You know that big oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico? It turns out that the folks who drilled it, the folks who pumped it, and the folks who worked on it weren’t at fault—at least according to their sworn congressional testimony. And I sure as hell know it’s not my fault. I mean, I do commute to work alone in my car, and I do like my air conditioner. And my livelihood depends to a certain extent on an auto industry whose mileage standards haven’t really changed in the last few decades. But it’s not my fault.
Anything as complex as drilling for oil a mile under the ocean thousands of times over is going to go wrong from time to time. It may very well turn out that some corporate idiot—because corporations are just like individuals and can be idiots—cut corners to get us our yummy, yummy crude. And we love every drop of it. We’re perfectly happy to change nothing about our way of life to prevent this sort of disaster. If bp, or Halliburton, or some Jean Doe from the Bayou was behind this, we share their culpability. This was no accident—it was an inevitable result of our hunger for oil.