpor I smoke and sip coffee and we listen to the music of morning, a full-bodied symphony of sunrise.
      The overture is performed by the river, slow and deep-structured and somehow building. The first movement is begun by the earliest of early birds, that little brown fellow known as the Canyon Wren, performing a solo sonata allegro, his rapid gushing cadence of clear, curved notes descending the scale, then pausing and starting over an octave higher. For the second movement we hear an orchestral cantata: the Warbling Vireo trumpets his rich, syncopated "I am a vireo vireo!" setting the melody; the Mourning Dove hums his gentle melancholy "coowoo-ooo-woo-oo," modifying the texture and timbre; the Hermit Thrush adds his flutelike descending whistles, elaborating the theme. The undertones of the river build a bridge to the third movement, in which all voices join and the crescendo is reached when the Robin arrives with his loud, throaty "cheery-cheer-up-cheerio" finishing the movement almost too abruptly. But then comes the coda: a few Goldfinches nesting in the cottonwood above my tent sing the end of the sunrise symphony with their sweet, quiet and plaintive "tee-yee" rising, and "tee-yer" dropping, the music fading gently out as they one by one leave off the song or fly away.
      As the overture concludes the features of the canyon begin to become distinct in silouette. The first and second movements bring color and shadow into the day. And, as if on cue, as if there were some great choreographer behind the scenes, with the finale of the third movement, the abrupt crescendo, the fireball peeks into my riverside nook and touches my face--this section of my canyon points more or less east to west. The coda brings the slow mellow dance of heat in the tent and a strong desire to breakfast.
      This is how I begin my days here in Paradox. Back home in the city my day began to the noise of gears grinding and engines belching black soot on 21st street. I keep this contrast in mind at all times, for one, because I have always loved contrast, but also for safety reasons, to help vindicate my actions, to aid in the defense of what I have done here...

Jun 4, 2011

Wilderness or Civilization: A Critique of Modern Society

Note: During my sojourn in Paradox I often held debates with a campfire; in this excerpt, from chapter 11, I am debating whether or not to return to civilization.

     "But the wilderness might have to be my home," I respond somberly, an ache of dread rising like heartburn in my throat. That civilization back home, it is a crime against humanity--and nature. Really, to speak clearly, it is not a civiliazation at all, absolutely undeserving of the name: more an organized gang of independant individuals reverting back to the barbarous individualism of childhood. Civilization is a delicate balance between reason and instinct, between passion and restraint, between nature and nurture, order and chaos. Some phases of culture are more balanced than others, yes, and some are just plain corrupt.
     Forgive me, O enlightened postmodern age, if my admiration leans more toward the austere virtue of self-restraint and discipline in the Victorian nineteenth century, more than the rich pot-smoke baccanalia of thoughtless self-indulgence in the hippy sixties and beyond. Forgive me if I doubt such highminded social progress, if I point out that tolerance can be taken too far (and usually is), that individualism is a herd-instinct which eradicates distinctions and mutilates identity, that all the great social causes have failed, leaving only new and more subtle evils in their wake. Forgive me if I judge the obsession with individual psychology and "finding one's self" more as narcissism than personal improvement, if I fail to see how the assertion of personal liberty needs a criminal indulgence--like Dostoevsky's Raskolnikov, who proved his freedom by casual homicide. Forgive me if I want conventional mores and responsibilities, sacred traditions and the difficulty of achievement--and personal freedom.
     Asked for centuries to swallow the idea of a slow, geologic creep toward the grand perfection of culture and humanity, and then to have that entrenched idea exposed as a cruel fraud in the hideous burnout of the twentieth century. Broken promises. With a history like that, isn't it forgivable that we run like mindless partisans to one extreme or another? that we find shelter in the murderous Puritanism of rightwing religion and politics; or that we dissappear in leftwing liberal paralysis, naive and cynical, ever with that reactionary peaches-and-cream idealism so helpless in the real world--flee the conservative bughouse to wander a liberal wasteland, as Thomas Mann said. Or that we hideout in the chaotic and vulgar nightmare of unrestrained individualism, nursing a sixties hangover, where everything is equal and the Will is God and no value judgment is possible; or that we take shelter in the sickheaded self-absorbed narcissism of eastern-style meditation, that mystical bootlicking guru-guided life-denying creed of the perpetually unsound; or that we dissolve our personalities into that insensate nebula of the gullible self-help junky; or that we descend groping into that thoughtless paradise-in-a-pill labyrinth, ever believing that happiness is simply a chemical reaction; or that we stow away in the deadhead distraction and soul-tainting flatulence of the mass-media megalith and all its many arms of crude amusement... One creed or another, any creed, all creeds, all counterfeit, all temporary, all products of some invisible cultural neurosis.
     Speak of values, either proclaim them inviolable, or butt blindly against them. But we are forever unable even to define the term, for the old ones don't make sense anymore, and the new ones are futureless and empty. We are infantile in our helplessness but reckless in our pride, and so we become a culture of shallow makebelieve and pernicious falsehood. The obvious evils and blatant failures of society are either cut out of the picture or conveniently blamed on forces claimed beyond control. Anything that does not come quickly and with ease we ridicule as obsolete or simply treat with indifference. The difficult questions of life are left to a gaggle of experts, the important decisions left to queue of authorities, and the rest of us dance around in the vacuum. The future is now, tomorrow is disposable, and manifestly disposed of... Who could wonder at the inexplicable hopelessness, the wrenching despair, the inarticulate angst we sense everywhere these days...? Who could wonder...
     "No way," I affirm, solemnly, to the campfire. "The wilderness is the only thing left for us, the only thing left worth fighting for, the last refuge of sanity. I can't go back to that ironclad shell of a social disorder, that integrated disintegration they call civilization... I must learn to live off the land, find the primitive and rebuild the good world out here in Paradox... No, I can't go back. I won't go back."

