www.simoncollier.ca

We are all connected. Whether we choose to believe that this is through a genetic or spiritual unity that ties us all together or an awareness of war and famine and oppression and violence across the world through the global media is almost irrelevant. We are all connected.

My heart aches every day and my shoulders feel heavy when I consider the suffering and anguish of other human beings – the vast majority of human beings in fact – as I stroll to work in one of the richest cities on the planet. I know that my lifestyle is fed by their poverty and their insecurity. I know that if they didn’t work for 20 cents a day my cost of living would increase. I understand that if they did not live in a war zone then our country would make less money from oil or selling weapons. I know that our middle-class solution to using oil-based fuel by growing ethanol is already contributing to a massive international food shortage for almost anyone other than me. I realise that my carbon footprint is far larger than it needs to be and that in the near future I will be part of the cause of millions perishing through starvation, lack of water or drowning.

I remember how I feel when someone I know well dies. I feel a deep sadness, a sense of futility, a realisation that I will never again laugh with them, or learn from them, or have a chance meeting with them in the street. I have a sobering sense of permanence, knowing that I can never again share with them what I once had. Then I try to imagine what it would be like if that happened every day to friends, to my brother, my parents. It scares me.

Kids trying to pay off their parents’ debts in a Nike factory, asking for a pay rise then going missing the next day. Children dying in Africa because it’s cheaper to let that happen. The UN preventing cheap generic drugs from being sold to developing countries because the mighty pharmaceutical industry wants to sell its products at a higher profit. Enslaved coffee workers farming the beans for our national drink of choice. It’s all in my name.

The overwhelming imbalance of our lives and opportunities is comparable only to the overwhelming sense of apathy people have about it all. About a year ago I visited my parents’ church and listened to a fascinating sermon about being kind to each other, then non-fair-trade coffee was served afterwards. I felt bewildered at the disconnect between what was being preached and the lack of care with which something as seemingly insignificant as coffee was purchased. What would the cost have been of ensuring the people who farmed the beans for the drink were treated well and paid fairly? $1 extra?

It scares me that there is so much unnecessary suffering, it frightens me that it is happening almost entirely in my name, and it terrifies me to consider what my fate might be when my judgement day arrives.