The
Bloody
Newsletter
November
issue #189
|
|
|
Your Apple flim flam is not a phone. This is a phone. |
Mike's Pith & Wind
Hold the phone
It was after I’d topped up the van’s petrol in Mt Evelyn on the way to meeting Craig Horne for a social brunch that I realised I’d left my phone at home. Even though I had left home unnecessarily early and was only a few minutes away, I decided it might be character-building to forego having the phone on my person for a change and head off into the world uncontactable.
Within minutes I was having panicky recriminations. What if Maria needed to contact me urgently? What if I’d got the time, or even the day of my meeting with Craig wrong? What if.. The scenarios multiplied as I began to consider the calamities being phoneless might present.
I tried to counter the anxiety by hearkening back to my pre-mobile phone days. In those days all I needed to do was, in fact, exactly what I’d already done - I’d advised Maria of the appointment, given her a reasonable estimate of the time of my return home and, well, that’s all I really needed to do, wasn’t it?
I was reasonably certain I’d got the time right for the meeting. The actual location for brunch hadn’t been sorted so we’d decided to meet outside what was the old Post Office on the corner of Canterbury and Maling Roads at 11 o’clock. No need to panic.
I got there ahead of time and went to the Post Office. It used to be the Post Office, but more recently it was transformed into a cafe, craftily called The Maling Room. It’s under new management and now it’s mystifyingly called The Extracted. I popped inside to see if Craig had found us a table, but there was no sign of him.
This was slightly disturbing as Craig is always punctual, in fact he’s usually well-early, so I crossed over the road to where I had good view of pedestrian traffic from all quarters and waited.
The anxiety was becoming rampant, so I was grateful to hear his cheery greeting as I re-crossed the road to check out the Post Office once again.
There was no selfie to mark the occasion of our brunch, (so, did it even happen?), but I didn’t think about the absence of my phone again until I was on the way home and fancied that I might like to listen to some music on my ear-pods and maybe call Maria to let her know I was on the way home - although there was every reason to expect that I’d be home at the estimated time.
What is wrong with me? And, by extension, every other mobile-phone owner. That feeling of being absolutely lost without your phone is palpable. The worrying feeling that you might miss something unless you’re hooked into your phone cum social network cum camera cum street directory cum dictionary cum something you might not even know you’re going to need at any given moment.
When we were very young, my brother and I spent quite a deal of time at the family property in North Canterbury in the South Island of New Zealand. Mendip Hills was the name of the property, and at 15,000 acres a significantly sized property too, being roughly bounded by the Conway and Leader Rivers, which used to cut us off from the outside world when they flooded. It had been much larger, but had been split between say seven brothers, with the original homestead ceded to our grandfather Norman, the youngest of the brothers, much to the chagrin of the other six brothers.
In the hall between the kitchen and the lounge, with its spectacularly sized fireplace that you could actually be seated in, there was a vintage (even then) wall phone. Smack in the middle of the front panel of this sizeable oak cabinet there was a fixed horn you spoke into (probably ‘the blower’, now that I think of it). On the cabinet’s left side there was an ear-horn that facilitated the connection when you lifted it off its cradle, as well as a button that you depressed if you wanted an operator. There was a crank handle on the right-hand side that you would vigorously crank a pre-ordained pattern of long and short rings that would ring on the telephone in your farm manager’s house or the wool shed or even a neighbouring farm.
There was a considerable electrical DC charge produced when you cranked the crank handle and inevitably Richard and I were persuaded, say by a vicious uncle, to put our fingers on the bells when the handle was turned, only to receive quite a decent belt from it. Of course, thereafter we always wanted to trick somebody else into the same mistake, but none of the adults would play ball - or bell - so we never got our revenge.
I think I may’ve previously mentioned that one of Norman’s more resentful brothers once herded Dick and I into a dark cupboard with a cattle-prod when we’d been left at his place by our mother in the holidays. Nothing nefarious transpired, so I guess we were lucky. Our childish ignorance certainly didn’t protect us, but I’m still grateful we were so utterly innocent - it seems children’s innocence is such a luxury these days.
Later, when we were living in the city of Christchurch, we had the standard issue black rotary phone that everybody had. I wasn’t too keen on taking incoming calls on behalf of my parents, but eventually I was able to field the odd call without wetting my pants. The tinny voices made it difficult for me to work out who was calling and I think I made some errors in identification that had some alarming consequences.
