Monday, 9 May 2011

An Inhumanist Vision

In recent years, as this blog’s history will testify, I have undergone somewhat of an enlightenment. Discovering the threat of climate change to be irrefutable and learning of the certain realities that peak oil will bring to humanity, has severely altered not only the way I think, but also how I live my life. Peak oil, however, always seemed to me to be more stirring.

Perhaps I found it to be more tangible, the burning of finite resources to power real, touchable objects that surround me everyday of my life. Climate change on the other hand, whilst I can read the studies and draw the same conclusions as 3000 scientists, seems to require greater strength of the imagination. Because of the differences in the emotive effect the two issues have had on me, I’ve often wondered why climate change has received more attention, and yet peak oil is barely spoken about. Why climate change, that is arguably a more abstract concept to get across to the average man on the street, over peak oil, which directly threatens the lifestyles of the Western world?

I’ve finally gotten round to reading The Dark Mountain Project’s published debut, an anthology of poems, conversations, essays, stories and images, that aim to expose the myths of civilisation and attempt to create more honest counter narratives. The first essay in this collection is by John Michael Greer, entitled “The falling years: An Inhumanist vision”, which I believe may shed some light on the puzzling issue of the preferential treatment of some catastrophes over others in the media:

“Compare the recent and continuing furore over anthropogenic climate change to the more muted response to the rapid depletion of the world’s remaining petroleum reserves, and one such distortion stands out clearly. Both these problems are unquestionably real; both were predicted decades ago, both could quite readily force modern industrial civilisation to its knees, and both are already having measurable impacts around the world.

“Yet the response to the two differs in instructive ways. Anthropogenic climate change has become a cause celebre, splashed across the mainstream media, researched by thousands of scientists funded by lavish government grants, and earnestly discussed by heads of state at summit meetings. Nothing is actually being done to stop it, to be sure, and most likely nothing will be done; not even the climate campaigners who urge such drastic action in the loudest voices and most extreme terms have shown much willingness to accept the drastic changes in their own lives that would cut carbon dioxide emissions soon enough to matter. Still, the narrative of climate change has found plenty of eager listeners around the world.

“None of this has happened with peak oil. The evidence backing the claim that the world has already passed the peak of petroleum production and faces a future of declining energy and economic contraction is every bit as solid as the evidence for anthropogenic climate change; the arguments opposing it are just as meretricious; its potential for economic and human costs is as great, solutions are as difficult to reach, and it can feed apocalyptic fantasies almost as extreme as those that have gathered around climate change. Still, no summit meetings are being called by heads of state to discuss the end of the age of oil; there has been no barrage of mainstream media attention concerning it and precious few government grants. Climate change is mediagenic; peak oil is not.

“A core difference between the two crises explains why. Climate change, as a cultural narrative, is a story about human power. We have become so almighty through technological progress, the climate change narrative argues, that we threaten the Earth itself. The only limits that can prevent catastrophe are those we place on ourselves, since nothing else can stop us; and even our own efforts might not be enough to stand in our way. It’s nearly a parody of the old atheist gibe: to prove our own omnipotence, we’ve made a crisis so big that not even we can lift it out of our way.

“Peak oil as a cultural narrative, on the other hand, is not a celebration of human power but a warning about human limits. At the core of the peak oil story is the recognition that the power we claimed was never really ours. We never conquered nature; we merely stole some of the Earth’s carbon and burnt our way through it in three short centuries. All the feverish dreams and accomplishments of that era were simply the results of wasting a vast amount of cheap fuel. Now that the easy pickings are running out, and we have to think about getting by without half a billion years of stored and concentrated solar energy to burn, our fantasies of power are proving unexpectedly fragile, and the future ahead of us involves more humility and less grandiosity than we want to think about.”

He wraps this idea up nicely with the following:

“While anthropogenic global warming is a real and serious problem, its consequences are subject to natural limits that current thinking, fixated on images of human triumphalism, is poorly equipped to grasp. Meanwhile, another real and serious problem – the depletion of the nonrenewable energy resources that prop up today’s industrial economy and keep seven billion people alive – gets next to no attention, because it conflicts with those same triumphalist obsessions. It’s no exaggeration to say that the modern world might solve the global warming crisis and then collapse anyway, because it only dealt with those of its problems that proved congenial to its self-image.”

There is certainly something in this. When explaining peak oil to people, one generally encounters a knee jerk dismissal of any looming disruption to our way of life. The comeback is always, “We will find a way to sustain our lifestyles, we always do, we are ingenious, look at what we’ve already created in the world, examples of how humanity innovates to overcome limits are everywhere”.

