John Kinsella
Activism is rarely without stress, but if we believe in the cause we are working for and towards, some of that stress is alleviated by the act of doing. At least I’ve found that to be the case. I don’t mean that one expects that ‘success’ will alleviate stress given most often ‘success’ is either measured in tiny increments, or is constantly beyond reach, but rather that the ability to persist, and believe that improvement of negative conditions might eventually come in some way, instils or restores a degree of equanimity. Activism is, essentially, an act of belief.
However, systemic bodily breakdown, or ill health in general, will inevitably result in a compromised ability to maintain activist intensity. Whatever the cause of a health issue, it's certain that stress will make it worse or at least harder to recover from. And, indeed, stress might be at least part of that health problem in the first place. We are stressed by the issue that leads us to act, we are stressed while acting, we are stressed worrying about aftermaths. It is an obvious loop.
I mention all this because though it wasn’t the cause of my stroke/s per se, seeing the extent of the damage done by Main Roads, Western Power and contractors to habitat alongside Toodyay Road — clearing and works that now extend for 25 kilometres — certainly increased the stress on my body prior to stroking. I am not suggesting direct cause and effect, but there’s no doubt in my mind that my distress accelerated my vulnerability before any preventative action might have been taken. I have rarely been as upset as I was some months ago (after seeing what was being done to bushland we knew so well, had observed so closely for so long), when things started to go physically very wrong for me. Medically, that’s all subjective, but I also know my own body and how it responds to shock — to such horrific external stimuli.
My prime regret in all of this, apropos of the destruction, is that I had just started a campaign of recording, writing, corresponding and was on the verge of co-ordinating with others in an attempt to halt/redress the works, when I collapsed. Each encounter with the damage led to more distress, more efforts to record what I was witnessing, to write poems that might help as intervention.
Around that time I had just done an activist reading for an environmentalist group and was delighted with their engagement, enthusiasm, deep commitment, and their local successes down in the city. I had high hopes of linking with them in this more northern, ‘rural’ protest. And then I stroked and went silent. I wasn’t ‘there’ when I most needed to be, even if I could have done little to stop anything in reality (I am more than aware of my limitations to influence the machinery of development!).
I came close to my physical demise, and it’s a long haul back to the way things were before I stroked... if ever that will be the case. As soon as I was basically functional, I started writing again and addressing the issue. I did not, however, belatedly follow up on an earlier reply to me by a senior figure in Main Roads who defended the road works (modern roads stuff) while insisting that other parties were also involved (i.e. Western Power and a gravel pit company). He did, I have to say, mention that he’d be willing to meet and hear what I had to say.
That was a strange sort of ‘progress’, and I hoped that it might be the start of a serious conversation which in turn might lead to some kind of cessation of works. This might seem deluded, but all environmental and rights activists have to cling to the hope, the belief, that both individually and collectively they can make a difference. I doubt the Main Roads person ever wondered why they never heard back, but this was the reason.
So, I say again, when I started my campaign I realised that it was probably ‘too late’ for any effective prevention other than through a mass physical protest (which I had hoped would eventuate if I got people peacefully motivated), but I have never let that stop me and I never give in. I work through pacifist justice methodologies, and refuse to ever say it’s too late.
I am still writing about the issue, of course, but I can’t do anything in person — in situ — and I can’t organise larger campaigns or even contribute at this stage. This ‘compromise’ in my activism has been deeply distressing to me and yet I’ve had to come to grips with it. My disappointment in the lack of any ‘on the ground’ opposition (such as there was over the Roe Highway extension in the Beeliar wetlands) has been challenged by my own inability to act as I would if I could.
I would, if I could, be present — holding a protest sign, speaking with people, trying to convince them to down tools, to oppose from within the works themselves. People can’t change what they don’t see, and most of those ‘making a living’ have other more dominant considerations in their lives. I get that. I respect different ways of seeing and we all need to co-exist, but sometimes information that benefits the environment is not transmitted in the most effective way — and by that way, I mean through showing how care for the biosphere is essential to who we all are, and what the future might be. How empathy for all life is also respect for ourselves.
Having said all this, I expect no one else to be doing what I consider my protest work — we all have to make our decisions regarding how to act according not only to our consciences but our ‘means’. Protest is not a simple thing — and there have been degrees of this over the years by various groups regarding this road ‘realignment' which have led to less damage than would have been without such behind-the-scenes protest attempts and advocacy for the natural habitat. What it would have been like without such interventions I can hardly imagine. The horror.
In order to survive, I've stopped using Toodyay Road — the witnessing (any more than I have) is too much for my health at present. Will I ever use it again? That is always the question — the potential for irony is overwhelming. The damage done, it is too easy to accept the new ‘reality’. All road-making has resulted in damage, most of it extreme, but this ‘project’ was never ‘necessary’ in any way and was a work that, once developed, was never going back. Too many vested interests, I feel. I have written about how wrong I think it is on all levels on this blog prior.
Also, displaced wildlife (as I am told by others, aside from personal observations) is so at risk that it is a dynamic I wish to avoid. All roads in the country entail this risk of fatal or injurious encounter with animals — that is part of the general horror of vehicles and the fact we all need to measure our travel in terms of ‘necessity’ or otherwise with regard to the brutal facts of global warming (and, unfortunately, electric vehicles have certain obvious and harsh environmental impacts as well) — but at the moment, on that stretch of destruction, risk of car-animal contact is particularly heightened. Animals killed by road-work machinery, with survivors then wiped out by traffic.
None of this is an excuse for ‘failing to act’ — that would be disingenuous given what I’ve been through (as well as my family who have been so supportive) — but it is an explanation for all those who follow this blog and care about the state of the planet, and the well-being of all life on it. To be as physically well as possible is part of my activism — I need to be able to do all I need to do. But whatever the state of my health, I will do what I can for as long as I can, always.
