Blades of capitalism threaten to mow down tradition

The garden felt like a living monument to the beauty of nature in the foothills of the… The garden felt like a living monument to the beauty of nature in the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains. This small piece of the backyard was the only part not used for growing vegetables.

Large stalks of tomatoes and cucumber vines with yellow and white flowers paled in comparison to the little fenced-in area of foot-tall, thick, green grass, red poppies and wildflowers of blue and pink.

I had just finished a large meal of traditional Ukrainian food: borscht, hallupci, vareneky, breads and meats of all kinds. Nothing other than the spices had come from more than 100 miles away. I sat on the handmade bench, sated, happy and a little tipsy from all the heavy beer I had with dinner.

The sun was setting and cast an orange glow on the mountains. I watched the four little children of the local Greek Catholic priest play with their toys, stumble, and fall on the soft grass. I listened to the crickets. That spot was heaven, a little Garden of Eden in a quiet mountain town.

Things had been going well for the village. Expatriates returning from Canada and the United States, combined with the revival of the tourist industry in the Carpathians, brought a lot of money into town. The cracked and crumbling road running from L’viv through the village and into the mountains had been repaved a few days before I had gotten there.

Money went to rebuilding the church and the congregation. As a result, things were going well for this priest. He was a young man, only about six years older than I, and already had a wife and family but was content, for now, to live as a guest in my relative’s house.

The next day, after lunch, the priest excitedly hurried everyone out into the backyard to see his recent delivery from Italy. As I stepped onto the back porch, he proudly displayed a bright red, brand-new, Italian, electric lawnmower. He smiled at me and said, “Look, just like in America.”

I could do little more than stand there in shock and inwardly scream as he took this lawnmower to the only bit of grass he had to cut: the beautiful garden I had declared my Eden. The new machine efficiently cut the tall stems of green. Yellow, pale, sickly looking stubs replaced the luscious carpet.

After he finished, he put his new toy away in the garage and returned to the house. I went to go inspect the ground further and mourn the loss of Eden. For the first time, I sympathized with all those old pensioners who yearn for the good old days, for a time before capitalism and commercialism

This isn’t a story about one town, country or region. This is a true story but a perfect example for the path of international trade, globalism and cultural homogenization.

International trade is a wonderful thing in a lot ways. In the traditional theory, it creates wealth for all those involved. It is a positive thing in that it hinders the development of narrow nationalism and impedes the path of war. Looking at the European Union, can you even imagine France and Germany going to war with each other? It is not just infeasible; it’s darn near impossible.

The priest wanted the lawnmower. Nobody forced him to buy it. Granted, a large part of his decision was based on marketing and his desire to be like a westerner. To him, that mowed-down garden was a great sign of progress that he had been waiting his whole life for. I just wish that the priest knew what he was giving up.

A simpler way of life is quickly vanishing all across the world. Televisions, personal computers, indoor plumbing and modern farming equipment are becoming available across the globe. Leaving are the outhouses, the long days in the field and difficulty of communication. I fear that the Sunday afternoon games of chess on park benches, the home-cooked meals with local food and the hours of talking after dinner might be disappearing, too. International trade brings new products, jobs and ideas, but it also threatens to destroy tradition.

President Viktor Yushchenko, while you are weeding out the corruption in the universities and freeing the press, don’t lose the cobblestone streets in L’viv and the millions of trees in Kiev. Don’t lose the heart and soul of the nation.

Dan Masny has an odd obsession with the color orange. E-mail him at DMasny@gmail.com.