Have you ever thought about those poor dead animals slumped across the side of the road? Industrialization has caused America to care less about the nature we are losing, and more about materialism. Barry Lopez’s essay “Apologia” examines the meaning of our wildlife and the harm our vehicles can cause them.
Lopez journeys through the Midwest to his friend’s house, but makes many unusual and unexpected stops on the way. Each time he sees a dead animal in the road, he stops, picks it up off the road, and moves it to the side as a kind of burial gesture. I would wince at the birds, skunks and possums that I saw strewn across the street, but think nothing of them after I pass. Lopez describes them as “a solitary child’s shoe in the road,” how carelessly these animals go unnoticed. He ponders on what kind of life these animals may have had and in an instant all that they may have strove for vanished. He personifies the animals as if they were human bodies lying on the side of the road: “The skull, I soon discover, is fractured in four places; the jaw, hanging by shreds of mandibular muscle, is broken at the symphysis, beneath the incisors. The pelvis is crushed, the left hind leg unsocketed.” It is this kind of point Lopez tries to make, that our nature is dying one by one by the huge destructive machines we drive in. Each life lost is precious, even if it is just an animal or insect. They are a part of a larger picture in this world, a part of nature, something we prize so much but take advantage of because we consider it so insignificant. He sets aside not only big and small animals, but he even cleans up the little insects splattered against the front of his car: “I finger-scrape the dry, stiff carcasses of bumblebees, wasps, and butterflies from the grille and headlight mountings.” He then continues to say, “I am uneasy carrying so many of the dead,” describing all the insects he had on his hand. I would have never considered the bugs on my windshield anything but something to clean off when I’m at the gas station. The world seems to be too busy to consider the small things in life; its focus is caught up on the race for technology.
Materialism is Lopez’s idea of “the weight to fall I cannot fathom, a sorrow over the world’s dark hunger,” the hunger for industrialization without considering the damage we might cause to nature. Cars are just one example of the human greed for materialism and even though we might feel bad for contributing to the massacre of nature, people won’t give up their cars because it is a convenient way of life. I grew up in the suburbs and it is much easier to take a car around than to find public transportation. Making a change to save our nature is not easy, especially if it is something drastic like getting rid of our cars. Even though vehicles are the cause of all the lives lost in the story, in the end Lopez gets in his car and drives away. He doesn’t give up his car even though he too hit an animal because he is not about to travel through the Midwest walking or riding a bike. It’s just too difficult. He conveys the message of how people may want to contribute to a greater good, but the convenience of technology makes it a thousand times harder to. In the Story of Stuff, a video that explores the daily life
of human consumption and its impact on the world, our way of life is summed up in a routine of working, sleeping and shopping. Our culture gives further insight to the notion of Lopez’s industrial destruction of nature, and our lives do not influence the protection of it.
As humans we need to reflect on our lives and realize how we can reduce our negative impact on nature, if not by reducing cars on the road, then by something simple like reducing water use, recycling, or composting. Adding this to a part of our daily life could make a difference because, as Lopez says, our current way of life is “too morbid to write out, too vivid to ignore.”
10 comments:
Lopez' essay really does put its finger on one of the key knots we face in industrialized cultures: do we choose our current way of life, or the preservation of the natural world? It's a dilemma that, as you point out, Lopez both confronts and enacts. While he stops to pay respectful attention to the dead, and to count the cost of cars on the road, he does, indeed, keep driving. The title "Apologia" and much of the language in the essay bring our attention to the sacredness of these lives, and the need for expiation. And yet, while he knows that he is guilty and wants to make amends, he drives.
You say that "we" are unwilling to give up our cars--yet it's important to think about who "we" are. Not everyone in the world drives the same amount, not everyone in the world has a car, or cars, and many people in even industrialized countries pollute far less and have fewer cars on the road than Americans. Many people even in the US have given up cars, or drive them much less. They choose public transit or bicycles. (Of course in the suburbs, as you say, this is tough; but this, too, can be addressed with enough political will). Cars in Europe must be more fuel efficient, by law, than cars in the US. Public transportation is better nearly everywhere in the industrialized world than it is in the US. So "we" is a problematic term, and "we" want to be careful in assuming that the rest of the world is like "us."
I'm wondering, then, if we might imagine a way around, or beyond, this simple dichotomy between industrialization and nature. And while small actions like recycling and using less water can add up, does that address the larger problems of industrialization? The enormous global system of manufacturing and consumption is the result of a complex paradigm. Perhaps the challenge is finding more than a new way of doing things, but a new way of seeing things.
