C-Realm

Home The C-Realm Podcast Episode 42: Tragedy of the Bathroom

Who's online?

None

Latest Forum Posts

Episode 111: Stop Digging 2008/07/17 18:49 by Kay Emmo
Episode 105: Caught in the Web 2008/07/07 07:08 by Kay Emmo
Episode 108: Methane Burps & Tele Everything 2008/07/07 07:06 by Kay Emmo
Episode 102: A Vocabulary of Control 2008/06/17 07:01 by Kay Emmo
Test of the new forum 2008/06/11 14:35 by kmo
>$property = trim($line); } } } } } return $obj; } } } ?>

Wed

20

Jun

Episode 42: Tragedy of the Bathroom PDF Print E-mail
User Rating: / 0
PoorBest 

itunes pic

play_button.pngdownload_button.png

This episode centers on the topic of global population. KMO reads some 5 year old gems from sciforums and speaks with author Sharon Astyk, author of “Enough with the freakin' bathroom metaphor Already!”

You can find the text of the Sciforums posts that I read on this week's show here.

Enough with the freakin' bathroom metaphor Already!

by Sharon Astyk
Excerpt:
What the bathroom metaphor actually does is equate "freedom" with "no limits" - it says that freedom and dignity are constructs of privilege and lack of constraint. That is, you have the perfect freedom of the bathroom when you never have to wait, or accomodate anyone else, adapt to or respect anyone else's needs. But that is *not* what freedom is - and I think this is an important point, because our consumer culture tells us over and over again that freedom is the ability to have whatever you want, whenever you want it. Freedom is "freedom of choice" and that is the equivalent of 63 choices of soda on the grocery store aisle, rather than the freedom from want, or freedom from repression - freedoms that only work when other people are aware of and attentive to others. Freedom, according to Dick Cheney, is the American way of life being "non-negotiable" rather than an egalitarian, shared and just life that extends beyond the borders of America. The bathroom example perpetuates the "freedom is choice" notion - that being free means never having to say, "excuse me."

I think that's truly and deeply wrong, and if we think this way about the population issue, we are perpetuating our most foolish habits of thought. Freedom is the right to assert your wants and needs in a world where others exist, and the right to have them respected, but it is not the right to never have to accomodate anyone else or share, and I think that's a really important point.

If we believe that freedom is the right to always have what you want, when you want it, we will persist in equating freedom with wealth and privilege. And some versions of the overpopulation argument seem to basically go like this "there are too many people - they are impinging on my right to have the stuff I want - if there were less of them, I'd have to make fewer accomodations to other people, and that would be better." That's not freedom, but greed. We all have it, we're all greedy folk, but we need not give our our own selfishness and greed a pretty cloak to wear and call it science.




For an extremely relevant discussion of human germ-line genetic modifications that would greatly help with the problem of population pressure, check out this post from Charles Stross:

http://autopope.livejournal.com/265753.html




The Solitary Reaper
. Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?—
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;—
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

-William Wordsworth






Read and Post Comments on LivejournalTags: ,
  No Comments.
Discuss...