I know I'm on the sidelines.
I know I'm shuffling behind.
I know that in a moment I will be a dinosaur, and maybe they will take me and throw me in some recycling bin.
But I can in no way free myself from the inconvenience and slight contempt that floods me whenever "sustainability" issues flood the air.
This week we were privileged to receive a generous portion from them.
Both a tax imposed on the most formidable invasive species of all - the venomous (one-time) venom, and the UN climate conference, which convened in Glasgow with a massive Israeli presence like India or China, and not a small neighborhood on the Mediterranean coast, which emits almost gases Personal basis only.
And I know it's a matter of time.
I know that even such a column will no longer be published in a few years.
Not just because of the dictatorship, but because it will be perceived as a backward or delusional opinion, something between ignorance and conspiracy.
And even if there are those who will agree with me, I myself will not dare to publish it, because such am I.
Does not want to be perceived as an antique, nor as an idiot.
This is how such educational processes take place, and I know that there are people who are happy that this is happening, and that it is happening in an accelerated manner.
This is one of the religions that took the least time of all to settle in hearts.
Who would have believed that it would succeed.
In the process, I collect the small moments of distress, which suddenly pop up and shout some hidden truth, which in the heat of the frenetic journey is unattended.
Like, for example, that time a few years ago, when I visited a European country that collapsed economically: the collapse was also evident in the street and in everyday life, half the shops at the airport were closed due to bankruptcy, but all the trash cans were new, clean and well distributed for recycling.
I had such a moment this week as well, when the leaders who convened to determine that sustainability is a top priority in the world, forgot to arrange an accessible ramp for an Israeli minister using a wheelchair.
The wagon of enlightenment rushing to the apocalyptic destination encounters the slow-moving tracks of reality, and shakes with ridiculous embarrassment.
A decade or more ago I found myself in a conference room of a company in the defense industry.
I was then a content consultant in the field of entertainment for employees, and I offered the same company to print a newspaper.
I elaborated on the proposed content, and then the manager looked at me and said, "It will not work."
"Why?" I asked.
"It's a great idea, and also cheap to implement."
"It's not cheap," he told me.
"Such an amount of newspapers on recycled paper is out of our budget. Sorry."
That company made weapons.
Sophisticated missiles, defense systems, products that have only one purpose: to destroy, kill and lose.
The ones they deserve, of course, but this is the product.
All around us, in the conference room, were showcases sprinkled with beautiful scale models of vandals in various sizes and colors.
By and large, we were sitting in the Death Angel factory shop.
"Wait," I said, "why recycled paper?"
And he answered me naturally: "Because we are a green society."
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