Twice a day, I have to remove the Colorado potato beetles from the plants by hand. There are pesticides, but it requires a provincial course, an official number, being entered in a register and applying for a permit. We all know the stress involved in applying for a permit, and the cumbersome administration of simple things.
At night, I feel anxious and anxious. That’s not entirely true, it’s just for show. But I still complain a little against these insects which attack and ravage my sovereignty; nothing less, madam, than this fundamental right to exist freely. Well, we’re exaggerating a little, but given the atmosphere and the news, and since it’s the end of the world every second of every hour of every day (yet a third link, the rise of extreme right, mobility in Montreal, Trump, the origin of strawberries, the price of gas on the eve of the holidays, etc.). And a thousand other “justices” of which we are unfortunate collateral victims on a daily basis. A stupid stupid stupid time, I tell you.
And again the inertia of public and private systems, which make us stupid, and by which we will certainly soon standardize the rights of transspecies people who think they are animals (the therians) – I swear to you that it exists, the University of Northampton, in England, devotes research and funds to it, as do sociology, and psychiatry, as you can imagine.
While the rights of starving children in Gaza and beyond, who are dying of hunger, are ignored. We are made free and happy, we are still told every day by the economy and entertainment. And by “feeling”.
In these conditions of worry, sleep is sometimes difficult, but as life is well done, by chance and to pass the time, I read. Came across an article from The Atlantic from August 2017 which basically says that anxiety is not a prerequisite for action1. Maybe even its opposite. Here then. Sometimes too, to get through insomnia, I learn by heart the names of the 30 or more flags of all gender identities. I remind you that it is the middle of the night and that it is a fear of the bankruptcy of my potatoes that is taking over my head.
More seriously, it’s La Fontaine’s fables that I read. So much for the animal metaphor. There is one in particular that I really like, Council held by ratswhich I summarize here with certain liberties:
In a gang, rats want to get rid of a cat they are afraid of. So, they organize themselves and decide to come together to ensure their survival against this cat who is extraordinarily effective in eliminating them. They create committees, a constituent assembly, advisory groups, a board of directors, a good governance agency, Caisse de dépôt studies, legislation, standards for all of the above, symposia, seminars, international meetings, commissions of inquiry, discussions, observation and vigilance subcommittees, an audit committee, an ombudsman, unions, yet another COP, associations for the defense of individual rights, we offer training in decision-making culture in the face of risk, a special committee for those who are allergic to lactose in cheese, we develop a strategic plan, a communication plan, training for key lines to communicate, work-health-safety rules , emergency and evacuation procedures, self-assessment, training on diversity, on the environment, on the inclusion of the albino rat, reputational risk, and even standards to supervise all of that…
The process, as you can guess, is a bit long and you might think that, deep down, the rats are fragile and would be unmasked by the cat, but no. Fortunately, from time to time said cat (the subject of this Council, let’s not forget) left Pornhub to go join the neighbor’s cat and go zoum-zoum once a week (and incidentally perpetuate the breed). The rats took advantage of these moments to get together.
After years of consultations and talks, of anguish and perpetual and infinite anxiety, the rodents finally find a democratic solution to the very urgent urgency of the situation and agree among themselves (like on Facebook and TikTok) to attach a bell on the cat’s collar, to hear it coming from afar and thus take shelter.
Everyone agrees, we congratulate each other and we reappoint the leaders in office for another term. The rat race will be saved. When defining how they were going to concretely proceed to hang the bell, I quote here the end of the real fable (written in 1668): “Is it only necessary to deliberate/The court abounds in advisors/Is it necessary to execute /We no longer meet anyone. »
One of the beauties of summer is the relaxation of norms and the space of freedom that comes with it. I wish you days and weeks in the shadow of a leaden present.
We all know things are bad. It wasn’t better before. Can we still dream of doing things differently? Because, in the air, there is an impression that the standards we establish to protect ourselves, on the contrary, weaken us.
It’s one by one that I remove the bugs. Zero miracles here. I’m going to eat potatoes in a few weeks, you swear. Eh eh…
See you on 1er september.
1. Read the article “Constant Anxiety Won’t Save the World” by The Atlantic (in English; by subscription)
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