Too often, we set up reality as if birds could read our signs.
And then plead innocence when the rest of the world dies.
This insanity confuses formality for plausible deniability, misunderstanding that no sign 10,000 years into the future can be intelligibly read by some other species (or maybe our own, in different form) to know that here lies nuclear waste.
The wastelands we create are all accounted for, with responsible shell corporations and shell governments and their shell leaders. No one will be responsible. That is the fate of the onion which is bureaucracy, which is totalitarianism — empty at its core.
Semiotically, it is the difference between icons, indexes, and symbols; and boy, are we obsessed with our symbols, even though it is the icons and indexes which rule most of our lives, as any good human ethologist knows. But our captivation by the symbols, so alluring, prevents us from seeing the gilded cage, which only are we and our co-associates infected as we are with memes. The rest of creation will not abide by formalistic laws bound to protect falsely against the reality of things, the spill and the pores exposed. No, just like children or preoccupied grandmothers, they will wander into our danger zones, for they know, like the birds, that if we live in a society with danger zones — acceptable collateral damage — something very wrong is already afoot.