If you haven't done so already, please read
first ---- Letter 1 of 4 Birth of a Banana Republic
We have had a disastrous growing season. The plants had diseases. And not enough water. And no fertilizer. As a result the harvest will be bad. We have survived the Apocalypse but even now, more than 20 years after the catastrophe and although we haven’t had any part in it, we are still suffering the consequences.
A famine amongst the Barbarians is never far away. But in 2106 it was so bad that half the people in our village starved to death. The settlement to the north is much bigger with more people and more soil. In desperation we sent two young people to work with them and asked for some food in return. For two months they would arrive every week pulling behind them a mule loaded with food. On their arrival our settlers would shout with delight, because once a week they could quell their hunger. Those who hadn’t already died were kept alive by this arrangement and it saved our settlement.
We have had sick plants and infertile seeds even before the Apocalypse. More than 100 years earlier big biotechnology companies had started to genetically modify maize, wheat, rice and many other food plants. They said their technology would increase crop yield. And it did. What they didn’t say was that they had modified the plants further to produce infertile seeds (a clever move to protect their patents). Hence, farmers could no longer use some of last year’s harvest to sow in the new year. Instead they had to buy seeds each year from the biotech companies. This was, of course, a brilliant money-making concept. Alas, it disrupted a natural farming habit which had served mankind for thousands of years. What is more, by contaminating non-modified crops it also destroyed much of the agricultural diversity which had been a vital backstop for farming.
With the demise of those companies modified seeds where now no longer available. And farmers had almost nothing to sow or plant. Not many natural, fertile plant varieties were left. And those varieties had a much lesser yield, were susceptible to disease and would easily be suffocated by weeds. I should reiterate for those who can not imagine it: There is no fertilizer available these days, no herbicide, no tractor, no machine at all, none of the trappings of ‘modern agribusiness’. What is left is work. Much work, back-breaking work, from dawn to dusk. For every man, woman and child. In spite of all the work some of our seeds won’t grow. Or come up and die straight away. Or survive, but never produce a harvest. Our barley, sorghum and millet suffer from head blight, the rye from brown rust. In spite of all our work we will have another bad harvest.
Someone came up from the valley today to bring food and have a chat. Elsa followed behind. She used to be very thin. Now she has put on some weight and seems mellower. She waited until the elder and I had finished. Then she came up to me and gave me a broad smile. “I wanted to tell you something.” she said “I am pregnant. The others are being so good to me, they have given me lighter work and some time off. They all want to give me some of their food. I can’t eat it all. Just think how lucky I am. Most people these days are infertile. Or they conceive and then abort within the first few months. I am now in the seventh month ... I have been delaying to tell you until I was absolutely sure. I feel so good and the baby is kicking inside me. I have never been so happy. It will be a beautiful child.” I put my arm around her shoulder: “What wonderful news. I am glad you are so happy. Take good care. I know it will be a beautiful child.”
Quiet Earth
From 2085 to 2110 AD
After the nuclear inferno it is now peaceful. We at Sun have been lucky. Ours is a small and unimportant kingdom and therefore it was never involved in the hostilities. In addition we had the good fortune of not being downwind from the main centres. This meant we didn’t get the fallout that others were exposed to. Those others survived at first, but then started suffering from radiation sickness and dying a slow and miserable death. A few month later the air had become a little clearer. At first glance things seemed to have stabilised. Even improved. But there were hidden dangers which became gradually apparent.
The surviving Bandits had been scavenging the bombed cities, looting all they could in the ruins of the Lords’ palaces. But they ignored, or didn’t know, the risks of radiation. It was so high in those cities that many died on their way home. The loot they dropped as they were dying was also highly radioactive and would remain so for hundreds of years to come. In the biological warfare preceding the nuclear war many of the Bandits had been infected with the plague. Most perished in the atomic strikes, but a few survived. In their search for booty they raided some Barbarian settlements. All of the settlers in those villages were infected and died.
The pollution after the conflict was enormous. It wasn’t just radiation. It was also biological and chemical pollution. It wasn’t just in the air. It was in the soil and in the water, even underground in the water table. There is no way of telling whether our environment, our bodies, our water is now contaminated and by how much. We don’t have instruments to check the air, the soil, the water for radioactivity or chemicals. We will just have to continue living, hoping for the best. We have been dying early anyway. Now we will be dying even sooner and in more painful ways. And we won’t be able to reproduce. What will become of us ?
