Category Archives: Quandaries and Rants

Earth Day in China

Earth Day in China   —by Jinny Batterson

During the several years when I was in China in late April, I never noticed any hoopla about Earth Day, celebrated in the U.S. around April 22.  This holiday, founded by environmentalists in the United States in 1970, has yet to catch on in China.  A couple of times, I’ve broached the subject of environmental activism to some of my Chinese students and colleagues.  Over the past generation or so in China, there has been increasing interest in ecological education, as the Chinese economy begins to mature and its natural environment becomes more polluted.

I have mainly benefited from industrial progress in the U.S. for much of my lifetime, so I can find it awkward to discuss “earth friendly” development with Chinese friends.  After I’d given a somewhat glib critique of China’s polluted air at an evening Q&A session several years ago, one younger Chinese colleague retorted:

“Your country spewed great plumes and spurts of toxic chemicals into its air and water for over a century before you began efforts to clean up your dirty industries. What right do you have to criticize us when we’re still just getting started on our development?”

Reaching a consensus on steps our respective governments and cultures can take to reduce our harm to global air and water resources can be tricky.  The trade-offs between economic development and wise resource stewardship are not always obvious.  Citizens in both countries register alarm at some of the damage we’re causing, but what we can do to reduce the harm is not always readily apparent.

Progress toward mutual efforts to reduce some pollutants in our two countries, greenhouse gas emissions, got a boost in November, 2014, when Chinese President Xi Jinping and U.S. President Barack Obama signed a historic agreement with ambitious emissions reduction targets for both countries. The U.S. pledged to reduce its emissions by at least 26% below 2005 levels by 2025; China promised to cap its emissions by 2030, and earlier if possible. Greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide and methane, coming from industrial, residential, and vehicular sources, are leading contributors to air pollution, as well as likely facilitators of global climate change. If early progress is made toward achieving these goals, it will help further advance broader international agreements at a global climate summit to be held in Paris in December, 2015. (You can read more about the U.S.-China agreement at http://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/china-us-agree-to-limit-greenhouse-gases/2014/11/11/9c768504-69e6-11e4-9fb4-a622dae742a2_story.html.)

A non-governmental boost toward paying attention to China’s environment came recently from a former CCTV (Chinese state television) reporter, Chai JIng, who in 2015 produced an independent hour-plus documentary about air pollution problems in China. Chai’s TED-style documentary, “Under the Dome,” also provides historical context from different parts of the world. It cites Britain’s “killer smog” of 1952 (4 days of heavy air pollution in December that year that killed an estimated 12,000 people). It also chronicles Los Angeles’s smog problems. In the period just after World War II, smog in Los Angeles was just as dense and harmful as Beijing’s smog is today. A photograph taken of one of L.A.’s freeways on Christmas Eve, 1948, shows extremely limited visibility. Strict emissions standards strictly enforced have lessened smog there, even as the number of vehicles on area roads has increased.

Chai has said she produced her documentary out of concern for her young daughter, who was born with a benign tumor that may have been caused by pollution. Chai’s presentation was posted to the Internet and had received over 100 million views in China before it was removed from Chinese websites.

It may be slightly ironic that two high-profile recent public events in Beijing—the 2008 Olympics and the 2014 APEC summit (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation), at which Obama and Xi signed their historic agreement—contributed to increasing expectations among Beijingers that cleaner air is possible.  For both events, polluting industries in surrounding areas were temporarily scaled back or shut down entirely.  Motor traffic into the city was severely restricted. Officials wanted to have “blue sky days” while Beijing was in the international spotlight.

When Earth Day comes around this year, I’ll do my part by increasing my efforts to be more sparing in my use of a car.  I’ll invest more in carbon offsets to reduce the impact of my airline travel. I’ll eat lower on the food chain more often.  I’ll revel in the “blue sky days” that still predominate in the part of the United States of America where I live. In addition to personal lifestyle changes, I’ll work harder toward public policy modifications in my town, county, state, and country to help protect the environment. I’ll think of Chai Jing and her daughter, of my own children and grandchildren. Each of us can do something to move toward a more livable planet for future generations of humans.