You might glean from this that I wasn’t that keen to enter the adult world in general - for instance, it was only Richard’s keenness to get his driving licence that spurred me on to getting mine at round about the same time - Richard was sixteen and I was an ancient eighteen.
Ultimately it was music that inspired me and allowed me to retreat from the real world and its manifold and depressing responsibilities. At first I thought that Art might save me from adulthood. My grand-parents noticed I had a penchant for cartooning and encouraged me to pursue that dream, (one tended to take notice of the grandparents), and, as you might already know, I did spend a couple of years at Art School on a teaching bursary before music seduced me away.
Mind you, I wouldn’t have minded being an Art Teacher like Aitchy, (Mr Aitchison) our Christ’s College Art teacher, whom Dick tells me had his brain fried serving in Bomber Command in the Battle of Britain era. He left me entirely to my own devices in the latter years, rarely bothering to even make an appearance when I was in the Art Room, which Dick, Compton Tothill and I used as a rehearsal room for singing harmony songs like The Righteous Brothers’ You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling’ with the harmonies cascading Phil Spector-like down the brutalist concrete stair-well.
Aitchy’s laissez faire attitude might’ve been contagious and nearly brought me undone when, in the middle of the exams, mum received a phone call enquiring as to my whereabouts, as the Art exam was already well under way.
I was still in bed, thinking I had no exams that day, so mum rushed me down to College and I whipped up a painting in no time at all and received a healthy enough mark to bring up my average mark up to something approaching respectability - enough to get my University Entrance exam accredited anyway!
So, the phone did play an important role in my life back then, even though it was simply a fixed landline phone with no other fancy functions.
I mentioned children’s innocence before. How can curious children today possibly retain their innocence when the unprincipled and mendacious information merchants lay sensationalist clickbait, honeytraps and other scams to suck a miserable few dollars from them and in return feed them the fascinating, inspiring, grotesque, squalid and ultimately barren facts of life, displacing their childish and hopeful dreams with despair and dismay? As I was a sensitive child I’m so glad I missed out on all that and was given the chance to enjoy my childhood fantasies until I was good and ready to weather the shit-storm that is growing up.
So, back to the adventure that prompted this orgy of reflection. I more or less got away with being phone-less on this and some other previous occasions, but if faced with the prospect again, I’d think carefully. I’m sure that my friends would understand if I burst into the room thirty minutes late explaining that I’d left my phone at home and had to go back and pick it up. After all, for better or worse we’re all in the same connected world and we therefore all know that it’s far better to be late than unconnected. |
|
back
to the top |
|
Dick's Toolbox |
The Opposite of Growth
Assuming that we avoid an apocalypse arising from the continually escalating violent desperation in the Middle East, the Trump bid for the presidency, where despite the fact that he is totally unsuited to govern, change his own nappy or play with grown-ups he might yet be a triumphant Trump. To my surprise I read that if Australians could vote in the US elections more than 20% would vote for Trump. Bloody hell.
In a world that is slip-sliding to the right and apathy in a miasma of untruths, Russian disinformation bots and anti-social social media, we might want to think about a future world. A more ideal world - one more rational than this. Just in case we ever survive. To take our mind off things.
It is suggested that we might be alone in the universe because, given the probability of intelligent life arising in other parts of the universe, a more advanced civilisation should have visited us by now. Even given the number of alien imposed rectal probes on the unsuspecting rears of America’s southern states, the evidence that this has happened is both slim and insanitary.
Because we think that all intelligent life must be like us, or at least the idealised us, we think ‘alien’ life forms will be benevolent, intelligent and kind. They would not demonstrate our actual behaviour of exceptionalism, violent competition, and historical contempt for the environment and other life on our planet. Well, if they’re not like our benevolent view of ourselves, I would contend that they, having seen us once, would avoid the place like the plague leaving signs at the periphery of the solar system saying in large neon lights ‘Go no further’. If they are like the real us, the probability is that they have annihilated themselves perhaps more than once and are charred fragments many light years away.
As a cheerful and hopeful thought, consider that humanity might be a self-correcting mistake, as earth would have been, would be, probably a better place without our species. Or at least without Elon Musk.