The people of Sun had survived the carnage. But now they were starving. All their trading had stopped, their equipment was wearing out, they could no longer produce any goods to trade. Nobody was left anyway to give them food in exchange for their products. The Lords who used to be the masters of trade were desperate. Most of their ‘property’ – mines, plantations, factories, water ways – had been destroyed or was contaminated and inaccessible. The soldiers protecting it had been killed. The Lords found themselves without means. In their anger they would have turned on the King, had they not killed him earlier. This didn’t do much to improve their mood. I was still their official advisor and trade expert. But as all trade had ceased, my job was getting a bit tenuous. To shore up my importance I dangled some ideas in front of them like how they could get back their property by going on an expedition ... But they were scared stiff. They may have been ‘daring entrepreneurs’, but they aren’t courageous by any stretch of imagination. In fact they are terrible weaklings and absolute cowards. Much easier for them to let others do the dangerous work. Which is what they have done for the last few thousands of years.
The Sun soldiers were unsettled. Many of their comrades had died. The Lords could no longer provide food, weapons and fuel. They had lost all ‘their property’ and as a consequence had no means to pay for anything. Some of the hungry soldiers staged an uprising against the Commander which he suppressed ruthlessly. The Lords took that as an opportunity to conspire against him. They spread the rumour he was planning to massacre all of his soldiers. A most unlikely rumour as no Commander in his right mind would kill all his own underlings. There would be no one left to command. But rumours don’t require rational thought. This particular one was all the more credible as he had actually suppressed the earlier uprising by killing many soldiers. In the end the Commander had no choice but to execute all the Lords and their families. They were not contributing, he said as his justification. “In times of hardship” he explained “it is our duty to wipe out the parasites”. And the soldiers believed him. Especially the bit about the ‘parasites’.
So, the Commander became the sole authority and governor of the Sun kingdom. However, his soldiers were still dying from hunger at an alarming rate. So did the slaves, but that wasn’t of much importance. The Commander worried about the future. There were no more external enemies to fight. There were no more Lords nor their property to protect. He was not exactly cheered by the prospect of a future that had no place for him. The remaining soldiers kept demanding to be fed and in the absence of food conspired against him. His new enemies were, of course, also mine, because I was too close to him. So I started worrying about my future, too.
A few days later I introduced the Commander to a revolutionary new idea: The soldiers would have to start growing their own food. This came as a complete surprise for him. How would we do it ? he asked. Well, if you don’t know, you could always ask the Barbarians. They have been doing it for a long time and I think with the right incentive I could get them to share their experience with us.
This is how I got a new job and a new reason to exist. So here I am, the chief negotiator for the great Sun army, asking the humble Barbarians for help, for advice, for sharing their knowledge. So that the mighty army doesn’t have to die from hunger. In my first few dealings with them they were polite, but obviously didn’t believe the Commander was serious about this. Or sincere. Or realistic. Just imagine a soldier using a plow instead of the sword ! To obtain their cooperation we needed to make a gesture, give a token gift, demonstrate our goodwill. I got the soldiers to make a wheelbarrow from some old spare parts and bits of sheet metal with the handles being two sawn-off gun barrels. When I turned up with this contraption at our next meeting, the settlers were delighted. They started to cooperate enthusiastically. In exchange for advice they asked for tools and implements. In the end we agreed on a good deal, although they wouldn’t use a word like that.
I often wonder about the Barbarians’ language. And mine. They never use words like deal, pay, owe, mine .... Instead they say work, share, help, ours ... It is amazing how very different they are, how completely unlike me or the soldiers or the slaves. The most striking difference is that they have no notion of property or ownership. No one owns anything. What they have in terms of tools or food is ‘owned’ by all, collectively. Even the huts they live in belong to the village, are common ‘property’. They live together in ‘settlements’, small communities of no more than forty families. Anything bigger is not good, they say. You must be able to meet and know everybody in the village. A smaller village is no good either, because there are not enough hands to do all the work. And you don’t get the mix of different talents that are needed. For example, to produce food you start by growing and later harvesting grain, roots, or vegetables. This then goes through numerous steps of manual processing before you can eat it. You need many people for that and a lot of different skills. And everyone, without exception, must make their contribution in exchange for their share. If they contribute, they are entitled to food, to company, “have the right to be here” as one of the elders put it. Compare this to what a soldier does, or a Lord. Do you start to see the difference ? Finally the slaves. They have to work, but they are not entitled to anything. What is more they don’t even have the right to exist. The Barbarians don’t have slaves. Nor soldiers. Nor Lords. The concept itself is alien to their way of life. Those who regard them as primitive, ignorant and uneducated would be shocked to discover how much they can learn from them.
