| 08 October 2006 Revolt of the Elephants There is a continuing saga from Africa, one that the folks who run the eco-tourism business are uncomfortable with. The elephants appear to be rallying for the last stand of their species. The social fabric is shredding. Years of assault by poachers and encroachment by humans appears to be driving them mad. They are standing their ground against vehicles driving on the game reservations, and sometimes running across villages, crushing huts with their mighty feet. Their young males are forming gangs. Anthropomorphism is a dangerous and attractive thing. It is a seductive thing to point to this revolt of the elephants and cry “Aha!,” here is the crucial tipping point! Eureka! The end of the world is nigh! I need to put down the coffee cup, steady my nerves. This may be a localized phenomenon, due to factors that have no larger connection to the larger world. The scientists say that the rage of the pachyderms is connected to the rending of their social fabric. The old are not longer present to socialize their young. Fair enough. I can certainly sympathize. After this week, watching Baghdad and America, I tend to think there may be something with a universal resonation in progress. Still, there is nothing new under the sun, and that phrase was first uttered in a tongue that is no longer spoken. Is it the acceleration of the process we witness that is so unsettling? What of the generations that came before, for whom life was essentially unchanging? As we progress up a dizzyingly steep curve of change, there is less and less that is the same, even from day to day. >From India comes word that the insertion of a micro-chip in the ear of a licensed pachyderm ameliorates the problem. Sometimes technology may actually be the solution, and not another element of the problem. Football games used to start at one o'clock, and baseball was played during the day. These two manifestations of American life are not old, as things go. There is an opinion that the rise of their popularity is directly connected to the great martial event of the 19th century in North America. The generations that did not see the great formations of the Civil War sought to recreate them in disciplined teams representing towns or institutions. Agree or not with this preposition, both sports began their golden ages one generation after the great armies left the field. Baseball occupied the late Spring and Summer. Football began with the Fall. The stylized contests began just after lunch, and concluded around tea-time. Human scale, and human pace. That is long gone, of course. With enhanced communications and bandwidth the old connections are shattered as surely as the old industrial society that gave them birth. As a Detroiter, a graduate of the first throw-away American city, I found myself conflicted over a football and baseball game played simultaneously. One was professional and the other collegiate; both allegiances were as old as my ability to speak, and none since have ever held a candle to them. My viewing habits are that of middle-age. I watch one thing, and when it is done, I watch what comes next. My children are not like that. It is unnerving to watch television with them, as they monitor several events at once. My thumb was active, clicking from channel eleven to five and back, cutting at commercial break from one to another. The baseball team is old, as these things go, and so is the football team. They have had their times of glory and invincibility over the years, just as they have had their times of ignominious collapse. To have both teams in resurgence was invigorating, and I resisted the temptation to step to the balcony and howl across the pool at Arlington in tones of primeval triumph. The commentators were kind, gently saying that is was ironic that poor sad Detroit could so effectively dominate the slick sluggers from the most sophisticated city in the world. The games ended at almost the same time. I was exhausted, and could barely summon the energy to click through the channels to see the dual triumphs replayed. Somewhere the elephants are restive. But I will not worry about them today. It has been quite a while, and it was a time to savor. It was a good day to be a Detroiter. Copyright 2006 Vic Socotra |