Needing to fix a shelf
to the wall, I dug out my cordless drill from the toolbox, only to find that
the battery would no longer take a charge. The drill is so old that replacement
parts are not available but, even if they were, I would have been unable to
resist buying the nifty new drill I already had my eye on. At the almost
disposable price of twenty quid, it comes complete with a little LED spotlight
and a tiny, lithium-ion battery – the same technology as is deployed by Elon
Musk in his electric cars and (on a much larger scale) the back-up system he is
about to build for the South Australia power grid. Elon Musk appears to belong
to a rare breed of billionaires who want to save the planet.
I am so pleased with
the new drill that, with the zeal of a demented hobbyist, I have been seeking
more home-improvement projects. Meanwhile, I had to dispose of the old drill
and, although I felt guilty about the eco-ethics of throwing it in the bin, where
else was it to go? The bin-store is in the narrow street behind our block where,
three weeks ago, a cavity opened in the Victorian-era road. The Council came
and put a plastic fence around it but have not been back since. I was inspecting
the cavity to gauge whether it had deepened, when a scruffy-looking old bloke
shambled up to me and we had a brief exchange. When I told him the Council had informed
me that they were short of funds for road repairs, he launched into a ranting
exposé of Council corruption, which included allegations of the
misappropriation of £50 million of National Lottery funds, the Tory conspiracy
to impoverish us all and a lot of other stuff that was, frankly, unintelligible.
Perhaps he had evidence to back up his case, however I was not inclined to engage
him for fear of being stuck there for hours in the company of someone who might
have been an erudite but eccentric specialist on the subject, but looked more
like a fanatical conspiracy theorist with a grudge. I uttered a polite
platitude and he shuffled off, scanning the pavement for cigarette butts. Later,
however, I had cause to ponder his point of view.
I was at the Town Hall,
a Grade 1 listed building in the “fabulously gothic” style. I went there to
listen to a piece of recorded music, one of several site-specific compositions
commissioned as part of the Manchester International Festival. The music is ambient
and plays throughout the vaulted, lavishly-ornamented corridors. It’s a short
piece, but atmospheric and long enough to cause the listener to linger and
marvel at the architecture, the like of which will never be built again. I got
aesthetic pleasure from the experience, but the man I had encountered earlier
would surely have objected to the allocation of public funds to such frivolity
and pointed out that The Council has a statutory duty to repair roads, not fund
art installations.
Actually, the shortage
of funding in local government is affecting much more than minor road
maintenance: environmental degradation on a larger scale looms with the neglect
and in some cases selling-off of parks. Extrapolated to a global scale, there
is news that the Brazilian Government has withdrawn so much funding for the
agency that protects its rainforest that deforestation is again in full swing. Whereas
the USA’s Republicans have publicly trashed the notion of ecological
responsibility in their determination to transpose democracy into plutocracy, the
Brazilian Government is not so brazen: apparently, it pays lip service to
conservation while favouring the big business lobby.
It remains to be seen
whether the band of billionaires who benefit from such politics will act
philanthropically to save the planet; or whether developing technology can or
will be deployed to the same end. Meanwhile Elon Musk appears to be hedging his
bets: he has a plan to colonise Mars as a retreat from ruined Earth and is already
selling places to those who can afford them.
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