I regularly do a little gardening, more so when I was living in San Francisco’s sun belt south of Market, but still a little now that I’m up in Eureka Valley, just in the tomato zone west of Twin Peaks. Tomatoes are my specialty. But whereas I used to grow tons of heirlooms in SOMA, I haven’t had very good luck up here in the hills. I haven’t gotten the hang of gardening up here yet. The climate hasn’t helped. This past spring and summer it’s been incredibly cold and foggy, unusually so even for San Francisco’s clammy climate. My zebras simply did not make the grade this season. But my stupice tomatoes, well, they are incredibly sweet and abundant, perfectly suited for the climate. When tomatoes are this good, it makes you realize that tomatoes are truly fruit.
Now the problem is raccoons. We have a family of raccoons living in the immediate neighborhood, and once the initial score or so of delicious tomatoes were picked, they wised up and started grabbing the rest as soon as they got remotely ripe. I tried timing matters to outfox the raccoons and pluck the crop ahead of them. No dice. Then I rigged up some chicken wire in ever more sophisticated arrays hoping to protect the plants. The raccoons kept breeching my fences and security, always getting my ripening tomatoes. Finally, I enclosed the remaining tomatoes, still incredibly productive, behind a half inch steel mesh fence, modifying the security so that now it looks like I have a chance of getting a few tomatoes out of the deal. I’m getting indications that frustrated raccoons skirting the perimeter so far have been unable to figure out how to penetrate my tomato enclosure. So far.
I’ve spent perhaps ten times what I originally invested into the garden trying to get some payback. I guess I’m pissed at being outwitted, time and again, by these crazy-assed raccoons. I mean to say, crazy smart raccoons. These wild little fuckers are urban born and bred, intelligent and resourceful as all get out, capable of making meals of someone’s koi pond or backyard garden or unsecured garbage cans, willing to intimidate your pet cat or dog or yours truly if need be. Raccoons have opposable thumbs, and the acuity to outwit most traps set for them. I fully expect my local family of raccoons to continue giving me grief over those tomatoes.
Raccoons are far too wily, far too ingenious, far too brilliant to be limited by that updated adage: “build a better mousetrap, evolve a better mouse.” The anthropomorphic version of this saying is: “build a better lock, train a better thief.” And while the latter is slightly less insulting than the former, both rely on comparisons to common undesirables (mice, thieves). Unfortunately, I’m stuck using these analogies and their unfortunate use of aphoristic lowlifes, to illustrate my point.
Humans are obsessed with their own security, and for finding ways to combat threats to their lives, liberty and pursuit of happiness. At the most basic, our battle against disease exemplifies these maxims at work. We are constantly throwing antibiotics against bacterial-based infections, killing off good bacteria as well as bad, until the antibiotics no longer work and we breed more powerful, drug-resistant bacteria. The use of antibiotics in the raising of livestock only exacerbates the problem. Superbugs, and the threat of uncontrollable, worldwide plagues, are the potential consequence.
Our response to so-called “vermin”—insects, mice, rats, even raccoons—has been to throw every possible means—chemical, biological, physical—in order to exterminate them. In the short term, this produces massive ecological disruption as creatures thoroughly integrated into the natural environment are killed off. In the long term, the results are super insects genetically immune to pesticides, super mice and super rats genetically immune to standard poisons, and super raccoons genetically immune…well, okay, for once, the raccoons seem to be one step ahead of the game. They’re smart enough to be able to outwit most things that humans do to kill them off, flourishing despite everything we do to eradicate them. Short of hiring a pest control company, setting elaborate traps, and immediately exterminating them, raccoons are a fact of urban life in San Francisco.
So, how does this all relate to the most obnoxious pest humans have to deal with—other humans? Ever since 9/11, the US government has geometrically escalated its anti-terrorism measures hoping to keep us, the American public, safe and secure. From FBI surveillance activities, CIA drone programs, and NSA PRISM and XKEYSCORE programs, the Federal government has actually done a halfway decent job of preventing another Twin Towers attack from occurring. But smaller acts like the Fort Hood assault or the Boston Marathon bombing can and do happen, despite the best, most extensive, thorough and encompassing efforts to prevent them. That’s because terrorists are always looking for ways to circumvent whatever anti-terrorist steps the government takes in order to prevent them from initiating terror. No matter how sophisticated a counter-insurgency program put in place by the state, insurgents can and do manage to succeed in foiling that program.
Just look at the history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. From Palestinian guerrilla infiltration and warfare, through plane hijackings and hostage takings, bus bombings and suicide attacks, to intifadas and rocket attacks—the Israelis are engaged in a war without end where the casualties for the Jewish state are modest but by no means insignificant despite high technology, overwhelming armament, social isolation and geographic internment. The Israelis have never taken to heart the historical truth that “one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter,” much as Americans have failed to understand Benjamin Franklin’s saying: “Those who give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary security, deserve neither liberty nor security.”
REVISIONS:
#1: Several columns ago, I alluded to some of the tenets of Buddhism, which I didn’t quite accurately depict. Buddhism has nothing to do with belief in a god, or lack thereof. When one of his followers asked the Buddha whether there was a god, or how many gods exist, Buddha replied that he had no opinion on such questions. All the Buddha concerned himself with was the inevitability of suffering in life, and the way suffering might be ended. One can be a Jew, a Christian, a Muslim, even an atheist, and still be a Buddhist. Technically. Of course, there are many millions of Buddhists who would contend otherwise, who believe in various gods and goddesses, who have deified the Buddha despite his request not to, and some of whom have engaged in sectarian terrorism against Muslims in the name of religious purity. As for suffering, I identified old age, sickness and death, just three of what Buddhists consider the four great causes of human suffering. I left out birth. Not because childbirth has become painless, thanks to medical advances. It hasn’t. The birth in question has to do with the Buddhist belief in rebirth and reincarnation, a belief I don’t share. Despite attempts to medicalize, anesthetize and pharmacize our ills and fears, the basic forms of human suffering will continue to be with us.
#2: The BYOB Youth Movement ’82 gig was not held at the Hollywood Bowl, but at the Hollywood Palladium. Thanks to Ryan Timothy for the heads up!
What's Left? 