Greed and fear are allotropes of the same matter. And in the ancient lesson of greed and good, greed wins. And in the modern, it has proven itself time and again. Our brains make us slaves to greed and fools from fear. The hope of a sensible world is washed away in the rising waters of stupidity. Unleashed with technology, the human mind, the primitive mind, is a poor planetary trustee. What conceit it is to assume that 'all will be right'. That we won't destroy this planet or make it inhabitable. That we won't only collapse our own species, but condemn all life. That our insatiable industrial demand, controlled by greed, defended by fear, is the thing which is ending us. Ending. The Anthropocene is ending things. And the problem is our brains. They are too primitive to the task. They are shaped to throw spears at animals. They produce too much adrenaline and the neocortex is in the wrong place. If life could exist formless, intelligent without attachment to fear and the bipedal... but that's... that's... the dreamer's dream. The summa of hope. What chance? What hope?
And if so, we have to live with this primate body until then. With its contradictions and its charms. None of this would be so bad, except for the fact that we face an existential crisis in what we are doing to the environment. Fight! If the powers that are, refuse, then there can never been a more legitimate case for revolution. Greed destroying life, what further cause do you need. That has greater necessity than the revolts against George III and Louis XVI combined. And yet I am not an optimist. What is there to be the optimist for? Scarce little. Could we make it in time to take evolution into our own hands, we could be the ancestors to the answer. Yet I have little hope of our getting to that point. Because greed, and its complementary, fear, rule. They keep reason to ransom; logic to the sword. Unleashed on a universe heading towards entropy, are primitive brains, with the technology of destruction. What chance? What hope?
And yet sweet music, you play of hope. It is torture. Cease your strumming, unless it be a lament. Unless it sings of the endless folly of man and his gut desire for the destructive. Rise above the fear! Rise above it. There is nothing to fear! It cannot be a secret that there is nothing to fear. But who will believe it? Who will credit it? And yet you are right, music, in your sanguine sarabande. Each note leads on inevitable to the next. Once the first is played, it decides the last. Once an acorn seed is sown it will only be an oak. The first to the next, to the next to the last. The first to the last. It is not predestination. It is nature. It is the law of cosmos.
And yet, oh how the human spirit dares! How it dreams! How, tenaciously it hopes. How it achieves victories when none seem possible! Could it be that that valiant creed, that hero's spirit defeats greed and fear? Oh, it can happen. It can. That spirit that channels through the ages, from the mind's ancient dreams to the wisdom of philosophy, it could yoke the primitive in its pen and the thinking brain could soar. Oh see it soar! See! Look what beauty in it's flight. See how its flight is delicate and light. Light. See how it dares. See the beauty.
But I am not hopeful.
Greed is a power that cannot check itself. Fear is a state that needs no reason. Through the strong vacuum of human forces, what right of the delicate, what chance for the best? Where can man swim to, bogged down by the drag of the ape? Where else but to the clutch of brothers. But what if those brothers kill? Fear wins. What if those brothers steal? Greed wins. What if those brothers give their life to others. Hope wins. Will you go to the stake for your position? Will you go to the stake for anything? But it's not likely. Martyrs are fools too. Intelligence is the ability to mock the primitive. Have no hesitation in that. And martyrs cannot mock themselves.
Yet the odds are not good. They are long that there is a future for the species. Was it always thus? Did the mediaeval priest think it was end of days? Yes. Has the eschatological existed before? Yes. But now marks a difference, because science tells current leads to catastrophe. Science! What can the thinking brain do? Built up on a history of success, what can it do?
The truth is, it is powerless to greed and fear. And the power of enlightened authority is over estimated. Thus the money-men rule. They will laugh like Bacchus, and sing like the pied piper, and the mass will follow them off the cliff. What is the philosopher to this stampede? And so there is no hope. There is no destiny for our species but annihilation and the destruction of life on earth. And, perhaps like the first note, it was inevitable. Perhaps it is inexorable. The only chance, and I'm no optimist, is that we take our evolution into our hands and make anew the species. Then wisdom may soar in beauteous flight. But...what chance? What hope?
And if so, we have to live with this primate body until then. With its contradictions and its charms. None of this would be so bad, except for the fact that we face an existential crisis in what we are doing to the environment. Fight! If the powers that are, refuse, then there can never been a more legitimate case for revolution. Greed destroying life, what further cause do you need. That has greater necessity than the revolts against George III and Louis XVI combined. And yet I am not an optimist. What is there to be the optimist for? Scarce little. Could we make it in time to take evolution into our own hands, we could be the ancestors to the answer. Yet I have little hope of our getting to that point. Because greed, and its complementary, fear, rule. They keep reason to ransom; logic to the sword. Unleashed on a universe heading towards entropy, are primitive brains, with the technology of destruction. What chance? What hope?
And yet sweet music, you play of hope. It is torture. Cease your strumming, unless it be a lament. Unless it sings of the endless folly of man and his gut desire for the destructive. Rise above the fear! Rise above it. There is nothing to fear! It cannot be a secret that there is nothing to fear. But who will believe it? Who will credit it? And yet you are right, music, in your sanguine sarabande. Each note leads on inevitable to the next. Once the first is played, it decides the last. Once an acorn seed is sown it will only be an oak. The first to the next, to the next to the last. The first to the last. It is not predestination. It is nature. It is the law of cosmos.
And yet, oh how the human spirit dares! How it dreams! How, tenaciously it hopes. How it achieves victories when none seem possible! Could it be that that valiant creed, that hero's spirit defeats greed and fear? Oh, it can happen. It can. That spirit that channels through the ages, from the mind's ancient dreams to the wisdom of philosophy, it could yoke the primitive in its pen and the thinking brain could soar. Oh see it soar! See! Look what beauty in it's flight. See how its flight is delicate and light. Light. See how it dares. See the beauty.
But I am not hopeful.
Greed is a power that cannot check itself. Fear is a state that needs no reason. Through the strong vacuum of human forces, what right of the delicate, what chance for the best? Where can man swim to, bogged down by the drag of the ape? Where else but to the clutch of brothers. But what if those brothers kill? Fear wins. What if those brothers steal? Greed wins. What if those brothers give their life to others. Hope wins. Will you go to the stake for your position? Will you go to the stake for anything? But it's not likely. Martyrs are fools too. Intelligence is the ability to mock the primitive. Have no hesitation in that. And martyrs cannot mock themselves.
Yet the odds are not good. They are long that there is a future for the species. Was it always thus? Did the mediaeval priest think it was end of days? Yes. Has the eschatological existed before? Yes. But now marks a difference, because science tells current leads to catastrophe. Science! What can the thinking brain do? Built up on a history of success, what can it do?
The truth is, it is powerless to greed and fear. And the power of enlightened authority is over estimated. Thus the money-men rule. They will laugh like Bacchus, and sing like the pied piper, and the mass will follow them off the cliff. What is the philosopher to this stampede? And so there is no hope. There is no destiny for our species but annihilation and the destruction of life on earth. And, perhaps like the first note, it was inevitable. Perhaps it is inexorable. The only chance, and I'm no optimist, is that we take our evolution into our hands and make anew the species. Then wisdom may soar in beauteous flight. But...what chance? What hope?
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