It’s the same self belief in humanity that Greer talks about, the collective shoring up of mankind’s staggering ego. What does it mean though, to admit that perhaps there are limits that we cannot overcome through ingenuity? Are there psychological issues at work here? The basis of one’s whole way of life, the premise of a belief system that allows one to operate in this modern world, shattered in their entirety.

The admission that there are limits to our species just as there are limits to every other species on the planet, would leave an individual in disarray. This is what peak oil confronts us with. Its limits challenge everything we believed was true about humanity. What individual would willingly accept to go through the process of admission, confusion, humility, and eventually the restructuring of a belief system? It would be much easier to continue along with old beliefs, ones that the majority of the world believe to be true, which no doubt gives a sense of comfort and ease that a rejection of anthropocentrism cannot give.

I find this refusal to engage in any other narrative to be extremely dangerous. To accept only the mainstream memes leaves one open to what could potentially be a significant fall. Entertaining counter narratives, after an initial internal meltdown, can only help make an individual stronger and more resilient to future catastrophes. If those catastrophes don’t materialise, what has the individual really lost? A little time maybe, not much else.


The Dark Mountain Project is shortly due to publish its second book. Should you wish to purchase the first book and help fund the second, visit their website at www.dark-mountain.net

John Michael Greer’s blog can be found at http://thearchdruidreport.blogspot.com/

Wednesday, 27 April 2011

Criminal Waste of Time

I’ve just finished ‘The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists’ by Robert Tressell, a novel about a group of painter and decorators in southern England in the early 20th century. It’s a long rambling text in favour of socialism, the overthrow of the capitalist system, by showing the contrast between the poverty stricken working class and the rich “sweaters” that have everything and do nothing. The title of the book comes from the idea that the working class are happy with the current system and are essentially philanthropists, pledging all their time and strength to make money for the good of others, not themselves. It’s deeply moving at times, and generally convincing…until one character starts talking about how to organise society, and then I get a little twitchy. The following paragraph resonated strongly with me:

“Nature has not provided ready-made all the things necessary for the life and happiness of mankind. In order to obtain these things we have to work. The only rational labour is that which is directed to the creation of those things. Any kind of work which does not help us to attain this object is a ridiculous, idiotic, criminal, imbecile, waste of time.”

I wonder about this in relation to the Current State of Things. Now that we have more rights to protect workers, we are paid much better, we work only 35 hours a week, we have paid holidays…in comparison with workers a hundred years ago, conditions for the masses are greatly improved. However, we are all still employed in irrational labour. We have outsourced food production and industry overseas, leaving us staring at screens and jabbering away on phones. The service industry, which contains no job that is necessary in order to sustain the life and happiness of mankind.

Have we been granted better working conditions in order to placate us and keep us driving the industrial machine? When the people are on the verge of revolt, make a few concessions and they’ll quiten down, and we can keep the system going for at least another century. With comfortably pointless existences, as most of us have now, what need does anyone have for protest? Especially when looking back at history and seeing how much better we have things now.

It’s curious that so many Labour politicians cite this book as an inspiration to them, the reason they got into politics etc. I wonder how many Labour MPs and their supporters really believe that the service industry is a Criminal Waste of Time. Surely there is still purchase in this idea of Rational Labour, but for the life of me I can’t think how anyone would be convinced.

Wednesday, 13 April 2011

We'll Go Dancing

Brain's been in a fug the last couple of days, but after the regular chores of an evening last night, I managed to set my mind to finishing off this song about dancing with one's beloved. Think Piaf talking in the verses, and then a dreamy 3/4 whisks you away on the chorus. Taking in the glory of spring that is upon us at present, and a stock misanthropic theme, I bring you..."We'll Go Dancing".

We'll Go Dancing

I search this ugly town, for things that do not spark a frown.
Up treeless avenues, down barren streets that hold no clues.
But round the corner in the park, I find the backdrop to my heart.
Take my hand if you please, beneath blossoming cherry trees...

And we'll go dancing, through the rush-hour malaise,
Desperately advancing, in their separate ways.
And you'll look enchanting, either making or breaking,
What would otherwise have been,
Yet another uniquely dreary, forgettable day.

The insipid urban sprawl, and the ideas behind it all,
Are enough to take your breath away, but never in the same way,
As you do my love, come closer my love.
Click hard your heels on the floor, smash all that The Others adore.
We have momentum and flow, like a petal of Spring snow...

We'll go dancing, through the rush-hour malaise,
Desperately advancing, in their separate ways.
And you'll look enchanting, either making or breaking,
What would otherwise have been,
Yet another uniquely dreary, forgettable day.

