Judgement Day For Our Culture?

The end of the year offers a chance to make an accounting of our human situation on this planet. What can we hope for and what way will history go? Those are worrisome questions, because the global landscape is somber. A crisis of structural magnitude lurks in the heart of the dominant economic-social system (Europe and United States), with repercussions for the rest of the world. The Bible has a recurrent theme in the prophetic tradition: judgment day is near. It is the day of revelation: the truth comes out, and our mistakes and sins are revealed as enemies of life. Great historians like Toynbee and von Ranke also speak of judgment of entire cultures. I believe we really are faced with a global judgment of our way of living on the Earth, and of the relationship we maintain with her.

Considering the situation at a deeper level, one that looks beyond the economic analysis prevailing with governments, businesses, world forums, and the media, we can see with ever more clarity the contradiction that exists between the logic of our modern culture, with its political economics, individualism and consumerism, and the logic of the natural processes of our living planet, the Earth. They are incompatible. The first is competitive, the latter, cooperative. The first is exclusive, the latter, inclusive. The first puts its principal value on the individual, the latter, on the good of all. The first gives centrality to merchandise, the latter, to life in all its forms. If we do not do something, this incompatibility could lead us to a very severe impasse.

This incompatibility is aggravated by the premises underlying our social process: that we can grow without limits, that the resources are inexhaustible and that material and individual prosperity bring us the happiness that we so desire. These premises are illusory: resources are limited and a finite Earth cannot sustain infinite development. Prosperity and individualism are not bringing us happiness, but great loneliness, depression, violence and suicide.

There are two problems that interact, and could cause upheavals in the future: global warming and human overpopulation. Global warming is a term that encompasses the impact our civilization has on nature, threatening the sustainability of life and the Earth. The result is the annual emission of billions of tons of carbon dioxide and methane, which is 23 times more destructive than the former. The accelerating thawing of the frozen soil of the Siberian tundra (the permafrost), will create in the coming decades the danger of an abrupt warming of 4 to 5 degrees centigrade, that could devastate great portions of life on Earth. The increase in human population causes more goods and natural services to be exploited, more energy used, and more greenhouse gasses to be expelled into the atmosphere.

The strategies for controlling this threatening situation are largely ignored by governments and decision-makers. Our deeply rooted individualism has precluded a consensus from being reached in UN gatherings. Each country sees only its own interests, and is blind to the collective interest and the planet as a whole. And this way we are recklessly approaching an abysm.

But the mother of all the above-mentioned distortions is our anthropocentrism, the conviction that we human beings are the center of everything, and that everything has been created for us alone, losing sight of our dependency on everything around us. That is the source of our destructiveness, that causes us to devastate nature to satisfy our desires.

Some humility and perspective is urgently needed. The universe is 13.7 billion years old; the Earth, 4.45 billion; life, 3.8 billion; human life, 5-7 million; and the homo sapiens, some 130-140,000 years. Consequently, we were born only “few minutes” ago, the fruit of all the previous history. And from sapiens we are going to demens, threatening our companions in the community of life.

We have reached the apex of the process of evolution, not to destroy, but to guard and care for this sacred legacy. Only then will judgment day reveal our true identity and our mission here on Earth.

El día del juicio a nuestra cultura?

El fin del año ofrece la ocasión para hacer un balance sobre nuestra situación humana en este planeta. ¿Qué podemos esperar y qué rumbo tomará la historia? Son preguntas preocupantes pues los escenarios globales se presentan sombríos. Una crisis de magnitud estructural se ha instalado en el corazón del sistema económico-social dominante (Europa y Estados Unidos), con reflejos en el resto del mundo. La Biblia tiene una categoría recurrente en la tradición profética: el día del juicio se avecina. Es el día de la revelación: la verdad sale a la superficie y nuestros errores y pecados son denunciados como enemigos de la vida. Grandes historiadores como Toynbee y von Ranke también hablan del juicio a culturas enteras. Estimo que estamos realmente ante un juicio global sobre nuestra forma de vivir en la Tierra y sobre el tipo de relación que mantenemos con ella.
 
