Helpless
How do we keep going while the world is on fire?
The sky's the wrong color on the west coast. It’s not that way because of some little-known chemical reaction caused by algae releasing gas in the ocean, or because of some sort of positioning of the planets. It’s because of the fires raging through northern California, Oregon and Washington.
This is the worst wildfire season in recorded history. Authorities don’t know just how much has been destroyed or how many people have died because they simply can’t reach some of the areas in the path of the infernos. All of this comes as we enter our seventh month of societal calamity brought on by the pandemic. More than 190,000 Americans are dead.
The lucky ones out west haven’t died from COVID. They haven’t had their homes and belongings burnt to ash. They just woke up to this view, already exhausted from half a year of fear and loss.
The images coming out of the west that shake me the most aren’t the ones of entire hillsides engulfed in flame, but those of people going about their lives in the red-orange haze as if nothing was amiss. It’s not that I have anything against these people. Quite the contrary.
I feel sadness. I feel pity. They have to go about their lives. Their jobs expect them to. Their landlords and bills expect them to. The show must go on, even if it looks like it’s about to start raining blood and the wildfires are burning peoples’ homes a few miles away.
At least you don’t have to worry about inhaling ash if you go outside. You’re probably already wearing a mask. You know, because of the whole deadly pandemic thing.
This is the world we live in. This is just how things are now. The fires out west are growing worse every year, and this is simply their latest incarnation. This is how our society functions, absorbing wanton destruction and death. We are helpless, because the people at the highest levels have decided that this cost of doing business is agreeable to them.
Much as the ravages of the pandemic could have been curbed had the government acted quickly and decisively, there was no need for the wildfires to ever grow this bad. We’ve known about the effects of climate change for decades. While there have been some small gains in policy to address it, those gains are microscopic compared to the sweeping action that needs to be taken to stave off utter catastrophe.
The fires and haunting skies are the most photogenic reminders of just how screwed we are. But they’re only the most recent ones. Hurricane Laura, an absolutely enormous storm, walloped the gulf coast just a few weeks ago. Iowa was run over by a fearsome derecho just weeks before that. Australia burned this year, even if it feels like it happened a lifetime ago.
It’s getting worse, and will continue to get worse.
It’s hard to not feel helpless and overwhelmed. It’s hard to look at the state of the world, at how slowly but surely the terrible things that are happening become folded into the normalcy of everyday life, and wonder if things will actually improve at some point.
It’s hard to see Barack Obama tweet well-wishes for people in harm’s way and not feel rage when you remember he boasted about skyrocketing American oil production, or when you remember that Joe Biden has come out in favor of fracking.
Apocalyptic skies and horrible storms are just part of the way things work now, apparently. Perhaps we’re a little numb to it because of the way that apocalyptic narratives are everywhere in our media landscape. We saw the pandemic and thought of Contagion, because how could we not? We saw the orange cityscape in San Francisco and immediately thought of Blade Runner, because how could we not?
But there’s something horrifying about watching the hopelessness of dystopia come to life. It’s enjoyable to watch those sorts of movies because they’re safely behind a screen. They’re not meant to harm us for real.
So what now? How do we keep going about our days? I’m probably the wrong person to ask about that. I suppose you can try to focus on the task in front of you, and on working towards putting people into power who will actually try to fix all of this. But I’m also not going to tell you to rise and grind no matter what. That’s a toxic way of doing things and doesn’t allow for empathy.
The best we can do is to care for ourselves and our loved ones. The best we can do is try to enjoy what we can while helping those who need it, including ourselves. It’s okay to take a break if you can take one. It’s okay to log off.
Work will be waiting for you right where you left it, right there in the middle of the end of it all.
A better world is possible. Supposedly. We’re running out of time to create it.