Chris Jepson: The future is arriving by the boatload

I read a science fiction story in the early 1970s that has stuck with me ever since. I’m a proponent of human beings managing their sexuality so as to bring world population numbers in line with planet sustainability. This is controversial to some for reasons inexplicable to me. It would seem to the most casual observer that the evidence of too much humanity at Earth’s trough is validated by the catastrophic, tragic news we see everyday. The 1973 novel “The Camp of Saints” by French author Jean Raspail was prophetic in anticipating our future.

Last Sunday we heard of the estimated 700 immigrants drowning off the Libyan coast trying to illegally migrate to Italy. The wars and poverty in the Middle East and Africa are the driving factors prompting thousands upon thousands to seek the safety and security of Europe. The ship capsized when the people on board the small craft rushed to one side toppling it.

In “The Camp of Saints,” a vast armada of ships carrying thousands upon thousands of impoverished immigrants is heading to France as part of a massive Third World immigration that ultimately collapses western civilization. Today, Italy is bearing the brunt of the African migration and the country’s Prime Minister Matteo Renzi is imploring the European Union to determine a unified policy regarding the immigrants. Prime Minister Renzi justifiably argues that Italy alone cannot be expected to absorb, house and feed the masses of humanity sweeping-up on its shores.

This presents interesting philosophical conundrums. Let’s start with a few. What “moral” or “ethical” obligations do we have for our fellow man (outside of family and friends)? Are we obligated to house, feed and sustain those human beings outside our nation? I, as an American, consider it smart long-term public policy to consider every American as part of our home team. But I do not feel that way about non-Americans. Why? Why is my allegiance mainly limited to those south of the Canadian Border and north of the Rio Grande? Shared values and history, of course. But I also think that way because we, as a nation, have finite resources needing to be first used addressing our nation’s own pressing priorities.

Intellectually, my position is questionable. How (why) is one human being of more worth or value than another? None of us––not one of us––selected our parents. If you are like me, you won the lottery just being born in America, in the West. So, when you turn on your TV and see the incredible, relentless misery around the world, it is understandable to feel pangs of guilt, self-doubt and sorrow. And then inevitably we change the channel and shop for high-end patio furniture featuring Sunbrella fabrics.

That is one of life’s big questions, isn’t it? How obligated are we for the welfare of our fellow human beings? To what end (how far and at what expense) do we intercede on “their” behalf and how do we know if our efforts will bear fruit?

America has its own frightful example of an ongoing large-scale human tragedy in this hemisphere, that being Haiti. The future is unknown, but the present is unloading its “problem-children” daily on the West’s doorstep. If we pull the welcome mat, if we close the door, do we do so, too, on our own humanity?

We may have no choice.