Considerando la situación a un nivel más profundo, que va más allá de los análisis económicos que predominan en los gobiernos, en las empresas, en los foros mundiales y en los medios de comunicación, notamos cada vez con más claridad la contradicción existente entre la lógica de nuestra cultura moderna, con su economía política, su individualismo y su consumismo, y la lógica de los procesos naturales de nuestro planeta vivo, la Tierra. Son incompatibles. La primera es competitiva, la segunda, cooperativa. La primera es excluyente, la segunda, inclusiva. La primera pone su valor principal en el individuo, la segunda en el bien de todos. La primera da centralidad a la mercancía, la segunda a la vida en todas sus formas. Si no hacemos algo, esta incompatibilidad puede llevarnos a un severísimo impasse.
 
Lo que agrava esta incompatibilidad son las premisas subyacentes a nuestro proceso social: que podemos crecer ilimitadamente, que los recursos son inagotables y que la prosperidad  material e individual nos trae la tan ansiada felicidad. Tales premisas son ilusorias: los recursos son limitados y una Tierra finita no resiste un proyecto infinito. La prosperidad y el individualismo no están trayendo felicidad sino altos niveles de soledad, depresión, violencia y suicidio.
 
Hay dos problemas que se entrelazan y que pueden convulsionar nuestro futuro: el calentamiento global y la superpoblación humana. El calentamiento global es un código que engloba los impactos que nuestra civilización produce en la naturaleza, amenazando la sostenibilidad de la vida y de la Tierra. La consecuencia es la emisión anual de miles de millones de toneladas de dióxido de carbono y de metano, 23 veces más agresivo que el primero. La aceleración del deshielo del suelo congelado de la tundra siberiana (permafrost), hace que exista en los próximos decenios el peligro de un calentamiento abrupto de 4 a 5 grados centígrados que devastaría gran parte de la vida sobre la Tierra. El crecimiento de la población humana hace que se exploten más bienes y servicios naturales, se gaste más energía y se lancen a la atmosfera más gases productores de calentamiento global.
 
Las estrategias para controlar esta situación amenazante prácticamente son ignoradas por los gobiernos y por quienes toman las decisiones. Nuestro arraigado individualismo ha impedido que en las reuniones de la ONU se haya llegado a un consenso. Cada país ve solamente su interés y es ciego al interés colectivo y al planeta como un todo. Y así nos vamos acercando despreocupadamente a un abismo.
 
Pero la madre de todas las distorsiones referidas es nuestro antropocentrismo, la convicción de que nosotros, los seres humanos, somos el centro de todo y que las cosas han sido hechas sólo para nosotros, olvidándonos de nuestra completa dependencia de todo lo que nos rodea. Aquí radica nuestra destructividad que nos lleva a devastar la naturaleza para satisfacer nuestros deseos.
 
Se hace urgente un poco de humildad y vernos en perspectiva. El universo tiene 13,7 miles de millones de años; la Tierra, 4,45 miles de millones; la vida, 3,8 miles de millones;  la vida humana, 5-7 millones; y el homo sapiens unos 130-140 mil años. Por lo tanto, hemos nacido hace solo “unos minutos”, fruto de toda la historia anterior. Y de sapiens estamos pasando a ser demens, amenazadores de nuestros compañeros en la comunidad de vida.
 
Hemos llegado al ápice del proceso evolutivo no para destruir sino para guardar y cuidar este legado sagrado. Sólo entonces el día del juicio será la revelación de nuestra verdadera identidad y de nuestra misión aquí en la Tierra, la razón que justifica nuestro lugar en el proceso de la evolución.

