California Coast & Ocean

A Polish journalist who had experienced the turmoil of liberation in his country spoke to a group of American journalists some years ago about reporting the news despite censors and the ever-present threat of arrest. We listened, rapt, as he told stories about working with a small group of colleagues he trusted absolutely. His voice was alive as he recalled those intense times; but when he began to talk about his professional work here (he had emigrated), his voice went flat.

One of us asked whether there was anything he especially missed. He reflected for a moment--friends, family, language, and country, of course, no need even to mention--and said, yes, there was. In Poland, he and the others in that small group knew that each held the others’ fate in his hands; they had to be creative and ever-alert, and their work was eagerly awaited. Here he was glad he could report and write freely, but sometimes he felt irrelevant.

What this Polish journalist said struck a chord in me, and stayed in my mind. Under the oppressive regime of that time, the longing for free speech was a powerful driver; here we enjoy free speech but many of us yearn to belong to some small circle of like-minded souls engaged intensely together in work that matters to society. We are taught to stand up for ourselves, to compete, to get ahead of others. Most of us don’t need to fear that unless we forge powerful trust in each other, we might be pulled into an abyss. (This likely does not hold for people who lack the official papers required to call this country home, or for those young men most likely to be stopped by police because of their appearance.)

As our country’s financial crisis keeps worsening, however, we are beginning to discover, out of necessity, that we can help each other out and enrich ourselves in the process. The presidential election led many to believe that restoration of democracy is possible, and we are acting on that belief.

On March 15 the New York Times reported an enormous upsurge in volunteerism throughout the country. In California, where a vast number of people have lost homes and jobs, and where a State freeze on spending bond money approved by voters has interrupted and damaged hundreds of conservation projects, some people have quietly continued to work, even though they know they won’t get paid. In my own neighborhood, a man on duty at a news and magazine shop said he was looking for a place where he could cook for people, free of charge. He likes to cook, he said.

Our unsustainable economy turned citizens into mere consumers, and in many ways people are now less self-reliant than they had to be in the past. A lot of once-common skills have become scarce. Many objects in daily use can’t be repaired; even if you want to you can’t fix them; they can only be thrown away or, at best, recycled. Now, out of necessity, sprouts of creativity are poking up, and some of them are improving our quality of life.

One morning, as I approached the BART station on my way to the office, my eyes were drawn to a little card table covered with a bright patterned tablecloth. Beside it stood a pleasant-faced tall blond man and a small dark-haired woman, both perhaps in their late 20s. Lemon muffins were on the table, and a large thermos stood at the man’s feet. A hand-printed sign read: “Chai and muffin--$1.” Not one dollar for each, but for both. His accent sounded British to me. She was Turkish. He lifted the thermos, poured some fragrant spiced tea into a small paper cup, and set it in a heat shield made from a fragment of egg carton. He had made the tea, she the lemon muffins. Delicious! I told them I’d readily pay $2, but he said $1 was enough. They were here until they sold out what they had made that morning, and if they came every working day they’d have enough for rent.

I began to look forward to this breakfast snack and was disappointed when they stopped coming. They had heard of another spot where the market for chai was better and they could sell their day’s quota more quickly.

This bit of hand-crafted microbusiness allows for many variants, and they don’t have to be so very small. Instead of sitting in a cubicle behind a computer, getting depressed and angry if a paycheck stops, it’s possible to use newly available time to create new ways to make a living if we look around in our communities and use our wits.

Of course, this little chai and muffin enterprise would not work where people drive to shopping centers and offices rather than walking and taking public transit. The hope now is that the current infusion of money into efforts to get the economy up and running again will offer strong support to diverse small independent and collaborative enterprises within local communities.

As happened in Poland and the Soviet Union, an empire is crumbling now, and monolithic structures that once looked impregnable are turning out to be riddled with termites. They have become obsolete. Now, in the wreckage, there is an opportunity for new institutions to to evolve.

A couple of days ago I attended a panel discussion about the future of newspapers, specifically the San Francisco Chronicle, which has been eviscerated and seems to be in terminal condition. Hometown newspapers are dying and democracy can’t live without a healthy press. This is a very serious crisis. I think of that Polish journalist. We too now must fight to rebuild democracy, and this is our wake-up call. There’s no telling how we’ll come out of all this, but it’s time for the ingenuity America is known for.