The
great climate silence: we are on the edge of the abyss but we ignore
it
We
continue to plan for the future as if climate scientists don’t
exist. The greatest shame is the absence of a sense of tragedy
Clive
Hamilton
4
May, 2017
After
200,000 years of modern humans on a 4.5 billion-year-old Earth, we
have arrived at new point in history: the Anthropocene. The change
has come upon us with disorienting speed. It is the kind of shift
that typically takes two or three or four generations to sink in.
Our
best scientists tell us insistently that a calamity is unfolding,
that the life-support systems of the Earth are being damaged in ways
that threaten our survival. Yet in the face of these facts we carry
on as usual.
Most
citizens ignore or downplay the warnings; many of our intellectuals
indulge in wishful thinking; and some influential voices declare that
nothing at all is happening, that the scientists are deceiving us.
Yet the evidence tells us that so powerful have humans become that we
have entered this new and dangerous geological epoch, which is
defined by the fact that the human imprint on the global environment
has now become so large and active that it rivals some of the great
forces of nature in its impact on the functioning of the Earth
system.
This
bizarre situation, in which we have become potent enough to change
the course of the Earth yet seem unable to regulate ourselves,
contradicts every modern belief about the kind of creature the human
being is. So for some it is absurd to suggest that humankind could
break out of the boundaries of history and inscribe itself as a
geological force in deep time. Humans are too puny to change the
climate, they insist, so it is outlandish to suggest we could change
the geological time scale. Others assign the Earth and its evolution
to the divine realm, so that it is not merely impertinence to suggest
that humans can overrule the almighty, but blasphemy.
Our
best scientists tell us insistently that a calamity is unfolding ...
yet we carry on as usual.
Many
intellectuals in the social sciences and humanities do not concede
that Earth scientists have anything to say that could impinge on
their understanding of the world, because the “world” consists
only of humans engaging with humans, with nature no more than a
passive backdrop to draw on as we please.
The
“humans-only” orientation of the social sciences and humanities
is reinforced by our total absorption in representations of reality
derived from media, encouraging us to view the ecological crisis as a
spectacle that takes place outside the bubble of our existence.
It
is true that grasping the scale of what is happening requires not
only breaking the bubble but also making the cognitive leap to “Earth
system thinking” – that is, conceiving of the Earth as a single,
complex, dynamic system. It is one thing to accept that human
influence has spread across the landscape, the oceans and the
atmosphere, but quite another to make the jump to understanding that
human activities are disrupting the functioning of the Earth as a
complex, dynamic, ever-evolving totality comprised of myriad
interlocking processes.
But
consider this astounding fact: with knowledge of the cycles that
govern Earth’s rotation, including its tilt and wobble,
paleo-climatologists are able to predict with reasonable certainty
that the next ice age is due in 50,000 years’ time. Yet because
carbon dioxide persists in the atmosphere for millennia, global
warming from human activity in the 20th and 21st centuries is
expected to suppress that ice age and quite possibly the following
one, expected in 130,000 years.
If
human activity occurring over a century or two can irreversibly
transform the global climate for tens of thousands of years, we are
prompted to rethink history and social analysis as a purely
intra-human affair.
How
should we understand the disquieting fact that a mass of scientific
evidence about the Anthropocene, an unfolding event of colossal
proportions, has been insufficient to induce a reasoned and fitting
response?
For
many, the accumulation of facts about ecological disruption seems to
have a narcotising effect, all too apparent in popular attitudes to
the crisis of the Earth system, and especially among opinion-makers
and political leaders. A few have opened themselves to the full
meaning of the Anthropocene, crossing a threshold by way of a gradual
but ever-more disturbing process of evidence assimilation or, in some
cases, after a realisation that breaks over them suddenly and with
great force in response to an event or piece of information in itself
quite small.
Beyond
the science, the few alert to the plight of the Earth sense that
something unfathomably great is taking place, conscious that we face
a struggle between ruin and the possibility of some kind of
salvation.
So
today the greatest tragedy is the absence of a sense of the tragedy.
The indifference of most to the Earth system’s disturbance may be
attributed to a failure of reason or psychological weaknesses; but
these seem inadequate to explain why we find ourselves on the edge of
the abyss.
How
can we understand the miserable failure of contemporary thinking to
come to grips with what now confronts us? A few years after the
second atomic bomb was dropped, Kazuo Ishiguro wrote a novel about
the people of Nagasaki, a novel in which the bomb is never mentioned
yet whose shadow falls over everyone. The Anthropocene’s shadow too
falls over all of us.
Bookshops
are regularly replenished with tomes about world futures ... as if
climate scientists do not exist.
Yet
the bookshops are regularly replenished with tomes about world
futures from our leading intellectuals of left and right in which the
ecological crisis is barely mentioned. They write about the rise of
China, clashing civilizations and machines that take over the world,
composed and put forward as if climate scientists do not exist. They
prognosticate about a future from which the dominant facts have been
expunged, futurologists trapped in an obsolete past. It is the great
silence.
I
heard of a dinner party during which one of Europe’s most eminent
psychoanalysts held forth ardently on every topic but fell mute when
climate change was raised. He had nothing to say. For most of the
intelligentsia, it is as if the projections of Earth scientists are
so preposterous they can safely be ignored.
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Perhaps
the intellectual surrender is so complete because the forces we hoped
would make the world a more civilised place – personal freedoms,
democracy, material advance, technological power – are in truth
paving the way to its destruction. The powers we most trusted have
betrayed us; that which we believed would save us now threatens to
devour us.
For
some, the tension is resolved by rejecting the evidence, which is to
say, by discarding the Enlightenment. For others, the response is to
denigrate calls to heed the danger as a loss of faith in humanity, as
if anguish for the Earth were a romantic illusion or superstitious
regression.
Yet
the Earth scientists continue to haunt us, following us around like
wailing apparitions while we hurry on with our lives, turning around
occasionally with irritation to hold up the crucifix of Progress.
This
is an edited extract from Clive Hamilton’s Defiant Earth: The fate
of humans in the Anthropocene, available now through Allen &
Unwin. Clive Hamilton will be speaking at The School of Life in
Sydney and Melbourne in June 2017
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