Why We Can’t Wake Up: Climate Collapse and the Architecture of the Human Mind

 

We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art, the art of words. (Ursula Le Guin)

Sorry to disappoint you, but when it comes to climate change, the human brain hasn’t evolved sufficiently to make the necessary large-scale changes to avert climate catastrophe.

Like the neighborhoods of an old city, our brains have evolved in a patchwork manner, layer upon layer. In older cities, as conditions changed and the economic fortunes of some improved, the lucky ones were able to build and maintain their residences. Meanwhile, the less fortunate had to leave and live elsewhere. No city planning involved. The remaining structures were built to last and repurposed by their inhabitants, who adapted to societal disruptions in order to survive and thrive. Natural selection at work. The gentrification of neighborhoods today demonstrates the evolution of cityscapes.

Similarly, over a much longer period of time, the human brain evolved to adapt to changing environments and exploit niches that allowed for reproduction.

Our reptilian brain, located at the base of our skulls, is responsible for regulating vital bodily functions such as heart rate, breathing, and temperature. It also manages automatic, self-preserving behavior patterns and basic social communication.

The mammalian brain, grafted upon the reptilian brain, corresponds biologically to the limbic system. It is primarily responsible for emotional processing, social behaviors, and memory functions. It evolved after the reptilian brain and is more prominent in mammals.

Lastly, humans evolved a neocortex, which enables creative endeavors, moral reasoning, and long-term planning. This provides a foundation for culture, science, and advanced social interaction. This part of the brain enables conscious thought processes that can override more primitive instincts and emotional responses governed by the reptilian brain and limbic system.

Although it is a somewhat oversimplified model of how the human brain evolved, the triune brain functions quite well as a metaphor, pointing to the glaring challenge that humans face when trying to come to grips with the possibility that humanity’s collective actions might bring about its own demise.

In other words, as a species we know cognitively that we are screwing up, but we can’t muster the willpower to change because our reptilian brain doesn’t interpret the situation as an immediate threat to survival. This means there is no fight-or-flight response, and our limbic system cannot generate sufficient emotional energy to bring about the required behavioral changes.

Consequently, the neocortex of the Western world, particularly the prefrontal cortex, prioritizes the immediate rewards of a business-as-usual approach in perceived normal circumstances. Given the potential risk posed by catastrophic climate change, we should refer to this phenomenon as hypernormalisation.

Sound familiar? Have we seen this before in recent history?

We have.

Alexei Yurchak, a Russian-born anthropology professor, coined the term “hypernormalisation” to describe the paradoxes of Soviet life during the 1970s and 1980s. Put simply, everyone in the Soviet Union knew the system was failing, yet no one could envision an alternative to the status quo. Both politicians and citizens were resigned to maintaining the pretense of a functioning society. Eventually, this mass delusion became a self-fulfilling prophecy. With the exception of a small group of dissidents, this became the new normal for most of the Soviet population.

For the most part, people in the former Soviet Union could live day-to-day without facing an immediate threat to their survival. In fact, openly opposing the system posed a greater threat to survival than living with impoverishment and political oppression.

However, some critics, such as filmmaker Adam Curtis, assert that the concept of hypernormalisation applies equally to the West’s decades-long slide into authoritarianism, including Donald Trump’s 2.0 reign.

Personally, I don’t think the term applies to the current situation in the United States. The US is a large, diverse, and polarized nation. Millions of Americans do not believe they are living in a functioning society. They are fighting hypernormalisation through the courts and by protesting in the streets.

I wish this were the case with regard to climate change and the risk of climate catastrophe.

Although the dynamics of climate change hypernormalisation differ greatly from those that occurred in the former Soviet Union, the end result is similar. Today, only outliers and neurodivergents can imagine a different socioeconomic reality in which life on Earth is not in danger and to be prepared to act.

I would venture to say that at least 80% of people in the West are aware of the risks of climate change. However, rather than confronting this inconvenient truth, they prefer to continue living in the new normal.

They witness repeated reports of extreme weather events while maintaining the fantasy that their comfortable lifestyles can continue indefinitely, like lifelong smokers who are diagnosed with lung cancer but refuse to quit.

In my opinion, humanity’s addiction to the material pleasures derived from unabated consumption of fossil fuels and exponential growth carries a similar prognosis.