Despite the heaven that we hold, you are embarrassed by my bold,
Nature to declare, this is more than an affair.
I slow to savour every aspect, you grow impatient with my step.
And as the band are winding-up, you skip out leaving me hard-up.
I'm left alone now with my thoughts, on this imaginary waltz...

We'll go dancing, through the rush-hour malaise,
Desperately advancing, in their separate ways.
And you'll look enchanting, either making or breaking,
What would otherwise have been, and consequently was,
Yet another uniquely dreary, forgettable day.

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Old Friend

My good friend and musician Rebecca Jade, hosts a songwriting night once a month. The aim of the night is to get the usually stagnant creative juices flowing, by proposing a theme for all participants to write a song about. The last month's chosen theme, picked from a hat, was "old friend". From those two words, I've written the following piece. It's debut performance will be at Folke Newington this Sunday.

Old Friend

So long old friend. I've buried you, as you did me. I've got myself back finally.
So long old friend. You may go now, to where your mind, has been all the time.
So long old friend.

I may seem a little bitter, under this sentimental glitter,
But I must protest, I feel a lot less.
As I get longer in the tooth, thanks to the tumult of youth,
It gets harder each year, to part with a single tear...

So long old friend. I've buried you, as you did me. I've got myself back finally.
So long old friend. You may go now, to where your mind, has been all the time.
So long old friend.

All these trivial teenage trials, and tribulations aside,
The lack of a will, undermines the way.
As I get longer in the tooth, thanks to the tumult of youth,
It gets harder each year, to part with a single tear...

So long old friend. I've buried you, as you did me. I've got myself back finally.
So long old friend. You may go now, to where your mind, has been all the time.
So long old friend.

Tuesday, 8 March 2011

Must We Be Bound?

I present a new song I wrote over Christmas, but finalised last night. It's debut performance will be at Folke Newington this Sunday, March 13th, 2011, doors at 8pm, free entry.

Must We Be Bound

Must we be bound?
From now until the time agreed we lay our promise down,
All efforts to break free will be crushed into the ground,
Must we be bound?
We must be bound.

We may be silly little fools, that think they know it all,
But tell me, when will that cease to be, the essence of mortality?
With no god in which to trust, mine is with yours be as it must,
So fast your hand to mine, it's the blind leading the blind.

Must we be bound?
From now until the time agreed we lay our promise down,
All efforts to break free will be crushed into the ground,
Must we be bound?
We must be bound.

No document is needed or any caution heeded,
When time and money are pissed away on endless nights of debauchery.
And a hangover is the only thing, I've a chance of being intimate with.
Well here's my lot I throw it in, and take what may come on the chin.

Must we be bound?
From now until the time agreed we lay our promise down,
All efforts to break free will be crushed into the ground,
Must we be bound?
Must we be bound?
Must we be bound?
Must we be bound?

Monday, 7 February 2011

Footage from rooms

The last week has seen the band and I play a few acoustic shows, power down style. One of these performances took place in someone's living room in rather swanky part of London, Primrose Hill. That was for people at Songs From a Room, who organise pop up gigs in living rooms in cities all over the world.

The other acoustic performance we gave was at Flashback Records to commemorate and celebrate my debut album coming out on vinyl record. It was an overwhelming night, with the shop bursting with people, the busiest it's ever been said its owner. If you failed to make it down to grab a copy, Flashback is stocking the album 'Heathcliffian Surly' permanently, on CD and Vinyl. Alternatively you can buy over the internet here.

We will be quiet for a month now, and will re-emerge at the Union Chapel on Saturday, March 5th, for Daylight, an afternoon of music starting at midday.

Until then, have a butchers at some of the recent footage below.


Live at Flashback Records:

Live at Songs From a Room:

Friday, 7 January 2011

Review from Sharon O' Connell at Uncut

Below is a review of 'Heathcliffian Surly' by Sharon O’ Connell at Uncut:

He describes himself as “a crooner of morose ballads and drunken frisky jigs”, but the eccentric Dando has his sights set on multiple broader horizons. Marrying his mannered and melodramatic baritone – equal parts Noel Coward, Baby Dee and Bryan Ferry – to this quintet’s accomplished orchestrations, he dips into klezmer/gypsy jazz, upbeat indie country, honky –tonk and Associates-style art pop. Dando’s florid delivery and self-conscious romanticism won’t be to everyone’s taste, but there’s humanity and a tender heart here, along with the hubris and professed horror of modern life, as “Odessa!” and “No Tomorrow” attest.