Politics

Pests in the garden

March 28, 2007

tomato_spiral_2

The above photo of “giant” spiral snail slugs in the tomato patch was originally “set up” in order to post this year’s April Fool’s Day blog in a manner similar to the jokes of last year and 2004. The story line was to have been: potent sea weed compost leads to invasion of tomato eating snail slugs never before seen in the southern hemisphere; probable cause being ballast water from ocean going wood chip freighters.

I say “was” because the recent news concerning the antics of our two major political parties (Labor and Liberal) has taken the humor and fun out of the moment and has made me more angry and pissed off than usual.

Late last week I went to a rally in front of Parliament House in a vain attempt to pressure the parliamentarians inside not to vote on the legislation before them—legislation to fast track the building of a pulp mill instead of having an independent environmental assessment—but to no avail. Only the Greens voted against it with all the Labor and Liberal politicians giving it their assent.

The only bit of good news was that some of the state and national newspapers (who usually side with the government) were hard on the parliamentarians:

…Something rotten in the Apple Isle

…The past debacle-filled week in State Parliament has seen the House of Assembly sink to its lowest depths for a long time in regard to both ministerial standards and the passage of abysmal legislation.

…It has also been a week that reflected badly on the ethics, propriety and conduct of Premier Paul Lennon.

…A group of 14 leading University of Tasmania academics (all experts in fields such as law, ethics and planning and public policy) took the unusual step of releasing a statement expressing “increasing concern” at “an apparent decline in ethical standards within the Tasmanian Government”.

…In many democracies it would be enough to trigger an independent commission of inquiry. 

And, although not directly related, the best quote came from the national online journal, Crikey:

…the shallow gene pool that populates state politics with drones, dolts, timeservers and incompetents…

Fairly harsh criticisms, for sure, but it hasn’t undone the passing of the legislation. Even this morning on the news, the two major parties continued to defend their actions.

So, no April Fool’s blog on April 1st. Sorry. The fools, I feel, are too much in power and it is depressing to contemplate how much damage they are doing in so many areas.

In fact, the fools are in the garden creating as much destruction as they can and munching away without too much impunity, it seems.

When I contemplate on the sound of the word “garden”, I hear within it the sound/word “guard”. This might not be the true etymology for garden, but it rings true to me. We must guard the garden. We must remain vigilant against the slugs and pests—the drones and dolts—that would infest our gardens.

Not always easy. Not always enjoyable. But necessary, none the less.

I just wish there was an environmentally friendly, non-toxic way of getting rid of Tasmania’s slimy, sleazy slugs.
rally_pulp_mill

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Earlier in the week I had attempted to plant out some new seedlings near the cliff face, but the ground, after not having much rain going on near eight months, was bone dry. Not much chance of survival here for tiny roots. Determined to do something, the week was spent repairing the many seedling trees that had been planted in years past.

sally_and_trees

By being involved in the act of repairing, nurturing and promoting growth, this sharpened my sense of what it might mean to survive. By noticing the many trees withered and dead even within still standing protective plastic bags, this focused my attention on what (or who) continues through into maturity.

Low to the ground, solitary and scattered across the paddock are little clumps of “native cranberry bush”. Prickly to touch, the animals won’t eat them. The windward side displays the skeleton twigs of too much salt spray. To leeward, the green, lush leaves are remarkably healthy. In-between these two areas is the “orange belt”; the zone where life meets death within the one living organism.

native_cranberry_2

“Fascinating“, I think, as I begin to wonder whether or not the human condition bears any resemblance to what I see on the native cranberry. What areas within me are now dead from too much of whatever? And, that beautiful orange complimenting the green; is that to be found somewhere as well? What keeps me flourishing? How do any of us survive?

Bombs drop in Lebanon. Depleted uranium floats in the dust in Iraq. Soldier-children bear arms. Mothers mourn in Israel, Gaza, Afghanistan, China, America.

Amnesty International runs a photo on the back of the Buddhist magazine, ‘Tricycle’, with the caption:

Sudan. 2004. A refugee who was shot and wounded while defending his daughters from armed militia members who tried to rape them.

amnesty_photoI look in his face and wonder what is dead and what just might be green and moist; tender, loving, even hopeful. Perhaps?

