| The nudibranch will be animated with different
shots showing it moving over a leaf coral. The unexpected is when it falls off, finds
itself floating in Sea. I advance the slides to the shots of the nudibranch with a black
background. I need to make a black paper mask to cut off some of the planktonic background
in the black shots. I want it to seem like the animal has nothing at all around it - no
sensory input - unexpected happens, memory fails. The music beats right here, I need to
shoot five frames of each position and then shift the nudibranch 4 millimeters and shoot
five more.
Somebody knocks at the studio door. I switch off the projector and
go over to open it. Two men, improbably outfitted in real suits, stand there looking at
me. "My name is Jim Swan," says the one with the Pat Boone smile. I work with
the Foundation for the Human Environment and we're here doing a study on environmental
awareness for the American Samoan Government. I understand you're working on environmental
awareness, too."
"Uh, right. Come in, pull up a crate." They come in
uncertainly, looking around at the mess. "A study on environmental awareness?"
"Yes, we're trying to assemble a plan for environmental
awareness and so we're finding out who is doing what in this area. Rick Davis told us you
were making an environmental awareness film."
"That's right. I've also been getting together some video clips
and TV station breaks on environmental awareness. You don't mind if I keep on working
while we talk? Who are you doing the study for?"
"The American Samoan Office of the Environmental Protection
Agency. Our idea is to set up an organization, maybe a club, and invent a special
character - like Smokey the Bear - to represent the caretaker of the environment. What
would you think of that approach?"
"Frankly, not much. First of all, it lacks any semblance of
Samoan culture. It's just not the way things are done here. And Polynesians never were
much on inventing fictitious characters like Smokey the Bear.
"My own approach puts the responsibility on each individual.
Have you ever read Raymond Firth? We the Tikopea? No? Well, he's an anthropologist who did
a lot of work on the island of Tikopea in the Solomons. Cultural stuff. The important part
of his work was embedded in the title of his book, 'We the Tikopea.' That was the
islanders own expression for their island. They saw themselves as part of a living island,
not as separate from it.
"I think that's what we need to concentrate on. Making the
people realize they are, every single one of them, a part of a living island. Not in some
Walt Disney sense, but in a realistic understanding of the fact the atoms of the soil, the
water and the air are re-arranged into the patterns of behavior which are the people, the
food plants and animals, the roads and buildings and the whole cultural scene.
"If the people of Tutuila could be made to understand that they
ARE the living island, the consciousness of the living island, then environmental care
becomes keeping the ultimate social unit - the life system of the whole island - healthy.
One of my slide shows is called, `A healthy island is a happy island.'"
Jim and his friend look bewildered. He's still wearing his smile but
there does not seem to be anyone looking out of his eyes. Oh well.
"Tie in the plants with social ideas. One video clip I produced
says, 'When you plant flowers, you're planting beauty. When you harvest flowers, you
harvest love.' It shows beautiful flowers. The aim is to get people thinking of plants and
animals as part of themselves. Part of their life. Part of a living island."
"Is this like Lovelock's Gaia Hypothesis?" says Jim's
friend. "The Earth is a Living Organism?"
"Yes. Lovelock's Gaia concept is built around the idea that the
collective life of Earth alters the chemical composition of the planet's atmosphere and,
in doing so, makes the planet ideally suited for life. This is also completely true for
the chemical composition of the sea, for the creation and maintenance of fresh water
ecosystems and for the soil. But other scientists tend to think of the Gaia hypothesis as
trivial or, at best, a quaint idea. It's not a new idea, either. Stringer, also a British
atmospheric scientist, wrote an excellent book about it. Guy Murchie writes about it, too,
in his book The Seven Mysteries of Life. In the late 20's the superorganism concept was a
fad for entomologists who wanted to explain hive activity in termites. But the proponents
have tended to be squashed by two things. First, their books tend to be given stupid
titles. Mysteries of Life, Secrets of Gods, and now Lovelock's greek goddess Gaia. This
confuses the issue and frightens off many of the stuffier scientists.
"Second is the 'hypothesis' attitude. What we are talking about
is not a hypothesis at all, but an observation. A viewpoint, really. The word hypo-thesis
means below the level of a theory - an unproven concept, a working guess. There is no
question about the fact that the island of Tutuila is a living system. Or that the planet
Earth is a living system. What is in question is the logic system which enables us to
think constructively about collective behavioral networks." I finish working on the
camera set up and take three consecutive shots of the nudibranch. Jim is standing there in
the glow of the projector, watching quietly with a kind of numb attention which means I've
pushed their 'off' buttons.
"Anyway, the Gaia approach lacks a personal linkage with
individual responsibility. It makes people seem almost insignificant. Lovelock tells us a
mass of different kinds of bacteria ran the global homeostatic life system for more than a
billion years and still are running the place. He's right about the evolution of life and
the evolution of the physical environment being a single, indivisible process. But he's
given the whole system into the domain of chemical feedback loops instead of focusing on
the critical role played by the development of awareness. Here is the ghost in his
machine. The thread of awareness in chaos is the directing force behind his foxes and
rabbits and daises. Individual behavior is at the base of the pyramided layers of communal
behavior. This is the critical element. It leads us to the inescapable conclusion that
hominids are - along with their whole life system of plants and animals and buildings and
roads - the defacto consciousness of the planet. What we do matters and matters more every
day."
"This is in line with many of the American Indian
beliefs," says Jim. "I've worked with American Indians for many years."
"Right, sure. Some of the American Indians had the right idea.
So did the Polynesians, but both of them lost the thread a long time ago." I've lined
up the last of the nudibranch shots and now I shoot the frames on the 16-mm camera. I
thread my way through the cluttered studio and turn on the overhead lights.
"That's all really beside the point. Environmental action does
have to have a sympathy with the natural world, but it seems the world isn't ready for
heavy duty self-analysis yet. Samoans are not as environmentally unaware as many people
think. Sure, the trash is piled high in the streets of Pago Pago, but once you get out
into the villages, you'll see they are pretty clean and orderly. The places where the
system is breaking down is where it interfaces with the American behavioral overlay. Our
job is to find ways of telling people what to do to improve the environment. Not in a
theoretical way, but definite actions individuals need to take to make the island a better
place to live."
"Planting flowers, harvesting love?" Jim makes a note in
his little book.
"Without a doubt. See, the messages drive the community
awareness system. If there are no messages, the system does not function as a community.
Television is a great way to get messages out into the community but most of what is
signaled with modern TV programming isn't very constructive." I begin to feel this is
taking too much time and pick up my notebook.
Jim picks up the cue and stands, "OK, thanks very much for your
time. We'll keep in touch."
"Just out of curiosity, how much is your project costing?" I ask as they head for the door.
"Uh, not much, it's a small contract, really. I think something
like 12 or 16 thousand dollars." He starts to say something more but then turns and
leaves. Not much. Twelve or sixteen thousand dollars. I look around the storage room and
stare at the crude animation rig and the ancient Kodak camera. Smokey the goddamned bear.
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