When Do We Give Up?

In a recent interview (2 July 2025) the noted environmentalist David Suzuki answered one of the questions put to him with this disconcerting reply, ‘I’ve never said this before to the media, but it’s too late.’¹

Suzuki spoke in that interview of the nine Planetary Boundaries that the Stockholm Resilience Centre has been tracking since 2009. Speaking of these boundaries, Suzuki was forthright, ‘If we pass one boundary we should be shitting our pants. We’ve passed seven!’

Yes, seven out of nine. When the average global warming reached 1.55 degrees C above pre-industrial levels (thereby exceeding 1.5 degrees) the seventh planetary boundary was surpassed.

When I read Suzuki’s interview I asked myself: When do we give up?

When, like David Suzuki, do we realise it is all too late?

In 1992 the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), the first international treaty dealing with climate change did not settle on a level of warming to be heeded. Further conferences and meetings converged on 2 degrees above pre-industrial levels as a limit for a warming we should not go past. In the 2015 Paris Agreement experts concluded that even 2 degrees posed severe risks. The Alliance of Small Island States (AOSIS) and the Least Developed Countries (LDCs) lobbied for a more stringent level of 1.5 degrees of warming.

Notwithstanding the concerns and fears of those most at risk of climate change (the AOSIS and the LDCs) last year we shattered that boundary and those countries hopes.

The only two boundaries that are still within safe limits are those associated with ozone depletion (because we took serious steps to alleviate this risk in the 1980s) and aerosol pollution.

To expand on David Suzuki’s reference about ‘shitting out pants’ we could say that we are now in a pile of that shit.

And, it is too late to change.

The UN has been holding climate change conferences for decades. In 1995 the first COP (Conference of the Parties) meeting was held in Berlin. Since then we have had twenty-eight more, COP29 was held last November 2024 in Baku, Azerbaijan. The location brought howls of dismay, protest, and alarm, given that Azerbaijan is a major oil and gas producer.

COP30 is due to take place this year in an Amazonian state, in the city of Belém, Brazil. Also a site of controversy, given its location in the northern parts of the Amazon rainforest.

Thirty years of COPs. Thirty years of greater energy use. Thirty years of amplifying carbon emissions. Thirty years of increasing carbon in the atmosphere (global average carbon dioxide reached 422.7 parts per million (ppm) in the atmosphere in 2024 – 50% higher than it was before the Industrial Revolution.) Thirty years of inaction.

So, when do we give up?

When do our leaders give up flying all around the world to various COP and other climate change conferences? With little or no meaningful outcomes.

When do we stop driving our cars to protests outside parliaments, senates, and other government offices? With little or no impact upon our elected politicians.

When do we stop trying to fix things with more and more (including so-called green and sustainable) technology? In the process continuing to mine and exploit the earth.

In doing things such as these examples  we increase the energy use, we add to emissions, we get warmer.

Yes, they may be small actions, but then so too is 3.75 ppm – the difference in global average carbon dioxide in the atmosphere between 2023 and 2024.

Let me spell that out a bit more. 3.75 ppm is just 3.75 parts per 1,000,000. Or, put it another way, it is just 0.000357%. Small isn’t it? But, boy, does it make a difference.

Let’s give up doing all that shit. Let’s stop shitting out pants (thanks David Suzuki.)

But, let us not stop:

·       Loving the earth

·       Reducing consumption

·       Being kind to one another

·       Thinking of future generations

·       Caring for the other creatures upon this planet

·       Enjoying the small things.

 

Notes:

1. ‘It’s too late’: David Suzuki says the fight against climate change is lost - iPolitics accessed 8 July 2025

Degrowth of Hateful, Abusive, and Insulting Language

One of the few movements that is providing both a critique of the current unsustainable system, and a framework for a system remaining within planetary boundaries is the degrowth movement.

The first International Conference on Economic Degrowth for Ecological Sustainability and Social Equity took place in Paris in 2008. However, degrowth’s ancestry can be traced further back in time to at least the mid-20^th century with the rise of political parties with an environmental focus. Those parties often spoke of Zero Growth; today, of course, zero growth is not enough as the world has seriously overshot many planetary boundaries. We now must degrow, with the caveat that even this may be too late.

Much of the focus of the degrowth movement is upon economics, ecology, social equity, resource depletion, techno-optimism, and decolonization.

There is one aspect of modern life that gets little attention within the movement, although (to my mind at least) it is an area of vital importance. This is the sphere of the ways in which we relate to one another and our communication styles.

If there is one truism about the predicament we are in it is that we are all in it together, albeit a few are making themselves offensively comfortable, some are surviving acceptably well, and lots are suffering enormously. Given that we are all in this, then it is obvious that we must be able to talk, listen, and act in cooperative and mutually supportive manners.

Sadly, the signs are that this is not happening, or at least, is happening far too slowly. Some examples may be of use.

A 2023 UN survey of 14,000 American children (aged 10 – 18 years old) found that 80% of them reported encountering hate speech in the previous month. In Australia and New Zealand around 15% of adults were estimated to have been the target of online hate speech in 2019.

Following Elon Musk’s purchase of Twitter in 2022 and rebranding the social media platform as X hate speech rose by almost 50%.

The number of times that particular words get used within the English language is revealing. In 1900 the word hate occurred as a verb approximately seven times in every one million words used. By 1980 its use had decreased slightly to around five times in every million. However, since then the use of the word hate has skyrocketed to being used almost twenty-five times in every one million words used. That is an increase of 500% in less than 50 years.