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Maintaining the effort

March 24, 2006

In a letter to the editor of Tasmania’s Mercury newspaper this week, I wrote: It is said that a great society is known, not only for what it creates, but for what it refuses to destroy.

post_election_1

In this letter I was making reference to the continual destruction in Tasmania of the precious old growth forests and diverse ecosystems that have remained relatively untouched for literally thousands of years. All for the sake of appeasing the appetite of a hugh woodchipping corporation, the biggest in the southern hemisphere.

Today, though, I would like to use this quote (source unknown) as the basis of a possible answer to the question: “How does one deal with loss?”

Specifically, how does the Green political party and its supporters pick themselves up from the loss incurred at last Saturday’s state election where, because of a well funded campaign against the Greens from the extreme religious right, the logging unions, vested business interests and both major political parties (Liberal and Labor), the Greens took a considerable hit on the chin. Inculcating fear in the populace seems to be the modus operandi of winning elections these days around the world and, Tasmania, it is now evident, is up there with the best of the spin merchants.

May I suggest that the greatness of the Greens is in their ethically, indomitable spirit and that the Greens should, therefore, steadfastly refuse to let the machinations of the dominate political culture, that attempts to “win” at all costs, subdue and destroy this spirit. There is no other way to go forward. Becoming more cynical and hard-nose is not the answer.

Maintain the faith. It is as simple and as difficult as that.

The photo at the top of this entry shows a field still fairly barren after 30 years. In 1976 the last of the sheep were taken off the land and the land has been struggling hard ever since to re-vegetate.

My role, and the role I see the Greens playing in the world, is not hoping to see the world flourish in our lifetime, but to nurture and plant seeds and seedlings for a more diverse and healthier world to come into being. To second guess when this will be can lead to disappointment.

Every year for the past 14 years I have been attempting to get trees and shrubs to grow along the cliff edge that faces south to Storm Bay and the Southern Ocean. It is one wild and difficult place, salt dry and barren and about as difficult to change as the mindset in the Tasmanian government. But I refuse to give up or admit that nothing will grow or that it is damaged beyond repair.

In the photo below, this area at the top of the cliff was planted out with 50 trees fourteen years ago and not one of those original seedlings has survived.

post_election_2

But what has survived is my determination to arrest the loss of soil through erosion and previous mismanagement. Now, seedlings planted two years ago are putting down roots.

Over the years, I have learned that it is not enough to just plant the seeds and walk away from them thinking they will survive on their own. Now, I build circular, doughnut shape structures to help protect the young plants from the wind and salt and marauding, hungry wallabies. Made mostly from tea-tree branches and about three feet or a meter in diameter, these enclosures are the latest attempt to stop erosion and to bring back a more sustainable landscape.

In the last two weeks 20 truck loads of thinned tea-trees have created about half a kilometre of protective enclosure. And not just thrown down on the ground, I might add. But interwoven and “stitched” together to withstand the ferocity of what is thrown at them.

This takes one hell-of-a lot of work. (I’m sitting at the computer writing this article with a hot water bottle on my lower back.) And, yes, at times it doesn’t seem worth the trouble. Yet, I refuse to let any set backs knock me back. I change tactics, rethink things and try again. Maybe not in my lifetime, but eventually, without a shadow of a doubt, a dogged, “honest” persistent effort will win out.

And, I deliberately write “honest” because in the natural world, spin and unethical behavior amount to nothing. Water, earth, sun and a consistency of purpose in front of a daunting task is what is required; is what in the long run will provide the opportunity for the new to emerge. 

From an unknown poet:

Where the morning sees the shadows
Of the orange grove, there was nothing twenty years ago.
Where the dry wind sowed the desert
We brought water, planted seedlings, now the oranges grow.

post_election_3

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Keep breathing

November 5, 2004

The shiny, reflective, inner beauty of the Split Rock only came about after the whole was broken open.

split rock electionYour heart is now thus. The pain of the American and Australian elections can lead us to a deeper wisdom, a deeper compassion, a deeper love for all of life. These winds that seem endless and, at times, all too tiring, are polishing are character. Let them serve this purpose.

This week half of America is licking their wounds.

Well, keep licking. Like any animal that has been hurt, bruised and battled scared, now might be the time to retreat softly into the protective custody of friendly surrounds. Take time to be kind to yourself.

Just remember that half of America still believes as you do. And, I would guess, most of Europe. You are not alone.

Yes, keep licking. Try ice cream. The dew off a leaf. Your lover.

Do not forget the sensual beauty of this world.