Through my frequent contacts with the Barbarians I got to know them better and I started to like the way they lived. In the end I decided that life as a Barbarian was what I wanted. There was nothing much I had to give up at Sun. I talked to the elders about joining them as a Barbarian. They were polite, but it became clear they didn’t really want me. They said they had too many people already. But I suspect they doubted whether at my age I could contribute much. Also, how would I manage to adapt to the harsh life as a Barbarian. To impress them I extolled my skills as a trade expert and negotiator. They laughed. I explained that I had learned to be an accountant, and a lawyer, too. More laughter. I could even be their economist. They laughed and laughed and could hardly stop. No, no, they gurgled, these strange skills are of no use to us. Is it not amazing how natural and honest they were ? They didn’t mean to offend, they simply spoke their mind. My skills were not what they needed. They required people who could actually do real work. Nevertheless, they recommended I try a remote village in the south, on the outskirts of the realm, which was short of people after frequent raids by the Bandits.
I have been living here for six years now. Because I am old I could not offer to do physical work. But the villagers seemed to value my advice and my early warnings against intruders. Now, however, after the Apocalypse, with no more drones nor Bandits threatening us, my role has disappeared. That worries me. The Barbarian rule “No contribution, no right to be here” worries me. Don’t I have a right to exist, just because I have been born ? I am worrying about other matters, too. You could say old people always worry, often about nothing. But consider this :
Our spring, the sole source of water for the whole village, has less and less water. I noticed it a few weeks ago when it seemed to take much longer to fill my water can. The glaciers up in the mountains where all the main rivers rise had started to retreat in 2005 and had all but vanished some 50 years later. From then on our river, like most others, has been dry except for occasional flash floods. There used to be lakes in our area. They have all dried up. Temperatures have risen and the rains have become infrequent and unreliable. When they come they are violent and destructive, washing away the remaining topsoil. What will we do, if our spring stops flowing ? Or is it a question of when ?
When I look out in the evening across the plain, all I can see is an endless desert of dry, gray dust, gravel, and stone. The hills in the distance are just bare rocks. A desolate landscape. The earth has been stripped naked, raped, made unproductive. In the absence of water and soil the earth has become infertile, dead. The natural capital of the planet - oil, timber, minerals – has been extracted and squandered for products that were either useless or destructive. Our capital has been used up. For nothing in the end. What hasn’t been wasted has been poisoned. Half our continent is a no-go zone for the next thousand years because of radioactive radiation. What remains is very little, hardly enough to sustain life. Humans have destroyed the present. Even worse, they may have destroyed the future, too. We may not be able to live on. We may even be unable to reproduce. What will become of us ?
What have we done to this earth ? A place that was once wonderful, lush, plentiful, generous, a paradise, our beautiful home. Where are the birds, the flowers, the beauty ? Where has it all gone ?
You might ask: Why has it come to this ? Many bad things had been developing over the last few hundred years. But the present disaster began in earnest in 2010. Once it had started all else that has happened since was to be expected. A runaway train, once in motion, can not be stopped. Some subsequent events could have played out differently, but those differences would have been minor. It all led inevitably to a catastrophic end.
You might ask: How did it start ? The financial meltdown caused an economic disaster which caused a political crisis which caused a social catastrophe which caused a human .... and so on. So, the financial problems were to blame ? No. They were just the trigger. There were many other problems, each of which could have started it. Think of religious fanaticism, corporate greed, climate change, capitalist expansionism, lust for world domination, energy shortages, nationalistic arrogance, and more.