Born After the War

Born After the War

(“Hiroshima Day”, August 6, is not much celebrated in the U.S., though  I’ve been told that in Japan it is the occasion for solemn remembrances. In 2000, I had a chance to visit Hiroshima and see the A-Bomb dome, the Peace Museum, and the millions of paper cranes, symbols of peace and hope, sent there by school children from around the world. This musing was prompted by that visit.)

On its anniversary a decade ago, I gave a short commemorative presentation about the atomic bombing of Hiroshima–the first use of atomic weapons–on August 6, 1945.  My audience was attentive.  We all squirmed uncomfortably. After the subsequent silence, people began sharing their stories. Some older attendees had known A-bomb survivors personally.  Most remembered exactly what they were doing when they got news of the bombing–like those of my generation remember the JFK and MLK assassinations, or my children remember the Challenger spaceship disaster.

I’ve sometimes felt both gifted and cheated by the timing of my appearance in 1947, when the worst of  World War II damage was starting to be hidden beneath sprouting weeds and aid programs, although the aftershocks were felt in the growing belligerence among former allies that later came to be called the “Cold War.”  During a 1950’s period of postwar U.S. uneasiness,  hunts were carried out for Communists, domestic and foreign. Perhaps their existence would help explain why, after our recent great resounding victories, so many felt so empty.

One of my grandfathers, the Rebel one, was also born not long after a war, in 1869. His early childhood was spent in a house occupied by Union troops who’d temporarily expropriated a Southern landscape almost as desolate as postwar Hiroshima.  As his brain softened with age, he sometimes relived that childhood, becoming again the scared white boy who dreaded the “n— down the road who carried a pistol for me.”

Sometimes I wonder about the wisdom of those of us born after wars.  We are often the pampered progeny of parents determined to keep us out of harm’s way. They don’t want us to suffer through what they did.  Laudable as their efforts were and are, there are downside risks. Absent at least some suffering, we are all too apt to blunder through life, expecting all obstacles to be removed, planting the seeds of the next wars by blaming each other when stubborn boulders of prejudice, ego and ideology refuse to budge without great effort.

Jonah’s Dilemma (The Curse of Being Heeded)

Jonah’s Dilemma (The Curse of Being Heeded)

(This entry is based partly on Bible stories I heard as a child, partly on a paraphrase of the original Biblical tale by Anne Herbert that I first read in the 1981 edition of the Whole Earth Catalog.  One of the downsides of being reform-minded is that we often don’t know how to react if/when the reforms we are so passionate about do get implemented.)

The Bible poses thorny problems, new to us over and over.
Take the story of Jonah. As children, we reveled in his adventures–
Being swallowed by a big fish, then spit out, alive
On a faraway shore.  Wow!

It’s not until much later (and sometimes never) that Jonah’s ethical problems
Begin to grab us.  Like the whale’s digestive system, they gnaw at us,
Leaching nourishment into our souls.

Most other Biblical prophets ranted at a reluctant public
Who refused to heed their warnings, getting their just desserts
In due season: being pulled apart by dogs, like Jezebel,
Or exiled to Babylon, like the Jews, or…
We’re pretty good at filling in the blanks.

Jonah didn’t want to rant and rave. He could see retribution coming
For Nineveh, and he did not want to risk being prophetic.

But being a prophet is a calling not dismissed easily.
Despite Jonah’s best efforts at evasion,
He was thrown among the people he was meant to warn.
He stuttered off his message, finding to his great surprise
That his audience was receptive.  What’s more, they were willing,
Even eager, to mend their ways.

They repented.