If you’re still reading or listening, then I’m sure you understood the last sentence. It may have made some of you uncomfortable, but almost without exception, your fight-or-flight response was not activated.

Therein lies the problem.

Our Paleolithic brains are mismatched to our current environment. For instance, our stress response is designed to address temporary threats, not chronic, stress-inducing situations. However, modern life often involves chronic stress, which can lead to illness and premature death.

Furthermore, our brains and bodies are not equipped to handle today’s information overload, rapid changes, and uncertain future. As a result, depression and anxiety are at record highs, particularly among younger generations. For most people, the thought of taking action against what seems like an insurmountable problem is unthinkable.

The problem is made worse by dopaminergic addictions throughout society. On the one hand, we have financial elites who can never get enough. They are fixated on extracting more natural and human resources for monetization so they can accumulate more wealth and fuel their conspicuous consumption.

The rest of society struggles to maintain their level of material comfort rather than reduce their consumption. They are victims of the corporate consumerism complex, which knows all too well how to manipulate our dopamine-driven reward pathways.

Sometimes, I think only neurodivergent people grasp the gravity of the situation. Take Greta Thunberg, for example. The young Swedish neurodivergent climate and political activist was able to see through all the excuses her elders used to justify their inaction when it came to tackling climate change. In her famous address at the 2019 UN Climate Action Summit, she scolded world leaders for their perceived indifference and inaction regarding the climate crisis:

How dare you! You have stolen my dreams and my childhood with your empty words. And yet I’m one of the lucky ones. People are suffering. People are dying. Entire ecosystems are collapsing. We are in the beginning of a mass extinction. And all you can talk about is money and fairytales of eternal economic growth. How dare you!

When it comes to climate change, the emperor has no clothes. It takes someone like Greta, whose mind isn’t dominated by the modern mindset, to point that out without fear of recrimination.

The rest of us are sympathetic to varying degrees, but we simply do not perceive the threat as significant or urgent enough to require immediate behavioral changes. The long-term threat is not salient. It does not register.

In fact, it’s the opposite. Typically, a prefrontal cortex embedded in Western culture cannot justify stepping outside our societal norms for actions that benefit other species and the planet, actions that are not focused on bringing immediate rewards to the individual and might actually harm one’s ability to acquire material wealth.

In the calculus of the rational maximization of self-interest, becoming a climate change activist is a bad career move.

Moreover, we have become so addicted to our pursuit of material pleasure that our minds balk at the very idea of living differently. Those who do are considered “woke,” “tree huggers,” or under the influence of the mind-altering practices of indigenous peoples.

Why rock the boat? Go with the flow? Wait for the technological fix. In other words, the function of the neurotypical prefrontal cortex embedded in the Western world is to override the signals that, if acted upon, might disrupt the flow of dopamine through the reward pathways and the corresponding pleasures that modern life can and most often delivers if you play the game by the agreed-upon rules.

Given the hegemony of the Western mindset, it seems very unlikely to me that we will escape the ontological hold that its inherent set of beliefs has on humanity. Over time, we will simply adjust the best we can to the ever-increasing disruptions to our “normal” lives that climate change will inevitably bring.

What appears to be the greatest crime against humanity and other life forms on the planet is our decision to transfer the problem of cleaning up the mess to future generations while simultaneously diminishing their ability to rise to the challenge.

We need more Greta Thunbergs in this world if we are to avert the looming collapse and massive extinctions that await.

Episode 2: The Source Code of Me

 

Episode 1: Access Denied

Hear the Call

 Have you ever stood alone in the wilderness, where the only sounds that break the silence are the breathing of the forest or the distant roar of the sea? Have you ever felt an unspoken kinship with the world around you amidst the rustling of leaves or the crashing of waves - a sense of belonging to a greater existence that thrives beyond the bustle of our busy lives? Reflect for a moment on this connection, this intimate dance with nature. Has it ever stirred within you a deeper calling, a quiet insistence that the natural world is not just a backdrop to human activity, but a living, breathing partner deserving of respect and care?

This call recognizes that every creature, every plant, every microorganism, and the ecosystems they inhabit possess an inherent worth, irrespective of their utility to humans. It's a call that echoes the innate value of life in all its diverse forms, challenging us to look beyond our anthropocentric worldviews.

