Thursday 31 May 2012

Leave it in the ground

An almighty rush to dig up the ground is sweeping through Australia and other parts of the world.
Fed by the global hunger for energy, the rapid development of countries like China and India and steadily growing world population, we are in the grip of a frantic mining boom.
Mining is a daily discussion topic in Australia, which is rich in many of the world’s most needed minerals. New iron ore mines are being opened in remote parts of the country, while prospecting for coal, coals seam gas, gold and other minerals seems to be happening everywhere, often with concern and opposition from local communities.
Once, decades ago, Australia was said to be “riding on the sheep’s back” for our economic dependence on wool and other farming products. Now the talk is about the enormous wealth created by the minerals boom and the rise of mega-rich mining tycoons like Gina Rinehart, Andrew Forrest and Clive Palmer.
With this focus has come discussion about the distribution of this wealth, with the government introducing a resource rent tax to recoup some of the royalties for the benefit of the general population. The reality is that much of the wealth goes overseas and the states furthest from the most lucrative mines, where most of the population lives, struggle economically regardless of the boom. What is often left out of the discussion on mining is its most immediate cost – to the environment.
In advertisements run by the industry to shore up public support, you don’t see the scale of the gigantic holes gouged out of the earth by open-cut mines. You are not told that the earth is never the same after a mining operation, that there is no true “rehabilitation”. You are not informed about the millions of litres taken out of groundwater aquifers, or the toxic slurries that are pumped back into the ground from some mines. The digging is generally well away from population centres and so most people have no direct experience of what is going on. Driving through the coal-rich Latrobe Valley east of Melbourne you would not know that just a few kilometres from the road are massive open-cut mining holes.
Mining is underpinned by the idea that humans are separate from nature. The earth and its minerals are inert, dead, have no living connection to us, and so we take what we please. The aim is to provide raw materials to feed the engine of modern society and, if possible, make lots of money along the way. Indigenous people hold a different notion, that the land is alive and sacred and that we belong to the earth, not it to us. Nevertheless some Indigenous communities are co-opted by large corporations into accepting mining on their land with promises of jobs, schools and better roads.
If we accept that humans are separate from nature, then essentially there is no cost to our actions. But what happens when we dig out radioactive uranium? Or take iron ore from deposits left by living organisms in ancient seas? Or drill deep holes and remove the coal formed by ancient forests? I suspect it upsets balance in ways we know nothing about.
Our planet has created immense treasures in its 3 billion years in existence – treasures formed in the relationship between the atmosphere, wind, water, rocks, volcanic eruptions, shifting tectonic plates and myriad life forms. The planet’s unfolding transformations can be seen below and above the surface. In a way, we are stealing its history (which is our own history) by mining it; and we do this with no better reason in places like Australia than to support unsustainable lifestyles.
I don’t say there should be no mining, but it needs to be limited and strictly controlled. Above all, it should be informed by reality, not illusions of human dominance and separation from nature. The reality is that we are made of the very same elements we are digging out of the ground; we are formed by the earth and out of the earth, so we have to act with the utmost respect and in concert with life. In essence what we do to the planet, we do to ourselves.      
What is required is a radical shift of values, which I think is slowly occurring across the globe. Commentators like American theologian Matthew Fox talk about a creation-centred approach rather than a human-centred one. This is where we don’t negate human needs, but they are seen in the context of the needs of all beings and the planet as a whole. The old biblical maxim, “Do unto your neighbour as you would have done unto you” becomes “Do unto all life as you would have done unto you.”
The spread of environmental thinking and action across the world is a sign of this shift, but there is a very long way to go. I think the current mining mania shows a system in steady decline; often the worst aspects of a civilisation rise to the surface before there is great change. And there is hope – Gaia has undergone incredible upheavals over the aeons and its creative life essence, which is also our life essence, will go on regardless.

