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he said. There were no good hardwoods left on it, no monkeys, no fruit. The law ought to
be that if you're going to protect a forest, it's a
real
forest.
But that wasn't how it worked. “For the environmentalists, the farmers of Pará are crim-
inals, some sort of thug,” he said, and laughed. “They'd be more hurt to see a smashed tree
than a dead farmer.”
It wasn't just the environmentalists either. Although religious, Luiz had stopped going
to church. “I stopped going because I would feel angry,” he said. He knew what people like
Father Sena called him. He just didn't understand why. “The priests attack us, but we're
not criminals. We're not harming anyone's lives.”
We left. In the car, speeding back toward Santarém, Mango laughed. He couldn't believe
Luiz hadn't known why people hated the
soyeros
around here.
I'll tell you why they hate you, Mango said. It's because you're cutting down the forest,
you asshole!
First there is a toucan on a branch, minding its business. The sound of synthesizers. Then a
magnificent tree, rising skyward behind the toucan. There are shafts of sunlight. Look how
they filter down, extra Amazon-y.
Then, grinding through the vegetation—
a bulldozer.
It crashes toward us, a mechanized
demon in the Garden of Eden. Closer and closer it comes, filling the screen. The image
fades, and now we see the results: a wasteland of burning stumps and blackened earth. The
sky is orange with smoke and flame. It's the image Rick complained about: that loggers
just nuke the place.
And then, among the devastation, a lonely figure. Head downcast, clothes scorched and
torn, he wanders the destroyed forest. Who is this desolate stranger, this angel of grief lost
in a nightmare of deforestation?
It's Michael Jackson. Obviously. And he is here to ask penetrating questions about the
environment: “
What about sunrise?
” he sings. “
What about rain? What about all the things
that you said we were to gain?
”
Sales of
Earth Song
were a little weak in the United States, but in Britain it was Mi-
chael's most successful song ever, hitting No. 1 for six weeks over the 1995-96 holiday
season. And it has the best environmental music video of all time, meaning it's totally
wretched.
Soon we see sad-faced African bushpeople staring woefully at a murdered elephant; and
sad-faced Amazonians in traditional undress, watching helplessly as trees fall in the rain-