May 15, 2011

The U.S. National Debt is Peanuts: the Myth of "Trickle-Down" Economics

In listening to the various pundits and news reports--and I follow as many news sources as I can, including the pseudo-news on Fox--about our current economic situation, it seems to me that the most important points are missing from the discussion. For the most part what is talked about is job-creation, or the lack thereof; but rarely is the quality of those jobs addressed. The economy created so many jobs in the last quarter et cetera, but nothing is said about what kind of jobs they are. The avoidance of this point by the pundits is curious, if not dishonest, because therein lies the most basic and fundamental problem facing the U.S. economy; namely the disparity between rich and "not-rich." The exponential widening of the income-gap in this country is the ultimate problem, and every honest economist knows it. Why do we hear so little about it?
     The lion's share of new jobs created by this economy in recent memory are not good ones; mostly menial, low-paying jobs with no benefits or retirement plans. These are jobs that, 30 years ago, would have been difficult to fill; now there are a hundred applicants. A high unemployment rate is actually very good news for business, because it drives down wage-rates. That is Economics 101. All of this is rapidly eroding the middle-class; it not far out to say that in perhaps a decade, there will be no such thing as a "middle-class", but merely haves and havenots.
     Even America's economic guru and foremost apologist for free-market capitalism, Alan Greenspan, is alarmed by the fast growing income-gap, calling it a "national crisis" (see the article by Freeland in the Atlantic Monthly from January/February of this year if you don't believe me). It can be reasonably argued that the huge gap between rich and not-rich was a primary cause of the Great Depression in the 1930's. It certainly is not unreasonable to argue that the same is a primary cause of our recent/current recession. (See Paul Krugman's The Great Unraveling and Return to Depression Economics, J.K. Galbraith's The Predator State, and Robert Schiller's Irrational Exuberance for more on this.) 
     The rich get richer and the poor get poorer; that, of course, is not new. The process, however, was given a shot of adrenaline by an economic theory known as "trickle-down," or "Reaganomics," back in the 70s and 80s, whereby the wealthy and corporations are given dramatic tax-cuts on the assumption that they will then invest more heavily, thus creating jobs for the non-rich, and thus wealth would trickle down to everyone, creating a Plutocratic utopia. The idea originated on the right-wing, and gradually by means of powerful propaganda--little short of brain-washing--has nearly become mainstream. The Bush tax-cuts are the most recent and glaring example. Thus the middle-class pays a larger percentage of their income in taxes than most large corporations and the rich. 
     The almost total failure of this economic theory to create that utopia is being systematically ignored; witness that the Dow is touching record levels again; witness the rich and super-rich, routinely displaying their outsized wealth, blatantly exploiting their huge political influence (mostly in the republican party, but it certainly crosses party-lines often enough), while the vast majority of Americans are living paycheck to paycheck, struggling to hang on to what little comfort they still have. The American Dream--if there ever was such a thing--has plainly become a fantasy for my generation. It simply is not going to happen.  
     The fact that so many, particularly on the right, persist in believing the myth of "trickle-down" economics strikes me as dishonest; it is more thinly disguised self-interest than genuine belief. Anyone worth less than, say, 1 million, who insists on the righteousness of this economic theory, and supports those in power who wish to use it to guide the country's economic policy, is in essence cutting their own financial throat.
     The ongoing debate in Washington about how to solve the government's debt crisis has become little more than a circus, because powerful forces behind the scenes have managed to convince so many Americans to cut their own throats. According to a study by the Deloitte Center for Financial Services and Oxford Economics, U.S. millionaires collectively will go from $39 trillion to $87 trillion in wealth by 2020. The national debt stands at $14 trillion. Peanuts. The idea, again mostly but not completely from the right, that the only way to pay this debt is through deep cuts in the various social programs (e.g. medicare, social security etc.) is absurd, and ultimately dishonest. If the wealthy and large corporations want to operate on American soil, let them pay their fair share. And yes, it is fair; even though they pay more in raw dollars than does the average tax-payer base, they pay a smaller proportion of their income than does the average tax-payer. (Don't be fooled by this inverted statistical trick; remember Samuel Johnson's injunction: "There are liars. There are damn liars. And then there are statistics.")
     The counter argument to this, of course, is that raising taxes on corporations will cause those corporations to take jobs overseas; and raising taxes on the rich will discourage investment, thus hurting the overall economy. The problem with this argument is that corporations are already taking jobs overseas, for various other reasons, and will do so whatever the tax laws may say. The overall economy--such as it is--was in far better shape before the Bush tax-cuts; it would be hard to argue otherwise, although some will. Further, though it seems counter-intuitive, wealthy individuals are not a very large piece of the "investment pie"; rather it is the 401Ks and various different kinds of funds, shares in which are owned by everyday working middle-class people, that makes up the majority of investment; so that the loss of some amount of investment by the rich would make little difference.
     This is not to say that some cuts in spending are not going to be necessary. Governments are bureaucracies, and bureaucracies are inherently wasteful. If we want to solve the so-called debt crisis, some belt tightening is going to be necessary. The republicans in congress, still claiming to believe the myth of "trickle-down" economics despite the mountain of evidence that the theory is bad news for all but a tiny fraction of the population, want the middle-class to make all the sacrifices; deep cuts in government programs that middle and lower income Americans rely on, while further cutting taxes on corporations and the rich. I have to question their honesty and integrity. It all smells a bit fishy to me; as Will Rogers said, "We have the best politicians money can buy."

