by Terry Morgan
“Describe this type of anger.”
“There are different types?”
“Many”
“I see. Well, it’s not physical anger, uncle. It is more in the mind. Perhaps it is both. We do not talk anymore. We have exhausted ourselves with talking. We know what we want to achieve but not how to do it.”
Carl paused to think, still unsure whether his own words were what he actually meant. He moved on by mentioning the side effects.
“Many people are hungry,” he began. “They ask for food, especially the newcomers with children, babies and brothers and sisters. They are definitely angry, uncle.” He looked at his uncle with a frown on his face.
“Perhaps they should have not had so many babies,” the Professor said. “Besides the technology to improve conception there is technology to stop it.”
“Yes, but…….” He tailed off. Then: “Do you know about suicide, uncle?”
Of course, the Professor knew about suicide. Amongst teenagers it was at an all-time high. He merely nodded. They seemed to have moved a long way from Carl’s need for advice on whether to fight the newcomers.
“What’s your point, Carl? I thought we were discussing fighting the newcomers.”
Carl sniffed and frowned and his mouth twisted as if he might cry.
“It is because we feel useless, uncle. Life is pointless. They…...we see no future. There are no jobs and we feel there is no reason to be here. School is too crowded and they……. we learn nothing of value. They…. we meet in the bus terminal by the health clinic. There were two hundred there yesterday. Many are on drugs. They are crazy, uncle. Sometimes they run out of control. They ride in the buses using their free passes just for somewhere to go but the buses are crowded and only go in circles. The teachers do not always come to teach because they cannot teach so many students in one room and the newcomers speak too many different languages. And the teachers do not know how or what to teach because why learn anything when there are no jobs. So, my friends are going to fight because they see no other solution and they want me to join them."
It was his longest string of words so far.
"And who do they intend to fight?" asked the Professor.
"The gangs from Africa and Asia who came here for the better life and to escape the problems in their own countries. They live together in groups in the high rises on the north side and the old houses on the south side. It is where all the poor newcomers live. The women have babies because it is their comfort and they live on welfare. The men move around because they have nothing to do. Many want to move away again but where will they go? So, they have gangs, they drink, take drugs and they steal. “
The Professor knew all this of course. It was nothing new but he listened with a deep sense of pity for Carl for living amongst it and seeing so clearly that things had gone badly wrong. Overcrowding, poverty, criminality, alcohol and drug abuse had always gone together, but this was 2050. Things were supposed to get better.
Instead, the ever-contracting national wealth was, as always, being used for short term fixes to keep the lid on uprisings or, worse, a catastrophe.
Welfare handouts had always been the politician’s easy fix but they did nothing to address the fundamental problems and what Carl called fulfilment. The lives of millions of humans living over the prison fence was little better than the lives of the chickens in the factory farms that fed them.
He wondered what to say that would answer Carl’s question about what he should do.
“Fighting won’t solve it,” he began, but then he paused for a moment thinking, as he often did, that war could, indeed, be the solution. But Carl was standing and waiting for more comforting words of wisdom.
“Animals and birds fight over territory and feeding grounds,” he began. “It is no different for humans. But humans, because of their ability to think and plan ahead, add more sinister dimensions to their desires to win territory - envy, jealousy and outrage at unfairness for instance. Fighting can do little to solve feelings of that sort. What’s more, animal fights can last for a few seconds or a few hours but human battles can last for many years. They leave lasting scars on human memories and the numbers killed, maimed or displaced can be beyond imagination.”
That was the Professor’s tempered warning for Carl’s ears but he could easily have ventured into the more controversial areas that had got him into trouble in the past. Catastrophic world war had one big advantage. It could reduce the population quickly and significantly
"Fighting is a decision you must make for yourself, Carl,” he said. “It may be a last resort but it is sometimes the only way to change things.”
“But I want to change everything – absolutely everything.” Carl replied in a tone his uncle could have likened to anger. For the first time he was showing genuine passion. “I don’t like the way I live. I want to do something with my life. And you know what, uncle? Despite all your colourful speeches and your writing, uncle, you failed to change anything. Why should I listen to you?”
The Professor couldn’t argue with that. He watched Carl saunter away but then returned looking even more angry. His eyes were wet. “So,” he said, “I’m still waiting. What’s your advice?”
"I suppose you must fight, Carl. I can’t think of anything else. Get stuck in. Go and do the job of all the past politicians, religious leaders, self-interested, liberal do-gooders and worthless international bodies who turned a blind eye. And, of course, the people like me who talked a great deal but, in the end, failed to make a difference.”
“And if they send in soldiers to stop us?”
“Keep going. They’ll stop short of killing objectors for fear it’ll make matters worse. If it then spreads to become a massive conflict, an uncontrolled uprising by ordinary people against authority then we’ll be witnessing the ultimate cost of all past political failures.”
