Luck is a funny thing.

During World War II, the United States undertook one of the most daunting logistical challenges in history. With its largely non-interventionist stance between world wars, the US found itself ill-prepared for the sheer volume of personnel and material needed to fight a major, global war. And even once it found ways to meet those needs, an even more vexing challenge remained. How do you get the people and the stuff where it needs to go? And how do you continue to support the people with more stuff? And finally, how do you do it on multiple continents and in a wide variety of climates and environments? 

It was a truly Herculean task.

One of the ways that the US solved the problem was by leaning on the generosity of friends. We went to far away places like Guam, the Marshall Islands, Cherbourg and Dover. The war came to far away spots like Tongatabu, Ulithi Atoll, and Guayaquil. 

And the war came to the New Hebrides, now known as Vanuatu. The US needed a way station to land troops and material bound for Guadalcanal, a key part of the US strategy against Japan. Some 50,000 American servicemen would make their way through Vanuatu during the war, along with an enormous amount of cargo. For the people of Vanuatu, the arrival of the American servicemen was like a dream. 

Literally. 

For years there had been a legend on the islands that there would be the arrival of a white man. This was not unusual. There had been lots of white men in and around Vanuatu. What was different about THIS white man was that his arrival did not herald more exploitation and oppression. Rather, this white man would come bringing cargo - boxes full of goods from far away lands. The cargo would be left for the native people and the man would then depart, his work completed. And when he left, no other white man would again come to their islands. 

The man’s name was John Frum.

John Frum was considered a symbol of good fortune. When something good happened on the island, it was said that you had been “visited by John Frum.” There were shrines built for him, and prayers for the prophecy to come true. 

When the Americans arrived it felt to many as if the prophecy had indeed been fulfilled. Some 10,000 Vanuatuns were enlisted to help the US logistical efforts - earning money desperately needed on the poor islands. The boxes of cargo seemed never ending, with ships arriving at all hours of the day and night. 

And in the end, these white men left with Guadalcanal captured and Japan defeated. It felt like the prophecy had been fulfilled. The arrival of John Frum had been lucky indeed. 

Only… was it? 

I am reminded of a great scene featuring Phillip Seymour Hoffman in the movie Charlie Wilson’s War:

We’ll see.

For the people of Vanuatu, the break from Western presence was short-lived. Many of the thousands of Allied servicemen who came to the Islands greatly enjoyed their time in the tropical paradise. They fell in love with local women. They had children. They were motivated to return. And they did return, bringing capital and buying land. Some built resorts. And more people came. 

John Frum came. And he brought the cargo. And then he left. But that last part? About keeping other white men away? Turns out that maybe John Frum left some wiggle room on that promise. 

In the end, the luck that may have resided in John Frum was decidedly mixed. Vanuatu was never again an unspoiled island paradise. Today the two most important industries in Vanuatu are tourism and financial services (Vanuatu has become an international tax haven), and both are dependent on Western presence and money. Vanuatu, like many of the island nations of Oceania, is feeling the intense effects of climate change, and sea level rise, which is literally changing their country. 

The presence of westerners has brought material abundance that probably would not have happened  without them, but those comfort items have come at a cost.

Interestingly, there are still a few hundred people in cargo cults around Vanuatu who revere and pray to John Frum, and who hope for his return, bringing luck to all who believe. 

Climate change threatens the very existence of Vanuatu. Rising sea levels could wipe out entire island nations across Oceania. Recently, these nations urgently demanded that the UN have the rich industrial nations that have caused climate change reimburse these small, poor island nations for the cost of alleviating the effects of climate change. As often happens, the ones who cause the damage aren’t the ones who pay for it. It’s easy to understand why people would grasp for the hope of something better, yearn for John Frum to save them.

After all, the US Army left after World War II. And the cargo left with them. John Frum came, but he wasn’t the unambiguous blessing that many prayed for.  

Like I said, luck is a funny thing.

I always get nervous when someone (even me) says that I “got lucky.” I feel the same unease when someone says that I was unlucky. Because when you get right down to it, luck is really a matter of perspective. What is good fortune for one is often the misfortune of another. And what seems like a curse today may prove a blessing tomorrow.

Things happen. Some of them feel positive, some feel negative. Sometimes those flip after a while. Sometimes they don’t. I don’t think luck has much to do with it. I have never been comfortable with the notion that the universe plays favorites. On a long enough timeline, things have a tendency to even out. 

In the end good luck, bad luck. Doesn’t matter. In 4.5 billion years or so the sun will run out of hydrogen. And when that happens it will start to expand. It will become a red giant, then a white dwarf, and finally a black dwarf. During the suns expansion into being a red giant, it will consume all of the inner planets, including earth. No amount of luck will enable our planet to survive that event. And the likelihood that humanity survives until that point in any form staggers the imagination. In the end, it all goes. 

What matters now is how we use the very precious time we have. 

Things happen. What matters is how we respond. And we must respond knowing that there is a shot clock - we have a time limit. 

We have to say the things now. Experience the things now. Share the love and make the connections and give the care we can now. We have to make the world we want to see now.

And to hell with John Frum.