The acts of violence, hatred, and terror that took the lives of so many in my home province, Nova Scotia, are beyond horrific. There are no words to adequately express the grief or sorrow of this moment. My deepest condolences go out to the families, partners, and friends of all those who were killed and those who are injured.
My heart is broken and extended to all those suffering through this tragedy.
Kenn Orphan April 2020
Just months ago, few would have thought it possible that a submicroscopic ball of genetic coding could bring the world’s wealthiest powers to their knees. But it has. In the space of a few months the Covid-19 virus projected its spiky arms not only into the delicate cells of the human lung, but into the very membrane of the global economic and political order itself. The United States, being the emblem of this order, has also become the biggest example of its enormous failure. In desperation, the American Empire, the wealthiest and most powerful one humanity has ever known, is flailing in spasms and fits of insanity, denial and outright cruelty. It is robbing from its allies and client states masks and ventilators, as it lashes out even more furiously at nations which have defied its hegemonic control. And, while it bails out corporations and the richest industries, it has abandoned its citizenry to fend for themselves amidst a raging storm where nearly every “non-essential” business has been shut down, the for-profit healthcare system is beginning to buckle, the bodies of the dead are mounting, and the mass graves are being dug. Amidst this assault on humanity, there is a growing assault on the living earth itself. The US is rapidly stripping the last meager protections for the environment, accelerating climate change and the collapse of the biosphere itself.
Donald Trump, a leader that is rapidly approaching the malevolence of Caligula, presides over this plague-ridden stage of the American Empire. On his watch, nurses and doctors are left to wrap themselves in garbage bags as their only defense against the microbe’s merciless rampage. Governors are reduced to a bidding war against other governors for life saving medical equipment. Workers that are considered “non-essential” are left to figure out how to navigate the brutal landscape of capitalist predation, with few options available to them to maintain their health, food security or home. Immigrants and prisoners are being left in cages to die without any adequate medical assistance. Most Americans are now left in an impossible situation. “Shelter in place” even though they may lose their livelihoods and homes in a very short time. Millions are unemployed with millions more on the way. Millions have or will lose their health insurance since this fundamental human right has been tethered to employment and whims of the market economy, one that has been built on the mercurial and shifting sands of the so-called free market. Now that marketplace is in shambles. The government’s answer to their plight has been to toss them a laughable, one-time pittance of $1200, while hundreds of billions of dollars are allotted to the wealthiest corporations and industries.
As the United States outdoes the rest of the world in Covid-19 cases and deaths, the Trump administration is rapidly dismantling the last, anemic protections for its beleaguered ecosystems. Lands that protect besieged endangered species are now open to hunters and poachers. The largely defanged Environmental Protection Agency has, for all intents and purposes, been shuttered amidst this pandemic. Now corporations are free to pollute without fear of oversight or penalty. The air and water, so integral to human health, are in open season for these industries. Indeed, even as the pandemic seems to be clearing skies and waterways around the planet, the “titans of industry” seek to rapidly cloud them again with toxins for their profit margin. It is an omnicide for profit, encouraged by the corporate state, on full display. And as if to add yet another layer to this absurdity, Trump recently signed an executive order announcing that the US will mine the moon for minerals. Apparently, plundering our own celestial sphere isn’t enough.
With little doubt, the Covid-19 pandemic has exposed painful truths about the nature of capitalism itself. The sacrosanct liturgy of the “free market,” for so long lauded by its faithful adherents, now comes across as a vulgar joke in the face of the inhumanity we are witnessing. This should come as little surprise since it possesses no mechanisms to cope mercifully with the calamity of a pandemic in the first place, let alone the existential threats of climate change or nuclear war for that matter. It understands only mindless expansion of the accumulation of capital for a select few. But it is also encroaching even more aggressively into habitats where few human beings have been before. Forests are being felled at record pace, the ocean floor is being scraped away for minerals as I write this, along with a myriad of species we may never even see, and ships now ply the once frozen waters of the Arctic circle in search for petrol. And with this reckless abandon comes our inevitable encounter with pathogens that are likely to be far more deadly and with which we will have no defense.
