Until recently I’ve been on the run. As Portland, Oregon was locking down due to COVID-19, my American wife and I fled south against the flow of people increasingly fearful, staying at home and not comprehending Covid. Nearby Seattle was in upheaval due to civil unrest and positive cases were increasing in Washington, the state at the forefront of the American outbreak. Our goal was to get to Los Angeles so we could fly to my boyhood home of New Zealand (which seemed to be handling the pandemic responsibly) so we could base ourselves there and return to humanitarian work far from America. That didn’t happen due to travel bans and border closures. So began a period of exile in the southern-Californian desert near Joshua Tree. In fact we spent most of our time in 29 Palms, a poor town that serves a massive military base where the US prepared especially for its invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. Desperately needing space to myself, I began constructing a contemplative labyrinth on the large property where we were staying. I found myself needing ways to be alone and simply accept my circumstances. I felt trapped and lonely in a foreign land, one which heavily influenced my decision to become a humanitarian and work towards a more humane world where people so often suffer at the hands of America and whose many atrocities are indisputable.
So many Americans I know hate their country’s foreign policy and rightfully awful reputation for hypocritically declaring their belief in democracy and freedom while actively undermining it or even fighting against it wherever it does not serve their national self interest. That has been the dominant geo-political reality of my life. Each time I descended the hill to the place where I was living, the lights of the base shone with an abrasive napalm glare which filled me with a deep sadness and sense of helplessness. In a land full of guns it seems collectively the citizens of the United States are incredibly disenfranchised and caught up in a capitalist system that has religion but no heart. The 2nd Amendment of the American Constitution gives the right to take up arms against a tyrannical government yet no one seems to think we are living in such a moment. Not that force would be the answer. This morning I saw pictures of Portland burning and finally I was able to write down thoughts that have been brewing for decades. The positive potential of the US has been evident for generations but its failure at home and abroad makes it more divided by the day. The regular mass shootings and murders of unarmed black people by police point to the deeply unjust and racist country this place remains. This is unsurprising as it wasn’t originally intended that all people be treated as equals here. A revolution is required if things are to change. Civil war may be coming.
I walked around the sandy path, well-trodden after weeks spent meandering along its meditative route marked out by old tires, chain, rocks and scrap iron. The rusty nails and weatherworn cross in one part remind me of the suffering we all experience and the powerless condition of most people, regardless of the country we find ourselves in. How do we stand up collectively as homo sapiens and inhabit the fullness of our humanity?
So often I want to walk away into the wilderness and rid myself of society and the cultural and political environments that poison us. Although there have been incredible developments both for good and evil in how we live, the basic conclusion I have reached after 46 years is that we have lost our way as a species. The driving motivations of the systems we have created operate in such a way as to kill us even as we are breathing. Consider the money spent on deliberately destroying life of every sort on our planet. America has a special place in this devastation and it seems very little will change. If there is a cataclysm approaching (which many agree there is), denial and comfortable self-preservation seems to still be the order of the day for late-stage capitalism.
In my new home in the Congo, I have closer proximity with the way the majority of the world lives. There is simple appreciation for breath and daily bread. The lakeside birds busy themselves with the necessities of the day, singing their vibrant tunes. This brings me joy and peace, pointing to lessons for us all in nature.
C’est la vie humanitaire.
