In a recent essay, philosopher Michael Marder looks beyond the immediate horror of Gaza to consider the ontological implications of what we see in footage of the rubble. "Gaza is rapidly turning into a landfill, where buildings, human bodies, ecosystems, orchards are disfigured beyond recognition and reduced to organic-inorganic rubble. "Solidarity with life, space and the world turned into waste requires something more than compassion."
Merder's solution proposes "a different kind of solidarity, based on a common state of biomass." To say "I am biomass" is to identify with the disappearing life, to see Gaza as a condensed and stripped down version of the planetary tendency. The conversion of all life into mere biomass—chaotic piles of organic and inorganic matter—can be found everywhere, but in Gaza it is at the cutting edge of the latest technologies of destruction. Instead of sympathy, what is needed is the solidarity of the outcasts, who dare to say we are biomass.
This concept of biomass reflects the view of the philosopher Levi Bryant: "At a time when we are faced with the threat of monumental climate change, it is irresponsible to separate people from other - non - human actors." Well, however, in modern capitalist societies, attempts to mobilize on behalf of our shared ecological condition are failing.
We all know that we are part of nature and that our survival depends entirely on it, yet that awareness does not translate into action. The problem is that our attitudes and decisions are influenced by many other forces, such as biased media reporting, economic pressure on workers, material constraints, etc.
In her book Living Matter, the philosopher Jane Bennett asks us to imagine a polluted landfill, where not only humans play an active role, but also rotting waste, worms, insects, discarded devices, chemical poisons, etc.
That biomass scene exists on the same spectrum as the Gaza situation, although it is an extreme case. There are numerous and large physical spaces around the world, especially outside the developed West, where discarded digital waste is dumped, while thousands of people sort glass, metal, plastic, cell phones, and other man-made materials from those chaotic piles. One such dump in Ghana is known as "Sodom and Gomorrah".
Life in those environments is a horror, and the communities that live in it are strictly hierarchically organized, where children are forced to do the most dangerous jobs, in extremely risky conditions. However, since this exploitation of biomass sounds environmentally attractive under the slogan of recycling, it perfectly suits the methods of modern technology. "In the technological age, the most important thing is to get the maximum benefit from everything," writes Mark Wrathal.
Finally, the whole point of resource conservation and recycling lies in maximizing utilization. The end product of capitalism is piles of junk - useless computers, cars, televisions, or hundreds of airplanes that have found their eternal home in the Mojave Desert. The idea of ​​total recycling represents the ultimate capitalist dream, especially when presented as a means of preserving the balance of the planet. It is yet another testament to capitalism's ability to take on ideologies that oppose it.
However, what makes biomass exploitation different from capitalist logic is that it accepts chaotic devastation as our fundamental problem. That condition will not be able to be revoked. Biomass is our new home, we are biomass. To think that such environments can be abandoned and replaced by life and idyllic nature is mere fantasy. That maneuver is completely lost for us.
We need to accept that this is our home now and work within its boundaries. Perhaps we will discover a harmony beneath the set that seems like a chaotic clutter. Are we ready for it? If we are not, we are truly lost.

Project Syndicate

(The author is a philosopher)

THE LANGUAGE IN WHICH THEY ARE WRITTEN, AS WELL AS THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THE COLUMNS, DO NOT ALWAYS REFLECT THE EDITORIAL POLICY OF "FREE PRESS"