The tyranny of electric scooters in Oslo

I have very little good to say about electric scooters, which is perhaps a bit sad given that they seem to be a rather congenial way of getting around a town or city. My dislike of them stems from the fact that Oslo has done a terrible job of regulating their use. You can read about the scooters and why they are so unpopular at present with just about everyone in Oslo except the halfwits who use/abuse them and the privilege of driving them: More rules loom for electric scooters (newsinenglish.no)

New regulations regarding their use are forthcoming in August; they can't come too soon, because at present, navigating your way as a pedestrian on Oslo's sidewalks (where many of these scooters are driven) is like walking out onto a crowded highway with cars speeding past you on all sides. You risk your life, and at the very least, you risk major injury. There are a number of pedestrians who have been injured by them already. As I wrote on my Facebook page last night: 

I fully support these new rules, because the halfwits who cause the chaos described in the article are a danger to others and to themselves. Additionally, you cannot walk one block in this city now without coming across an electric scooter that is parked smack in the middle of the sidewalk, which is an indication of the appalling lack of respect for others that is rampant in society now. There is absolutely no thought given to the blind, the handicapped, the elderly, mothers with baby carriages, and so on. This is what happens when a city does not regulate such things from the start--a gigantic failure on the part of Oslo's city government.

The halfwits who abuse the privilege of driving them drive too fast, drive on the sidewalks, don't stop at traffic lights, don't stop at pedestrian crosswalks, drive them while drunk, and park them anywhere they like, usually in the middle of the sidewalks for reasons that are unfathomable to me. I am sick and tired of the scooters, and sick and tired of the disrespectful halfwits who drive them. I'm not the only one. But I am going to be more verbal about how I feel as time goes on, especially if the new rules are not enforced. Because that is typical for liberal cities like Oslo where anything goes; they make rules that are not enforced. There are not enough police folk to do all the jobs required of them, and fighting major crime has to be the priority, I understand that. But the blatant lack of respect shown by the el-scooter halfwits is part of the problem in a society that is moving toward chaotic circumstances in many things. If they don't get a grip on this problem, they will have lost the battle for many of the other problems that need dealing with. 

The el-scooters should be designated 'motor vehicles', just like motorcycles and mopeds. You cannot ride the latter on a sidewalk. There are rules for driving motorcycles and mopeds. Those rules should be extended immediately to el-scooters.

Another aspect of this problem is that el-scooters run on batteries. The Green Party in Oslo pushes all things electric as environmentally friendly. But electric cars for example are not necessarily more environmentally friendly than cars that run on fossil fuels: Are Electric Cars Really Greener? What About Their Batteries? (youmatter.world). Batteries get used up, and what happens to them? Apparently the el-scooter batteries last about a year. Where do the used-up batteries get dumped? Are they recycled by the companies who produce the el-scooters? I envision this as a major problem for the future. I don't pay much attention to the Green Party here in Oslo because they border on extremist. What I do support is reducing the cost of using public transportation to encourage people to use their cars less. I support neighborhood car-sharing as a way of reducing carbon footprints. There are already companies that exist for this purpose. 

The irony is that the young people who slavishly follow the Green Party could be the same people who abuse the el-scooters. It wouldn't surprise me at all. They believe that they are right no matter what, and that they can drive where they want and as fast as they want, when they want. For them, car owners are the real enemy. I feel sure that this is used by them as justification for their reckless attitudes and lack of respect. Because why else would a person who is presumably normal, caring and respectful park an el-scooter in the middle of a sidewalk? Possible answers? These people are not normal, caring or respectful, or they are giving Oslo the finger, pure and simple. Take your pick. 