May 10, 2011

Why We Write

Here we are, authors, serious and otherwise, making our way through the yawning haze of American culture, fighting through the muck of popular ambivance, slashing at the fabric of public ennui, all scribbling our footnotes to Plato, and taking a dose of hemlock for our troubles. Why do we do it? Why do we write? For me, at any rate, I do it because there seems no alturnative. I fight on because I cannot do otherwise. Credo: I must write to shore-up the good and beautiful, the true and possible; I must write to expose the frauds, to undercut the resounding hubris and bullshit we are surrounded by these days; I must write to give courage to friends and unknown comrads, and to frustrate our common enemies. I write to restore faith in humanity, to restore faith in the future, and to turn arwy those currents in the drift of history which seek to destroy both... Author's, take courage!

Excerpt from chapter 13 of Trouble in Paradox

For all our Western liberal democratic traditions and individualist rhetoric, we are a collectivist, Gnostic people who long ago swallowed the horse-pill of Marxist determinism and chased it with a vial of structuralist poison, causing an ugly growth of confused moral relativism. We no longer trust ourselves, we no longer trust what we see, convinced that appearance is illusion and that there lurks below the surface some absolute but discoverable structural system. With no genuine faith left in the moral conscience or the freedom of the individual will, with no belief in our transcendent ability to direct the currents of history, and with a latent mistrust of empirically demonstrable surface facts, we are a people who walk blindly along a predetermined cultural and biological path, following the invisible mandates of a theoretical substructure, as revealed to us from the high-bully-pulpit of the social sciences--psychology, sociology, anthropology, economics, demographics etc. Psychology and sociology decide how we will behave; economics, geography and demographics determine where we will live and what we will do with our time; anthropology informs us of who and what we are.
     Like all forms of intellectual utopianism, this variety implies the kind of inevitable social engineering that killed untold millions in the twentieth century. And it contains another, more personal and ultimately more dangerous undercurrent: by it we have turned a collective cold shoulder to all thought of human possibility; the easy assumption that human activities and attributes are governed by strict natural laws--analogous to the physical laws which govern the inanimate world--essentially amounts to a complete abdication of our individual humanity, and an absolute loss of hope. The bedrock of tomorrow is eroded away, the field of the future laid with mines (which are, of course, predestined and unavoidable)...

About the Author

My name is Aaron and I’m an alcoholic—by choice. I live in Colorado Springs, Colorado, with my memories. I have been walking the wrong way down a one way street for most of my life; living out on the fringes and testing the edges to see what I can see—and writing about it. I spend most of my time buried in books, wandering the wild outdoors, scribbling in my journals, or drunk on a barstool. I am 32 years old, work a futile and tedious part-time job, and sporadically take classes at the University of Colorado, purely for the sake of interest (almost ten years in college and no degree on the horizon—but I try to remain modest.) I have been called many things: a redneck intellectual, a vulgar poet, a shrewd fool, a bigoted liberal, a closet moralist, a hopeless romantic, a cynical idealist, an honest liar, and (my favorite) the weeping comedian. Slightly neurotic with a painfully average libido, I am subject to a lust for dive bars, cheap cigars, classical music, desolate deserts, pretty girls, and long moonlit walks off short planks. Though I have been writing for years, Trouble in Paradox is my first coherent, book-length piece—first of many. My ambitions lean toward literary fiction, and my first novel is currently fermenting in my febrile head.