You’ve probably heard about the horrific Israeli/US strike on an all‑girls elementary school in Minab, Iran, which killed well over a hundred people, mostly students. I had never heard of Minab, so I looked it up.
![Thursday Market in Minab. [Fars Media Corporation, CC BY 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.]](https://macskamoksha.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/Minab_Thursday_Market_2019-12-13_09-scaled.jpg)
Thursday Market in Minab. [Fars Media Corporation, CC BY 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.]
Photo by author
For those who are unaware, Grindr is the overall most popular dating/chat app for gay, bisexual and queer men in the United States (though other apps are preferred by particular demographic groups). Users are presented with a grid of profile pictures to scroll through. Each profile has space for a picture and a name. The picture may or may not be, but often is, of the person’s face. The name may or may not be, but rarely is, their actual one (like on a lot social media). Neither a picture nor a name are required. Tapping on the profile shows more information the person might choose to share or not, like height and weight, relationship status, what they’re looking for, STD status and more pictures.
I’ve had Grindr on my phone since 2022. During that period, I’ve been semi-nomadic, spending most of my time in rural communities, but also visiting big cities. The contrast in the grids is stark. In a place like Portland or the Bay Area, nearly every profile features a face pic. But in sparsely populated locales like eastern Oregon or western Colorado, less than a quarter do. Maybe a third show just a portion of the body (exposed torso, clothed ass or crotch) or a full body shot but with the face concealed. Of the profiles that remain, local landscapes are common, but about 40% are simply blank.
For the record, I have face pics on my profile and I change the name depending on where I am and what I’m looking for.
The subject of face pics is definitely a thing on Grindr. Very commonly, people put “NPNC” in their profile description or even in their name slot, which is “no pic, no chat” and which is fair enough. Stating your conditions is totally valid. Of those without face pics, quite a few do say in their profile description that they’re willing to share them privately. Again, fair enough, at least as far as I’m concerned. But not everyone feels like that.
There’s always a few (and just a very few thankfully) who are like, “It’s 2026. Show your face.”
My response is, “It’s 2026. Don’t you get why some people wouldn’t want to show their face?”
Let’s back up a little.
Google data center in the Dalles. [Credit for original photo:: Lambtron, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons]
I’ve been heartened to see the growing pushback against AI and data centers in the United States. AI and data centers are inextricably linked because the former can’t operate without the latter. Voices across the political spectrum have been raising concerns about an array of issues including job losses, rising utility rates, drinking water depletion, quality of life in neighboring communities (noise, lights, traffic, views, property values), government subsidies, ubiquitous AI sloppification, and environmental impacts including energy consumption, water contamination, land use, e-waste and carbon emissions.
I am especially encouraged to see the environment getting some of the attention, given how little it garners these days outside obligatory nods to “climate”; a September AP poll found that 41% of US Americans are “extremely or very” concerned about AI’s environmental impacts, with another 30% being “somewhat concerned.” Only 27% were “not very or not at all” concerned. On December 8, a group of over 230 environmental organizations sent a letter to Congress urging a moratorium on new data centers.
Google Data Center, Council Bluffs, Iowa. [Photo: chaddavis.photography, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons]
As an illustration of just how broad the pushback has become, Republican gubernatorial candidate James Fishback, who is challenging incumbent Rick DeSantis, pledged to block the construction of “*any data center* that jacks up our electric bills or threatens our water supply.” Though the term “our water supply” is very human-centric, it sounds unexpectedly environmental coming from a Republican. DeSantis, for his part, has proposed an “AI Bill of Rights” that would limit the industry, regulate data center build-out, and “Protect Natural Florida,” which, again, comes across green adjacent. Of course these are politicians and who knows how sincere they are, but the fact that they both felt compelled to say something is a measure of which way the wind is blowing.
At the grassroots level, what’s looking more and more like a national movement against AI and data centers has been notching up real victories. According to Data Center Watch, $98 billion in data center projects were “blocked or delayed” in the second quarter of 2025. Since then, Amazon bowed out of a data center project in Pima County, Arizona, after sustained community pressure that included a unanimous vote against the proposal from the Tucson City Council (though, like a zombie, the project won’t seem to die). Many other proposed data centers are facing stiff resistance.
![Google Data Center, The Dalles, Oregon [Photo: Visitor7, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!RrWV!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdb7ea486-e827-4f93-9667-54b72ea9af4f_4608x3072.jpeg)
Google Data Center, The Dalles, Oregon [Photo: Visitor7, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons]
But what’s most intriguing to me is that I have never witnessed anything like this much pushback against a technological development. During my life, many new inventions have been foisted upon the public without consent which transformed society in part or in whole: video games, cable television, CDs, VHS, personal computers, digital photography, the world wide web, cell phones, social media, smart phones, and streaming media. All of these were criticized, but only marginally, and “progress” always marched on.