Indeed, as horrifying as it is, Covid-19 could have been a far more lethal plague, eviscerating any vestige of civilization in a matter of weeks. We may have been spared this time around. But with the ice caps and glaciers melting, coral reefs bleaching, locust swarms blanketing crops in Africa, and fires burning forests and fields to ash with more ferocity each year in Australia and California and along the Mediterranean, we are facing an even greater menace than a microbial killer. Climate change is an existential threat on a global scale, and it does not just threaten the human species, but all life in the biosphere. And given what we have witnessed in the past couple months, we should not hold any assurances that the economic and political order that runs the world’s affairs will be any better suited at addressing the harrowing predicament of a rapidly warming planet. True to form, they will continue business as usual only, as things get worse, they will ramp up brutal repression of civil rights and accelerate toward outright fascism.
Just this month, the US stopped issuing passports except in matter of “life or death,” a move that echoes past authoritarian regimes limits on the freedom of movement. While its population is reeling from a collapsing healthcare system and the economic aftershocks, it is continuing its cruel sanctions on Iran, Cuba and Venezuela, even as it threatens military action against those countries. And the echoes of its influence can be seen in many of its allies and client states. In India, Narendra Modi has ignored and sometimes encouraged the police who have persecuted and beaten the poor, Muslims and Dalits for non-compliance to quarantine restrictions which ignore their socioeconomic plight. It continues to ravage occupied Kashmir. In Israel, draconian surveillance technology is being used to track citizen’s movements. And it continues to collectively punish the open-air prison of Gaza. In Hungary, democracy has all but been dissolved, giving far right Victor Orban sweeping, dictatorial powers for an indefinite time period. In the Philippines, Duterte has ordered police and soldiers to shoot people who break the lock down, even if they are desperately searching for food. In Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro has flouted the urging of health officials, endangering the lives and health of millions of people, and has encouraged radical Christian evangelicals in their genocidal aspirations to minister to uncontacted tribes in the Amazon who have no immunity to most western diseases, let alone Covid-19. Indeed, this pandemic has demonstrated the incompetence, cruelty, and despotism of today’s global economic and political arrangement in stark ways, and it has indicated how this order will respond to the escalating nuclear arms race, continuing destruction of ecosystems through habitat loss and pollution, and the climate change catastrophes that loom on the horizon.
If there is anything to be learned from the Covid-19 pandemic, it would be that it is a portent. A miniscule sphere packed with laces of genetic strands that perhaps symbolize the power of knowledge itself. It offers us a glimpse at how some governments are acting responsibly, like Cuba, for instance, who has sent medical teams to China, Italy and Spain. And how others, ones driven by the despotism of the so-called “free market,” are incapable of responding in any manner that is even remotely humane. The United States being the prime example. It also gives us insight into the power of nature and its ability to halt the very machinery of human society. But in addition to this, it offers us an opportunity to organize and act collectively as a species, even in isolation.
From the streets of Paris and Santiago, to the rainforests and wetlands of the Amazon and the Niger Delta, we have seen how ordinary people can arise and unite in solidarity against the barbarism of the global corporate state, whose omnicidal demeanor endangers us and the living earth itself. They continue to fight for the world we all deserve, the world we desperately need. We should take note of them now because, without a doubt, their struggle will become everyone’s in the years to come.
Kenn Orphan April 2020
I never thought that going to the supermarket would bring anxiety. I generally dislike shopping, but I enjoy food markets, especially farmers markets. Partly because I love cooking, partly because I love the liveliness of the marketplace. But, I must admit, before I went the other day I had to muster up some courage.
Interestingly enough I was impressed by the way most people seemed to be treating one another. Many were wearing masks. People smiled, waited patiently for their turn, kept a safe distance and politely stepped aside giving each other plenty of space. Of course, there are always exceptions to this. One young couple burst into the store together when they ask that only one person come in at a time. They proceeded to cough without covering their mouths and violate everyone’s space around them. One of them stood inches from an older lady who had a face mask on. I had a rush of rage, but many of us saw them from a distance and gave them a wide berth.