One of the distasteful words of the English language is the word f***wit, which came into the English language around 1970. It is a derogatory, offensive, slang word mostly directed at another person and indicates that the recipient of the verbal abuse is considered to be a fool, an idiot, and very stupid. Although not used anywhere near as often as the word hate its use has grown exponentially since 1980 and is now used thirty times more often than it was in the late 20^th century.

Even the racially derogatory term n***er has begun to be used more intensely than it had been. It had been oscillating in usage of between 0.7 and 1.2 times in every one million words from the 1860s through to the 1980s. Since 1980 its use began to climb and is now at a historical high of around 1.6 times in every one million words uttered. Higher, that is, than the sickening years of slavery in the USA.

What of words that speak more kindly or harmoniously? Well, some of them have seen rising usage over recent years, although usually at a much gentler gradient than those referred to above. The word love for instance has seen a threefold increase in usage since the 1980s – still, much less than the twenty-fivefold increase in that of hate.

Although there is more use of words such as compassion, empathy, and kindness in today’s world, the rise of hateful, abusive, and insulting language is outstripping these by several factors of magnitude.

Disrespectful, vicious, offensive, and rude ways of speaking to each other have been on an exponential growth curve over the past 40 – 50 years.

The growth in hateful, abusive, and insulting language spills over into our political, social, and infrastructural realms. Political polarization is on the rise, fueled by narcissistic leaders intent on using such polarization for their own power plays. Coexistent with polarization has come a decrease in trust.

Increased polarization and decreased trust only exacerbates the use of hateful, abusive, and insulting language as antagonistic groups of people attempt to shout down those they view as their enemies. In turn, hateful, abusive, and insulting language helps to create and intensify polarization. The covid pandemic did nothing to ease these tensions, indeed, it only intensified the hatred and distrust between people, no matter what position was taken by proponents of different ways of viewing the cause and alleviation of the pandemic.

At an international level such polarization and hate becomes violent and war is the inevitable result. The present war between Russia and Ukraine is the first on European soil since the end of World War 2 in 1945.

Somehow this growth in hateful, abusive, and insulting language, polarization, and decreased trust must be curbed. It all needs to degrow.

I admit that I do not know how that can be done. My work in community development exposed me to mediation practices and ways of working that were cooperative and nonviolent. I know it can be done at a community level.

Can it be done at a national and international level?

More exploration is required, and I would advocate that the Degrowth Movement consider how to degrow this alarming trend.

Sad and Depressed

We are living in a time when much of the world (human and other-than-human) is in pain. The phrase tears of the world has been applied to this time. The first use of this phrase seems to be by Samuel Beckett, in his renowned play Waiting For Godot. In that play Beckett has a character stating that ‘The tears of the world are a constant quantity.’

In his 1976 song Tears of the World, George Harrison applies this phrase to seeing warfare and pollution yet ‘All warnings fall on deaf ears.’

If we notice this constant pain and observe the unheeded warnings then we may respond in a couple of ways: prolonged periods of depression and despair or brief, albeit intense, bouts of sadness.

Each of these possible reactions offer quite different psychological and responsive pathways. Etymology helps to illuminate the difference.

Depression has Latin roots and literally means to press down. The image of someone pressed down, their face in the mud, possibly a knee on their back illustrates depression. In such a situation the person finds it difficult to move. It is utterly disempowering. Despair has a different lineage yet ends with the same outcome. Old French gives us de (meaning without) and the second part of the word arrives from the Proto-Indo-European (PIE) word spes meaning prosperity. Hence despair applies to someone without prosperity which has come to mean without hope in our modern-day language. Again the image of a person pressed down in a hopeless situation comes to mind. Neither depression nor despair leave any room for an active response.

The word sad however has a far more intricate and interesting lineage. The PIE word seto (meaning to satisfy) became the word sæd in Old English and originally meant to be sated, to have ones full. It sounds like an unlikely ancestry for our modern word sad doesn’t it? Following the chain of changes in meaning is revealing. The Old English meaning morphed into firmly established, set, and hard in Middle English. These meanings in turn gave way to ponderous, heavy, and full (both physically and mentally) all of which implied a sense of weariness. By the 1300s seto, sæd, and sad had come to be identified with unhappy, sorrowful, melancholy, and mournful.

But, critically, even though it contains a heaviness the word sad never suggested being pressed down and without hope.

With this exploration of the lineage and meanings of depression and sad we can begin to piece together the different responses we have to the tears of the world that each provides us with.

Pressing us down and making us immobile, depression closes in on us and collapses our circle of concern inward. All our energy and attention becomes focussed upon ourselves and may cause us to implode and become self-destructive.

Periodic sadness, on the other hand, widens our circle of compassion and empathy, and we recognise that our pain and sadness connect us to our common humanity and intimacy with the totality of life on this planet.

In 2015 two of the most notable spiritual leaders on the planet, Archbishop Desmond Tutu and His Holiness the Dalai Lama, met in Dharamsala (the Dalai Lama’s Indian residence) to explore the meaning and expression of joy. The meeting was recorded and published as The Book of Joy.¹ During that meeting much attention was paid to the emotion of sadness. Archbishop Tutu argued that rather than viewing sadness as being a challenge to joy, ‘it often leads us most directly to empathy and compassion and to recognizing our need for one another.’ The Dalai Lama referred to psychological research which showed that those ‘in a sad mood had better judgment and memory, and were more motivated, more sensitive to social norms, and more generous than the happier control group.’

