A Language Older Than Words

Jensen opens with a series of body blows: "Do we think about nuclear devastation, or the wisdom of producing tons of plutonium, which is lethal even in microscopic does well over 250,000 years?" Unlikely. "Does global warming invade our dreams?" Do wet plutonium dreams count? "In our most serious moments do we consider that industrial civilization has initiated the greatest mass extinction in the history of the planet?" I'm still considering whether to do my kitchen floors in linoleum or hardwood. "How often do we consider that our culture commits genocide against every indigenous culture it encounters?" That's the way the Darwinism cookie crumbles, right? "As one consumes the products manufactured by our culture, is s/he concerned about the atrocities that make them possible?" Not if one wants to look cool. Do we ever stop to think about how messed up the world is? The answer, of course, is an overwhelming no. And if we do, it's not for very long. We don't think about these problems, we don't talk about them, and more importantly we don't try and stop them. In Jensen words, "We don't think about them, because they are too horrific to comprehend." They are too foreboding and ominous to stomach. They are, in effect, unspeakable. After taking an honest look at the evolution of Western Civilization, Jensen draws the only logical conclusion that can be found: Our culture is insane. We are off our collective rocker. Reason, science, technological advancement and the work-a-day world have only driven us deeper into the carnival of horror and madness. Things are not getting better. They are getting worse with each passing day. Oops, I went and said it. But you still believe in progress. Casually examine the context of your own life. In the last fifty years, "sane" men have killed 100,000,000 of their "sane" fellows (perhaps now a few women have gotten in on the action too). Maybe you knew some of them. Perhaps they were family members. Or perhaps it was you that dropped bombs, laid land mines, pulled the fatal trigger. Or perhaps, like me, your father went off to war and came back crazy. War... an aspect of our culture that is now more familiar and ordinary than ever before. (Need I even mention what "Dubya" is planning right now?) Yet we are all live in work in this web of destruction together. Perhaps your paycheck comes with each fresh clear-cut, or perhaps you simply buy those clear-cut trees in the form of a new house, deck, or furniture. Perhaps you draw energy from a dammed river, helping kill off the last of the salmon. Or perhaps you are more intimately linked to the web of murder, genocide, mass rape, abuse, wage slavery, systemic impoverishment and ecocide that characterize life in the twentieth, and now twenty-first, centuries. Perhaps you are a victim. Perhaps you are an abuser. More than likely, you dabble in both. That said, wherever you fall within the totem of abuse, don't ever admit there is a problem. Don't say with me, "My na

Derrick Jensen's latest, A LANGUAGE OLDER THAN WORDS, is one of the most uncomfortable books I've ever read. As such, I suspect it was also highly uncomfortable for him to write. Its poetic use of words and skilled syntax only serve to emphasize, not obscure, the brutal honesty that he puts forth here.The thesis is a simple one: We are killing the world. It's Jensen's rugged, insightful, and raw analysis of how and why we're doing it that makes me shudder when I read it. Having studied many of these themes before (well-written in books like Daniel Quinn's ISHMAEL), I've not encountered this subject in a way that touches the nerves that Jensen has managed to tap into. Killing the world, after all, is a horrifying thing, and Jensen exposes the horror by shining a bright light on it and analyzing where it comes from.It's a brave book and a bold statement. And one that will be hated by many, particularly those who have a vested interest in keeping things the way they are. The bottom line is this: if you read this book and find yourself affected by it, there's a chance for all of us. If you read this book and wonder what all the hoo-hah is about, you're too far gone and wrapped up in our cultural ways and vision to ever find your way out. If you read this book and find it threatening to your way of life, then you're the enemy, and you need to reconsider which side of the line you stand on.I can't think of a higher compliment to give a book than to wish that I'd had it within me to write it myself. I wish I had this kind of insight and courage, and I'm grateful that Jensen does.

