Last time, I wrote a story tinged with some science fiction. I imagined a visitation by an outer space entity in the body of Major Tom, David Bowie’s creation in Space Oddity. He wanted to speak with me about the observations of his intergalactic cohorts, regarding our completely non-sensical behavior, primarily our treatment of our planet. I was struck with one of his observations about the inevitable two directions taken by any society out there in the infinite universe. They’d have to be either a completely equal society, a Pantisocracy, or its polar opposite, a Monarchy or Dictatorship of the one.
When our brief conversation was over, I asked if he could return as George Harrison, just because I thought it was a cool ending for the story. I start each of these little ditties from scratch, which is a bitch and I wondered what it’d be like if I carried this theme of outer space visitors forward. After a couple of days, I scrapped it, because it felt too cute for my taste, but I kept thinking about George Harrison.
I saw him perform twice. Once was with his bandmates at Shea Stadium on August 15, 1965 l got to see the Beatles! The second time was extraordinary. I was standing right by the stage at Madison Square Garden for the Concert for Bangladesh, August 1, 1971. I would have to say there are very, very few benefits to being older than most of you, but those kind of things make the years feel precious. That concert made history, because it featured the best of the best and it was to raise funds for a human disaster, a refugee crisis, something tragically matter of fact today.
Somewhere steeped in this cultural nostalgia, I read an article about the horrific price being paid by the world for our insane reaction to the massacre of 9/11. 3,000 American perished on that day. Since then, at least 500,000 people have been killed in retaliation. In Iraq alone, 300,000 have been killed. While we argue the economic impossibility of Medicare For All, our country has spent $5 trillion to perpetuate this carnage. 7,000 of our men and women in the military have been sacrificed and over 50,000 have been wounded and no one is addressing the PTSD our young people carry coming home. US policy has never been governed by principle, it has always been driven by need, usually oil and other natural resources.
This modern day insanity is by no means exclusive to us. We have a world with 26 million refugees, half under the age of 18. One million Rohingya have fled Myanmar, because they are a Muslim minority in a Buddhist majority. Guess where they’ve fled? They now live in impoverished Bangladesh. Narendra Modi, prime minister of India, a majority Hindu country, has recently passed legislation to dramatically penalize its 200 million Muslim minority. In Cameroon, 3,000 people have died, because there is a fight between the English and French speaking citizens.
Okay, that’s enough of that, because there is a point in all this and I’m almost there. When I was still thinking about a George Harrison visitation, I looked for quotes of his and I clutched at his supposed last words. He said, “Love One Another”. I really didn’t care if it is actually true, because it just seemed so right for him, The Quiet One. I cried when I read it and I am crying now. All you’ve got to do is look around and see how far away we are from that. We have a gargoyle of greed and hatred in our White House, symptomatic of a painful divisiveness in our country. The cancer is directly related to the incalculable disparity between the handful of wealthy and the rest of us.
While I bailed on the idea of continuing the science fiction fantasy of rock star visitations, I actually want to speak with George. I have a feeling we would agree on the greatest threat to our survival and it would not be the climate emergency. There is no doubt it has to be how we are treating each other. I’ll bet he’d admire Greta Thunberg and probably be right in the middle of a huge concert to raise money to fight the dire threat of climate change. He’d get all the surviving icons together for it. Although, based on his supposed last words, it might not go down that way.
We have a bigger challenge than rising temperatures, deteriorating air quality and disappearing species and it is quite basic. There is simply no hope for us if we keep treating each other with such hatred and disregard. I don’t care if it’s money, skin color, sexuality, religion or language or any other superficial distinction between us. I know for sure George would agree that we have got to start treating each other with love or there is simply no hope. I believe with all my heart the dire consequences of the climate crisis pale in comparison to the harm we are doing to each other.
I know it sounds terribly naive and Sixties, but unless and until all of us learn to embrace each other for who we are, we are lost. We can’t possibly take care of earth if we can’t take care of each other and that’s the goddamn truth. Maybe those who survive will have learned this lesson, in some ways after it is too late.
I want to hug George and tell him I miss him and his music. We would talk about the exquisite science fiction of a Pantisocracy and how impossible it would be for a song title.