It was also noted that sadness often lingers longer than fear and anger and hence may provide a more lasting basis for acting with compassion.

So, the next time you feel tears begin to slide down your cheek for no apparent reason it may be that you are shedding the tears of the world and mirroring the pain of many upon this planet.

Use this time of sadness to listen to the messages those tears hold. They may contain and fortify your compassionate response.

Notes:

1. Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu, with Douglas Abrams, The Book of Joy, Avery, New York, 2016

Get Over It or Let It Go

A friend of mine sometimes tells the story of his father returning from naval service after WW2. His father and a friend of his father were affected emotionally, mentally, and psychically by their experiences during the war. Upon their return after the end of the war, they were often told to “Have a beer and get over it.”

How many people suffering from PTSD or some other painful situation are told the same thing: “Get over it”?

Being told this does not help, in fact it tends to make the condition worse. The statement implies that the person in pain is to blame for the experience leading to their pain.

An example may help clarify this. Suppose a soldier on a battlefield is continually bombarded with the sounds of crashing bombs, the whizzing of bullets all around, and witnessing the death (sometimes horrendous) of their comrades. They are likely to experience PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). During WW1 this was known as shell-shock, and at that time was only just starting to be recognised as a wound as debilitating as a physical wound. These men and women did not create those events, but they certainly felt the pain.

The psychology surrounding PTSD and other painful experiences has been widely studied since WW1. The research does not support a practice of “getting over it.”

Buddhism – often referred to as “less a religion and more a psychology of mind” – has some useful insights into how to deal with psychological pain. The first of these insights is to distinguish between pain and suffering. Pain is inevitable, it is a feature of being alive. Pain can be physical, mental, biological, and/or social. Suffering is different. Suffering is our reaction to these pains. So, there are two parts to the experience of, say PTSD. The first part is the incident or event that gave rise to the pain. The second part, following the first, is the various emotions that arise in response. These may be anxiety, anger, confusion, fear, grief, frustration.

The second insight is to recognise that continuous suffering results from attempting to push away the pain and trying to con ourselves into believing the pain does not exist. Buddhists call this aversion. This is what others mean when they say, “Just get over it.”

The opposite of aversion is craving. The opposite of “just get over it” is “just be happy, have a beer.” Both states, at best, are fleeting.

If aversion and craving do not work, then what does?

Buddhism suggests to simply “let it go.” I say “simply” but it is much harder than that, as it involves reconfiguring our mental, emotional, and psychological states. The concept is simple. It is rather like watching a cloud (your suffering) slowly pass by overhead, drifting on the wind, with no active involvement by you at all, aside from simply watching the cloud pass away. Getting into this frame of mind takes time, practice, and (yes) some effort. Even once this frame of mind is achieved, it is possible that the cloud could take a long time to pass by. Simply letting go is not simple.

Notice too, that the exhortation to “get over it” is often uttered by another person, not yourself. “Letting go” however, is something you do, not the instruction of another person. “Letting go” permits you to hold onto your power, rather than allowing someone else to take it from you.

So, how do we get to a state of mind that allows us to “let it go”?

The classic Buddhist response is meditation and mindfulness. This blog will not go into detail on these practices. There are numerous articles, videos, and books around teaching these.

There are many other ways to get to this state. Here are a few possibilities.

·       Spending time in nature. Take a slow, deliberative, walk in a forest. Notice what you hear, see, smell.

·       Physical exercise, especially aerobic exercise: jogging, swimming, cycling, or similar.

·       Enjoy time with a dog, or a horse, or other animal.

There are also some things to refrain from that otherwise would hinder getting to this state, for example:

·       Refraining from harmful pursuits: alcoholism, smoking, gambling, and other forms of addiction.

·       Reducing time in stressful situations. Much of our time in modern society keeps us hyper-vigilant, constantly alert, and on time deadlines. All of these keep us well removed from a “let it go” state of mind.

·       Beware of the trap of consumerism. Consumerism is one of the forms of “getting over it.” A beer is just one of the multitudes of consumer options. The phrase could just as easily be “Go buy a new car and get over it,” or “Add an extension to your house and get over it.”

Thus, next time you hear someone tell you to “Go have a beer and get over it,” let them and their message drift away as would a cloud.

Shattering The Clock

In 1609 Johannes Kepler, the German astronomer, mathematician, and natural philosopher published Astronomia Nova (New Astronomy) in which he outlined the first two laws of planetary motion. It was a significant advance on how we understood the movement of the planets.

Four years earlier, in a letter to a friend, Kepler wrote, ‘My aim is to show that the celestial machine is to be likened not to a divine organism, but to a clockwork.’ The metaphor of the cosmos as a clock was promoted at the time by many of his contemporaries.

In his Astronomia Nova he, no doubt, considered that he had achieved that aim.

Sadly he, and many other pioneers of the Scientific Revolution, by introducing this mechanistic metaphor into the world helped to entrench our perceived disconnect from nature. Nature was no longer an organism, but was now a mechanical, automated, and lifeless machine.

And, being mechanical and lifeless, nature could be exploited and open to another of the disturbing metaphors to come out of the Scientific Revolution – misogyny and rape. Francis Bacon, for instance, avowed that the scientific method allowed him to uncover ‘the secrets still locked in (nature’s) bosom… (so that) she can be forced out of her natural state and squeezed and moulded.’ Descartes too, was emboldened by this metaphor, asserting that science could ‘render ourselves the masters and possessors of nature.’

With such metaphors and the attendant worldviews, it is little wonder that today we are exploiting nature and extracting every little resource we can.