Leaving unkindness and tyranny

I was up late last night, so I sat and watched two old films on TCM—BUtterfield 8 from 1960 with Elizabeth Taylor as a part-time model/part-time call girl (I’ve seen it several times before but never tire of it), and The Barretts of Wimpole Street from 1957 with Jennifer Jones as the poetess Elizabeth Barrett who married Robert Browning. Whenever I watch the old films, I’m always struck by the depth of the character portrayals, by the richness of the stories they tell, and by the feelings I’m left with after they’re over. The old films make you think: about your life, others’ lives, different situations, different times, how you might have handled those situations, and so on. In Butterfield 8, Elizabeth Taylor’s character Gloria is looking to change her life and to find real love, and thinks she has found the way to do so in her relationship with Weston Liggett, played by Laurence Harvey, who is married, albeit unhappily. This being the film world of the late 1950s/early 1960s, we know that their story cannot end like that of Pretty Girl. Weston is a borderline alcoholic with an explosive temper also looking to change his life. While they enjoy some happy moments together, Gloria makes a mistake early on in their relationship that ultimately dooms it, and Weston’s behavior toward her in a restaurant in reaction to this ‘mistake’ is appalling—he is verbally and physically abusive to her in a harrowing scene. He treats her like dirt in a public setting, calls her a whore to her face in a loud voice, and provokes the wrath of other men around them, who step in to their argument to try to protect Gloria. Weston ends up getting punched in the face for his abusive behavior and quickly leaves the restaurant. His subsequent attempts to reconcile with Gloria, to apologize for his crude and caveman behavior, fail; she flees from him in her car, and he follows her. Their story ends tragically, with her dying in a car crash. It struck me that her attempts to change her life, to leave her past behind, to become a new woman, to find self-respect, were punished in this film. She was not allowed to find happiness, with or without a man. But what struck me most of all was the lack of kindness and understanding toward those attempts. With the exception of one person, her childhood friend Steve, played by Eddie Fisher, there were few others who understood her need to change her life; everyone else seemed bound by the conventions of society at that time—marriage, duty, respectability. Why she had chosen the life she chose comes to light when she reveals her secret (early sexual abuse by a father figure) to Steve. But by then we know it is too late. It seems rather horrible to me that she should pay for others’ sins as dearly as she paid in this film, but that says more about the time when the film was made. But it is the lack of kindness toward her that sticks with you after the film is over.

In The Barretts of Wimpole Street, we meet Elizabeth Barrett, her sisters and brothers, and their tyrant of a father, a widower (played by John Gielgud) who refuses to let any of them marry and who vows to disinherit them if they do. Suffice it to say that the household atmosphere is stifling and life-killing, with the father determining how they live, what they eat, who they see, and so forth. It is implied that the father treated his wife in much the same way as he treats his children; she may have loved him early on but came to fear him as his children do. He has absolute control over them, is unkind in word and action, and prefers having his children fear rather than love him. Elizabeth is an invalid with what seems to be some sort of heart problem; in truth, her illness is probably a reaction to her father’s psychological abuse. She is bedridden and her brothers and sisters try to keep her in good spirits; it is her dog Flush who seems to do the best job at giving her some sort of happiness, and he plays a major role in the film. The film is really the story of how Elizabeth comes to life and gets well after meeting the poet Robert Browning, who has fallen in love with her through her poetry and who wants to marry her. It doesn’t take Robert long to figure out that her father is a major cause of her illness and unhappiness. They carry on their romance in secret, as does Elizabeth’s sister Henrietta with her Captain. But we know that Elizabeth’s father will eventually find out, and he does. So the question then becomes, how will they escape their tyrant of a father? He is truly a scary man; he dominates any room he walks into with his dourness and life-killing behavior. You could say about him that a flower would wither in his presence. In a rather sickening scene toward the end of the film, he tells Elizabeth that he is moving the family out of London to the country to get away from the bad influences (visits from friends and suitors), and that he hopes that she will come to love him and not fear him. He then makes the mistake of professing his feelings for her, which border on incestuous. Elizabeth understands that he will ultimately destroy her, and that she needs to get away from him immediately, which she manages with the help of their housemaid Wilson. The scene where she, with her dog Flush in her arms (she could not leave him behind) and Wilson are sneaking out of the house while the rest of the family is sitting down to dinner, is actually terrifying. I kept waiting for her father to appear, to crush whatever little courage and spirit was left in her. Had he appeared while she was escaping, he would have won. And had she left Flush behind, it would have been awful; her father, when he discovers that Elizabeth and Wilson have gone, orders the dog destroyed. But of course Elizabeth knew that this would be his fate, and since she loves her dog, he goes with her. I have never rooted for a character to escape her tyrant the way I did with Elizabeth; when they paused on the staircase, just a few feet from the front door, I found myself saying ‘go, leave, get out now’. It would have been awful had she been stopped. But she does escape, does marry Robert, and Flush stays with them. It's a true story with a happy ending, in other words, and thank God for that.

