the old world is dying
The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born. Now is the time of monsters. Antonio Gramsci (1891–1937)
I am optimistic, this time. Following the recent merger of Thalys and Eurostar, I can now take a Paris-Cologne Eurostar in the morning, catch the lunchtime Deutsche Bahn IC train to Hamburg, and make the Danish train that leaves Hamburg for Copenhagen in the late afternoon. With plenty of time for trains changes, I am looking forward to a relatively smooth journey for once.
That morning, in Paris, it isn’t the trains but the farmers that are causing delays, in fact. For the last several days, a massive grassroots movement has roiled France – our new Prime Minister included. Huge tractor roadblocks have been erected in strategic places and the situation is tense. It has been clear for years that farmers are under pressure. The very high suicide rate of this diverse population group alone points to the suffering and anger now boiling over on French roads.
That morning, in Paris, it isn’t the trains but the farmers that are causing delays, in fact.
I think of these words by Bruno Latour: “The problem is that it took us a very long time – three centuries – to become modern. It is no wonder that sudden demands to “un-modernize” came as a shock. French farmers, who (only) modernized in the 1950s, are now abruptly being told to un-modernize on the grounds that they are damaging the planet. They’re under shock.”
Latour saw the farmers’ anger coming. The men and women who work the land to feed us every day are caught between the agrobusinesses who try to squeeze their margins, the mountains of paperwork required of them and the toll of the quality standards that are the pride of the French state. Just this would make anyone suffer.
Latour saw the farmers’ anger coming.
And their burden just got heavier now that it is crystal clear that farming urgently needs to side with the preservation of life. Yet how can France make any demands of French farmers when it can’t even request mirror clauses in the treaties it signs with foreign countries through the European Union and the WTO? Without mirror clauses, agricultural products from countries with lower farming standards can freely flood our shops and drag everyone down with their rock-bottom prices. No wonder farmers are up in arms. In fact, it beggars belief that such deals are still on the table in 2024. How can we possibly hope to reduce our collective carbon footprint, if we carry on shipping farming products around the world?
And their burden just got heavier now that it is crystal clear that farming urgently needs to side with the preservation of life.
But this is not all. The European Green Deal also requires farmers to reduce their use of pesticides. The new regulations are key to making farming greener and protecting life on earth, starting with the health of the farmers who work the land to feed us. However, they challenge ingrained practices, and – for the time being, at least – farmers see the massive use of pesticides as their only hope of surviving a crushing price war. With the country at a standstill, France’s new Prime Minister rushes out a set of proposals that look suspiciously like a step in the wrong direction. And this, just as farming practices were becoming greener and offering us a beacon of hope. And how could this single, hastily cobbled together policy package possibly meet the demands of both the shepherd who raises her goats alone on the Larzac plateau and the agro-industrial complexes of Brittany?
A set of proposals that look suspiciously like a step in the wrong direction. And this, just as farming practices were becoming greener and offering us a beacon of hope.
In the current political climate, those who fight to preserve life on earth for future generations are often dismissed as “moaners”. This is extremely unfortunate, for Gramsci’s monsters are lurking. Populist politicians, ever ready to capitalise on uninformed views, do not shy away from enticing those who are hurting with simplistic arguments. Yet, meeting the complex challenges before us would require time, more time, active listening and brilliant collective initiatives such as citizens’ assemblies. When will we be able to sit down together and come up with solutions for the future? To take the time to reflect on the needs of future generations and life on earth? And to stop thinking that doing more, faster, is the answer to all our problems?
When will we be able to sit down together and come up with solutions for the future?
I eventually make it to the Gare du Nord. My Eurostar is on time and very soon, I am off to Cologne, comfortably ensconced in my seat. Yet my hopes of an easy trip are short-lived. In Germany, I am stunned to discover that Deutsche Bahn’s train drivers are on a general strike. To this day I cannot fathom how, in our connected world, I managed to reach Cologne without knowing that there would basically be no train service in Germany for the next five days.
And so I end up sitting on a railway platform in Cologne, with plenty of time to ponder the unprecedented rail strike that has hit Germany. Deutsche Bahn’s train drivers claim the right to a thirty-five-hour workweek but wish to continue to be paid for thirty-seven hours. On the face of it, this social struggle seems to have reached Germany twenty years late: in France, train drivers have enjoyed a thirty-five-hour workweek since President Jacques Chirac’s first mandate. However, years of living between two countries have taught me that it is always difficult to draw fair comparisons between different countries. Inevitably, we fall back on simplistic assumptions when we try to measure ourselves against others.