You might ask: Where did all these problems come from ? This is wide open to speculation, guesswork, opinion. My personal take is this: Once you introduce money, you create a means of accumulating unbelievable, obscene, overpowering wealth which is not natural. In Mesopotamia thousands of years ago there were wealthy traders. They owned stores full of grain. But they could not finance a standing army, hence could not start a war. Nor could they form an empire and terrorise all nations that dared to resist. Enormous wealth in the hands of a few and grinding poverty for all others is not good. Somebody had predicted what would come out of that in 1848. But people didn’t believe him. Or didn’t want to listen. In addition there is the greed, inertia and plain old stupidity which are so common to humans. It makes for a lethal combination, murderous at first and suicidal in the end. You may have a different opinion. But neither your nor my opinion matters any more.
This is the end of my report.
It is a summary of the last hundred years of mankind.
It may well be the very last hundred years of mankind.
If this is the case, then the earth will be quiet for good. Quiet forever.
----o-o-o-o-o-o-o--------------
This letter has taken a long time to write. I started three months ago and I am only now able to finish it. There have been some bad developments.
We had another crop failure. For the last three months I had to work every day to grow sufficient food just for myself. My plants are the sickly offspring of degenerated, manipulated, mutated grain. And they produce very little. What am I going to eat next week ? Next month ?
Then there was Elsa. She had given birth to a healthy child. But there were complications. The villagers called me to try and help. She was bleeding and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. I sat by her bed and could not think of anything to help her. All the women looked at me and cried: Do something! Help! Stop the bleeding! How? I said and looked away to avoid their eyes, I don’t know how.
They put the child on her chest. She couldn’t see it because she was too weak to raise her head. But she felt it and smiled. I held her hand. There was nothing I could do. When she stopped breathing, her smile faded away, slowly, little by little. It was a merciful way of dying, like falling asleep. Her last thought would have been a happy one: To wake up in the morning holding the child in her arms.
It was a healthy child, but none of the women was able to feed it. It was crying all day. The villagers sent a messenger to the settlement in the north asking for help. The women tried to comfort the child. It was growing weaker by the hour. On the third day it stopped crying. By the time a young, breast-feeding mother from the north arrived, the child had died. The young woman said with tears in her eyes: “It was a beautiful child ...”
The whole village was at the funeral, all twentyfive of them. They laid the child in the mother’s arms and buried them together. I looked around during the ceremony. There were very few young faces, most were old, thirty and over. Some of them moved their lips as if praying. Praying to whom, I wondered. Didn’t they know there was nobody listening ? I walked back up the hill. When I arrived at the top, I realised I had been walking all the way with clenched fists.
This is the great contradiction: There used to be too many people for the earth to support. Now there are too few being born to maintain viable communities. Most men are infertile, mothers miscarry or perish in childbirth or give birth to deformed children which die within months. Everyone is dying earlier and earlier. There were too many before, now there are too few.
What will happen in the future ? Will we be able to continue ? What will become of us ?
In moments of despair I think I am the lucky one. I can go and leave behind a miserable life, a life not worth living and a future not worth having. I’m glad I will be gone. Or should I have hope and think, The young ones have never known anything better than what they have now. They’ll make do with the little that is left and will make the best of it. The Now and Here is all they have. They will try and enjoy it and not wait for a better future that may never arrive. Which of the two is the right answer ?
In the evening I collected some hemlock and let it soak in a cup of water. After the night had fallen I sat down with my back against a rock and stared into the darkness. There was no moon. I couldn’t see a thing. Nor hear a sound. The village below is doomed, because it doesn’t have enough people to support itself. The spring will dry up. The few young ones will move north, the old ones will die. There are no more drones, no more Bandits to warn them about. They don’t need a lookout any more.
There is nothing left for me to do, nothing I could contribute. Maybe its time to go. Nobody asked me whether I wanted to be born. Now, at least, I can make my own decision. I came into the world as a slave. I will leave it as a free man, just like my ancestor a hundred years ago.
I listen to the silence. I am not moving, not speaking. There is no one to talk to and there is no one listening. I am waiting. Waiting for the dawn so I can complete the letter. It is still. My mind is blank, numb, frozen.
A thin gray line appears in the black sky. I get on my feet. It is rapidly expanding across the eastern horizon and growing lighter, brighter. Dawn has arrived, at last. I am gulping down all that is in the cup. I must now finish this last letter to You very quickly. Are You still there ? ... m sorry bout what we leav bhind ... don’t knw whethr.. is enogh for... poison is workg... nthg mor for me .. to contrb... I... no... You... can... hav... mayb... a right to... be ...?
Copyright © Rolf Brandt 2009