Which left Jonah in the lurch even worse than being barfed up
By a whale.  Where is the paragraph in the prophets’ manual
That explains what to do with a repentant public?
Jonah had no role models.
He did what most of us do when thoroughly frustrated–
He threw a tantrum, venting much of his stored up
Invective at a God who once again surpasses our
Addiction to pat solutions.

And God replied with a question, an important one:
Is there a possibility that someday, somehow, we, too

Can surpass our addiction to pat solutions?

Job’s Wife

Job’s Wife    –by Jinny Batterson

(written in January, 1998, after viewing an exhibit of
William Blake’s illustrations for the Biblical book of Job)

Sometimes it bothers me
What little mention
I get in the Bible.
The one verse in my voice,
At the beginning
Of Job’s story,
Is shrewish
And nagging:
“Do you still hold fast
To your integrity?
Curse God, and die.”

Had I been around
When the scribes wrote
My husband’s story,
I’d have gently reminded them
How much they were leaving out.

I doubt they’d have listened.
Writers and media folks typically
Want “man bites dog”
Tales, or hyperbole.

Gentleness, quiet persistence,
Lie mainly between the lines
Of Biblical lore.

So we get chapter
After chapter
Of Job’s longwinded
Friends arguing–
Trying to fit
Job and God into
Their own little boxes.

I learned early that both God
And Job were beyond labels,
But the scribes couldn’t
Write that in so many words.

William Blake captured it
Better in picture–
Me bent silent at Job’s feet,
Offering what comfort I could.

Showing in my posture
How much it hurt me,
Too, to lose all,
Especially those children.

I’d carried them in my womb,
Wiped their runny noses,
Shared in their triumphs
And sorrows.

Now I was without them,
Utterly thrust down–
No longer a respected matron
And wife,
But the sorely bereaved
Helpmate of a poor
Hulk of a soul
Covered all over with boils.

Many’s the time I considered
Cursing God, and Job, too,
But I didn’t.

Instead, I cooked gruel
Of the grain we had left;
I washed his feet
With my tears,
And I stayed by him.

While he wrestled
With the pain
And the hard questions,
I struggled, too.

If God’s answer to Job
Came loudly:
“Have you a voice like God,
And can you thunder
With a voice like his?”
The answer I got was so still
And small, it took me a
Long time to hear it.

“No loss is irredeemable,”
God told me, “Be steadfast,
And you will come to understand.”

So I stayed on.
After Job’s repentance,
When he prayed for forgiveness
For his three friends,
You may notice
That Job didn’t have
To pray for me–
I had been praying
With and for him all along.

We had lots of good years
After that.
More children, too.

We rarely took any of them
For granted.
There’s no joy
Sweeter than joy after sorrow.

And I read between the lines
(Women can be good at that)
That the scribes paid me
A compliment the only way they
Knew how–by naming my
Descendants.

As they ended their book,
It’s our latest daughters
Whose names they wrote down:
Jemimah, Kesiah, and Kerenhappuch.

Of course, I love our sons, too,
And I’ve loved Job forever.

And I think it’s a testimony
To feminine strength
That it’s our daughters
Whose names are mentioned–
Who share in Job’s inheritance.

Border Stater

Border Stater     by Jinny Batterson

(Initial version written to my brother at his birthday–an attempt in the heat of a political season to find some mutual ground.)

It’s somewhat uncomfortable here,
hanging by my heels above this hillside threshing platform.
The harvest is almost in.
All that remains on the plain spread below me
are scattered stalks of overripe rhetoric.
I was raised in a border state–
part Northern, part Southern, part Western, part Eastern.
At home everywhere and nowhere.
I’ve lived in city, suburb, and countryside.
In some things I’m wealthy, in others, poor.
The ability to see from this quirky vantage point
multiple sides of most issues is both blessing and curse.
I avoid panic, knowing that sooner or later
I’ll disentangle myself and again stand upright.
As this cycle nears fruition,
I have confidence that earth will keep its balance,
faith that our human presence will endure,
and hope that one day
we will tend our mutual gardens together in peace.