The Faustian Bargain

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been noticing a real disconnect between our welfare and that of our "captains of finance". Pundits appear to be truly vexed by the fact that Wall Street prosperity doesn’t spread to the rest of us. There is the elite world of the corporate global economy centered in the major cities, and the vast majority that serve it. We provide materials and personnel to fill their needs, and consume their finished products. Sounds more like a colonial economy to me, and the disparity of wealth it produces is designed into the system.
 
When I first got involved with the idea of transitioning our culture to adapt to the challenges of peak oil and climate change, I didn’t realize that I was not so much driven by those looming problems as by the opportunity they presented to fundamentally alter our culture. To me, that is epitomized by an economy that is pillaging the planet and enslaving all but the very few at the top. With the coming of the industrial age, we made a Faustian bargain. We quickly realized that the many and wonderful machines of the new age could produce things much better and more quickly than we could ourselves. It turned out that the capital required to invest at the industrial scale far outstripped the means of the small local economies. The Faustian bargain was that in exchange for comforts, conveniences and extraordinary mobility, we would serve industry in whatever manner they required. That is to say, we agreed to take "jobs." Some people are lucky enough to find paid work that matches their skills and passion, but most of us take what we can get. Some of us pursue our personal passion despite the fact that we "can’t make a living at it." Why can’t we create an economy in which our talents and passions are more important than the economic plans of the corporate world? We can set the priorities in our economy to the extent that it is local.
 
This industrial paradigm has hollowed out our communities. Place no longer has any importance, not its features nor its inhabitants. We’ve lost our local perspective. Nowadays, everything has a price, whether a house, a view, a plant, or a person. Some "priceless" things we treasure, but we see most "priceless" things as having no "value." There was a time when we recognized that almost everyone in a community had a born gift or talent; they were "valuable." Now that talent is worthless if it doesn’t support the global economy. We now have "worthless" individuals and "worthless" communities that may try really hard to deny their gifts if by so doing they can secure a "job’ or "jobs," or "bring in cash customers." It’s not the happiness and security of people that matters; it’s the money that gets made.
 
The only thing we can do is to detach ourselves as much as possible from that larger economy. We are already beginning to produce some really important local products: food, shelter, wood items, fuel, art, music. The more "priceless" we see our neighbors and the goods and services we provide each other, the more love and true value we will place on who we are, each one of us, and what we have. And the less prone we will all be to have the corporate money world convince us that something "priceless" unfortunately has no "value."
 
I’m reminded of a recent documentary I saw about the impact of modern development on indigenous cultures. You could see the letdown on the faces of the people when the first air-conditioned bus drove into the village. They may have been getting along creatively, elegantly and happily for thousands of years, but it all of a sudden seemed shoddy compared to the shiny new bus. We have to really consider whether the shiny new bus has made us happier. It would be great if we could have both, but I don’t think that corporations place any value on our happiness, so they probably won’t budget for it.
 
My dad compared people like himself that subordinated themselves to the authority of the Church to be like dogs that subordinated themselves to humans for steady meals and a warm place by the hearth. I see our subordination to money and the economy like that. Unfortunately, when the human master tells a dog to get off the couch or go out, they do it or else. Sometimes, human masters are much more sadistic than that, but dogs really don’t have much choice do they?
 
If we see that we are dependent on a paradigm that is bound to destroy life as we know it, and is already making things miserable, we need to consider whether our comforts and conveniences are really worth the price.
 
For Earth Day, we are called to "reduce, reuse, recycle"; the important part is "reduce." In that vain, I would suggest that we avoid purchases unless they are local, turn things off, and leave our cars in the driveway.
 
Comments? Terry@vashonloop.com