AI and data centers are decidedly not enjoying the same reflexive and nearly universal acceptance as everything on that list did. For the first time, I feel like the basis of the “progress” myth is being questioned, if only implicitly. Enough people are asking “Do we need this?” and “Do we even want this?” that I daresay this time is different. And that’s exciting.
The “progress” myth is one of the most deeply held beliefs in contemporary Western society. It asserts that new technologies always improve quality of life. Sure, maybe a new invention has some down-sides, but overall the benefits outweigh the harms. The history of civilized humanity is viewed as a ladder, with every new invention or method elevating us above our ancestors in both mental sophistication and physical comfort.
Like many of our cherished, but unexamined—and ultimately false—worldviews, the “progress” myth emerged in Western Europe in the 18h and 19th Centuries with the Industrial Revolution. This was a tumultuous period marked by widespread dislocations of previously stable social orders, during which mechanization supplanted handicrafts and transformed agrarian methods. Everything got turned upside down.
Textile mills near Paris, 19th Century
Here I must quote philosopher and historian Lewis Mumford’s brilliant Technics and Civilization (1934) at length:
In the eighteenth century the notion of Progress had been elevated into a cardinal doctrine of the educated classes. Man, according to the philosophers and rationalists, was climbing steadily out of the mire of superstition, ignorance, savagery, into a world that was to become ever more polished, humane and rational… In the nature of progress, the world would go on forever and forever in the same direction, becoming more humane, more comfortable, more peaceful, more smooth to travel in, and above all, much more rich.
This picture of a steady, persistent, straight-line, and almost uniform improvement throughout history had all the parochialism of the eighteenth century: for despite Rousseau’s passionate conviction that the advance in the arts and sciences had depraved morals, the advocates of Progress regarded their own period—which was in fact a low one measured by almost any standard except scientific thought and raw energy—as the natural peak of humanity’s ascent to date. With the rapid improvement of machines, the vague eighteenth century doctrine received new confirmation in the nineteenth century. The laws of progress became self-evident: were not new machines being invented every year? Were they not transformed by successive modifications? Did not chimneys draw better, were not houses warmer, had not railroads been invented? …
Value, in the doctrine of progress, was reduced to a time-calculation: value was in fact movement in time. To be old-fashioned or to be “out of date” was to lack value. Progress was the equivalent in history of mechanical motion through space: it was after beholding a thundering railroad train that Tennyson exclaimed, with exquisite aptness, “Let the great world spin forever down the ringing grooves of change.” The machine was displacing every other source of value partly because the machine was by its nature the most progressive element in the new economy…
Unlike the organic patterns of movement through space and time, the cycle of growth and decay, the balanced motion of the dancer, the statement and return of the musical composition, progress was motion toward infinity, motion without completion or end, motion for motion’s sake. One could not have too much progress; it could not come too rapidly; it could not spread too widely; and it could not destroy the “unprogressive” elements in society too swiftly and ruthlessly: for progress was a good in itself independent of direction or end. In the name of progress, the limited but balanced economy of the Hindu village, with its local potter, its local spinners and weavers, its local smith, was overthrown for the sake of providing a market for the potteries of the Five Townsi and the textiles of Manchester and the superfluous hardware of Birmingham. The result was impoverished villages in India, hideous and destitute towns in England, and a great wastage in tonnage and man-power in plying the oceans between: but at all events a victory for progress. [all emphasis is mine]
In sum:
If this sounds not only familiar, but fundamental, that’s because this “notion of Progress” remains a “cardinal doctrine of the educated classes” today. As Justin Kollar writes, about a recent report put out by an energy-centered investment firm:
It presents the rise of AI, data centers, and EVs as a naturalized, quasi-inevitable source of load growth. That demand is not framed as the outcome of strategic corporate choices, regulatory decisions, and public subsidies, but as a kind of secular force to which investors must adapt. [my emphasis]
These are corporate people seeking capital so it’s in their interest to present the expansion of AI, etc. as certain, but I’m sure they really believe it too. That’s how unconscious dogma works. This is just one example of the “progress” myth’s persistence that I happened to run across while writing this essay. Others are easy enough to find throughout tech, business and political media once you keep your eyes open for them.