It urges us to see past mere numbers and species lists, to understand that biodiversity is not just a resource to be managed or conserved for human benefit, but a complex tapestry woven from innumerable threads of life, each significant in its own right. These myriad forms of life, with their intricate interdependencies, craft the richness of the natural world, from the vastness of the ocean's depths to the kingdom within a single droplet of dew.

It asks us to embark on a quest for harmony—a desire to reclaim our place as respectful participants in nature rather than as domineering conquerors. It implores us to recalibrate the scales and to tread gently upon this Earth, our shared home, to fundamentally shift our sense of self and our values in favor of an ecological self, one that inherently recognizes our interconnectedness with the living world. We are invited to ponder the sacred essence of life itself.

Imagine the fulfillment that courses through us when we plant a tree whose shade we know we may never sit under. This is the essence of intrinsic action—it is doing right by nature for its own sake, nurturing a bond with the Earth that goes beyond what can be measured or quantified. It's an acknowledgment of a shared existence, intrinsic motivation that fosters a deep sense of purpose and connection with all forms of life.

This satisfaction is not just psychological—it's a profound realization that our smallest gestures towards the earth echo our understanding of its sacredness. The call urges us to defend and protect—it invites us to feel the pulse of the living world in our veins, to hold it dear, and to act in ways that affirm this fundamental truth of connectedness. Our intrinsic actions become our silent oaths to the continuity of life, a solace to our spirits, and a testament to the capacity for humanity to live harmoniously within the greater ecological community. By embracing intrinsic action, we honor not only the external ecosystems that sustain us but also the internal ecosystem that is our conscience—a timeless, gratifying alignment with the heartbeat of the world.

To plant a garden that nurtures biodiversity, to choose a lifestyle that treads lightly upon the earth, to engage in community action not for accolade but for the sheer rightness of the act—these deeds forge a deeper satisfaction, the kind that external rewards can never kindle.

Empathy, too, plays its part. When we gaze upon the natural world not as a stranger, but as a family member, our actions are no longer just decisions, but gestures of love and protection. This empathy extends beyond our human kin and unto the furthest reaches of life—an acknowledgment that we are all interwoven into this great, intricate web of existence.

And then, there's moral responsibility: the cognizance that our choices imprint upon the generations to come and the environments that cradle them. To act in accordance with the call is to accept a guardianship over the planet, a trusteeship solemn and profound. It is about living today with the foresight of tomorrow's hindsight—choosing a legacy of stewardship and respect over one of neglect and exploitation.

Motivation, when sparked by one's own value system and empathetic connection to life, radiates a purpose so profound that it transcends the mere act. It animates our spirits with an unbreakable resolve, fortifying our journey through the oncoming storms of change with a courage that is rooted, deep and true, in the very essence of what it means to be human. It brings a peace that descends when our actions are in sync with a profound respect for Earth’s myriad inhabitants; the happiness that bubbles up from living a life of deliberate simplicity and purpose.

The intrinsic reward of aligning with the call taps into something ancient, a primal and undiluted joy. It's the profound sense of 'rightness' that fills us when picking up trash along a riverbank, restoring a swatch of wetland, or whispering gratitude to the trees canopying above—a gratitude for the air they gift, the life they support. This joy stems from knowing that every small gesture is a verse in the grand ode to life, each one a stitch in the healing of the world's ailing fabric.

This spiritual dimension is not confined to traditional religious contexts; rather, it is a universal thread, capturing an essence of connectivity that binds us to the living tapestry. It's a daily communion with the natural world, a meditation upon our shared breaths with all that grows and glows, crawls and calls.

Listen then, to the symphony of those who have walked this path, to the testimonies of transformation that shine like beacons. Envision the man who built a sanctuary in his backyard, inviting butterflies and bees to flourish, finding in their dance a mirror of his own renewed vibrancy. Consider the woman who turned from consumer to conservator, who now delights in the art of repurposing, in the sanctuary of sustainable living, and feels a richer wealth for it.

Within these stories of alignment with the call, we uncover a common thread – the realization that we are not just protectors of the environment, but kin to it, woven from the same material, dancing to the same rhythms. This alignment is where the cerebral melts into the spiritual, where advocacy transforms into communion, and where action evolves into an enlightened existence—a life cradled by a love so palpable for this planet that each breath becomes an inhalation of joy, each step a signature of our deepest-held convictions.

