I know it’s not about individuals. I know it is about systems of exploitation that began long before Whitey arrived to stay in Australia (1788). I know it is about ecological imperialism, primitive accumulation, accumulation by dispossession and whatever other Marxist, post-Marxist terminology you want to throw about. Metabolic rift schmetabolic rift.
I know we are all complicit, even if you don’t want to call us all actively guilty.
I know it is too late to do anything serious about it. I read my Guy McPherson, my Dave Pollard. I know my polar vortexes (well, vortices) from my melting pavements in Adelaide.
Tiny-brain Abbott? Turdy Abbott? Goddammit. Species traitor. And I don’t mean that in the sense of “gender traitor” or “race traitor” or “class traitor”, of someone transcending their upbringing and social/economic interest to see a wider scope of, well, humanity.
I mean it would not surprise me one little bit if it turned out that Tony Abbott was a 12-foot lizard in a skin-suit, trying to speed the terra-forming of Earth along. It would explain a lot.
There is still, at least theoretically, time for us to learn to roll with the punches. For a while. But instead we have this, this thing.