Mumford again, speaking about the 19th Century:
Life was judged by the extent to which it ministered to progress, progress was not judged by the extent to which it ministered to life. The last possibility would have been fatal to admit: it would have transported the problem from the cosmic plane to a human one. What [industrialist] dared ask himself whether labor-saving, money-grubbing, power-acquiring, space-annihilating, thing-producing devices were in fact producing an equivalent expansion and enrichment of life? That question would have been the ultimate heresy.
When it comes to AI and data centers, that question is now being asked, in myriad ways, by a diverse spectrum of people. Previous innovations offered convenience and entertainment: television brought a visual medium formerly restricted to movie theaters into the home, and choices were expanded by cable, VHS and streaming; personal computers provided a better typewriter, games, and eventually the internet; mobile technology put it all in our pockets. Sure, AI is entertaining to some, but repulses a great number of others. Data centers are this century’s equivalent of sooty factories, degrading quality of life wherever they are sited.
![The built environment as circuit board writ large. Roof of a data center featuring cooling towers and backup generators [Photo: Rsparks3, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!iEnP!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6ddc5caf-9107-4f24-acb5-6f4a7c996143_4096x3072.jpeg)
The built environment as circuit board writ large. Roof of a data center featuring cooling towers and backup generators [Photo: Rsparks3, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons]
Whose lives are AI and data centers “ministering to”? Billionaires, who are getting less popular by the day for a lot of good reasons. Do they know that the only way to get what they want is to force it on the rest of us? It’s clear they do. Hence the Trump executive order that forbids any state regulation. But rather than ending the pushback, I expect president’s brash action will only fuel it, and kick the fight into higher gear. I’m here for it.
We writers and other creators critical of the “progress” myth have been marginal figures for the most part, but with this push-back against AI and data centers, we have an opportunity. People are more open now to questioning the dominant narrative than they ever have been, at least in my living memory. Let’s raise our voices and elevate each other’s work to build momentum together.
![Topaz photovoltaic power station in San Luis Obispo County, California [Sarah Swenty/USFWS, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons]](https://macskamoksha.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/11/Solar_Panels_at_Topaz_Solar_6_8159004703-scaled.jpg)
Topaz photovoltaic power station in San Luis Obispo County, California [Sarah Swenty/USFWS, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons]
Many well-meaning people, some of whom dedicate much of their time and energy to the Climate Change cause, take part in disseminating this misleading narrative but I’m not throwing shade on them at all. The narrative is so dominant it’s basically exclusive, and most people are unaware of anything else. My goal here is to broaden the discourse—and the action we are taking—by pointing out what I see as the big blind spots: a) it’s not just carbon and b) a “green” energy transition is not the only response. A third blind spot that relates to both is that “green” energy is freighted with its own environmental impacts, some of which—it must be emphasized—are novel.
Another recollection from my summer in Paonia, Colorado
Above is a photo of a five-point buck in the greenhouse at the farm where I worked this summer. (See “Cows, Coal and Peaches: My summer in Paonia, Colorado.”) This wasn’t the first time he or one of his brothers bedded down in the aisles. Why didn’t we chase them out? Because we were trying to keep them safe. Here’s the story.
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Graphic from Poeta de Alba
Today I want to talk about something that frustrates me about how talk about civilized humanity’s relationship to the environment. I’ll also explain how I see my role as an activist writer.
Everyone who’s paying attention to the state of the environment can agree that things need to change. We are collectively depleting the planet’s “resources” (I don’t like that word but it’s convenient here) faster than they are being replenished, and are producing immense amounts of pollution of various kinds. Wildlife habitat is being diminished and extinctions are increasing. Poison is infiltrating water, air and soil. Eventually, our own survival as a species will be in question. In the meantime, quality of life for us and more-than-human creatures is in sharp decline. It’s a bad road we’re on, and we must get off it.
Where people part ways is in how to do that, which is readily apparent in the many discussions that take place online and IRL.
What frustrates me is how such discussions are often derailed by where people are coming from in terms of what’s possible, what’s probable and what’s needed. Or put in other words: what we can do, what we’re likely to be able to do, and what we must do. These are three different things but are often thrown together haphazardly.
This happens no matter what the subject is, whether it’s the genocide in Gaza, politics in the US, economic systems, social justice, or the environment, the last of which is my current area of focus.
“Artificial Intelligence” (AI) is a broad subject that can be approached from multiple directions: economic, political, cultural, creative, and environmental. Over the last couple years, I’ve read articles, listened to podcasts, watched videos, and spoken with friends about their experiences with it. Among the most helpful sources have been Robbie Martin at the Media Roots Radio podcast (which he co-hosts with his awesome sister, journalist Abby Martin), and Brian Merchant , who puts out the Blood in the Machine Substack.
