It's Getting Darker Outside

There is a lot going on right now in the world.

In just about every direction you look, there is something wicked slouching its way toward you. Pick a horror, any horror, and you'll find some vestige of it somewhere. There are even horrors that aren't yet fully realised, like the more severe forms of climate change, waiting their turn to fully reveal themselves in the hot bright lights of general awareness.
Forget the theory; there's more than enough actual stuff happening that has serious implications for the future, although the present is by no means underrepresented. Just when we had begun to think that the spectre of nuclear extinction had been banished by the finale of the Cold War, it turns out that it remains a real and ever-present danger. The fingers on the buttons have been replaced in some cases, but the truth is there are simply more places that have buttons of their very own now.
Internecine warfare, always a perennial favourite, continues in various places. There seems no end to the bloodshed and misery humans are perfectly capable of inflicting on each other, despite there being organisations in the world dedicated to providing alternatives that theoretically make actual conflict a last resort.
Economic difficulties abound. All of the richest countries on the planet are facing an imminent collapse of their financial systems, currencies, and economies. Jobs are being lost, bankruptcies are rampant, and the social divide between 'have some, at least' and 'have nothing, damn' is beginning to manifest itself in an increasingly un-civil fashion. Owing to the perception that racial differences are at play in the struggle to find a job and pay the bills, there is a growing tension between various racial groups, especially in Europe and the United States. The American situation is particularly delicate, in that the outcome of the election in November stands an excellent chance of being viewed through the filtre of race now that politics has proven itself to be somewhat lacking in truth and honour.

It would seem that day-to-day life is about to change in real and pervasive ways, since the abstracts of the market and its behaviour are of no moment to the average person. All such a one sees is that the grocery store still has empty shelves, or that the gas station offers product that is no longer affordable. Hungry children and wind-swept houses are powerful incentives for rash actions, for when the lights go out the places with generators become attractive. Eventually, such places will become targets.
There is talk of revolution. Everywhere there are whispers of change, violent change, done in the dark with knives and silent. More and more people are realising that soon they can expect less and less of what they have hitherto enjoyed. This is worrisome. They prepare & arm themselves against the day when the men come in their armoured trucks to collect what little has been laid by, and they design sinister ends for anyone who comes to their door seeking help. What happens when submission is not an option, but there is no other choice? When the cities are finally empty, having let their masses loose in the countryside, there will be nothing left but hardship and empty pockets. The bunkers will at last be silent, as the ammunition runs out and the gates fall. Those who chose the apparent safety of the camps, the stadia, the relocation centre, will find that their choice did not lead to a new beginning, and the safety was temporary and illusory. As the weather changes, and the sun dims, and the land lies fallow and unloved, the ones who stayed close will regret that they did not do more, could not have done more, and in the end all that was left was a last bullet.

Nevermore will we be safe, or free, or contented. The easy years are gone, left behind in a cloud of auto exhaust and high-density polyethyelene. The faded pictures of our young, strong, hopeful parents, who faced the future with such optimism, will go down into dust with what remains of their legacy to us. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves- unless the dice do not belong to us, and our fate is too closely tangled with that of our forebears to ever be separated.
We will have to deal with a fate not of our making, and there are few choices left.

One Of My Favourite Quotes...!

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently and die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."---- Robert A. Heinlein

A Personal Comment About Bravado & Chest Thumping

(from a discussion thread at www.timebomb2000.com)

Of late, with all that is going on, with especial reference to the indignities and outrages being perpetrated around the world against the United States by the followers of Islam, which seem poised to envelop the rest of us, emotions and tempers have been running a little hot around TB2K and elsewhere.

While entirely understandable, and certainly merited under the circumstances, I have been thinking about the flavour of some of the responses to various threads that I have made and that have been echoed by others of the Membership.

One comment that has really struck me was one that made reference to the bravado being thrown about with abandon. I wish to explore this idea briefly, and offer some clarification of a personal nature.

It is natural, I think, for persons feeling threatened or unjustly persecuted to react with a certain hostility. Of course, such hostility can take many forms, but on these pages it seems to (for now) be confined to comments suggesting a favourable reaction should any of a number of horrible fates be visited on the sources of those threats or persecutions, preferably messy and public ones.

I have repeatedly made reference to my desire to see to it that grave consequence be brought to the doors of these foreign dogs, and vowed a stern response should they ever arrive at my door.

