I've been thinking about chainsaws, so we're going to do some bits on chainsaws. Also, a title like "Chainsaw Wisdom" is a hell of a title, just like anything else really with "chainsaw" in the name. The urge to have a little fun with this is of course irresistible, but I'm not just being facetious. Bear with me; there are some interesting things to suss out here.
First, as is the case working with any tool, you're eventually going to become aware of its shadow side. You can smash your thumb with a hammer just as easy as driving in a nail, and indeed, your thumb is a bigger target. You can cut your hand slipping with a knife or a hand saw. For that matter, you can get into plenty of trouble simply instantiating abstractions - such as using words to converse or write - when you get into a disagreement with someone and then you have a fight on your hands, which can do progressively more damage depending on how deep-seated the disagreement is and how entangled the relationship is. Not a non-sequitur: we'll get back to that part later.
The more powerful something is, the higher stakes there are for making a mistake when becoming acquainted with that thing's shadow side, the more formalized and elaborate the procedures become for even engaging with that thing in the first place.
Take the chainsaw, which features a gas engine (or now electric) powered chain, linked in a loop, with its entire circumference studded with razor-sharp teeth, moving at high speed, which can remove incredible amounts of wood very quickly. And it does this with very little feedback or warning: you start the engine and then squeeze the trigger and then without any further effort, an enormous amount of force is put out by the saw, a level of force that would otherwise take an extremely vigorous exertion of strength and concerted effort, directed with intense and focused intention, to achieve, if it can even be achieved at that level by hand.
Even setting aside the immediate danger of the whirling blades themselves, there is the matter of accounting for one of the most dangerous tendencies of the tool: kickback. With that chain moving at such a high speed, if the wrong part of it - typically the tip of the bar - runs into a solid object, it can buck the entire chainsaw back violently - oftentimes upwards and backwards due to the motion of the chain - right into the operator's shoulder or face. Rural nurses everywhere nod in solemn agreement.
The dangers - and the consequences of those dangers - associated with the tool have contributed to all sorts of ingenious improvements on the overall design added over time, such as a spring-loaded brake on the front of the engine assembly that stops the chain if it is tripped by kickback, spikes at the base of the bar which allow the saw to be embedded in wood and stabilized, a safety on the trigger, and etc. And then there is wearable safety gear like chaps, helmets, and face shields. And even all of these improvements don't eliminate all of the more serious dangers.
I've been cut plenty of times with knives and saws, and I've smashed my thumb plenty of times with a hammer, but not once have I let the chainsaw - when it is in motion - even graze me. Why?
If you consider how much damage - and how quickly that damage is sustained - that chain can do with any sort of contact with it, it becomes clear that you have to put in much more prior work to ensure that such a thing does not even happen in the first place. This is not even a claim that I am a chainsaw expert and that I haven't made dangerous mistakes with the thing. Let's look closer.
There are specific ways to stand with a chainsaw, and there are specific ways to hold it. There are ways to place wood, and ways to cut into the wood, to avoid triggering kickback, and there are methods of cutting that avoid binding and other troublesome tendencies that can lead to kickback. One carefully controls when the saw starts running, and one moves very carefully when the saw cuts through and is free and winding down again.
There are also maintenance considerations, such as ensuring that the saw is always sharp, and that the chain is tight and in good condition, and that the saw is running properly, and etc.
All of this makes up an entire additional insulated layer of precaution before you even get to the real danger. A mistake could be made within this additional layer, resulting in the saw binding or kicking back without even coming close to grazing you, and it is still incredibly alarming that it happened in the first place. One's reaction is: "oh shit, that could have been bad."
These dangers, and their accompanying protocols of precaution, leave a deep emotional and instinctual impression. Not only are close-calls and mishaps frightening in themselves, but the people with the experience of them and who can grasp the gravity of them also react accordingly and impress that gravity and caution onto others around them through teaching and scolding, which is often intense and frightening as well.
This is also true of other powerful modern tools such as automobiles and firearms. Consider automobiles, which involve complex traffic laws and codes of conduct which govern their smooth operation, which are absorbed over years as children are socialized and then trained with them, before having to go through schooling and licensing procedures to finally drive them.
The very existence of automobiles as a mode of travel implies an intense impression that is inculcated in children at a very young age. We're all familiar with the image of the tottering child shambling off into the road, whose delicate and developing nervous system and brain is irradiated with the fearful and wrathful scolding of the parent, desperate to correct what is certainly a dangerous errant behavior, in the context of a society based on the car, anyway.
It is that scolding, that hot and high-velocity signal that is to hammer in a strong enough impression to correct that errant behavior for good. It stays with you.
And these protocols migrate. The content of the protocols themselves may remain specific to the activities they govern, but the protocols themselves come with impressions and ethics that stay with you, and can be transferred to other daily activities.
For example, the cautious impression remains, and one enters into a completely different field, like writing and related intellectual pursuits. The more one learns, the more one discovers how much there is to know, and one's cautious perception discovers that there are a multitude of mistakes and pitfalls to be had. Early on, one gets in a bad argument and gets yelled at by the teachers. Later on, bad arguments can hurt reputations, careers, and relationships. One gets to be more and more careful as one puts down the words.
One thing I'm leaving out though is that these protocols do present as systems and traditions, but they also have to be absorbed by the individual. One can have a cautious personality and be ready-made for the protocol, just as one can have a reckless personality and choose to ignore the protocol altogether.
After all, setting aside flukey accidents, we still have plenty of people laying into their legs, arms, shoulders, faces, and etc. with chainsaws all the time. We have a steady beat of accidental firearm deaths in the United States. And don't get me started on people's trash driving habits and the related yearly traffic deaths.
Well, I guess I will get a little started. Subjectively, I have observed a steady qualitative change in driving habits over the years, with habits getting steadily worse, more reckless, and more solipsistic.
The average car in the US weighs 2 tons or so, and of course cars have trended larger in this country for some time. Cars are built really well now. They handle well, and they're well-sealed and comfortable, and minimize road bumps and road noise. They're loaded with TVs and stereos and all manner of creating a comfortable inner world.
All of this is great, but also drivers forget that their wills are locomoting these 2 ton hunks of steel, and the faster you are moving, the less time you have to respond to what is an increasingly complex driving environment. The car designs are safer, so there's that. But the accidents, phew the accidents.
One solution is to move away from the technological suites that are the most dangerous anyway, in the hopes of mitigating some of that damage. But this is a society that likes to have its cake and eat it too. Self-drive is going bust, and we shit on trains. We'll hang on to our most dangerous toys, and acquire more, and all the while allow those solemn precautions surrounding them to degrade and lapse.
