Parallel Universes of Emergency
Emergency Declaration. Self-Placation. Guilt-laundering. Desperation. What else shall we call this?
11,000 scientists. 200,000 policy makers. 1,000,000 lawyers. 5,000,000 students.
10 billion Oompa Loompas.
Does it make a difference how many gather to declare an emergency? No. The sky is the limit. And the result always the same.
A declaration is a way to relieve guilt. To get partial credit for upholding ethical standards without getting to the point of actioning them. But in the “all or nothing” times we are living, partial credit is meaningless. You either get an A or a big fat zero on the exam. And, it is final exams period.
A declaration is a dull mirror, it is a psychotherapist that just repeats the words you’ve just told them. It says “Crisis, I see you. Emergency, I see you. Climate Change, you are real. That will be 50 pounds thank you. You can pick up your Prozac prescription on the way out”
A declaration is a hide-and-seek game with responsibility. The larger the number of signatories, the greater the opportunity for delegates to feel empowered that they are part of something big, yet have an infinitesimally small personal share of the responsibility pie. Each one of them is a crumb.
A declaration is a declaration of desperation. It says “at least I can call a dead cow a dead cow”. Well, congratulations to you.
An Emergency Declaration is a warm, cosy moral blanket. One that is starting to get too hot.
We are living in parallel universes of emergency. One where farmers across the world are already fleeing parched, flooded or diseased crops. Where children in Delhi are involuntarily smoking hundreds of cigarettes. Mirroring this universe is one of a “suit and tie” emergency. An emergency on paper. A sitting-on-the-couch emergency. Or the typewriter for that matter, to include myself in this.
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