Sunday 13 May 2012

On Sacrifice

Since Anzac Day last month, the remembrance of the war dead of Australia and New Zealand, I’ve been thinking about the notion of sacrifice.
In the context of war, sacrifice is seen as a laudable goal. Men, and now some women, risk their lives to “protect” their country from an external foe. The sacrifice is linked to high ideals like freedom and democracy. The welfare of the community is set upon the actions and service of those who go to war, and to die in that service is “the ultimate sacrifice”.
There is something about that idea of sacrifice that, in the 21st century, seems lifeless and worn out. For instance, each war has underlying issues that are usually missing in public consciousness. World War I was essentially a clash of empires over territory and resources. World War II, despite the high note of stopping fascism, was about self-interest and control – as seen in the vast American and Soviet post-war spheres of influence. In recent years the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have been fought largely to maintain Western geopolitical and economic domination.    
The idea of sacrifice has been a tool of propaganda to obscure the real causes of war and to fudge the complexity and complicity of all sides in conflict. We project our inner demons onto an external enemy, seeing ourselves as blameless, selfless heroes while the other is cast as menacing and evil. It must be said that some enemies, like the Nazis and al-Qaeda, were and are evil. But what of the millions killed by “our” side in the various wars? The firebombing of Dresden and Tokyo; the nuclear horrors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki; the obliterated villages of Vietnam; the thousands dead from the US invasion of Iraq, the drone strikes on Pakistani and Afghan civilians. At the heart of warfare is the desire for power and an inability to see yourself in a fellow human being.
Sacrifice, in its best sense, is not a tool for someone else’s gain or for our own in any literal, material way. It is about giving something up so that the bigger, fuller Life can be advanced; to support the creative work of soul in the world. When parents sacrifice their time and interests for their children, helping them to grow and learn, it is not just the individual child who benefits but the evolving Life essence they embody. Humanity and Life more broadly are furthered. Sacrifice is about letting go of the narrow, restrictive bounds of ego to fulfil greater purpose, in the knowledge that we are more than disconnected, isolated selves.
In David Tacey’s book Edge of the Sacred: Jung, Psyche, Earth the author mounts a powerful argument for sacrifice as a tool of advancement in the specific Australian context. The attachment to rationality and masculinity that have been the bedrock of Australia’s history and culture have to be let go, he says, so that we can develop a genuine relationship with the land. Listening and dialogue with nature requires an opening to our own depths, to archetypal forces resonant in us and in the land. Aboriginal people relate to these forces through subtle appreciation and Dreaming myths.
Sacrifice, it needs to be said, is not about destroying the ego. It is not about selfless action where the personality is repressed. There is a balance that is struck between gain and loss that only the individual can truly judge. For instance, “If I take this challenging job, will the overall benefit to my life and the lives of others be worth it?” The test is whether soul or greater purpose is advanced. As an example, looking back on my own life, I think of my six years as a part-time journalist at The Age newspaper in Melbourne. Though for a long time I struggled with the work and the work environment, the stability of a job and good pay provided a platform to focus on inner development. I can also say that I gave up a career as a journalist to pursue my life’s calling as a writer; the sacrifice being the loss of a lucrative, socially sanctioned path for a precarious but spiritually meaningful one.
It seems the idea of sacrifice will continue to be misunderstood and misapplied until there is sufficient social development, enough soul penetration of the mass psyche, for a turn away from ego and towards true meaning. Then there will be an understanding that sacrifice entails no loss at all, its fruits infinite and joyful.      

Thursday 3 May 2012

Sun Dance at Mario's Cafe

Mario's Cafe is a landmark in Melbourne's alternative, coffee-drenched Brunswick Street strip. It's been there an eternity, a warm and stable presence amid the busy street life. This poem, Sundance at Mario's, is a contrast to its generally amiable and nonchalant air.

Some dance at Mario’s
Some squat in a corner
Some poke at their linguini
or stab at their scotch fillet

Some pray at Mario’s
Some drink from its bowl of evanescence
Some mutter through clenched pink fingers
while others wait for a better god

Some laugh at Mario’s
Some bellies jiggle
Some lipstick moves
as a prelude to lesser things

Some hold court at Mario’s
Some boast or bluster
Some sink in their seat
with vague and watery eyes

while outside the earth flies
                                the earth flies