To embrace the call is to tap into a vein of emotional and spiritual fulfillment that runs deeper than any river, and as eternal as the mountains—anchoring our ephemeral human experience within the enduring legacy of the living Earth.

Yet, even the most steadfast can find themselves shadowed by doubts and challenges. The colossal scale of climate change, with its vast and complex problems, looms large, and the contribution of any single individual can appear, at times, as a mere whisper against a storm. In this sobering light, we must confront the daunting truth that the ark of environmental change cannot be lifted by our hands alone.

But let us remember that there is power, undeniable and potent, in each environmentally conscious choice we make, in every seed of sustainability we plant, irrespective of its immediate impact on the grand tableau. In a world craving for change, the transformation of one life still sends ripples through the collective consciousness, and these ripples have a way of merging into waves.

It is here, in the recognition of our own agency and the potency of our personal narrative. Through individual acts of environmental stewardship, we not only cultivate an ecologically harmonious lifestyle for ourselves but also lay the paving stones for others to follow. In the quietude of personal conviction, we discover that the smallest actions carry within them the blueprint for a grander vision—a world where each gesture of respect for the Earth nourishes the roots of global transformation.

Thus, while we acknowledge the critiques and the complexities of championing a greener Earth, let us also reaffirm our belief in the cascading impact of individual efforts. Each of us can strive toward an existence that honors every facet of the planet we call home—asserting, through the power of personal example, a profound truth: every step toward ecological balance, no matter how solitary it may seem, is a solid stride toward a future enriched with the fruits of harmony.

The tapestry of life—a vibrant, pulsing thing—wraps the globe in a silent plea for attentiveness and care, germinating the seeds of individual change that can collectively breathe vitality back into the world's wilted corners. It invites us to look inward, to consider the deep-seated convictions that spur us into motion, and to cherish the intrinsic actions that manifest them.

In this spirit, let us heed the call to action—an invitation to reflect upon our daily choices, our beliefs, and our silent promises to future generations. Look upon your life as a canvas of possibility, each brushstroke an opportunity to enact change through simplicity, through conservation, and through a heartfelt alliance with the natural world. Let us rise above disheartenment and instead, embrace the inherent power of our deeds, no matter the scale.

May we move forward with a resolve as resilient as the ancient forests, as purifying as the mountain streams, and as boundless as the skies above—empowered by the knowledge that in caring for the Earth, we are truly caring for ourselves. In the delicate balance of the ecosystem, as in the whispers of our own spirits, lies the affirmation that to live in harmony with this planet is to touch the very essence of what it means to be alive.

 

 

 

 

 

We Can't Get There From Here

The thing about deciding to write a story set in the future is what to make of the present and how it creates a trajectory of plausible events, scenarios, and themes projected into the future. At the moment, dystopian futures seem to be the most likely setting. This shouldn't come as a surprise, given the gap between the promises made to reduce greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions and the results achieved. Every year, representatives of the world's nation-states gather to confirm that something must be done to stop the planet from sliding towards global climate catastrophe, while emissions increase every year.

In what has been hailed as a landmark agreement, 196 parties at the UN Climate Change Conference (COP21) in December 2015 signed the Paris Agreement, a legally binding international treaty on climate change that aims to hold the increase in the global average temperature to well below 2 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels and to pursue efforts to limit the temperature increase to 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels. To achieve this, GHG emissions must peak by 2025 at the latest and fall by 43% by 2030.

That ain’t gonna happen. We can’t get there from here.

According to the World Meteorological Organization, 2023 will already be the hottest year on record, with September 2023 being the hottest September ever. The Copernicus Climate Change Service also reports that on two days in November 2023, the global average temperature exceeded two degrees above pre-industrial levels. Finally, ahead of COP 28 in Dubai, the United Nations released a "chilling" report stating that the world is heading for a temperature rise of around 3 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels by the end of the century, even if countries fully implement their Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) or action plans to reduce emissions of planet-warming gases.

Obviously, something is amiss. It’s as if the right hand doesn’t know what the left is doing. Or maybe it does and doesn’t give a shit. For example, the United States is on pace to extract a record 12.9 million barrels of crude by the end of 2023, which is more than double what was produced a decade ago.