Outro paradigma: escutar a natureza

Agora que se aproximam grandes chuvas, inundações, temporais, furacões e deslizamentos de encostas temos que reaprender a escutar a natureza. Toda nossa cultura ocidental, de vertente grega, está assentada sobre o ver. Não é sem razão que a categoria central – idéia – (eidos em grego) significa visão. A tele-visão é sua expressão maior. Temos desenvolvido até os últimos limites a nossa visão. Penetramos com os telescópios de grande potência até a profundidade do universo para ver as galáxias mais distantes. Descemos às derradeiras partículas elementares e ao mistério íntimo da vida. O olhar é tudo para nós. Mas devemos tomar consciência de que esse é o modo de ser do homem ocidental e não de todos.

Outras culturas, como as próximas a nós, as andinas (dos quéchuas e aimaras e outras) se estruturam ao redor do escutar. Logicamente eles também veem. Mas sua singularidade é escutar as mensagens daquilo que veem. O camponês do antiplano da Bolívia me diz: “eu escuto a natureza, eu sei o que a montanha me diz”. Falando com um xamã, ele me testemunha: “eu escuto a Pachamama e sei o que ela está me comunicando”. Tudo fala: as estrelas, o sol, a lua, as montanhas soberbas, os lagos serenos, os vales profundos, as nuvens fugidias, as florestas, os pássaros e os animais. As pessoas aprendem a escutar atentamente estas vozes. Livros não são importantes para eles porque são mudos, ao passo que a natureza está cheia de vozes. E eles se especializaram de tal forma nesta escuta que sabem, ao ver as nuvens, ao escutar os ventos, ao observar as lhamas ou os movimentos das formigas o que vai ocorrer na natureza.

Isso me faz lembrar uma antiga tradição teológica elaborada por Santo Agostinho e sistematizada por São Boaventura na Idade Media: a revelação divina primeira é a voz da natureza, o verdadeiro livro falante de Deus. Pelo fato de termos perdido a capacidade de ouvir, Deus, por piedade, nos deu um segundo livro que é a Bíblia para que, escutando seus conteúdos, pudéssemos ouvir novamente o que a natureza nos diz.

Quando Francisco Pizarro em 1532 em Cajamarca, mediante uma cilada traiçoeira, aprisionou o chefe inca Atahualpa, ordenou ao frade dominicano Vicente Valverde que com seu intérprete Felipillo lhe lesse o requerimento,um texto em latim pelo qual deviam se deixar batizar e se submeter aos soberanos espanhóis, pois o Papa assim o dispusera. Caso contrário poderiam ser escravizados por desobediência. O inca lhe perguntou donde vinha esta autoridade. Valverde entregou-lhe o livro da Bíblia. Atahaualpa pegou-o e colocou ao ouvido. Como não tivesse escutado nada jogou a Bíblia ao chão. Foi o sinal para que Pizarro massacrasse toda a guarda real e aprisionasse o soberano inca. Como se vê, a escuta era tudo para Atahualpa. O livro da Bíblia não falava nada.

Para a cultura andina tudo se estrutura dentro de uma teia de relações vivas, carregadas de sentido e de mensagens. Percebem o fio que tudo penetra, unifica e dá significação. Nós ocidentais vemos as árvores mas não percebemos a floresta. As coisas estão isoladas umas das outras. São mudas. A fala é só nossa. Captamos as coisas fora do conjunto das relações. Por isso nossa linguagem é formal e fria. Nela temos elaborado nossas filosofias, teologias, doutrinas, ciências e dogmas. Mas esse é o nosso jeito de sentir o mundo. E não é de todos os povos.

Os andinos nos ajudam a relativizar nosso pretenso “universalismo”. Podemos expressar as mensagens por outras formas relacionais e includentes e não por aquelas objetivísticas e mudas a que estamos acostumados. Eles nos desafiam a escutar as mensagens que nos vem de todos os lados.