The station is almost deserted. It is a rather uncanny feeling in such a large city. I strike a conversation with a Deutsche Bahn worker who is trying to help my fellow travellers, all of them stuck in the station like me. I discover that he is from Senegal and speaks perfect French. He asks me why I didn’t fly to Copenhagen from Paris. I tell him that I am a climate activist. He is dumbfounded. Why not take the plane if you can afford it? I tell him that Africa will be the first continent to be hit by the increasingly rapid pace of climate change. His answer blindsides me. “You know what”, he says, “in Senegal, people realise they’re fucked. So they think they might as well live it up, Western-style, for the twenty years they reckon they’ve got left before Africa becomes unliveable.” In other words, Africans waited so long before they could enjoy this coveted lifestyle, that they would rather burn through twenty years of modernity than live long abstemious lives. This feels like an African version of Don’t Look Up. Yet, I would still like to hope that if we, Europeans, were able to make our lifestyle the envy of the world, the day may also come when our newfound abstemiousness comes to appear worthwhile to the Global South.
So they think they might as well live it up, Western-style, for the twenty years they reckon they’ve got left before Africa becomes unliveable.”
When I finally manage to board a train to Hamburg, I am very behind schedule and already know that the trains between Germany and Denmark aren’t running. But I tell myself that I will find a way: I am a born optimist and have already had a chance to test my mettle on earlier rail journeys across Europe.
Four hours later, we reach Hamburg. The usually bustling station feels like a haunted building today. I can’t see a soul …. or any trains. The silence is eerie. When I get off the train, I can hear the sound of my steps on the platform. Eventually, though, I catch a glimpse of a Swedish train across the deserted tracks, at the other end of the station. It is the “Snältoget” – the “kind train” in Swedish. Suddenly my hopes of making it to Copenhagen rise again: this train travels between Berlin and Stockholm and getting to Stockholm from Hamburg means crossing Denmark. I make a dash for it, grateful for its kindly presence in this deserted station in my hour of need. There is almost no one on board. Unable to find the conductor, I settle into a comfortable seat and wait. Eventually, the train starts, and I am off to the German-Danish border.
The scenery zips by as I look out the window, and gradually, I begin to unwind from the stress of the first part of my day. There is something old-fashioned about this train. Its soft clanking noise reminds me of a time long ago. It feels straight out of the 1970s. I think of the regional train that still links the Bercy rail station in Paris to the city of Clermont-Ferrand. Of all those kind trains that modernity forgot to replace with TGVs, ICs and Frecciarossas.
All those kind trains that modernity forgot to replace with TGVs, ICs and Frecciarossas.
The Swedes were the first in Europe to popularize “flygsam”, i.e. “flight shame”. I suspect the Snältoget to be their short-term solution to the problem of getting Swedes to Europe while the rail industry works out how to make the train the default answer to European travel. Someone must have found this long-retired sleeper lying somewhere and sensed an opportunity to link Stockholm and Berlin by rail.
While the rail industry works out how to make the train the default answer to European travel.
Lost in my thoughts and lulled by the rumble of the train, I barely hear the conductor enter the carriage. He asks to see my ticket. I do have a ticket for this journey, but not this train. My presence on this train, he explains, is a bit like if I had boarded a Ryanair plane after booking an EasyJet flight. But this is exactly the point, I exclaim in self-defence. The reason I am sitting on this train is that I will not fly. I will not travel on those low-cost airlines – they have a dreadful carbon footprint and only manage to turn a profit because future generations and most of life of earth have no voice in our society. The conductor, a man who after all has chosen to work on this kind train, naturally concurs with my plea for the future of life on earth and allows me to remain on board until Copenhagen. Thus ends my umpteenth trip between the two countries I love.
A few days later, I visit the Louisiana Museum, in the north of Copenhagen, to see an exhibition on the role of human creativity in the era of artificial intelligence, The Irreplacable Human. A work of video art by Ben Grosser, “Order of Magnitude” leaves me reeling. The work’s summation of Mark Zuckerberg’s speeches between 2004 and 2018 is devastating: the artist distils the Facebook founder’s presentations to their bare essentials: the keywords “more” and “bigger”, and strings of numbers. The result is very powerful and memories of Silicon Valley, a world that used to be mine for many years, come flooding back. How did we ever come to think that “more” was the way to go? More growth, more money, more technology, always more… Ben Grosser’s clips of Mark Zuckerberg brilliantly summarise the absurdity of our modern world.
How did we ever come to think that “more” was the way to go?
The old world is dying, as it must, but it is not going gentle into that good night. Its siren song is still loud everywhere around us, and populist politics and business models based on infinite growth and the exploitation of the living world are thriving. Yet, undaunted by the monsters in its midst, Old Europe is hard at work harmonizing its railway networks. Yes, there is still a long way to go, and change is far too slow, but I know that the dawn of a new world is upon us. Let us forge on along our chosen path, and eventually, the monsters will go quiet. The journey may be hard, but it will lead us where we want to go.