But, is the clock beginning to shatter?

The sciences of the 20^th and 21^st centuries are overturning the outlook of the Scientific Revolution of the 16^th and 17^th centuries. Perhaps we could say that these sciences represent a Second Scientific Revolution. The sciences of ecology, quantum physics, biology, systems theory, and theories of Emergence, Chaos, and Complexity are all reasserting the cosmos as an organic wholeness.

Throughout the world there are groups of people, small communities, and especially indigenous societies challenging the mechanistic view of the world. Workshops, seminars, retreats, and vision quests are all being utilised to return to an organic outlook.

Although small, these enterprises and experiences are important. Our belief systems and worldviews are built upon the stories we tell ourselves and the metaphors we use. When we contest these, we open up to new, refreshing, possibilities, including the potential to return to an acknowledgement that we live in, and are part of, a divine organism.

All that is exciting. It reconnects us with a sense of wonder at the mysteriousness of life, the universe, and all it contains.

(The) Hidden Life of Trees - Book Review

(Note that this review is late in coming - this book was published nine years ago)

Go for a walk in a forest. When you get back home read The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben.¹ The chances are high that the next time you go walking in that same forest the experience will be wholly different. You will see things you hadn’t noticed before. You will hear things you hadn’t heard before.

Chances are, too, that you will stop and want to linger. You may want to get closer to the trees and examine the bark. You might want to dig your fingers into the earth, or peer high into the canopy.

Not only will you see and hear things differently, after reading Wohllenben’s book you may also be able to visualise the vast network of roots, fungi, and mycelium that exists underground, out of sight.

Wohllenben’s book has certainly gained wide attention – it has sold more than three million copies worldwide and been translated into more than twenty languages.

Whilst it has gained an appreciative lay readership, it has not been without its critics in the scientific community. Some have criticised the book for its use of anthropomorphic language. For example, some of the book’s chapters are titled, Tree School, Community Housing Projects, Hibernation, Street Kids, Immigrants etc, all as epithets for aspects of forests and/or trees.

Although it is possible to understand this criticism, it is, in this reviewer’s mind, unfair, or at least misplaced. This book is undoubtedly written for the layperson, a person who may know little or nothing about the workings of forests. It is clearly not written as a scientific treatise. Had it been written in scientific, unemotional language it would not have been bought by three million readers.

Wohllenben outlines in the first few pages his intention in writing the book. He states, ‘This book is a lens to help you take a closer look at what you might have taken for granted. Slow down, breathe deep, and look around. What can you hear? What do you see? How do you feel?’ He’s upfront. This is written for those unused to analysing what is going on in a forest. It is written to evoke an emotional response. And – it works.

By writing in the way he does, using what we understand to be human feelings, behaviours, and functions, Wohllenben helps the reader associate with forests and trees. In one sense the criticism of anthropomorphism becomes a two-edged sword. Can we really say that trees do not have feelings, do not behave in ways that humans might, or that trees do not communicate with and look after one another? To say that they do not and try to write of trees and forests in neutral terms is itself an anthropocentric rendition. Many indigenous languages and cultures worldwide do not name trees, streams, mountains, and other living creatures in the third person – i.e. as it. For many, these entities are imbued with the same energies and sacred attributes as are humans.

In the final few pages Wohllenben addresses the divide between humans and non-humans. He states, ‘I, for one, welcome breaking down the moral barriers between animals and plants. When the capabilities of vegetative beings become known, and their emotional lives and needs are recognized, then the way we treat plants will gradually change as well.’   

Perhaps the sooner we come to appreciate trees and other entities in the same ways we value ourselves, the sooner we might desist in destroying nature and the planet in which we live.

So, my suggestion as reviewer, is to ignore any criticism you may have heard, go with the flow and recognise you in the trees and the trees in you.

For myself, as someone who had previously come across some of the concepts Wohllenben writes of, I found this book illuminating and enjoyable. I learnt a lot more about trees and forests than I knew before I read page 1. I learnt something of myself also.

The final words I will leave to Peter Wohllenben himself, they are also the final words he writes in the Acknowledgments section.

‘Only people who understand trees are capable of protecting them.’

Note:

1. Peter Wohlleben, The Hidden Life of Trees, Black Inc., Collingwood VIC, Australia, 2016

Returning to an Island

Recently I re-read Island by Aldous Huxley.¹ It had been around five decades since I first read it.

Those five decades have now allowed me to gain a greater insight into what Huxley was writing about and alluding to.

Island was Huxley’s final novel and served as the counterpoint to his dystopian novel, Brave New World, published thirty years earlier. Could Huxley have written this when he was younger? Perhaps, like me as his reader, he had to be older to dream and appreciate possibilities?

Island is indeed a dream, but not an impossible one. Possibilities exist. The following quotation is at the heart of this novel, both figuratively and literally (on p 170-171 of 329 pages). The possibility described here will find a resonance with many readers, especially those attracted to the ideas of degrowth. The practical philosophy of the island of Pala is explained by one of the island’s elders – Dr Robert as;  

‘… we never allowed ourselves to produce more children than we could feed, clothe, house, and educate into something like full humanity. Not being over-populated, we have plenty. But although we have plenty, we’ve managed to resist the temptation that the West has now succumbed to – the temptation to over-consume. We don’t give ourselves coronaries by guzzling six times as much saturated fat as we need. We don’t hypnotise ourselves into believing that two television sets will make us twice as happy as one television set. And finally we don’t spend a quarter of the gross national product preparing for World War III or even World War’s baby brother, Local War MMMCCXXXIII. Armaments, universal debt, and planned obsolescence – those are the three pillars of Western prosperity. If war, waste, and moneylenders were abolished, you’d collapse. And while you people are over-consuming, the rest of the world sinks more and more deeply into chronic disaster. Ignorance, militarism, and breeding, these three – and the greatest of these is breeding. No hope, not the slightest possibility, of solving the economic problem until that’s under control. As population rushes up, prosperity goes down… And as prosperity goes down, discontent and rebellion, political ruthlessness and one-party rule, nationalism and bellicosity begin to rise.’

