With the globalization of most of our commerce, and the adoption of just-in-time manufacturing, our communities have become more vulnerable to the external variables that have always existed, and that will always exist in a world in which we are ultimately not in control. Our commerce feels different: shortages are met not with concern over the people or livelihoods that are affected, but often with a more selfish — if understandable — concern about the inconvenience we experience in not having the product available, or in having to pay a premium to get it.
On the one hand, we have abandoned our commitment to local economies and communities, seeking to reduce costs at all costs, usually at the expense of being subject to interruptions that we have not been, and likely will not be, able to overcome (recall that not so long ago, one ship stuck in the Suez Canal brought twelve percent of global trade to a halt and cost in excess of fifty-four billion dollars of delayed and lost trade over the six-day saga). On the other hand, we become annoyed at the resulting shortages and delays, missing an opportunity to let the variables that interrupt our lives be moments of contemplation and appreciation for what we already have. And missing the opportunity for introspection and solidarity, and the reminder of our dependence on each other.
This all hit home in an unexpected way recently. Our plans to produce a new print issue were scuppered by global shortages of pulp, paper, ink, and labor that we could not work around. Our attempts to skirt the obvious limitations of supplies and trained print technicians became progressively promethean, but were ultimately pathetic. We can’t control the variables any more than anyone else. And we cannot produce a journal except by the relationships and exchange of goods that make all worthwhile human projects possible. So . . . the failures in the supply chain made it impossible for us to go to print in a timely fashion, which made it impossible for us to meet our distribution deadline, which forced us to table the whole project for the moment.
But rather than shake our fists, we ought to join our hands in prayer for those whose livelihood is hurt more severely than ours by the challenges of an increasingly complex supply chain, and we ought to do what we can to help.
Meanwhile, we will find the positive where we can. We opened by saying we would love for you to be reading this article in print. But, come to think of it, had our print issue materialized, then this article presumably wouldn’t have — inspired, as it was, by our inability to make a print issue. In that case, you wouldn’t have learned about those macaw feathers, but instead you have. So that’s something positive.
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