What a nightmare, what total and utter madness!
After carefully viewing both The Story of Stuff and Global Wealth Inequality I’m a little out of breath, honestly - and it’s not the first time. I mean, the subjects relating to our world’s “materials economy” aren’t exactly news to me - I’ve caught wind for some time now. Each reminder, though, of how severe the “system in crisis” is, renders me speechless. But, all it seems I can do is cry. Cry from the surge of anger, despair, pity, and shame I feel from the knowledge of what is being done to our world, the people who inhabit it, our values, and ourselves.
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| Materials Economy |
It is one thing to have knowledge - they say knowledge is power - but it doesn’t feel that way. Instead, it feels different from power, it kind of feels like Hell. Hell is knowing that my own pillow is made from neurotoxins poisoning not only me who is sleeping on it, but also the exploited person who made the pillow in the first place. Hell is the knowledge that 99 percent of the “stuff” extracted, transported, and sold is TRASHED within six months - more Hellish is knowing this was the design all along, through planned obsolescence. Hell is knowing the richest 300 people on Earth have as much wealth as the poorest 3 billion and that those 3 billion don’t stand a chance because the rules enforced upon them are designed to keep them powerless. Hell is having the knowledge of the power of corporations, “trade misplacing”, and “trade rules”, but knowing very few others who share the same awareness. Hell is being confronted with the unwillingness of people to even learn about what is happening around them, and knowing it is too much of a mess to clean up without their help.
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| Spinning mills in the Indian state of Tamil Nadu supply a number of well-known European and US brands and retailers. |
Probably most Hellish of all is being confronted with my own personal responsibility in the orchestra of consumerism, and owning up to the ignorance and daily indulgences that come at such a high cost for so many others. How could we let this happen? Furthermore, why do we continue to let this happen, especially since we are collectively miserable? Why do we not change the rules? I am looking around every corner of my apartment and taking note of all the plastic children’s toys scattered on the floor. I’m thinking about the small hands that helped make them - far away in a toxic environment - from materials harvested from other far away places. All these meaningless things on the floor feel so much more significant than they did before. I wish I thought about this when I decided to buy them. I wish everyone did.