Within a little over 200 words Huxley has depicted the possibility of a dream; at the same time rebuking the model that the West has been, and still is, implementing.

The key to Huxley’s dream seems to be restraint, the ability to resist temptation. Failure to do so results in huge problems. Is this not exactly what we see in the world today? Political ruthlessness, discontent, nationalism, bellicosity – at the level of individuals, societies, and states.

Island is worth reading, as a young person and then again at an older age. The novel answers some questions as well as throwing up some serious questions for consideration.

One of those questions was posed by Huxley himself upon reflecting upon his two novels – Brave New World and Island. It is a question that calls out for a response from each of us.

‘How will this thought or action contribute to, or interfere with, the achievement, by me and the greatest number of other individuals, of (humanity’s) Final End?’

Note:

1. Aldous Huxley, Island, Granada Publishing, London, Toronto, Sydney, New York, 1962

No Will

Lithium mine

Last week’s blogpiece bemoaned our cultural focus on the future. During the intervening week I found myself guilty of that same error, although not a future of optimism.

In a response to an online post I stated, ‘Unplanned collapse is what will happen…’ Another commentator rightly pulled me up on that comment.

Unplanned collapse is not a future event or possibility. Collapse is already here, although some of us, like me, are not experiencing its full fury. A quote from science-fiction writer, William Gibson, is that, ‘The future is already here – it’s just not very evenly distributed.’ The word collapse can easily be substituted in that quote for the word future.

Collapse (environmental and social) is underway in many parts of the world. Inhabitants of Pacific islands are experiencing the effects of climate change. The island nation of Tuvalu, for example, is a tragic example. It is being subjected to rising sea levels and more frequent and more severe cyclones and storms. Cyclones further erode the shoreline of the nation’s islands, exacerbating sea level rise.

Elsewhere in the world we see social breakdown, with war being the most glaring example. The five most devastating warfare sites in the world in 2024 were the Ukrainian-Russian war, the Palestine-Israel war, and the civil wars in Myanmar, Sudan, and Ethiopia.

Then there are the other instances. The ones that are out of sight, out of mind. Mostly they are out of sight because they are in countries the mainstream media are not interested in. They are out of mind because if we in the rich, industrialised, nations considered them they would disrupt our cosy, comfortable lifestyles. Mostly, too, these cases are ones that exist so that we can continue to live in a way that believes that collapse will occur in the future.

Let me explain and offer examples of such instances.

In the rich, industrialised, nations we have become aware of climate change and the forces generating it. As a result, we are keen to reduce carbon emissions. However, we only want to do so if it means we do not have to change our consumerist, exploitative, and extractive behaviours.

Yet, if we look closely, these behaviours continue at the expense of local communities (e.g., copper mining in Congo, and lithium mining in the Atacama Desert) and also local ecosystems (again, for example, lithium mining in the Atacama Desert).

The American ethnobotanist, Terence McKenna addressed this inclination towards an out of sight, out of mind outlook when he announced that;

‘The apocalypse is not something which is coming. The apocalypse has arrived in major portions of the planet and it’s only because we live within a bubble of incredible privilege and social insulation that we still have the luxury of anticipating the apocalypse.’

So, I guiltily acknowledge that when I write that “the collapse will happen,” then I am writing from a privileged view and from a position of insulation.

If I, and millions of others in the rich, industrialised nations, continue to live in a bubble (as McKenna refers to it) then we do so by consigning millions of others to suffer collapse right now, not in some anticipated future.

If We Can't Go Back...

Critics of modernity, and the current messy system we are in, often get taunted with the reproach that, “you can’t go back.” Maybe we can, maybe we can’t. Even if we had the means to do so, we may not have the will.

Not going back though, does not imply that we must go forward. Indeed, our westernised penchant for going forward (aka progress) may be one of the major concepts that have got us into this mess.

The idea that we must continually progress is rooted in the manner in which we think of time. Time, in the westernised worldview, is linear and moves from the past, conceptualised as behind us, to the future, conceptualised as in front of us, ahead of us.

Progress as a physical and metaphysical goal was deemed by many Enlightenment thinkers as desirable and almost inevitable. The view of many Enlightenment thinkers (such as Descartes, Hobbes, Locke, and Kant) was that human history tended towards freedom, equality, and greater well-being. Human progress is not only possible, it is inevitable according to this view.

It was a compelling idea and, in an age when the Dark Ages were still at the forefront of people’s memory, it was also a welcome and refreshing idea. Progress became one of the idée du jour of Enlightenment thinkers and permeated the minds of the general populace. So much did it pervade our minds that today it is considered the natural course of things. To question the idea of progress is tantamount to sacrilege.

Progress came to be synonymous with better, greater, improved, advanced, and superior. The current generation were better-off than the previous one. But then came the unsettling thought that the future was a better place to be than the present. With this realisation came the figure of speech that whipped post-war generations into a consumerist society – keeping up with the Jones’es.

