Jesús vio una gran muchedumbre y se compadeció de ella, porque eran como ovejas sin pastor, y estuvo enseñándoles largo rato (Marcos 6:34).
Encuentro que la época del automóvil se acabó. Estoy hablando en serio.
Hubo respetados integrantes de la comunidad científica que especulaban sobre la posibilidad de sobrevivir velocidades mayores de treinta por hora. Creían que los órganos internos del ser humano no aguantarían. Ahora, todos van rápidos, cada uno aislado en su cápsula de vidrio reforzado, con música fuerte y aire acondicionado. Nadie conversa con nadie, salvo por celular. No es el corazón que se reventa a cien por hora. Es el alma.
En el museo, hay unos yates con ruedas, de los años treinta, diseñados para durar. Son enormes como el Titanic y con esa misma elegancia singular. Eran para los pocos integrantes de la casta de la extrema riqueza, algo exclusivo para distinguirse de la multitud. Luego, llegamos a los Ford de producción masiva, para que cada uno tuviera el suyo. Los alemanes, por su lado, crearon el Volkswagen, el carro para el pueblo, diseminando el sueño de que cualquier ser humano, podría, y para merecer el respeto de sus pares, debería, tener uno.
Después de la Segunda Guerra, cuando el mundo dejó de hacer tanques y aviones para matarse, se dedicaron a la producción masiva de autos y carreteras, también para matarse. El sueño del automóvil personal ahora es una realidad, y cobra más vidas humanas que la guerra, el terrorismo, la violencia urbana y el narcotráfico. En los países en vías de desarrollo, los políticos prometen autos personales para el pueblo, para no ser menos. Podrían prometer una epidemia de tuberculosis, o un terremoto.
Yo recuerdo la inundación de autitos nuevos en Santiago cuando comenzó el “milagro económico” del régimen militar. Por las antiguas calles diseñadas para caballos y tranvías, comenzaron a transitar muchos choferes principiantes. Era un peligro público. Ahora, los autos son más grandes y refinados. Santiago está irreconociblemente tapado con cemento.
Consecuencia del glorioso automóvil, las ciudades “modernas” están diseñadas de tal forma que ningún ciudadano puede vivir sin tener uno. Vidas enteras se pierden en el trayecto diario obligatorio entre aquí y allá. Ya nadie vive a una distancia razonable del trabajo. ¿Para qué? ¿Si todos tienen automóviles? Es una adicción colectiva.
En un siglo, la humanidad ha incinerado más combustible que en los seis mil años anteriores. Hay un exceso de dióxido de carbono en la atmósfera, y va transformando el clima por el efecto invernadero. El planeta está quedando más caliente. Es como ese autito estacionado con las ventanas cerradas a todo el sol. Dentro de poco, nadie podrá vivir ahí adentro.
Lo que es peor, el automóvil ha transformado el carácter de las personas. Encerrados y aparentemente protegidos cada uno en su pequeño mundo, la gente ya perdió su contacto con el entorno. No se saludan unos con otros. No se preocupan de cómo están los vecinos. Para eso, hay programas sociales de gobierno, ONG’s y, por último, la policía.
Yo, por mi parte, en cuanto sea posible, renuncio al uso del automóvil. La bicicleta es mejor. Me ha transformado la vida. Sencilla y sin elegancias, no te deja pasar desconectado. Aun cuando vayas rápido, se alcanza a saludar a la gente. El automovilista vive separado del mundo. El ciclista pedalea por el mundo, vive en él, y es parte de él.
Creo que una vez perdí el trabajo por causa de la bicicleta. ¿Cómo entender que alguien con un cargo de responsabilidad institucional en una prestigiosa universidad no use su espacio reservado en el estacionamiento directivo? Los automovilizados no me respetaron.
Igual, no la cambio. La bicicleta me rehízo la vida. El pedaleo te permite tener compasión por la multitud. Sin ésa, no hay vida.
Bike
Jesus saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things (Mark 6:34).
I think the age of the automobile is over. I am serious.
In the countryside near Austin, there is a museum for antique cars, where you can see everything from the first horseless carriages from 1895, (some are steam powered), all the way to classic sports cars, including a DeLorean, (sans flux capacitor). Altogether, the show pays homage to the glory and vanity of the twentieth century. The artifacts on display there were all highly valued as symbols of prestige and importance in society. Even today, lives turns on six pistons and an automatic transmission. But we can’t possibly continue this way.
The oldest models have wooden wheels, and they are open to the elements. They weren’t intended for speeds greater than about twenty miles per hour, so there was no reason to have a “windshield”. People could even have conversations with their neighbors as they drove past.
There were respected members of the scientific community who speculated about the impossibility of survival at speeds greater than thirty. They believed that the internal organs of a human being would not hold up under such pressure. Now, everyone speeds by, each one isolated in his or her own capsule of safety glass, music blaring and air conditioning on high. No one talks to anyone else, except on the cell phone. It’s not the heart and kidneys that break at seventy miles per hour. It’s the soul.
At the museum, there are some extraordinary yachts on wheels, from the thirties, designed to last. They are enormous like the Titanic and with that same singular elegance. They were for the privileged few, something exclusive to distinguish their owners from the masses. Then, you find the mass produced Fords, made so that everyone could afford one. The Germans, across the pond, were making Volkswagen, the peoples’ car, spreading the idea that any human being could and, if he wanted the respect of his peers, should have one.
After the Second World War, when the world stopped mass producing tanks and planes to kill each other, everyone started mass producing cars and highways, to kill each other. The dream of the personal car is now a reality, and it devours more human lives than war, terrorism, urban violence or the drug trade. In developing countries, politicians promise cars for the people, to be part of the dream. They might as well promise an epidemic of tuberculosis, or an earthquake.
I remember the flood of new cars in Santiagowhen the “economic miracle” of the military regime was getting underway. Streets designed for streetcars and horses were suddenly filled with new cars driven by people who had only been driving for a few months. It was very dangerous. Now, the cars are bigger and better. And Santiagohas had a cement face-lift.
As a consequence of the glorious motorcar, modern cities have been designed in such a way that no citizen can live without one. Whole lives are wasted in traffic jams trying to get from here to there. No one lives close enough to walk to work. Why would you? Everyone has a car… I would call that a collective addiction.
In one century, humanity has incinerated more fuel than in the last six thousand years. There is an excess of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, and it is transforming the climate. It’s getting hotter, like that little car parked in the sun with the windows rolled up. Pretty soon, no one will be able to live in here.
The worst thing is that the automobile has transformed character. Shut in and apparently protected, each one in his own little world, folks have lost contact with their surroundings. They no longer speak to one another. They no longer watch out for their neighbors. There are social programs for that, and NGO’s, and, well, the police.
For my part, inasmuch as it be possible, I hereby give up driving. Bikes are better. They have transformed my life. Simple and not very elegant, they don’t let you become disconnected. Even when you are going fast, you can speak to people as you go by. Drivers live separated from their world. Cyclists pedal through the world. They live in the world. They are part of the world.
I think I lost a job once because of the bike. It was just unimaginable that someone with a responsible position in a prestigious university not use his reserved space in the executive parking lot. I guess I lost the respect of hard core drivers, there. It was a credibility thing.
Still, not switching. The bike has remade my life. Cycling allows compassion for the multitude. Without that, there is no life.
Nathan Stone, S.J.