Carl nodded but seemed unconvinced. He didn’t, the Professor noticed, suddenly turn, say good bye and run out brandishing a stick. Instead, he stood there staring with his red, watery eyes, his hands trembling.
The Professor tried again. “Look at the leaders of the last hundred years, Carl. Can you name one who spoke out about…….”
He didn’t finish. Carl no longer seemed interested in the past. He interrupted. “It’s too late now and it’s a waste of time for you to keep on repeating what you’ve said a thousand times before. Nothing is fair.” Carl was almost crying.
The Professor nodded in agreement. He moved to stand by the fence and looked over. He agreed with what Carl had just said and could not deny the futility of his own efforts. "I agree but you’re speaking of fairness again?” he said softly. “Life is not fair.”
He heard Carl huff and sniff as if he was no longer interested in what he might say. Fairness and pity were just like happiness, hardship, fulfilment and suffering. Words about which he had already written and said too much.
At last Carl came to stand next to him. He wiped his eyes. "Something needs to be done,” he said, clearly trying to stay calm. “But I still don’t know what."
“How many times have I heard that?” his uncle said quietly. “We should have anticipated these problems two or three hundred years ago and made long term plans to solve them?”
"But we didn’t, uncle, did we. You once said the population should be cut to two billion. Good idea. But how? Nothing happened did it?”
The Professor looked exasperated. “I agree.” And they stood for a moment in silence until Carl spoke again.
“Sorry for getting upset, uncle.”
“Upset?” the Professor replied. “That was the best outburst of anger I’ve seen for a long time, Carl And everything you said is right. Collective anger is the best way to force change. Don’t be sorry.”
“So why did no-one listen to you and to Malthus and to your friend Ehrlich and all the others?”
“Oh, they listened alright,” he replied. “They were just t
oo weak to act. I once said humans will not survive on dilemma, uncertainty and indecisiveness. They are weaknesses that would quickly destroy other animals. The deer ran away, Carl. It didn’t stand around scratching its head, wondering what to do. It ran. Instantly. It ran like the wind.
“But we have a long history of leaders too frightened to act even when they have the facts laid before them. The outcome of their refusal to act on human population growth is there for all to see.”
Carl’s eyes reddened once more. Then they filled with tears. He made no noise but sniffed and wiped his nose and eyes with his hand.
The Professor looked at him wondering about his inner strength. Did he have the energy and determination to do something or was he more likely to resign himself to do nothing at all?
"I still don’t know what to do," Carl croaked.
The Professor held out a hand and rested it on Carl’s shoulder. “Nor me,” he said and watched a flush of horror spread across Carl’s face.
“Not now,” he added. “I’m too old. My reputation is shattered and…...” he waved his arms towards the prison blocks. “I am here for a while yet. But it is exactly what I forecast all those years ago. You and millions of others like you now have to deal with the biggest self-inflicted problem that faces not just the human race but every other living creature we share this planet with. It is a problem that was foreseeable but brushed under the carpet, out of sight and out of mind. Extinction is an increasingly likely outcome.”
He turned, leaned on one of the concrete fence posts, gazed out over the grey, urban sprawl before them and wrapped his arm more firmly around Carl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, too,” he said.
What more could he say? He’d made his position clear thirty years ago and did not retract a single word of what he’d said or written. It was because he understood the enormity of the problem that he had found himself in prison. The plain fact was that the world was grossly overpopulated with humans and the point of sustainability had long passed. He’d demanded action that he knew would be unacceptable but, not only that, it was already too late. World leaders had done nothing although, in rare moments of forgiveness, he often thought they also realised the predicament and were merely making the most of their own short lives.
He pointed towards the city. “Sometimes, when I look over there, I wonder if I am better off here. We are all prisoners now, Carl. Prisoners of fate.”
He paused again, wondering whether to mention another controversial period in his life. At least it would be a distraction and a new angle on the problem.
“Do you know about the state of emergency in 2039, Carl?”
Carl nodded.
“I used the state of emergency that existed at that time as a test of the determination to act. It only worked in as much as it merely showed up world leaders for what they were - weak, incapable and unfit for the offices they held. They were too afraid to take the only action that made sense."
“But you advocated stopping humanitarian aid," Carl said.
The Professor nodded. His nephew had certainly done some homework before venturing inside the prison.
“Not exactly,” he replied. “I did not advocate the stopping of all aid, just the stopping of certain types of aid. Read what I actually said and why, Carl. As I’ve said before, do not always believe what others said about me."
"They said you were advocating a cull of human beings, uncle."
The Professor took a deep and noisy breath. "Yes,” he said. “They love emotive words, but a cull means deliberately killing in order to reduce numbers. That is not what I recommended."
"It is similar, uncle. What you recommended was tantamount to a cull."
"OK,” he replied. “Let us analyse the situation at the time. Why, for instance, on that one occasion that caused so much international outrage, did they want to send such vast amounts of aid?"
"Because there were thousands of desperate refugees.”