Progress became coupled with improvement; progress meant improvement; improvement meant progress. Things must improve. Things must get better. The future is to be striven for at all costs. And one of the costs of all this striving was inadequate consideration of the consequences of new technology and infrastructure. In the post-war consumerism boom the word NEW! was one of the most oft used words of advertisers.

No consideration was given to the social, individual, and environmental consequences.

If we are paying attention to the state of the world then the environmental consequences of progress are all too apparent. We can see the consequences. They are not good.

What may not be so easy to see are the consequences of progress on our mental and psychological health. When we believe that the future is better than now then we can easily become dissatisfied with, and disappointed in, the present moment.

The ability to place our faith in improvement and betterment in a future time was explored in depth by Alvin Toffler and Adelaide Farrell (often unacknowledged) in 1970 in their book Future Shock.¹ In that book they outlined how the pace of change and our expectation of a better future was having an impact upon our psychological health. Toffler and Farrell described this as an ‘abrupt collision with the future.’ Since then, the pace of change has increased exponentially. Also, our expectations of the future solving the problems of today and resulting in a better world have also gained traction.

But it doesn’t happen.

Thinking that we are better off than were our ancestors leads us to want to avoid going back to the past. Thinking that the future will bring about improvement leads us to want to progress to that time as quickly as possible.

In this state of aversion for the past and attachment to the future, our present moment becomes homeless. We don’t reside there; yet it is in the present moment that our hearts and souls wish to dwell. The present is where we are most settled, it is where we become free of anxiety, depression, tension, and stress.

We may not be able to go back, but, for the sake of our health, we can stop striving to get ahead.

If we could do that, we might just find that the past was not so onerous as we think. We might even find that there are some things that we could go back to. We might even enjoy them. We might even improve our mental and psychological health.

Note:

1. Toffler, Alvin (and Farrell, Adelaide), Future Shock, Bantam, New York, 1970

Inequality Set In Stone

Code of Hammurabi
stele

One of the most famous pieces of writing on inequality is undoubtedly Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s essay, Discourse on the Origins of Social Inequality. Although seldom read these days (apart from philosophy and political science students) at the time of its publication in 1755 it was widely read. Its publication helped establish Rousseau as one of the leading European intellectuals of the time.

The essay was Rousseau’s entry into a nation-wide essay competition on the topic of ‘What is the origin of inequality among people, and is it authorized by natural law?’ The title of Rousseau’s essay, and the question itself, expose an underlying feature of European society of the time. It was unequal. The question does not ask if inequality exists. It asks how inequality came into existence.

This blogpiece is not going to summarise Rousseau’s answer. Rather I intend tracing the roots of inequality back in time further than did Rousseau in his essay.

Let us return to the Babylonian Empire, and particularly the reign of King Hammurabi (ruling from c.1810 – c.1750 BCE). Writing had been invented in Mesopotamia 1,200 to 1,500 years before Hammurabi’s reign. Initially, the scripts of the time were used for accounting purposes; to record harvest quantities and the like. Over time writing became more developed and was used to record more and more, including stories.

Today, Hammurabi is best known for the Code of Hammurabi, a set of laws including ascribing penalties for various contraventions of the Code. The Code was inscribed upon a 2.25 m tall stone stele (found in 1901 in present day Iran) and is today considered to be an important precursor in the establishment of a legal code. However, you won’t find the stele in Iran today. The stele was unearthed by the French Archaeological Mission and transferred (stolen may be a more accurate term) to the Louvre in Paris.

Although the code of Hammurabi is known as a precursor to the establishment of a legal code, it is also noteworthy that the laws inscribed thereon indicate an inequality existing in Mesopotamia at that time – some 4,000 years ago.

The Code makes mention of various ‘classes’ of Babylonians. There is mention of superior men, common men, slaves, superior women, and common women. The penalties meted out to transgressors of the code depended upon the status, class, and gender, of both the victim and the perpetrator. Hence, it is easy to determine the relative worth of inhabitants by reading the penalties imposed. For example, if a superior man should blind the eye of another superior man, then the penalty is that his eye is blinded in return. However, if it is a commoner whose eye is blinded, then the superior man must pay 60 shekels of silver (and not lose his own eye.) The penalty imposed upon a superior man if he strikes a woman and causes her to miscarry is entirely dependent upon the class of the woman. If of superior class then the penalty is ten shekels of silver, if a commoner it is half that (five shekels) and if a slave then even less, just two shekels.¹ The difference between people was clearly marked out by Hammurabi and the Babylonians. Hence, on this basalt stele we can plainly read of the way in which people were thought of and treated as unequal, of different status and worth. The inequality of people had become codified and written down. Set in stone, if you will.

It is little wonder then, that some 3,500 years later, Rousseau was answering a question about how inequality came about, not if inequality existed.

The inequality that existed at the time of Hammurabi came to infuse the worldviews of the cultures and Empires that followed Hammurabi. It informed the Roman Empire. It informed the colonisation of the Americas. It informed the British Empire. It informed the European colonisation of Australia and New Zealand.

In many ways the inequality between people remains set in stone today. It is time we started chipping away at that stele.

Notes:

1. Harari, Yuval Noah, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, Vintage, London, 2011

Poets and Politicians

As I write this it has been two days since the Canadian election and in two days time the Australians go to the polls.

We have seemingly had elections and politicians for aeons. We have had definitions for politician ever since Samuel Johnson’s first edition of Dictionary of the English Language, published in 1755. In that first edition the second definition Johnson gave for politician was ‘A man of artifice; one of deep contrivance.’ Many would argue that the definition still adheres.