Here’s the thing.

We can’t get anywhere near the GHG emission targets as stipulated in the Paris Agreement as long as we remain in the existing global political economy. Following four hundred years of imperial conquest and the war that was supposed to end all wars, the League of Nations was formed with the aim of creating a peaceful global order. It failed to do so. Less than thirty years after its birth, the world was plunged into an even greater bloodbath, the Second World War. Out of the ruins, the United Nations took over the mandate of the League of Nations and sought to become the center where member nations could work together to solve international problems of an economic, social, cultural, or humanitarian nature. As could be expected, it is failing miserably in the fight against catastrophic climate change.

The problem arises from the fact that the UN is a collection of sovereign nation-states that retain the right to govern themselves without external interference. As a result, the member nations can choose to simply ignore whatever UN resolutions they feel impinge on their right to self-determination, such as the USA’s desire to increase its oil and gas production, regardless of what this means for the likelihood of meeting agreed upon GHG emission targets. The same goes for the other major climate change culprits, China and India.

The crux of the problem is that the sovereign nation-state is a historical anomaly, born on European soil and then transplanted to the rest of the world with disastrous consequences. As an organizing principle, it came into being in a world that no longer exists.

Looking back, it's worth remembering that the rise of the nation-state coincided with the expansion of corporate capitalism and imperial conquest. This was because the return on investment was greatly enhanced by the capture of natural resources, and then emerging markets on foreign soil. In other words, corporations and nation-states co-evolved because they needed each other to expand their reach, economic power, and profits. For example, the rise of the British Empire was made possible by the unscrupulous practices of the East India Company, imitated by the Dutch and the VOC (United East India Company), and perfected by the Americans with their numerous corporate giants ranging from Coca-Cola, General Motors, Exxon Mobil to Microsoft and Apple.

Although in the eyes of the United Nations each member nation remains sovereign, in the realpolitik of the 21st century, the power of big money rules the nation-state. People elect their representatives, but big money calls the shots. In this political economy, the role of government is limited to providing the physical and social infrastructure that allows for commerce, as measured by each nation’s GDP, to grow and to keep the locals happy enough to continue working at their soul-sucking jobs that create incredible wealth for those at the top.

Indeed, when it comes to the power of big money to accumulate capital, nation-states and their governments have become a hindrance. So much so that huge corporations now register themselves in the jurisdictions that have the lowest corporate taxes. Likewise, their shareholders whisk their portions of the earned profits to offshore tax havens located in the "nations"—in reality, former or current colonies, like the Cayman Islands, Bermuda, and the British Virgin Islands—in order to take advantage of the low or zero-income taxes, strict secrecy laws, and easy access to global financial markets.

In a sense, the legal fiction we call the corporation has evolved to the point where it no longer needs its host, the nation-state, and in the process has dragged its shareholders to live and function on a different playing field from those parties limited to toiling away in the landlocked nation. As a result, big money is free from the physical and social constraints normally experienced by most people.

Therein lies the problem. The global economy was built and continues to grow on the basis of extracting and burning fossil fuels from geographical locations located in spaces governed by nation-states in their various forms: democratic (Norway), pseudo-democratic (Canada, USA, UK, and Australia), family dynasties (Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar, United Arab Emirates) and the despotic (Venezuela and Russia). However, the companies that grew and prospered while protected by their national interests, British Petroleum, Shell, and Exxon Mobil, have become cash cows for private investors living in their havens, soon to be armed lifeboats, around the world.

In short, climate change creates catastrophic weather extremes that have the biggest impact on people living in land-locked nations with no means of escape, but limiting the probability of their occurrence means reducing the enormous wealth created by the global fossil fuel economy. Without oil and gas, the global economy will collapse, and with it, the revenue streams that flow to the richest .001% of the earth’s population.

Let’s not kid ourselves. The ultra-rich are not going to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.

Instead, they will organize media events like COP 28, a global conference on fighting climate change, hosted by the oil-exporting United Arab Emirates and presided over by Sultan Ahmed Al Jaber, who is currently the chief executive officer of the Abu Dhabi National Oil Company, at which the keynote speaker was King Charles, the hereditary monarch and head of state of the UK, a nation that has recently approved yet another coal mine, expanded oil and gas exploration in the North Sea, and delayed a ban on the sale of fossil fuel-powered vehicles. WTF? It’s like hosting a Weight Watchers meeting at an all-you-can-eat buffet where the guest speaker is the CEO of McDonald’s.