“Not thousands, Carl. Estimates put it at over six million men, women and children in huge, scattered groups moving north from West, Central and East Africa. That was the scale. But why were they migrating?”
“It was failed harvests because of no rain. Climate change.”
“And the primary cause of climate change, Carl?”
“I suppose it’s too many people.”
“There’s no doubt about that. But why had it taken more than fifty years to link climate change and water shortages and every other environmental problem directly to human overpopulation?
“Why did we waste fifty years talking about carbon emissions, carbon footprints, carbon offsets and carbon credits and not the real cause of the problem - human over population? What sort of leaders were they that used questionable evidence of climate change as a way to raise taxes but were too weak to discuss dealing with the more difficult question of human overpopulation?
“The mass migration problem was a case in point. They wanted you to believe that the cause was below average rainfall not that there were too many people using too much water.”
“People didn’t like talking about overpopulation, uncle.”
“Correct. So, they left it for future generations to solve. Your generation.”
“They didn’t know what to do. They didn’t have a solution.”
“They didn’t even want to discuss a solution, Carl. They counted numbers, they extrapolated figures, they issued quiet warnings but never discussed the desperate need for a solution. The subject was non-negotiable. The mass migrations became yet another discussion about climate because that was what they wanted you to believe so you were distracted from the real problem.
“I agree there had been below average rainfall for five years but to get an average you sometimes have to have more and sometimes less.
“It was water shortage not rainfall shortage – a subtle difference - so let’s get the facts straight. It was water shortage caused by over extraction of water. Rivers, lakes and wells ran dry. Underground reserves, the water table, drooped just as it has in many other places in the world. Rainfall could not replace the rate of consumption because it was no longer just being used by local small farmers but by overpopulated cities as drinking water, pumping it for miles from its source. It was being used by big multinational companies, manufacturers and for mining on an enormous scale.
“If you looked at entire processes from start to finish it was taking three litres of water to produce a half litre of drinking water. It was taking twenty thousand gallons of water to make one car and three thousand gallons of water to make one mobile phone. Not all of those things were assembled in Africa but Africa was where the precious raw materials were being extracted – using local water. Average rainfall could never replenish it quickly enough.
He stopped for a moment to let the facts sink in.
“And why else were those hundreds of people migrating, Carl?”
“Yes,” Carl said as if he knew this. “There were tribal problems, uncle. There was religious fighting and fighting over land. There was terrorism and atrocities being committed by soldiers. And there were no jobs.”
The Professor nodded. “Everything brought on by population growth and lack of basic resources like water. In fact, Carl, there was extreme poverty. There was hardship on a scale you’ve never seen here and, hopefully, never will.”
“But you were accused of recommending mass slaughter, uncle. A cull of humans.”
“That’s correct,” the Professor admitted, now visibly agitated. “Accused by the Catholic Church,” he added. “An organisation representing 1.2 billion people. An organisation that was responsible for increasing human poverty and destitution by its pro-life policy and, for years, denying birth control to millions.
“The Catholic Church, Carl – the body that is supposed to represent the poor through the teachings of Jesus Christ whose mother, Mary, was so poor she apparently gave birth in a stable. The baby Jesus himself laid in
a manger amongst hay, the food for cattle, sheep and goats.
“The Catholic Church was the biggest block to all attempts to discuss population control and so help reduce poverty. It constantly condemned poverty as the evil results of capitalism. It condemned overconsumption and lavish purchasing at Christmas and yet it is the biggest financial power on earth. It has huge international investments in banks, billions of shares with corporations and multinationals and vast wealth tied up in real estate. The wealth of the Pope himself is incalculable. How perverse is that, Carl?”
“Go. Sell everything you have and give to the poor.” Mark. 10.21
“They said some terrible things about you,” Carl said sadly.
“When you know you’re right it’s like water off a duck’s back, Carl.”
Carl hesitated, trying to work out the meaning of a phrase he’d never heard. “I suppose so,” he said with no conviction. “They called you cruel and an evil monster.”
“Empty words, Carl. And let’s get the facts straight. I did not recommend a cull.”
“But you recommended doing nothing to help.”
“Listen, Carl. The world was faced with a huge humanitarian disaster, for which it was unprepared. For all the statistics and forecasts, there was no plan in place for what to do for half a million displaced Africans desperately trying to reach a better place. This was economic migration on an enormous scale. Their only solution to the social catastrophe if these people made their way to other countries was to hand out food, tents, medicine and money. They had been paid to lead but had long reached the limits of their leadership capability. So, they responded to accusations of mismanagement and unpreparedness in dealing with perfectly foreseeable events with irrational outbursts and the pointing of fingers. That deer would have made a far better leader, Carl.”
“But they said to do nothing was inhuman and would have caused more suffering.”
The Professor sighed. “Carl,” he said. “The cause of the problem was their own failure to do nothing beforehand. Remind yourself once again. What else were these poor, stricken people running from?”