Both films deal with women who want to change their lives and leave unhappiness and abuse behind. Both women decide to leave their abusers—men who mete out nothing but unkindness, misery and unhappiness, men who confuse love and control, men who dominate and bark out orders, men who can say and do things that they would never tolerate from the women in their lives. It made me appreciate the courage and the energy these women showed in the face of abuse; they knew they had to leave their situations and they did. In one case it ended tragically, in the other, it ended happily. So it goes in life; it’s not always easy to leave an unhappy situation. But the courage involved in trying to leave is what stays with you long after the films are over. 

Finding balance

It seems to me that the lines between our personal and work lives are becoming more and more blurred. They may not even exist for some people. I think much of it has to do with the prevalence of technology and social media and how easy these make connecting to others at all hours; we can be connected 24/7 to family and friends, so why not to colleagues and bosses as well? I know employees who can never let go of work, or vice versa--their bosses and workplaces can never let go of them. These employees leave their workplaces, go home, eat dinner, and work some more, sometimes right up until they go to sleep. Or they accept phone calls and answer text messages from bosses, colleagues and/or clients the entire evening. They never shut their phones off; they check their work emails constantly. They are on when they should be off; they are available to their workplaces when they should be doing other things. Those other things include having a personal life, a family life, a social life, a hobby or two, or doing volunteer work, or maybe just time out for meditation, relaxation, reading a good book or watching a film. The odd thing is that these people travel to an actual workplace each day; they do not work at home. Somehow they have a harder time physically and mentally separating themselves from their workplace than many of those I know who work at home or who work several days a week at home. I am not sure why that is; it would certainly be worth studying. It seems as though working at home forces those who do it to make rules for when they are available and when they are not, and they have learned to enforce those rules.

If a workplace expects the majority of its employees to be available at all hours or to finish work at home, I call that tyranny. Possible exceptions include high-level leaders in times of crisis. If employees cannot let go of their workplaces and must be connected to them and their work at all times, I call that idolatry, especially if there is a certain amount of arrogance attached to the worship of work. These are the people who could choose not to idolize their jobs, but they choose otherwise. Not being able to let go of work can also be a form of addiction. The latter can sneak up on employees after several months of taking work home because they are interested in finishing up an interesting project or because they want the answer to the question now. And taking work home every now and then, by choice, is much different than being forced to do so by your workplace. But over time, the results can be the same. Employees become slaves to their work and to their workplaces. They cannot put their work aside; it preoccupies them to the point of nervousness and anxiety, which is not healthy in the long run. This happened to me a number of times during the past twenty years, I would take work home and stay up to all hours in order to complete it. But what happened was that one project would get finished, and then two more would take its place, and so on. My point is that we will never be finished with our work. It will always be there waiting for us the next day. It is absolutely fine, totally ok, to pick up the next day where we left off the day before, after an evening of rest, relaxation and a good night’s sleep. It is important to have balance in our lives. More to the point, it is important to maintain balance in our lives, because it is so easily lost to or disturbed by workplace tyranny, idolatry, or addiction. And that means shutting off the phone, not looking at work emails, not 'checking in', and not being available; no matter how much it plagues us (or tyrannical workplaces) in the beginning. It means cutting the cord and not worshipping on the altar of work. The rewards are that we find ourselves again in the process of deprogramming ourselves, and we find balance in our lives. It does not mean that we no longer enjoy our work, rather that we enjoy it within the context of a balanced life.