This does not bode well for the future.

The other thing to bear in mind is that the power of big money has an institutional lock on the way the world's political economy operates. With the fall of the Berlin Wall and the so-called end of history, there are no alternatives to the way life is organized on the planet, notwithstanding the continued existence of indigenous communities in the remaining isolated bio-diverse regions where, for one reason or another, corporate invaders are not allowed to exploit the natural resources there.

So, it looks like humanity, or at least most of it, is royally fucked.

As I sit down to start my next novel after Christmas, I can only foresee a future setting in which the current global industrial consumer civilization collapses, leaving behind a few scattered individuals trying to pick up the pieces of what remains, while trying not to repeat the mistakes of the past.

Inevitably, my audience will be dispersed in space and time. Hopefully, my grandchildren will read the novel and say that Grandpa’s heart was in the right place.

 

 

 

Living On A Different Planet

 

Something is off. I can feel it, and I’m not the only one.

There’s something fundamentally wrong. It’s not at the periphery. It goes much deeper than that.

It’s as if a huge crack has emerged at the foundation of Western civilization, threatening to bring the whole thing crashing down.

There are no quick fixes.

It's about how we imagine reality and our place in it.

The modern sense of reality has been long in the making and has come to dominate the planet and all other ways of being on Earth. It was born on European soil, took root in the minds of many, and guided the great enterprise of imperial conquest, the slave trade, the rise of the nation-state, the industrial revolution, a world at war, the great acceleration, the information revolution, globalization, and climate change.

Some would have us believe in its narrative of progress: of humans moving from dank caves, huddled around fires, to finally finding their place among the stars. Others would invoke the myth of Icarus, the boy in Greek mythology who soared high above the sea on wings of feathers and wax, but, ignoring his father's warning, flew too close to the sun, which melted his wings and sent him plummeting to his death.

Perhaps, reaching for the stars in itself is not an act of hubris, but the way we have chosen to place ourselves above nature, separate, almost god-like in the way we are changing life on the planet is, and we do so at our peril.

Humanity is experiencing an ontological conflict: two groups of the same species living on a different planet. On the one hand, we have those who believe that a Judeo-Christian God gave humans dominion over the earth and all the creatures in it, based on the idea that humans are superior and possess a God-given right to control and exploit nature for their own benefit, implying that humans are distinct, totally separate, with man being the measure of all things. Later, with the rise of rationalism in the 17th and 18th centuries, nature became viewed as a machine, to be measured, analyzed, and manipulated by humans. By the 21st century, this worldview has come to dominate and direct what takes place on the planet.

But the modern worldview, though dominant, has not eliminated other ways of being in the world. There are those who do not believe that humanity is above and separate from nature. On the contrary, they do not share the anthropocentric belief that humans are the center of the universe, entitled to disregard and devalue other forms of life and the ecosystems that sustain them. Rather, as the keystone species on the planet, humans have a duty of care to ensure that life, in all its myriad forms, thrives in the present and for future generations.

It is the presence or absence of this duty of care that creates a fundamental conflict between those who subscribe to the modern worldview and embrace a rapacious desire to extract as much wealth as possible from the world's natural resources with a devil-may-care attitude toward the consequences of their actions, and those who would impose limits on human behavior in order to exercise humanity's collective responsibility to ensure that life flourishes.

It appears that, for now, the desire to be free of all constraints and the belief in freedom’s guarantee of a better life, manifesting in unencumbered individuals trading freely in free markets, has won the day. Surprisingly, philosophic beliefs dating back to the Enlightenment, when there were less than a billion people on the planet, have remained essentially intact. Attempts to redirect a small portion of the extracted wealth to support the ecosystems and the people who dwell in them are met with savage attacks that seek to demean and denigrate anyone who dares to suggest that a redistribution of this wealth is in order. So powerful are the voices and interests that protect and advance the global industrial-consumer way of life that nothing, including the dissenting opinions of the international scientific community, will stop them from cranking up the global thermostat (now at 422 ppm of CO2 in the atmosphere), which will render many parts of the planet inhospitable for both human and other-than-human life.

