The Foreword to the new book “The Wisdom of Our Ancestors: Conservative Humanism and the Western Tradition.”
On Power Without Wisdom
October 8, 2014
More than a clattering jackhammer,
More than a roaring motorcycle,
More than weedeaters or leafblowers,
I hate a snarling chain saw. For I know
It hates a thing I love—the tall aspiration
Of trees, the upright reaching loveliness
Which sweetens summer skies. Shadows, cool airs,
Homes for birds, a roost for the shades of the dead:
These too the saw hates, and they die in a wink
When it spits and snarls and bites.
Beside the highways you can see its effects
Where the reaching limbs have been hacked away
To make an ample pathway for the wires.
Sometimes a tree’s whole crown is mutilated
Into a shape so untruthful and grotesque
It gives a fright to the eyes.
History means power over nature,
And the saws save time, work, money.
I’d not change that, but cannot help thinking
That the use of power without wisdom
Is nowadays steadily increasing.
Trees and such keep alive the sense
That we are linked to something larger
And when we can’t feel that link anymore
How are we going to treat each other?
I’m not a Luddite, nor one of the Amish.
It just makes me uncomfortable, that’s all.
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