Tensions are building, mounting upon decades of friction. The social membrane, once porous, has solidified, separating a largely unified whole into disparate parts. A holistic constituency no longer, strife is a natural consequence, a struggle for the essential character of this community.
It is not an armed skirmish, but the consequences of economic imperialism are no less destructive to bodies and psyches. An overdose is just as deadly as a fusillade. This conflict is not overt, subtle degradation being more effective than a concentrated assault, it being easier to colonize at a glacial pace so as not to arouse suspicion and therefore opposition.
Even though this outcome has been long foretold, it arrives as if by surprise, an ambush as executed by a sloth. Long planned in sterile boardrooms by executives fancying themselves as generals, the military precision is equally impressive and galling. Victory came not by brute force, but by a persistent psy-ops campaign of great magnitude, propaganda first printed on paper, the progenitor to relentless Instagram marketing.
As the beneficiaries of this corporate conquest luxuriate in expansive, opulent square footage, their serfs toil endlessly, pausing only for brief stints of life-saving adventure and life-threatening debauchery.
Meanwhile, the bourgeois sycophants plot and scheme ways to usurp the titans, pretending that they are creating a new ethos when they are instead solidifying the status quo. These folks are more insidious than even their predecessors, duplicity of motives being more repugnant than outright greed.
On our current path, the outcome is inevitable: every rough-hewn edge sanded, every shenanigan quashed, the wellspring of individual identity run completely dry. The upstairs will subsume the downstairs, finally stifling the frenzy forever. Anodyne and in matching outfits, the denizens remaining will celebrate their triumph, too quietly and in poor taste.
There is an alternative to the creeping capitalistic capitulation. The mere mention of its name is anathema, even more forbidden than the satanic and occult. A whisper will earn censure, shouting its tenets in a crowded bar likely earns a punch in the eye, depending on the bar and its regular clientele. History, you see, has not been kind to the cause, coopted as it has been by megalomania and bloodlust.
And yet our fair Valley needs an antipode to the conventional modus operandi, an antidote to poison, a challenger, an option that puts the people in charge of their own destiny. Revolution is tempting for the drama, but impractical and likely violent and we must hew vehemently to pacifism.
Nonviolence is not the same as complacency, does not mean that the collective cannot fight for its rights. But we must accomplish our ends by sane and rational methods, not reckless destruction. It is to be an army bearing the standard of love and compassion, a militia of cuddly mayhem, a troop traipsing upon the inequities of the system into which it has marched, smiling but with a fierceness behind the eyes.
This populist platoon needs a megaphone, needs a seat at the table. Not a pandering, pretextual, theoretical input, but a true voice, a forum, a locus for the people’s concerns. And here, when I speak of “the people,” I mean the people in whose name republics were formed. The proletariat, if one wants to be provocative. And, I do indeed wish to be so.
The worker has tremendous power in this town. Cooperatively, the workforce has outrageous levels of untouched potential to recalibrate if not the entire economic structure, then the experience of living here. The humble goal is the ability to live comfortably here, safe from the fear and stress engendered by dwindling bank accounts. That should not be controversial.
In this era of upheaval and uncertainty and pain, there is an incredible opportunity to wield the worker’s leverage. While we can shoot for wholesale reversal, I settle, at first, for a shift in the right direction. I do not spurn the idea of radical change, but I have become slightly more realistic in my advancing age.
Fairness as a core human and societal value seems not unreasonable to expect. Our system speaks to the principle, gives it lip service, but it is nowhere near fair. There can be no serious talk of fairness when people starve while others vacation.
In our local situation, the strata are stratospheres apart, to the point that it is surreal. Immense, grotesque wealth juxtaposed against desperation. Relaxation and recreation set against relentless struggle. A retooling, a rebalancing is in order.
To begin a movement, one needs a catalyst, an impetus, a spark. It may be an event, it may be a person, it may be a centralized group, a politburo if you will. But it needs to start and it needs to start soon. Unorganized, the people cannot give life to their supremacy, will not rise from their imprisoned station.
Caught endlessly in an environment which takes the people’s sacrifices for granted, even expects such sacrifices, there is nothing wrong with seeking change. The ruling class will threaten, cajole, intimidate, worse out of insecurity and the knowledge that its grip on control is precarious. Stand up to those tactics and begin a new, more equitable existence.
With market forces so strong, it requires an equally powerful opposition to protect the soul of this community. From where will this opposition spring – will you be a part of it?