A Letter to Wendell Berry...

Dear Wendell Berry,
I am writing to you because I recently had the enormous pleasure of reading your book “The Unsettling of America.” It was a pleasure because it allowed me to feel that rare sensation that one feels when he becomes aware of his surroundings for the first time…like cresting the top of a hill and seeing the view open up before you. You helped me to see the connection between the mania of modern society and its indifference to the increasingly efficient destruction of the Earth and its resources. You also helped me to see that the word “indifference” doesn’t accurately describe our collective decision to allow the earth to be used in the way that it has been – carelessly and wastefully. For our behavior reflects decision making based on deeply-rooted cultural values; it is active, not passive, although it may stem in part from laziness.

As a relatively young person (I am 26), I feel as though I was born into the assumptions of a society that had worked hard to finally reach a resting point. But rather than savor any equilibrium that may have existed (if any equilibrium ever did exist, it was certainly before I was born), society looked beyond the horizon, and it imagined what was possible. I feel as though my trajectory in life was, to some extent, determined by a “controlled burn” as they say in NASA, and I was propelled by the collective imaginations, hopes, expectations, and assumptions of the society that I emerged into when I was born. I am lucky because I have felt little resistance on this trajectory, and I realize that is a luxury…few people have the opportunity to move through life with such little gravity or friction, to continue the metaphor (if you don’t mind).

I was born with an apparently intrinsic desire to make my life “valuable,” I say apparently intrinsic, because it was almost certainly a learned behavior, but it drives me with the force of something on the order of an instinct or a reflex - that is, uncontrollable and never questioned. And I assume this to be generalizable to many (all?) humans: if we are mortal, and if we will not live forever, it is only logical to conclude that we should not waste our time here, and we should make our lives “count.” Without any hesitation, I believe this to be true, but with some influence from your book, I am beginning to question some of my previous assumptions about what it means to make a life “count.”

I am beginning to see that, as humans, we search for needs. In some cases, we invent them like a fireman starting a fire, and we make ourselves valuable by responding to those needs. The demand for our goods and services, increases our perceived value, as does the demand for any commodity. We may spend our lives attempting to fill a socio-economic niche, so that with any luck, we may look back on our lives and see that we were valuable. We may hope to “prove” this by pointing to a piece of evidence (something that is objectively valuable), and here, many people might cite their wealth or fame (belief, a subjective matter, may appear to be objectively true if it is believed commonly enough). In science, many people hope to look back on their lives to see that they were not only valuable but necessary; they may point to their discovery or their invention in order to reassure themselves that the world would not have been the same without them.

It is an especially insidious consequence of our desire to create meaning for our lives by driving progress (scientific or otherwise) that we cannot truly exist in the present with our minds and spirits squarely focused on the future. I consider The American Dream in the highest regard; there is nothing so wonderful as the idea that anyone, through hard work, may have the ability to transcend his or her circumstances, no matter how lowly. However, I wonder if this same dream may be driving us out of our own homes, because one silent corollary of this cultural edict is that we, in our current manifestations, are not sufficient. We do not value our roots in the same way that we value our branches. We would shed our pasts, our families, our homes, our memories, for a future that is uncertain and ever-receding, like the watery waves on a desert highway. We would not only give these things up, but we would spend our present, our only opportunity to experience the world, in pursuit of some place and some time that will forever be far off in the distance.

Recently I have begun to consider the possibility that perhaps we are sufficient, and perhaps, if we were to give up our desire to be necessary, we might begin to settle into our surroundings. In an absolute sense, we are not necessary; we are an extravagance. And we are only necessary insofar as we relate to our immediate network. There is a network that is built upon every human, a web of friends and acquaintances. But this web extends outward, and signals transmitted through it radiate outward and eventually return in a feedback loop. We are necessary for maintaining this network, and therefore, we are necessary for maintaining ourselves. As humans, we are not necessary for this earth’s existence, but we are necessary for our own existence.

I find myself now as a graduate student, studying biochemistry at the University of Washington. My lab studies the structure of the protein on the surface of the Human Immunodeficiency Virus. Surprisingly, this protein has been used in numerous vaccine trials, but we still have an extremely poor understanding of its structure. Looking back on it now, my decision to study HIV reflects an unmistakable impulse to make my life “count,” but in addition to this, science appeals to me in a very basic sense, not as a career, but as a lifestyle. We should honor the world we live in by observing it and wondering about it. We should strain all of our senses in the pursuit of a better appreciation of our surroundings. And as we take the time to enjoy the curiosities of this world (both natural and social), it is hard to believe that some protective instinct would not emerge within us. 

I am beginning to come to terms with the idea that I am not necessary…and that, in spite of this, I am valuable. Your book inspired me to re-evaluate my long-held beliefs regarding success and worth. It encouraged me to think about how I can best spend my time on earth, not so that I may live a life that is “objectively” valuable, but so that I may be happy and healthy and so that others may be as well. My career may go in any number of directions, but whatever path I take, you have helped me to realize that I want to be present in this world, in my family, and in my community. I want to protect these things. I want to be present in the present and in my own life. What is more valuable than this? What could be more necessary?

I apologize for the length of the letter, but I hope you will enjoy seeing that your ideas have given rise to many more. If you have any advice for someone at my stage in life, I would be glad to hear it. On the other hand, you have already provided me with an entire book’s worth of great thoughts, so you can consider me satisfied. Thank you for helping me to see my surroundings more clearly.

All My Best To You,
Tad