We are causing a lot of damage to nature, including animals, but we don't really put a lot of thought into it because of our busy lives. Everyday we use cars, ride buses, drink bottled water, and maybe even run over an animal on the highway. Of course we don't do any of these things because we are evil, and hate nature, but we are just too caught up with material goods and industrialization that we forget about what matters.
Esther keyed into something when she mentioned our "busy lives." At first glance it often does appear that the less "environmentally responsible" choice saves time. But if we look a little more carefully, we realize the choices aren't so black and white. Since we're talking about driving, I'll use that example. Sure, accomodating the bus schedule may take longer than driving directly to your destination in a car, but you can read on the bus, and it's much less stressful than navigating traffic yourself (plus you don't have to troll up and down hilly San Francisco streets looking for a parking space!) And yes, riding a bike takes longer than driving (and I'll admit, isn't always practical)but bicycle commuters rarely have to go to the gym to work out. So who's ultimately saving more time, and who's happier and healthier?
When it comes to our damaging lifestyles, I'm not sure it's always a case of being "too caught up with material goods etc;" I think that sometimes we simply make assumptions about our habits and the alternatives.
It is also really sad to think about the types of animals that are getting hit and killed by these cars. I usually see squirrels, opossums, or sometimes skunks. These animals have been left to fend for themselves in these thriving cities. If a dog or a cat gets hit people will usually pull over and help that animal. The animals that are left to suffer are the ones that have not been materialized. People have turned dogs and sometimes cats into accessories and in most cases just overlook all other types of animals.
I agree that people will usually feel more sympathy for a dog or cat, because we've adopted them as pets. I know I would feel sadder if a dog or cat got hit on the road than a skunk. It's sad to think that we can care more or less about a certain animal when they are still going through the same kind of pain.
I Agree with you on the world being caught up with the race for technology and forgetting the little things in life. Even if those little things are important in life, since it is can be gone in a second like that, it doesnt matter to most people since it had no effect on them what so ever. To be honest i never actually focused on the little bugs that have been hit until recently i started to look around at the cars that have been traveling for a while. It is really amazing how much can gather and be collected on one's front bumper.
It is interesting how some animals call forth a different kind of sympathy when they're killed on the road. Brandon, I'm curious about the phrase "little things in life"--which we all use. Do you think that if we had a different way of looking at "nature," animals wouldn't seem like little things at all--but an important or even essential part of our lives? What kind of values create those distinctions for us between "little things" and those other things we get so caught up with?
I do believe if we were raised up with the "little things" then we would be able to enjoy them more and respect them. To be honest, if you look at it in a wide scale then animals and the little insects are very important in our lives. If one thing becomes extinct then it might lead to another thing that eats it and so on and so on. We get caught up with the "big important things" such as business and making money in the city or so.
Hi Everyone,
I think that in part, our indifferent attitude about wild animals stems from the fact they are "off the radar." We simply aren't aware of the opossums, racoons, deer, bobcats, coyotes, squirrels, snakes, frogs, lizards, etc that inhabit our urban landscapes. Our exposure is limited to seeing them dead- flattened on a highway- or as evidence- of "pests" that knock over our trash cans and thieve from our gardens. Since many mammals especially are nocturnal and reclusive, we rarely see them alive and doing their thing. But as we've talked about in class, urban landscapes DO offer opportunities for viewing wildlife-think about the raccoons on Lone Mountain or the hawks that nest (or nested) on campus, for example.
If we don't know about something, if we only think about "wildlife" in the abstract, as something that lives "out there" or cordoned off in a state or national park, how can we expect to care about it? Barry Lopez does a great job of reminding us(if in a sobering and graphic way) of the myriad forms of live inhabiting our landscape- and that includes our cities.I encourage you to spend a little time getting to know some of your furry, scaly, and feathered neighbors. An opossum may not sit in your lap like a cat, but simply observing a wild animal in its habitat (which very well may the clump of bushes outside your dorm room!) can bring great and unexpected pleasure.
I grew up in an area where dead animals on the side of the road were a common occurrence and even though most everyone was environmentally conscious at some point there wasn't anything we could do about it. Many people took public transportation, walked or road bikes around but there was still an abundance of dead animals in the road. I feel that it is important to try and do these things as much as possible but we will never be able to be rid of every casualty on the road. There was an interesting organization in the Monterey Peninsula area that took "road kill," picked it up off the road, had it stuffed, and then gave them to museums to educate people about our environment. This was a great way for the unfortunate animal casualties to be turned into something some what productive.
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