With antecedents in the Roman Republic and in England in the 13^th century, it is only since the 17^th century that electoral democracy began to become the standard form of government throughout the western world. Just two and a half centuries.

During these last two and a half centuries where has electoral (aka representative) democracy (and its attendant politicians) got us? Much of the research into politics has shown that political representation greatly favours affluent sectors of society to the detriment of the population as a whole. Hardly representative. When one looks at the make up of politicians who do become elected, in most cases world-wide they are from the wealthy elite. Very few are those we would meet whilst out walking the dog or pushing a baby in a pram. (Although we will find them queuing up to pat the dog or kiss the baby come election time.)

Furthermore, with politicians at the helm over the past two and a half centuries the world has become a lot messier. Environmentally it is in a mess. Socially and culturally, it is in a mess. Individually too, we are in a mess. Politicians do not appear to have the willingness to tackle much of this, and some even exacerbate the mess.

Yet, we continue to vote for politicians, we continue to vote for a flawed system. Whitmore, we continue to listen to them. We continue to allow politicians to speak on our behalf, notwithstanding that most do nothing of the sort.

So, who could we listen to instead?

The avant-garde filmmaker and poet Jonas Merkas once quipped that, ‘In the very end civilisations perish because they listen to their politicians and not their poets.’ Maybe he is correct.

Another artist, the science fiction author Ursula K. La Guin enlarged upon Merkas’ remark. The author of the very popular Earthsea fantasy series emphatically suggested that;

‘I think hard times are coming, when we will be wanting the voices of writers who can see alternatives to how we live now, and can see through our fear-stricken society and its obsessive technologies, to other ways of being. And even imagine some real grounds for hope. We will need writers who can remember freedom: poets, visionaries—the realists of a larger reality. Right now, I think we need writers who know the difference between production of a market commodity and the practice of an art.’

Merkas and La Guin could be onto something.

It may be as simple as William Blake reminding us of our connection to the cosmos: ‘To see a world in a grain of sand/ And heaven in a wild flower/ Hold infinity in the palm of your hand/ And eternity in an hour.’

Perhaps it is the Bard’s love sonnet that begins with, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?/ Thou art more lovely and more temperate;/ Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,/ And summers lease hath all too short a date.’

Or Mary Oliver suggesting advising a quietude of mind: ‘Every day I see or I hear/ something that more or less/ kills me with delight.’

These and dozens of other poems and poets have us asking the simple question, as Mary Oliver does; ‘There’s only one question/ how to love this world.’

I doubt that this is a question politicians ask very often.

I hear them answer it very rarely. If at all.

I think I’ll go find a book of poetry to read while the Australian elections are on.

Where Did Our Selves Go?

Around one in eight people globally suffer from at least one form of mental health issue. Whether it be anxiety disorders, depression, PTSD, bi-polar disorder, or schizophrenia, the costs of mental health are estimated at $2-5 trillion per year, and expected to rise to over $6 trillion by 2030 (just five years away.)

Surely, such a crisis raises the question of: how did we come to this? How did our selves become so lost and confused that so many of us suffer these conditions? As Gabor Maté notes, ‘In the most health-obsessed society ever, all is not well.’¹

Quite simply, I would claim that this disjoint in our psyches is because we have come to perceive ourselves as being disconnected from nature and from each other. I recognise, of course, that this claim is highly simplistic, yet if you follow through the implications of each of these two disconnections the threads joining it all together become evident.

Disconnection from nature is tantamount to a loss of Earth as our collective home. Disconnection from each other isolates us from our community. Together, these two disconnections mean that we have lost contact with our human support systems and our place of identity, resulting in a psychic disruption that varies from person to person.

Is it any wonder then, that over the past few centuries, we have become more and more disconnected from our own selves? We are homeless and have little sense of belonging. Both these disconnections cannot fail but fill our psyches with a toxic concoction of conscious and unconscious thoughts, feelings, emotions, and worldviews that serve to disconnect us from who we are, from our true selves.

Our mental health statistics show this. Over the past 50 years mental health issues have been steadily worsening, with the most severe disorders being depression, specific phobias (extreme fears of objects or situations that pose little or no danger but make one feel anxious), post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and alcohol abuse. Ominously, a 2023 study undertaken by researchers from Harvard Medical School and the University of Queensland involving respondents from 29 countries concluded that, ‘by age 75 approximately half the population can expect to develop one or more of 13 mental disorders.’² For both men and women major depressive disorder was one of the most prevalent disorders. The next most prevalent was alcohol abuse for men and specific phobias for women.

This is a serious disconnection within and from ourselves.

What has happened to our selves? Where did our selves go?

It is highly likely that we left our selves behind when we allowed ourselves to disconnect from nature. We left our selves behind in the forests, the mountains, the rivers, and the myriad other natural habitats.

If this is so, then it is no surprise that spending time in natural settings helps to reduce mental health problems and to restore balance in our lives.

Over the past 40 years a conscious practice of spending time in natural settings for health benefit has been spreading around the globe. Japan can be credited as the birthplace of this practice, where it is known as shinrin-yoku. The term shinrin-yoku (literally Forest Bathing) was coined in 1982 by Tomohide Akiyama, who was Director of the Japanese Forest Agency at the time. Since the beginning of the 21^st century the science of forest bathing has built an impressive research base.

