On a recent road trip back to the Twin Cities from somewhere in the middle of Wisconsin, the lady and I listened to an episode of This American Life about why General Motors has continually lost revenue to foreign competitors (namely Toyota) for the last 30 years. The show centered around the joint-venture plant called “NUMMI,” that is, New United Motor Manufacturing, Inc., a cooperative endeavor between GM and Toyota that could have shown the United States’ biggest auto manufacturer how to increase both efficiency and sustainability while still maintaining profits.
In any case, you know the end of the story, at least generally speaking — GM didn’t learn nothin’, and went bankrupt because of it. This episode details the repeated opportunities the NUMMI plant afforded GM, and the repeated, persistent, idiotic refusal of GM’s top executives to change their company in ways that could have saved them from, well, its near-death experience last year. In every instance, they were more concerned with the immediate profits of CEOs and shareholders than long-term interests such as sustainable-energy vehicles, better working conditions for laborers, avoidance of Chapter 11 proceedings, etc. The episode is exceedingly interesting, featuring interviews with several high-level managers and executives who were involved with the NUMMI project.
On another car ride recently, this one likely from work to home or vice versa, I was listening to a story on MPR about the coal mine explosion in West Virginia that killed 29 people. Specifically, the radio host interviewed a Mine Safety Expert regarding investigations into Massey Energy Company’s safety policies. Once again, the corporation was more interested in its own profit margin than the lives of its workers, even to the point of implying in several memos (but of course not exactly stating outright) that worker safety concerns are always secondary. After all, the money comes from the coal, not from the miners making it out of the tunnels in one piece at the end of the day.
And, of course, there’s the catastrophic event of BP unleashing a Balrog* — er, millions of gallons of crude oil into the Gulf of Mexico. Shockingly, they cut corners and greased up government officials (under the Bush administration, wouldn’t you know) in order to swell their coffers. And 11 people died, not to mention the as-yet untold damages to multiple ecosystems upon which thousands depend for their livelihoods. And, you know, the Earth is way prettier when not slicked with the decomposed remains of prehistoric lifeforms, but hell, if they don’t care about their sentient employees, who can expect them to give a fuck about a few pelicans?
I guess the solution is: Jesus H. Christ, you oblivious persons and wildlife, stop putting yourself in the path of these few dozen ass-wipes trying to make a buck. Or you know, a few billion that they don’t even know what the fuck to do with (Exxon-Mobil continues to be the United States’ most profitable company).
In the wide realm of Tolkien criticism (you saw this coming, didn’t you?), exploitation of resources in order to consolidate power (i.e., money) is frequently likened to the recklessly destructive actions of Saruman and his minions at Isengard. Indeed, Peter Jackson’s film version of The Two Towers goes so far as to have ol’ Sharkey saying “the forests will burn in the fires of industry,” which to me is about as clear a finger you can point at ecologically irresponsible organizations.
But as we drove home from WI that day (I was in the passenger seat, and thus probably waxing more philosophical than otherwise), looking at some pretty sun rays coming down through dark rain clouds, the concept of these corporations as individual entities (which, according to the Supreme Court, they are) struck me as something else entirely. They don’t even seem to be as rational or as deliberate as Saruman was in his machinations to conquer Middle-earth and destroy the natural world in doing so; they seem to me more akin to Carcharoth (also called Anfauglir, the Jaws of Thirst), the watch-wolf at the gate of Angband who, after biting off the hand of Beren that holds a Silmaril, is driven utterly mad by the jewel’s power. He rampages all across Middle-earth attempting to slake his now unquenchable thirst, inconsolable and unreachable to logic or reason of any kind, rending apart all who come in his path. The only choice left to Elves and Men is to either slay him or continue to suffer the swath of death and destruction he cuts through the green, living lands of the world.
To quote Théoden, “What can men do against such reckless hate?” The whole thing would be a lot simpler if “ride out and meet them” was the appropriate response, swords a-swinging and a-cleaving. But really, the day at Helm’s Deep is saved by the arrival of Gandalf and Théoden’s allies — the key word being “allies,” in that unity is required to defeat the hosts of the enemy. Holding true to the comparison, though, the Rohirrim didn’t really fight back until all was nearly lost. Such seems the likely outcome in our lives, as well.
Really the answer, I think, is to just wake up the Ents. Or, in the event we can’t find any, build some robotic ones, maybe. I think laser beams in their eyes would also expedite the whole process.
*Excuse the slip-up. Crude oil and Balrogs are just so similar. I mean, both are readily flammable, hide in deep underground caverns, and are, according to all evidence, impossible to stop once unleashed. Incidentally, crude oil and Balrogs tend not to cause problems if you just leave them the fuck alone. Just sayin’.