I’ve just watched David Attenborough’s “A
Life On Our Planet” and it’s beautiful as always, frank, open, heartfelt, a
powerful plea to protect, preserve and even expand the wild places that he so
loves and has made it his life’s work to document and explain. To do so, he
says, is not mere environmentalism, but a necessity if humanity is to survive
on this planet. It’s all delivered in his trademark BBC tones of gentle wisdom
and quiet authority—not the gravelly voice of God a la Freeman but something
warmer, more familiar and human—it is assured, it is educated, intellectual,
knowledgeable and kind without being saccharine. It is a chronicle of nature in
the 21st century, which means of course it is a chronicle of how
fast that nature is disappearing and—OH MY GOD WE MADE DAVID ATTENBOROUGH CRY.
Well done, us. I hope we’re fucking happy with ourselves. We’ve saddened this
beautiful, beautiful man, whose hiking boots we are not worthy to—oh, it makes
me mad. MAD. I’ve been listening to Sir Dave since Life on Earth, back in the
early 80s, and it is just heartbreaking to hear him talk about how much has
been lost, much of it irrevocably. His prescriptions are not novel, and
repetition from the mouths of other environmentalists has stolen some of their
thunder, but he does stress how attainable they are—greater use of renewable
energy, cooperative and planned utilization of ocean resources, less dependence
on meat-heavy diets, an end to human expansion. Fine goals of course, but the
challenge is (as it always has been) that many refuse to admit there is even a
problem. I’m sure this documentary gets a rougher reception down America way,
where belligerent climate change denial has become a cornerstone belief for
half the population (the message probably also faces an uphill battle in, say,
China or India, sorry Americans for picking on you again, but you are the
Florida Man of the English-speaking world at the moment). Which is also sad, if
not quite as sad as seeing Sir David upset. It is so frustrating to hear people
at times bemoan our modern lack of moral compass, the cliched “What would Jesus
do if he was alive today” when we are surrounded on all sides by Attenborough
and Mister Rogers and Bob Ross and Steve Irwin and Keanu Reeves and, idk, Dave
Grohl, we are surrounded by figures pointing the way to kindness and humility
and respect and we keep throwing up our hands in the air and saying “Welp, too
bad everything sucks, that’s life.” The answers are all around us, people.
Worried what to do about climate change? Just listen, listen for once in your
goddam lives instead of yammering away on Facebook and Reddit and Twitter and
Instagram and just listen. What would Jesus do? I DON’T KNOW WHY DON’T YOU TRY
FUCKEN LISTENING TO ONE OF THE THREE DOZEN SHINING, POSITIVE FIGURES IN OUR
CULTURE. Maybe we wouldn’t be in such a goddamn mess then. But no, it’s Donnie
Trump, football players and the sodding Kardashians. Mad. But back to Sir
David. The poor dear is 93 but still going, if not strong, then gently and
calmly as ever, and I would say “we shall not see his like again” but I don’t
want to jinx it, I sincerely hope we do see his like again, whole battalion of
Davids, great regiments of Attenboroughs sweeping across the continents,
documentary teams in tow. Endless Davids, a never-ending stream Attenboroughs. Then maybe life on this planet will actually be worth living.
Tuesday, October 13, 2020
A Life On Our Planet
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