These are not the aspirations of even-tempered, pleasant, educated, well-read, erudite persons! One does not wish ill of ones' fellow man! Ill-favoured brutes, who know nothing of the study, the drawing-room, the lecture theatre or the stage, these are to be found among those who would gleefully visit death upon others!

And yet, I am finding that many persons, myself included, would do just that.

And we are not ill-favoured, nor uneducated, nor unrefined or without manners or deference, and we are certainly possessed of the basic decency that is accorded all people who have had it bestown upon them at one time or other.

Why, then? What is the meaning of these calls to arms, these heedless rushes toward war, the many and manifold desires to crush, to expel, to defeat, to meet without preamble or question, those most unworthy who would be our lords?

I can only speak for myself henceforward.

Be it known to all and sundry: I bear these people no ill will, except in concept. While I despise their values, scoff at their notions of fairness and equality, spit on their definition of faith, and reject without hesitation their designs for mankind, they are only people, flawed and corrupt in their fashion, and as such it is my duty to understand their meaning and plumb the unspoken aspirations they are sworn to.

These things I will do, to be sure, provided they touch not my shores.

They can have all the 7th century hells they want, if they keep them close.

Sharia law is theirs for the asking, if it remain a local custom.

Their women and children may be treated according to pretext, if I can be excused.

All of these, and more besides, are not my bailiwick, nor am I to judge.

But they will not do it here. They shall not do it, here.

And this is where my sense of decency, my desire to be a good and peaceful person, diverges from my innate sense of morality, my perception of right and wrong, and my sworn duty to defend and keep from harm my family and community. Here, then is the division between simple, adolescent bravado, that bravery-at-a-safe-distance that causeth good men to blush, and a quiet, firm, inexorable determination to ensure the security and well-being of those I love, and the land I hold dear.

I have no issue with different ways of life, of varying custom and creed, of divergent views and free opinion oppostional. But I expect to be treated in kind, with equal deference for my choices, my ways, my thoughts and conclusions, which no person, regardless, has the right to gainsay, unless I have been so ungentlemanly as to cause harm or hurt to another.

This, say I, is fair and just.

I certainly expect, also, that my way of life shall not be questioned nor adjusted to meet the wishes of others, from outside, who do not share my values, who only desire conquest, and that by their own admission, who would have me submit in fear of reprisal, the moniker of 'racist' or 'intolerant'.

These things I will resist, if they are brought to my door.

There are many things about my culture that the muslims find objectionable. In many ways, I agree, and I want nothing more that to have the burdens of democracy and free will lifted from the shoulders of my bearded brothers, for they are not capable of the weights thereof.

I would also ask that they not follow my soldiers and businessmen and bureaucrats back to this land, seeking its riches, but to stay in their own, now that it has been made bereft of infidel and international aid worker alike, and apparently more worthy.

In sum, then, I have no problem with the mullah and the muj, the imam and the intifada, provided that they remain in their countries of origin, among friends. My ire will be considerably roused, however, should these things be visited upon me and mine in any considerable fashion, for then the way forward will be clear, and it will be littered with unsavoury things that used to be jihadis.

That is my vow, and these are the bounds of my choices.

