49: Trigger warning đż Responding to abuses of power from afar
A systems-sensing reflection on power, presence, and response
What if our responses to distant events are part of a larger system? Some reflections on feedback loops, discernment, and quiet forms of power.
How do we respond to the faraway events of the world?
For some reading, the events mentioned here are not so far. For others closer to me, there are terrible abuses of power that donât make this news here. All require responses - here are a few thoughts.
{Ed: A few readers have said itâs worth taking this one as the full experience: read with the background track on, then watch all three videos. Itâll take about an hour, but itâs designed for that pace â better than skimming.}
đ§ If youâd like some background music while reading (or listening to this reflection), try:
Pedar Helland â âFlyingâ
Waking up to the news
A terrible thing to do, but not as terrible as for those who are in it
Iâve been wrestling with how to respond after watching from afar the events in the States brewing in the lead-up with the inhumane treatment of undocumented migrants in the US and then the shooting of two community observers by ICE: Renee Good and Alex Pretti.
A young person in my life asked me where the legal response was, where was the outrage, how could nobody be saying anything? I guess hoping that I had more insight, but more I sensed that they needed to know what âmakes rightâ in the world. Good question. Some of it was answered in the news, and more will unfold with time. But as the weeks have gone Iâve found it impossible not to try to articulate some kind of response. Iâm thinking of these as feedback loops.
What to do in response?
It helped find these questions:
Why do we respond, when events seem so distant?
How do we respond, when it feels like anything we do is too small?
And if we are to respondâwill we even make a difference?
In Australia, we are not immune. A genocidal history, recent tragedies and deaths in custody. Always another newsfeed story reaching us through digital pathwaysâsignals of the direction âthe worldâ is heading. So what Iâm writing is in response to the near and the far of the events.
First attempts
At first, I wanted to write from emotion and familiarity. I had no words. I, too am a poet. A queer mum. My friends are excellent advocates and observers upholding justice. It was easy for me to imagine the person, their family, their community, and be appalled by the breakdown of restraint and due process.
We are all citizens of the same world. They just happen to be on the other side of it, geographically.
Iâprobably like many of youâfeel this way about most of the terrible news that crosses our feeds.
We see the humans underneath and wonder âwhere will this all endâ.
So, I started writing and then I stopped.
I didnât want to add to the noise.
What good does that do?
Social media, to me, feels like a sea of fuzzy television after the stationâs shut down. The grey zone. I donât want to live there.
And I donât want to add to the static if I can help it.
Iâd much rather find actions that feel⊠more effective. At least to me.
Past wisdom revisits from unexpected places and in unusual ways
Then, I started sensing echoesâimages from the worldâs past. TV, books, music over the years. (Growing older is really cool like that - you have access to a longish back-catalogue.)
Moments of witness. Responses. They rose and passed, like waves. I let them go. It felt still too much like dabbling in current affairs. Adding to the static.
A system sensers call to action
But then the second shooting happened. And even from the other hemisphere it was clear. This wasnât just a one-off incident. It was a pattern. A signal. A system that had a goal of making a people (more) frightened, and subdued.
