Editorial 3.5, May/June 2001, by Deirdre Helfferich Electrified The other day, I received the following forwarded e-mail from my sister, who lives in California:
While the idea of an international electricity boycott in the form of a voluntary rolling blackout was mildly interesting, it didn’t at first seem like it would do much good in the long term, particularly up here at the 64th parallel. June 21 is the middle of the summer in Alaska (for those of you who have just arrived here), and you can read outside at ten o’clock at night without straining your eyes in the least (although you might have a hard time concentrating what with the whining clouds of hungry bugs). I wouldn’t be turning off any lights or heaters because they wouldn’t have been turned on. Then I started thinking about my electricity usage—which, I suppose, is the whole point of the rolling blackout: to get people to think about it. There are a lot of gizmos in my house that use electricity, such as the pumps and heaters on my aquaria, the refrigerator, the freezer, the water pump, the radio, the clock, the stereo, the telephone, and of course, the electricity meter. We don’t have a television and the computer is at the office, but if I were to shut everything down, there really would be quite a few things to turn off. Still, I don’t think it would mean much to turn them off for a few hours and then turn them all back on (especially having unthawed the freezer...). The idea of living without electricity is what stuck with me, however. Or rather, living with electricity: I’ve probably used electricity every single day of my life (or had others using it on my behalf). Even on camping trips we have flashlights, the car nearby, electric watches. And these are special events, not part of everyday life. Back at home, I live in a big wooden and plaster box veined with wire cables. Except during power outages, I am surrounded by nets of electric current, and I use electric tools throughout the day and night. Battery-operated whatnots are all over my desk at work and my kitchen counter at home. How different this is from life only a hundred years ago! It used to be dark at night—really dark. Those rushlight lanterns weren’t too bright, and seal oil lamps aren’t going to light up your yard the way a halogen bulb does. Nowadays (nowanights?) it’s so bright you can’t see the stars. Not very many people I know truly live without any electricity whatsoever. Maybe, in fact, none of them. The use of electric current has become so thoroughly insinuated in modern life that it is very difficult not to use it—and there are negative social repercussions for not doing so in some parts of the country. Does anybody remember when the Unibomber was caught and, during his trial, the prosecutors hauled his little cabin in as evidence of how truly cracked he was? There was no running water and (gasp!) no electricity! The Fairbanks Daily News-Miner ran a front page story (AP wire) on this little development in that trial—and made no comment on the eerie point of view it revealed, despite the fact that a huge percentage of Alaskans would have to be considered dangerous crackpots if using outhouses and kerosene lamps was the sure sign of violent mental instability that the prosecutors seemed to think it was. The Unibomber really was a deranged man—but it wasn’t avoiding electricity that was his problem. Whether I participate in the blackout or decide to keep my freezer running, my awareness of the meaning of an electrical life has been jostled. I’m thinking about conservation of electricity (it would save a bundle each month) and about the relationship of electric power to personal power. The individual joining throngs of others to create, in this case, a political statement on conservation, might increase awareness of both the power of individuals of like mind and the power of conservation. Inherent in conservation is the idea of living with less, but this doesn’t necessarily mean sacrificing the advantages of electric widgets. Greater efficiency means using less electricity, but retaining the options that all those tools give us. Doing more with less, in other words. And that is a powerful idea. Electricity gives us power in many ways—yet, I think, too much dependence upon it can distance us from reliance on our own power. There are lots of people who prefer the quiet of the non-electrified life, away from the hum and roar of engines and motors and fans. It’s not an easier life, and it is unlikely to be truly devoid of electrical current, direct or alternating, but perhaps an hour or two of listening to that quiet might be a good thing. | ||
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