But the staff at the store were impeccable. These people, mostly very young, but some much older, treated everyone with respect and meticulously sanitized every single cart. They were extraordinarily patient too, especially with elderly customers. I understood in real terms why these people are essential workers. And why they need protection from this virus and deserve far more than a paltry $15 an hour. In this crisis they should have hazard pay, because that is what their job is right now: hazardous. How many workers have fallen ill? How many have died? How many will we never even hear of?
I was careful before and throughout most of my visit to the store, but then the nightmare happened. At the checkout, after an hour of not touching my face, I touched my nose. It happened so fast. And right after I did it, I felt flushed with fear. These are strange times when such an innocent and common action could invoke terror. My mind flashed to my history of asthma. My blood pressure. In my head I counted the days of possible incubation. Would I live with apprehension at every cough, every muscle ache, for the next 14 days? I thought of my elderly mother, and the fear of passing something terrible on to her. And my partner. And my sister. All of whom are in my circle of direct contacts.
I returned home to employ a procedure that the tv detective Monk would have thought excessive. I sanitized every package before bringing it into the house. Then I disrobed just inside the front door, brought my clothes to the washer, and took a shower akin to the kind Karen Silkwood endured after she was exposed to radiation. I am exaggerating a little, of course. But these are the fears many of us live with these days.
I write all of this to highlight the fear that anyone who works directly with the public must feel right now. If I felt a little of it from just one little thoughtless nose rub, imagine how they must feel. How nurses, doctors, respiratory techs, cleaners, lab techs. coroner and funeral staff, laundry staff, transit workers, grocery staff, garbage collectors, pharmacists, etc. must feel. How they must self isolate from family in their own homes. How they must wash their uniforms every single day, and many lacking laundry facilities. And how that same fear is intensified when they lack adequate protection. Aware that they, too, might get it. That they might pass it to another patient if they work in healthcare, or to a co-worker, or to a family member.
The thought humbled me. As a medical social worker I’ve had the privilege of working with some incredible people in healthcare. People with whom I would want by my side should I become ill or if I should be on my way out of this realm, hopefully to the next adventure, without having the benefit of a loved one near to hold my hand when it happens.
But every one who works with the public needs the rest of us to fight for them now. Not just to say thank you or to applaud, but to fight for them to be protected, to have time to see to their own physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health and that of their families, to have debt forgiveness and economic compensation for their sacrifices and, if their country lacks it, free universal healthcare and sick pay.
We need them, but they also need us as well to amplify their voices, now more than ever before.
Kenn Orphan April 2020
“to live in this world
you must be able
to do three things
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go”
― Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems, Volume One
Living close to wildlife you see the cycle of life and death frequently. This morning that reality was on our doorstep. Our beloved resident pheasant had been killed in the night, most likely by a bobcat we have seen around. He had been here for several years and we became as familiar with him, as he was with us.
Every day he would peer through our windows like a nosy neighbour and strut around the meadow on his daily constitutionals. Occasionally we gave him some sunflower seeds which he happily pecked away at. He was a beauty, proud and emphatic, beating his chest and squawking loudly, calling for a mate.
Some say you shouldn’t name wild animals, but I couldn’t help but name this one. I called him Fezziwig after my favourite character from Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carole. I suppose I chose it because Mr. Fezziwig gave his employees joy, and this pheasant brought a lot of joy to us.
My heart sank when I saw his proud, colourful feathers spread out over the meadow, quivering in the breeze like a thousand small birds. We picked up a few of them to hold on to as a remembrance. We do not blame the bobcat for she, too, must eat. But we do feel an emptiness now without our colourful and loud friend, our neighbour.
With our world reeling from the emotionless rampage of a submicroscopic ball of non-living genetic coding, it might seem trivial to some to grieve the death of one wild pheasant. Yet I think that is exactly what we must do. To be fully present in the world we inhabit. To feel it. To embrace everything that walks, crawls, flies, swims or slithers among us as if it were our own life, our own breath, no matter how big or how small. And then to grieve for it when it is gone.
Kenn Orphan April 2020