Wikipedia includes the following under the heading of “Artificial Intelligence”:
advanced web search engines (e.g., Google Search); recommendation systems (used by YouTube, Amazon, and Netflix); virtual assistants (e.g., Google Assistant, Siri, and Alexa); autonomous vehicles (e.g., Waymo); generative and creative tools (e.g., ChatGPT and AI art); and superhuman play and analysis in strategy games (e.g., chess and Go).
The “generative and creative tools” have been getting the most attention lately because they have the most potential so far to replace human jobs en masse, including artistic work.
![American sailor with the skull of a Japanese soldier during World War II. [Unknown photographer, Public Domain]](https://macskamoksha.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/AWM_072837.jpg)
American sailor with the skull of a Japanese soldier during World War II. Look at that leer. [Unknown photographer, Public Domain]
If I had to pick just one word to describe the culture of the United States, it would probably be “cruel.”
From my perspective, cruelty is manifest everywhere, in our institutions both governmental and private, and in our social relations, including families.
The origin of the word “cruel” traces back to the Old French cruel/crudel, to the Latin crudelis for “rude, unfeeling” or “hard-hearted” (which is related to crudus, “rough, raw, bloody”), the Greek kreas, “flesh,” and the Sanskrit kravis- “raw flesh.” The hypothetical Proto-Indo-European root word kreuə- means “raw flesh.” Related words include crude, creosote, ecru and pancreas. The word is both emotional and visceral.
Contemporary definitions of “cruel” include:
For “cruelty” we have:
“Rude,” “unfeeling,” “hard-hearted,” “merciless,” “harsh.” That’s the US. Especially the “reveling in pain and suffering” part. My childhood in Catholic schools in reactionary Nebraska was full of grief and pain, intentionally inflicted by the adults in my life, as well as my peers, and the cruelty of this upbringing, though it had its own regional and religious qualities, was hardly atypical. (And now I fear the whole country is becoming Nebraskafied.) For the most part, children in the US are raised in abusive conditions. Capitalism is an abusive condition. So is techno-industrialism, with its estrangement from nature. So is Patriarchy, which poisons our family structures.
I find the bolded portion of the Wikipedia definition—“when a clear remedy is readily available”—to be the most important: the essence of cruelty is that another—not cruel—action is not taken. To be cruel is not merely to inflict suffering; it is to choose to do so when one has the opportunity to do otherwise. Cruelty is never inevitable, though many voices and forces in our society portray it that way. The most frequent justification for cruelty is probably the tiresome, “That’s just how it is.”
How is our society cruel? Here’s a few ways:
Cars with internal combustion engines (ICE) spew an array of pollutants from their tailpipes including carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide, nitrogen dioxide and nitrogen monoxide, sulfur dioxide, various volatile organic compounds and particulate matter (not a complete list). All these substances inflict many adverse health effects on humans and other living things, and environmentally they contribute to air and water pollution, acid rain, ozone depletion and climate change (also not a complete list).
As bad as all that is, emissions are only one negative aspect of many. In fact, I’m going to list twenty harms altogether. I’m spelling them out because the push to replace ICE vehicles with electric vehicles (EVs) typically focuses exclusively on emissions, and if we continue to pursue this goal blindly, we and the planet will still be stuck with all the other downsides, a few of which will actually worsen.
Because it’s not just about the car as technology, it’s about the car as culture-shaper. Car-centric values and policy have manufactured physical landscapes designed first and foremost for driving and storing cars. These places are hostile to anyone or anything not inside a car, whether that’s pedestrians, cyclists, animals or other more-than-human life. Such places make up most places in the contemporary urbanized environment, from downtowns to suburbs to exurbs to small towns. It’s a tyrannical infrastructure and the only reason most people don’t think about it that way is because they don’t know anything else, which totally isn’t their fault. As I’ll lay out here, so much of what’s wrong about cars has nothing to do with their mode of propulsion.
A Salt Cedar / Tamarisk tree (genus Tamarix, species unknown) at an undisclosed location in southern California. (Photo by the author)
When I first started hearing the rhetoric of the “invasive plant” narrative in the early 2000s, I was living in the progressive bastion of Portland, Oregon. I was taken aback by the vitriol being dished out by people who were otherwise prided themselves on being accepting and nonjudgmental. I concluded that many secularists, lacking a religious dogma, needed a Devil to hate, and “invasive plants” fit the bill.
I find that conclusion overly simplistic now, but it certainly contained a big nugget of truth. Through my research into the topic of “invasive plants” over the last few years—which has included a deep dive into the scientific literature, my own field observations, and many discussions with other people with varying views on the subject—I’ve come to see that the “invasive plant” narrative is more a product of culture than it is of science.