Deep-ecologist, Thomas Berry, says "the universe is composed of subjects to be communed with, not objects to be exploited. Everything has its own voice. Thunder and lightning and stars and planets, flowers, birds, animals, trees--all these have voices, and they constitute a community of existence that is profoundly related" (p. 361). In his engaging book, Derrick Jensen encourages us to listen to those voices. Jensen is a familiar name to readers of The Sun magazine, where his interviews appear frequently. I first heard this LANGUAGE a year ago, when Jensen read excerpts from it in Tempe, Arizona. "There is a language older by far and deeper than words," he writes. "It is the language of the earth and it is the language of our bodies. It is the language of dreams, and of actions. It is the language of meaning, and of metaphor. This language is not safe" (p. 311). It is the language of "wind on snow, rain on trees, wave on stone, gesture, symbol, memory" (p. 2). And it is the language of interspecies communication.Jensen's book belongs in the "life-changing books" section of the bookstore. It is as much a memoir as a "grenade rolled across the dance floor" (p. 108), encouraging us to wake up, pay attention, and listen (pp. 143; 248). This is not a "feel-good" bestseller. Rather, Jensen writes, it is "a cry of outrage, a lamentation, and at the same time a love story" (p. ix). As a victim of child abuse, Jensen digs deep into his personal experience to explore the silence and denial common to the world at large. "I wanted to write a memoir that moved beyond the microcosm of my personal experience," he explains, "to the macrocosm of the world in which we live" (p. ix). Why do we numb ourselves to our experiences, he wonders. Why do we deafen ourselves to other voices (p. viii)?Through exploitation or annihilation, Jensen observes, our conscience and conscious awareness of relationship have been silenced by religion, science, politics, education, and violence, and we live by the maxim, "Thou shalt pretend there is nothing wrong" (p. 188). This book is about walking away from the "make-believe world" in which we "pretend all is well as we dissipate our lives in quiet desparation" (p. 6), and remembering "how to listen" (p. 7). "If we celebrate life with all its contradictions, embrace it, experience it, and ultimately live with it, there is a chance for a spiritual life filled not only with pain and untidiness, but also with joy, community, and creativity" (p. 142).Jensen marches to the beat of his own drum, and the beat feels real. He shows that "wherever you put your foot, there is the path. You become the path" (pp. 150-51). We find the environmental activist in him wondering whether he "should write or blow up a dam" (p. 50), and pulling up surveyor's stakes (pp. 154-55). And we find him tending his chickens, dumpster diving for lettuce to feed them, conversing with coyotes, beekeeping, and shooing snakes off the road. He

Derrick Jensen has written this book from his own, and the world's, soul. What starts as a "feel-good" book on interspecies communication becomes a searing examination of his own silencing as a child (his father viciously abused him, his mother, and his siblings), and his perspective widens to encompass the silencing of all life on earth through the murderous practices of industrial, religious, military, and political institutions through history. Jensen indisputably links individual suffering and violence with that of other life forms -- and of the Earth that we continue to ravage in our denial of pain. This book is a masterpiece; it is agonizing to read -- yet hopeful...though in a most cautious manner. To anyone daring to awaken to the signs in and around us, time is running out for us humans to change our suicidal and ecocidal behaviour. Jensen dares us to face our pain and transform it into loving action on behalf of Life. I consider him a prophet. He spares us nothing in his passion for healing. We must pass through raging agony in order to wake up and shake ourselves free of our denial and inertia -- but the pain we (and everything else that lives) will feel if we don't change our ways will be indescribably worse. I also recommend Joanna Macy and Molly Young Brown's book, "Coming Back to Life," which gives us specific practices that individuals, groups, and communities can do to take loving action. WE CAN DO THIS -- and we need to do it together. Please -- read this book and act with it!

Oh how I wish I could get every member of Congress, say, or every schoolboard member across the country to read this profound book. Imagine such "leaders" having the sensitivity, insight and values that Derrick Jensen displays in this book! Our world would not be the same. The book has a lot of sadness to it - and why not, since the subject - the pain and destruction being inflicted upon our dear old mother earth and all her children - is a sad one indeed. There's a lot of honesty here, and a willingness to go places the less-courageous would never go. A sad, moving and powerful tale this is, but not a depressing one, for it goes deep into what ails us and our planet home, and that kind of depth is ultimately exhilerating and encouraging. A truly remarkable book - please buy it! In fact, buy as many as you can and give copies to friends and foes alike!