For a century that began with such promise—with widespread talk of "bridges" and "a new millennium"—things sure deteriorated in a hurry, didn't they?
In 1999 the U.S. was prosperous, not involved, at least not neck-deep, in foreign entanglements, and the media was free to print what it wanted. In the world at large, collective efforts were being made to address climate change, develop alternative energy sources, even tackle seemingly intractable issues like human rights and overpopulation. The yoke of totalitarianism had been loosened a bit in China, North Korea's Kim Il Sung and Libya's Qaddafi were marginalized, Saddam's moves were accurately monitored (no WMDs, even U.S. intelligence agreed), and the biggest fears were the Y2K bug and Michael Jackson.
Now look around. Do you really need a litany? If so, what drugs are you on? As if our cake needed some icing, this week offered a news item that, for sheer symbolism alone, fits the bill: a scientific study (remember those things based on research and facts?) reports that two-thirds of the world's polar bears will be gone by 2050, due to shrinking sea ice caused by greenhouse gases.
Polar bears. Gone. In our lifetime. Our children won't know polar bears. WtF!
How did it all fall apart so fast? Who or what is to blame? Is it just the natural pendulum of history swinging back with a vengeance, or is it a situation to which mankind has contributed—have we sown the seeds of our own destruction?
No, this is not another Bush-bashing column, though he (and Osama, Mullah Omar and their theocratic fascist cohorts) share a chunk of the responsibility for the present political, fiscal and diplomatic debacle we're in. All things considered, this nation has been profoundly patient with George W. Bush. "The people" have accepted two tainted elections, and even those of us who loathe the guy had reason to believe he'd spend his second term doing something, anything, to redress the excesses of his first. Or, more logically, redirect his efforts toward an issue like energy independence that he could claim as his own and leave as a legacy.
But he just gets worse and worse, which is only to say he stays just the same. It's Groundhog Day forever.
The real question, then, is will there be any of the "people's" business to come back to by the time Bush leaves office? This isn't a rhetorical question, but a query about the planet's future in a world dominated by an all-powerful species with a collective death wish. It seems to me that human beings, of all religions, races, creeds and economic systems, have a longing for Apocalypse or some sort of end time when the wicked are punished and the good are rewarded.
But then images of those polar bears creep back into my mind. Where do they stand in all this? What has that bear on the 10-foot slab of ice, floating alone in a widening ocean, done to deserve this?
I must not be alone in imagining our planet in the wake of humanity's demise, or in my inward pining for a return to Eden to start over from scratch, this time without the Original Sin. Alan Weisman's The World Without Us (St. Martin's), a book that contemplates the Earth depopulated of homo sapiens, has been ensconced on the bestseller list for the last several weeks. The book, ostensibly a warning on the level of Bill McKibben's The End of Nature and Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, is well written and researched. And rather than being a total buzz-harsher, it is quite entertaining.
Aaahhh, I can imagine the polar bears thinking, a planet devoid of humans. How cool would that be?