Do not forget the delicious flavours this earth gives away freely each day. Indulge in them. Take time to immerse yourself in the joys that are found in the woods, the sea shore, the valleys and the mountains.

And after your licked wounds have healed, come back into the ring again and stand tall for the earth, for social justice, for peace.

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Digging deeper

October 13, 2004

Hanging broken and limp like the wing of a fallen eagle, the flag guarding the entrance into the Peace Garden took as bad a beating by the wind this past week as liberal democracy did in Australia on Saturday when the far right conservative party was re-elected with control of both houses of Parliament.

broken flagAll the moral aspects of governance, that for eight years have been lacking in the Liberal Party’s platform of pro-business, pro-war and anti-environmental and social concerns, is back on the back burner again languishing for want of an informed public.

In Tasmania, for a brief moment preceding the election date, it seemed our mighty forests, under a newly elected Federal Labor government, would be handed a reprieve and taken off the death row of impending clearfelling and wood chipping. Sadly, not to be. To have gotten so close, only to have moved backward, is an almost crushing burden many hearts in the Tasmanian Green movement will have to carry. The equivalent situation in America would be if Bush was not only re-elected, but with an even greater majority in Congress despite all the efforts of everyone to bring about change.

Today is the fourth morning after the deluge. It is dawn with the sun just breaking over the eastern hills and I am at the Peace Fire asking for guidance and looking inside myself to see where there is the strength to pick up the flag, mount it on yet, another pole, and set it waving again.

south esk pollen

A gust of wind comes up blowing through the mature South Esk pines encircling the Peace Fire. Millions of grains of pollen fill the air not unlike the magic moment when the coral reefs release their billions of eggs into the vastness of the ocean’s currents, and I am encased in a very potent fog of red dust.

It is a very strange experience; almost miraculous in its timing.

And then the answer comes to me. All of us, especially those elders among us; those with a few more years of experiencing life in its fullness; those who have been at the forefront of environmental and social change; and those of us who have touched the void before and have come back with a deeper wisdom, we have to remain virile in body and spirit. We can never give up on the spreading of seeds of change.

This is a cry from the heart to embrace the day, feet planted into the earth and arms thrust upward into the sky and beyond to the stars. Let fly into the air seeds of hope, stories of love, words of delight for all things green, all creatures great and small. Constantly sing up the earth. Breath in fear and despair and blow out a never ending stream of activity; of decent activity. And the stronger our exhale, the farther our seeds will travel.

It is true that in our lifetime we might not see the fruit of the seeds we have planted. But it is so very important to keep planting them, despite what seems as hopeless odds; despite the seeming unjustness of it all; despite just wanting to curl up in bed and face the wall.

If we’re in the “wilderness” for a few more years, so be it. Just remember what Shakespeare’s Duke Senior had to say about this:

“Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything:
I would not change it.”

And so, I commit myself to continue on with the Work; to spread, in as compassionate a manner as possible, the message of peace; to use what skills I have to foster a dialogue for change; to be open for change myself; to develop new skills where needed; and never let a day slip past without savouring for a moment the deliciousness of life.

Shakespere, As You Like It

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A true leader

September 27, 2004

My first intention today was to write about the fur seal that swam within meters of me this past Saturday with a grace and ease that I could only wish for.

I changed my mind when, this afternoon, I came upon a wombat in broad daylight and, seeing his comical gait, I wanted to share the gratitude I felt in knowing that the numbers of these delightful, walking sacks of concrete were increasing at Windgrove.

But, it was seeing the Peace Spiral reflected in the pond just at dusk that I knew what I needed to write about.

peace spiral mirageIt was seeing its reality distorted and made to appear transitory that I was made to ponder on how difficult the achievement of peace really is. Not because it isn’t possible, but because there is a shortage of leaders with the vision to lead us to peace.

Consider the following words and ask yourself if these same words could be spoken by any of our political candidates today as they make their way across the country seeking our votes:

“Let no man pull you so low as to hate him. Always avoid violence.”

“If you succumb to the temptation of using violence in your struggle, unborn generations will be the recipients of a long and desolate night of bitterness, and your chief legacy to the future will be an endless reign of meaningless chaos.”

These words were spoken by Martin Luther King in a sermon delivered nearly 50 years ago.

In this election year, are there any politicians who have the insight King possessed? Are there any governments courageous enough to “give peace a chance”?

May I suggest that when voting day arrives, we cast our votes to those candidates prepared to work for peace in ways other than pre-emptive strikes.

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