It is as though we are held captive in a prison of our own making while smoke and fire creep closer and closer, threatening to engulf the inmates and those who keep the prison running. Clutching the keys to the gate, the overseers are deaf and blind. Undeterred, they follow the orders on how to create an ever-expanding global economy. Their rationality prevents them from responding to the warning signs. They are like men made of tin, unable to feel the suffering of others because they have no hearts and refuse to imagine how things could be different.

The algorithms of wealth extraction churn on, and as expected, the biosphere, which supports all life, continues to degrade.

As I watch this sad spectacle unfold in slow motion, I wonder if Daedalus ever lived to rue the day he attached the wings made from wax and feathers upon his son. His neglect of his duty of care led to a tragic result. Likewise, our collective neglect of our duty of care for future generations is the stuff that tragedy is made from. 

What If We Are the Bad Guys?

I started watching the adaptation of Anthony Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See on Netflix. I loved the novel and am enjoying the series. One thing I've noticed is that it's pretty obvious who the bad guys are. They wear Nazi uniforms and go around killing people.

There is a young Nazi soldier who must be a good guy because he refuses to reveal the location of the young blind girl who is now broadcasting on a radio frequency he used to listen to as a child. When confronted by a fellow soldier to reveal his secret, he responds by killing the evil Nazi and disposing of his body.

Nazis make great bad guys since there is little, if anything, they can do to redeem themselves in the eyes of the reader or viewer. Eventually, however, time moves on, and we need to look for other bad guys who come and go depending on the latest twist in the world of global politics. Russians and Serbs seem to have caught on because of their nasty accents. Arab terrorists also fit the bill, followed by Latin American drug dealers.

But what if the bad guys cannot be identified with a specific geographic location? What if the bad behavior is shared by billions of people? What if readers figure out that they are the bad guys? Will they keep reading?

It’s easy to portray the good guys. Make them victims and show them engaged in acts of kindness. Not so easy for the bad guys when the gang includes almost everyone I know, including myself.

I was born during the Great Acceleration. Houses were cheap. Cars were cheap. Gas was cheap. And life was sweet if you happened to be a white person living in North America. As I grew up, we were treated to what seemed to be a never-ending series of new consumer products and upgrades to existing ones.

I'm old enough to have started watching broadcast programs on a black-and-white television, then in color, to have the choices expanded with the advent of cable and VCRs, and finally to have been replaced by streamed programs distributed over the Internet.

Although I have chosen not to own a car, I have been a frequent flyer, taking advantage of cheap flights and visiting more than twenty-five countries around the world. In other words, I have been part of the problem, a member of the dinosaur-sized ecological footprint club.

Imagine the following scene from an American movie. It's Thanksgiving, a time of year when family members make the pilgrimage back to their parents' house for the traditional meal. Except this year, the youngest daughter has decided not to attend. She says she can't justify making a trip that will spew more greenhouse gases into the atmosphere. The rest of the family is appalled. How can she be so disrespectful to the sanctity of the family? What's her problem? Is showing her East Coast friends how woke she is more important than being with her family?

I seriously doubt a scene like this would make it to the big screen in movie theaters or the smaller screens scattered around the house. It cuts to the quick. There is a problem most families avoid talking about. How is our North American lifestyle contributing to the climate catastrophe now underway? Instead, let's deny that a problem exists. Let's vilify someone so we can all enjoy our gluttonous feast and give thanks that we're not sweltering in 50-degree heat nor ass-deep in floodwaters.

Scenes like this raise doubts about what the hell is going on. No doubt some viewers would interpret the scene as not supporting the dubious claim that there is something wrong with the daughter, but that there is something wrong with the family, something wrong with the way they live.

But people don't want to feel guilty, so they're not inclined to consume entertainment that evokes feelings of moral failure. Film and fiction distributors don't readily support such artistic visions. There's more money to be made in offering escape. Life is hard enough without being reminded of what lies ahead. The band plays on while the women and children scramble for the lifeboats.

I wonder if we have entered a new epoch of artistic expression. I remember studying Renaissance poetry, the Victorian novel, and 20th-century American literature at university. Perhaps my grandchildren will be able to recognize the film and fiction of the early Anthropocene period.