Fear and Doubt

As I get older, I am finding that the certitude that has marked most of my adult life is slipping from me, by degrees inexorable, leaving me at times fearful and unsure, both conditions being quite unfamiliar.  This is a bald statement, to be sure, but if I am honest, it is also a truthful one.  I have noticed this effect only through indirect observation:  where decision-making was once a relatively effortless process, without much in the way of doubt or hesitation (I allow myself to be wrong, but never indecisive), of late it seems to take longer for me to see the appropriate choice, beset as I seem to be by doubt, confusion, and my own version of the soul-rending horror known as 'paralysis through analysis'.
There are just so many choices. The predicament facing humanity has many, many causes, arising from factors both involuntary and deliberate. When assessing the hows and the whys of those factors, it is extremely difficult to understand the process of our imminent arrival at a most hellish destination. Determining a response to that arrival, down here in the mud where most of us live, is proving to be most troublesome.
I have spent a greater portion of my life, then, achieving the ability to precisely and accurately fail to formulate a useful plan.
I have a satisfactorily exquisite insight into the workings of the modern nation-state, but I do not know how to farm. I understand international economics, and can explain the difference between the Chicago and  Austrian economic schools of thought, but I really do not understand how to butcher a deer. Ask me anything you like about the social underpinnings of the military and how oppression is fostered by the banks, but if you need to know where the best wild berries usually are to be found, you'll need to ask someone else.
I can articulate so much about how we got here, and why the solutions to our problems will not be found in better solar arrays, or more efficient batteries, or wind farms, or high-density communities instead of cities.
I have made it my business to understand the meaning of liberalism, the intricacies of stock markets, the fallacy of popular elections, the curse of trade unions, the destructiveness of entitlement mentality. I understand economies of scale, and the relation between complexity and fragility, and why organisation is necessary for survival. 
I know how we got here, and have some ideas about similar outcomes can be avoided in the future, if there is one for humanity.
None of this is useful to me, however, if my son starves because I could not feed him.
I had hoped that all this knowledge would be of use, to explain and articulate, to illustrate and shed light, to exemplify and elucidate. Questions would be asked, once the smoke had cleared, and I would have answers.
It all seemed so sensible, so worthy, to be able to explain what had happened to us, why the switches on the darkened walls no longer brought forth the light, why the toilets did not flush, what the big glass-fronted boxes in so many kitchens were for.
To be able to keep on keepin' on did not seem enough. Simple survival was not sufficient. There had to be an ability to express why, to provide an answer to the questions and accusations. Someone had to know what had happened, how and why it had happened, so that the lessons were not lost in the smoke and fog of despair.
Then my son arrived, and I now fear that my efforts have been in error, that I have wasted the chances I had to be better able to live on, to provide, to foster, to care. I fear that I have been remiss in my studies, that more practical skills would have been the more prudent choice, that there is so much I do not know that I should as a parent.
I fear that the darkness ahead will test me on things I did not study for. And the musings or ravings of all those who have gone before will be as nothing in the simplistic face of starvation.

The end of some things...?

The year is beginning to wind down, though the sun is still warm and the days gracious and the wildlife active.  Despite the summer fun still to be had, I at least can feel the turning of the season, the hush that is just starting to creep into view, like a backdrop poorly-lit.  It might be my imagination, to be sure, but I have learned that such things are too easily disregarded in the full light of day, usually at one's peril.  So I persist in my conviction, even as I enjoy the season and make use of the time available.  What else is there to do?
My wife and I were discussing things the other night, and I expressed how odd it was to be here, finally, with 2012's end in sight, this thing that has at least partially informed a great many of our decisions for the last 14 years, ever-present, always hovering at the back of our minds, whispering 'Don't forget...'.  And here we are, the last few months before the culmination of all those plans, endless discussion, miles of research, and several relocations.
It is a strange feeling in a strange place, but we have lots to do and to occupy our time.  Our son just turned a year old, and we are having such a blast with him that the world outside has lost some of its menace, at least for the present.  That sounds a little weird, for there is much to be concerned with beyond the walls of our life, but so much of what we might face is either far away, or imaginary, or false, or a contrived scheme to make people afraid of each other, that we simply don't have the inclination to worry about it.  What will be, will be, and there is little we can do to arrest or divert it.  We can only do the best we can, for ourselves and our son.  He will have to deal with in fact what his parents have spent a long time dealing with in theory, and so his path will look very different from ours.  We are intent, however, on ensuring that he will have the tools he needs to respond to the coming changes in a positive and useful way.  Indeed, we have already begun this process...
Nevertheless, we are increasingly concerned by the things we see around us, and in my darker moments I notice potentials that give me pause when I consider the future.  So much of what is happening is needless, and there are so many things afoot that are considered problems and threats that are not, in fact, either, while the real threats go unremarked and unexamined.  It is these things that will prove our undoing, societally speaking, since they constitute overwhelmingly the power to destroy the whole of human artifice, or at the very least, to render what might remain irrelevant and without potential.
Perhaps the Solstice this year will pass like any previous one, without event of note.  That will not, however, clear the slate; it will simply mean the timetable has shifted, that the equation has been re-balanced with different terms.  The systemic, endemic, eternal problems besetting humanity will not have been resolved, but their unfolding merely re-scheduled.  We know this, and we are saddened by this, but we will continue to love our son, each other, and the Earth, for as long as we are able.  For the rest, each shall be addressed in its turn, according to need, as required, in a calm, precise, military manner.  And that shall have to be sufficient.