Back to the thesis: in 2006 in a blog entitled ‘There are too many people” I wrote about an ideal number of humans on the planet and speculated on the arbitrary number as ....the same number of people as lived before the great sewerage works of London were completed - about 1876 by Sir Joseph Bazalgette - as an acknowledgement that it was engineers that gave us clean water and sewage disposal that have contributed most to the population explosion. Not medicine or the invention of disposable nappies. So that’s about 1.5 billion people which is still an incredible lot and in rabbit terms would have us reaching for the Myxomatosis.”
I may have been generous with the numbers, but global population estimates of that time have an error factor as public records could be a bit haphazard. But anyway, that is about a sixth of the world’s current population - and we are assuming that, having shrunk, it isn’t ever going to get larger. Please.
Being an intelligent person* you would have long ago realised that a world based on perpetual growth is not sustainable on a finite small blue planet on the edges of the Milky Way galaxy.
According to UN estimates, only when the world population will have grown to 10.4 billion in 2086, at which point the population start to decline. Australia’s population would be over fifty million.
If we divide the population of Australia by six, that means that Australia would have four and a half million people, not the two million there were in 1876, and not be growing at the current rate of a person every 54 seconds. It wouldn’t be growing at all. Population growth zero. Boringly for ever and ever the population would be four and a half million people. Or less.
It is over three hundred and seventy years before we reached my optimum of a sixth of the worlds current project population, if we could manage an annual population decline of -0.5%. It would be good if it were quicker, but I am going to pass over the way that the world might level down to a population of 1.5 billion at a higher rate,as the most likely scenario of a global environmental collapse is not a pretty thought. But the sane way, through fewer children, probably isn’t nearly quick enough given a growing and aging population.
In general, it has been observed as the material sophistication and education of a society grows the number of children born declines. This is currently shown in the more affluent western countries such as Japan and Italy where the population is falling at -0.54% and -0.29% respectively, and there are 1.3 births per woman respectively. In Nigeria it is currently 5 births per woman.
You may see there is a problem here, as that means that at some stage everybody has a lifestyle equivalent to say France or Australia. In a consumer society this means an awful lot of disposable nappies and fast food outlets. An enormous lot of energy consumed, a lot more massive data centres internalising AI essays on Plato’s Republic and its relationship to regional Italian cooking, tonnes of processed food and a lot of tattoo parlours. Even more rubbish. Call me naive, but we are totally fucked.
So the next three hundred and fifty years might be a tad difficult to survive. But let’s have a moments optimism and presume that somehow the world get though.
You may have thought about the Australian economy once in a while, but to me it is an economy that works only because of an ever-growing population. The things that we export, the coal, iron, bauxite, gas and wheat that actually make all the money, don’t take that many people to put on a boat and sell overseas. We don’t make very much here at all, we are as a German Economic Minister said, ‘cutting each other’s hair’. No cars, planes or buses and no sophisticated electronics. What we do is build houses and run glorified corner stores that feed the incoming population, who slide into newly created housing estates chewing up arable land
So, in a world of negative growth, a shrunken population, what are we going to do? For a while parts of the commodity export trade will be necessary, but if we take away the Australian home-building sector and its peripherals what do we do? Where are all the tradies in their massive dual cab monsters going to go? What are all the factories in China making sanitary wares going to do? With less than five million people, what do is everyone going to be doing? Given the levels of technology that should be available, not having as hard a time of it as they did in Australian in the 1870s. A lot more barbecues and less tourists.
I just point this out as a problem that nobody seems to be dealing with. Business and capitalism generally thinks that everything must keep on going the way that it is, because that is what it is entirely predicted upon. More and more rather that less and less. And you might see an opportunity for an alternative political reality, rather than one invested in maintaining the status quo.
There are definite eventual upsides to this of course. Global warming should cease to be an ongoing problem - that is if it hasn’t gotten rid of us by then. Forests will regenerate, the seas might recover, and many farms can revert to nature. The nature of cities would change and grass would grow through the asphalt. A bonus for the environment.
Oh happy days.
* The fact that you are reading this generally unread meandering on the fringes of the internet means that you are an unusually curious researcher or lost. In an intelligent way.
|
|
|
|
|
back
to the top |
|
|
|
©
2018 mikeruddbillputt.com |
|
|
|