Amongst the benefits of forest bathing that this research has shown are: Increased relaxation of the body due to increased activity of the parasympathetic nervous system; Reduced stress of the body due to reduction of sympathetic nervous system activity; Reduction in blood pressure; Lowering of pulse rate. These health benefits allow forest bathing participants to feel a sense of comfort, feel calm, feel refreshed, less anxious, and an improvement in their emotional state.³

If such health benefits can be experienced by just an hour or two of forest bathing, imagine the benefits that might ensure from reconnecting more completely with nature?

Another, associated, health practice has also been slowly spreading. Green prescriptions first began being prescribed by doctors in New Zealand in the late 1990s. Green prescriptions are a medical prescription to spend time in nature. In New Zealand it is now possible to self-refer to a green prescription. A number of countries, including Canada, the UK, Korea, Finland, the US, and of course Japan, are utilising this form of “medication” regularly as part of those nation’s healthcare services.

Sadly, at the very time we are starting to re-discover the benefits of spending time in nature we are also busy chopping down our forest, polluting our riverways, and mining the tops and sides of our mountains.

If we are going to find our selves again then we have to act with nature in a reciprocal manner. We must stop chopping, polluting, and mining.

Notes:

1. Gabor Maté, with Daniel Maté, The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness &healing in a Toxic Culture, Vermillion, London, 2022

2. Prof John McGrath et al., Age of onset and cumulative risk of mental disorders, The Lancet Psychiatry, 2023. https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lanpsy/article/PIIS2215-0366(23)00193-1/abstract  accessed 23 April 2025

3. Yoshifumi Miyazaki, The Japanese Art of Shinrin-Yoku, Timber Press, Portland, Oregon, 2018

AI and EI are Not Compatible

Chief Sealth (A man
with high EI)

AI (Artificial Intelligence) has its proponents and its detractors. Like most technology through the ages, there are benefits and drawbacks. I’ll go a bit further than that though. Throughout human history most technologies have had significantly more and greater drawbacks than have been the benefits.

A surface deep inspection or a cursory examination might induce one to dispute this claim. However, consider this example of the introduction of cell phones, in a blog from three years ago. Cell phones and their use have introduced problems of: depression, anxiety, cyber bullying, e-waste, increased electricity use, uptick in CO2 emissions, environmental consequences of mining, nomophobia (cell phone addiction), social isolation, and cognitive impairment.

AI is no different. Indeed, it is worse, as one of the purposes of AI is to optimise situations. The chance that AI will exacerbate every other single problem is highly likely. Yet, there is little or no discussion taking place around the likely consequences of AI. The proponents of AI are leading the charge, hailing the benefits, and drowning out the voices of those who wish to apply the cautionary principle.

I wish to highlight just one area of concern regarding AI – its environmental consequences.

The electricity and water usage of AI are both significant. In 2022 AI data centres were the 11^th biggest electricity consumers in the world. If they were a country, then they would rank just short of that of France.

Microsoft and Exxon Mobil have entered into a partnership in which Exxon plans to use Microsoft’s AI and claims that the use of this technology will enable them to increase production by 50,000 oil-equivalent barrels per day.

All of which contributes to CO₂ equivalent emissions.

Water use for cooling AI data centres is also sizeable. Researchers at Cornell University claim that the use of water for these centres has been kept a secret, and estimate that 4.2 – 6.6 billion cubic meters of water will be consumed by AI by 2027 – half the total usage of the United Kingdom.¹

A further environmental concern with AI is that of e-waste, with AI expecting to account for 12% of global e-waste by 2030.

AI at Odds with EI

When the environmental consequences of AI are considered we must conclude that Artificial Intelligence is incompatible with Environmental Intelligence (EI). A search for Environmental Intelligence will often land you on pages that speak of gathering information and data from the environment and then analysing the data gathered.

This is not how I intend using the term Environmental Intelligence (EI) here.

EI to my mind is better thought of as the intelligence innately found in nature and includes the intelligence with which we humans bring to our entanglement and inter-relationships with nature. Many have tried to capture this form of EI. One of the best is that of Chief Sealth (sometimes known as Chief Seattle) in a speech he gave to his tribal assembly in 1854. His speech is an excellent example of EI.

Many versions of this speech exist, all of which derive from second-hand sources, yet the underlying sentiment remains. This extract is from that of the film scriptwriter, Ted Perry, in 1970. I will not quote the whole speech (it is 5 pages long²); rather just two paragraphs that condense the ideas contained in Chief Sealth’s speech into the essential concepts.

‘This we know. The earth does not belong to humans; humans belong to the earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood that unites one family. All things are connected.

Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons and daughters of the earth. Humans do not weave the web of life, we are merely a strand in it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves.’

This understanding of EI is clearly at odds with that of AI.

The two forms of intelligence are incompatible.

Yet, I read some highly visible so-called environmentalists utilising AI in their writing. This is disappointing. When I know that these authors use AI how can I be sure that what I read is their own thoughts or that of an AI-generated chatbot? I can’t.

Furthermore, it has been said that the easiest way to overcome a problem is to stop participating in it.

Just stop using AI! It is incompatible with EI.

P.S. This blogpiece has not been AI generated.

Notes:

1. Penfeng Li, et al, Making AI Less "Thirsty": Uncovering and Addressing the Secret Water Footprint of AI Models, Cornell University, 26 March 2025. https://arxiv.org/abs/2304.03271  accessed 16 April 2025

2. Chief Sealth speech cited in full in Seed, Macy, Fleming, Naess, Thinking Like A Mountain, New Society Publishers, Santa Cruz, CA, 1988, pp 67-73