Indiana University - Arbutus Yearbook (Bloomington, IN)

Page 30 text:

No more progress, that much I am sure of. We must have no more progress. Progress has become the whore of civilization. It is the gift that never stops giving. But what it is giving, is not a matter of life but a care for death. We have planes, and trucks, and toys, and guns and all seem part of the same great death industry. Man's instinct for destruction is reigning in a very un- challengeable position. We can kill more people than we have ever killed before. We can eliminate more forests than man has ever eliminated. We can fill the oceans with our poisons. We can destroy the world with our noises. What will it do for the quality of human life to have fast- er and faster airplanes, bigger and better bombs, stronger and more effective pesticides, or a cigarette with a more cooling filter? Man's technology is building its toys and machines not for man, but for some demon which lurks around in the insanity called progress. Maybe it is the animal within me that protests. My ape ancestry is crying for forests and bananas and something a bit simpler than today. Perhaps, we can escape to the jun- gle. Perhaps, we can pile the SST's, the atomic bombs, the factories and their pollution into one big pile an'd burn them in one final gasp of pollution, one that will free us to live. Alas, it is not that simple. We can only live and face the monsters we have created. Perhaps our situation will force us to find a way to live. Yes, in that must rest any op- timism. We must live. There is no other way. I can see nothing left to do but live. I cannot see what shape the answers will take. But I know, that there must be no more progress unless it is human progress. We must find a way to live. I is-, P

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