Nos dias atuais devemos escutar o que as nuvens negras, as florestas das encostas, os rios que rompem barreiras, as encostas abruptas, as rochas soltas nos advertem. As ciências na natureza nos ajudam nesta escuta. Mas não é o nosso hábito cultural captar as advertências daquilo que vemos. E então nossa surdez nos faz vitimas de desastres lastimáveis. Só dominamos a natureza, obedecendo-a, quer dizer, escutando o que ela nos quer ensinar. A surdez nos dará amargas lições.

Veja meu livro O Casamento do Céu com a Terra: mitos ecológicos indígenas, Moderna, São Paulo 2004.

The Nativity of yesterday: always new

I am from a time, the 1940s, when Santa Claus had not yet arrived in his sleigh. In our Italian, German and Polish colonies, explorers of the Concordia region (Santa Catarina), known as the site of Sadia and Seara, with their good meat products, only the Baby Jesus was known. Those were times of ingenuous and profound faith, that informed all the details of life. To us children, the Nativity was the culmination of the year, prepared for and eagerly awaited. The Baby Jesus would come at last, with His little donkey (musseta, in Veneto) bringing us presents.

The region had pine groves as far as we could see, and it was easy to find a beautiful pine tree. We adorned it with rudimentary materials that are still being made in that region. We used colored and cellophane paper and paintings we ourselves would make at school. Mother would prepare cookies with different figures of humans and small bugs, which we hung from the branches of the pine tree. On top of the tree there was always a large star, wrapped in yellow paper. Below, around the tree, we put the Nativity Scene, made of paper figures cut from a magazine to which my father, a school teacher, subscribed. There was Good Joseph, Mary, quietly withdrawn, the Magi, the shepherds, the little sheep, the ox and the donkey, a few dogs, and the singing angels that we hung from the lowest branches of the pine tree. And, naturally, in the middle, the Baby Jesus. Seeing him almost nude, we imagined him shivering from the cold, and we were filled with compassion.

We lived the glorious era of the myth. Myths express truth better than pure and simple historical description. How can one speak of a God who becomes a child, of the mystery of the human being, of salvation, of good and evil, other than by telling stories and offering myths that reveal the profound meaning of the event? The stories of the birth of Jesus that are in the gospels contain historical elements, but to emphasize their religious meaning, they are told in mythical and symbolic language. To us children, all of that was truth, that we accepted enthusiastically.

Before receiving their thirteenth salary, the teachers were given an extra Nativity bonus. My father spent that money on gifts for his 11 children. They were gifts that came from far away, and they were all instructive: a pack of cards with the names of important musicians, of famous painters, whose names were hard for us to pronounce, and we would laugh about their beards, their noses, or of any other detail. A gift that was very successful: a box with materials to build a house or a castle. We older children, who were starting to participate in modernity, got a jeep or a car moved by cord, or a wheel that sent sparks when moved, and other similar things.

So that there would be no fights, each gift had written below the name of the son or the daughter. And after, the negotiations and exchanges began. The irrefutable proof the Baby Jesus had passed by our house was the disappearance of the bundles of fresh grass. We would run to prove it. And it was a fact: the musseta had eaten it all.

Now we live in times of reason and debunking of myths. But that is only true for adults. Children, who now have Santa Claus instead of the Baby Jesus, live in the enchanted world of dreams. The good little old man brings presents and good advise. Since I have a white beard, no boy or girl who walks by me fails to call me Santa Claus. I tell them that I am not Santa Claus, but his brother, who comes to see if the children are doing as they should, and after that, I tell everything to Santa Claus so that he may bring them a nice present. In spite of that, many doubt. They come close, touch my beard and say: No, you are the real Santa Claus. I am a person like any other, but the myth makes me be a true Santa Claus.

 If we adults, children of criticism and myth debunking can no longer be enchanted, let’s allow our sons and daughters to be enchanted, and to enjoy the kingdom of fantasy. Their existence will be filled with meaning and joy. What more do we want from the Nativity, than those precious gifts that Jesus also wanted to bring to this world?