No Answers Are Better Than Simplistic Answers

What is the answer to the question of life?

There are no answers to that question. Or, if there is an answer, then the answer is in the question itself.

If there are no answers, then does that mean there are no questions?

Not at all. There are many questions. There are probably more questions than there are grains of sand on a beach.

It is the question that is important, not the answer.

Albert Einstein, one of the foremost questioners of our time, made this clear when he advised; ‘Don’t listen to the person who has the answers, listen to the person who has the questions.’

Our world is huge. Our galaxy is enormous. Our cosmos is vast. Coming up with answers for just our world minimises and constricts our sense of wonder, let alone our galaxy and the cosmos.

Answers contain, enclose, and limit us. Questions open up, expand, and amplify our appreciation and awe.

Questioning in Turbulent Times

It is difficult to claim anything but that we are living in turbulent times. Environmentally we are witnessing cascading disasters – e.g. species extinction, turbulent weather systems, toxic waste pollution … Socially our political systems are increasingly polarising people. Wars seem continuous, shifting from one geopolitical hot-spot to another every few years. Individually we are suffering more and more from anxiety, depression, obesity, isolation, and bullying. All these examples are only a few of the plethora of examples that could be given.

In the various conversations around this topic can be heard the optimistic contention that when people are faced with increased severity and personal harm from disaster that they will ask questions of the systems from within which the problems emerge.

However, history and psychology suggest that instead of people asking questions around these plights, most often simplistic answers are sought instead.

And, where do we find simplistic answers? Amongst the socio-political extremes; where to question is out-of-the-question (if you’ll excuse the quip.)

This, in turn, leads to greater polarisation. Then, sadly, the answers proclaimed by each side morph into righteousness. One side claims to have the right answers and that the other side has the wrong answers. Of course, the other side claims the exact opposite.

In the ensuing shouting match, the ability to question gets tossed aside.

All this leads inevitably to …

… greater turbulence.

What can we do in the face of all this?

Keep questioning, especially questions that open our eyes, ears, and hearts to the wonder and mystery of the cosmos and our world. Yet, understand too, that each question only leads to further questions, not to simplistic answers.

Awareness Does Not Come From Watching “The News”

Watching “The News” in the evening or listening to News items during the day is almost a ritual for many people today. Does this make us more aware of what is going on in the world? Does this make us more aware of the intricacies of the world? Does this make us more aware of the issues of the world? Does this make us more aware of the suffering of the world? Does this make us more aware of the beauty and joy in the world?

Probably not!

“The News” presented to us today is more a parade of commentaries and opinions than it is a presentation of current events.

It is like watching a football match on TV and having the match commentators tell us what the defensive strategy of a team should be, or where on the field the striker needs to be running to. Sports commentators seem to be more interested in brandishing their haughty knowledge of how the players on the teams should be playing the game, than in commenting upon what is actually happening in the game.

“The News” is no different.

Indeed, if one wishes to become aware of the world and the reasons behind what is going on, then switching off the TV would be a good first step. The “News” we watch today is more likely to obscure and obfuscate reality than it is to elucidate it.

A few weeks ago I participated in a group conversation about the “News.” There were the obligatory complaints that it is all negative and how this played havoc with our emotional states. But there was one comment that caught my attention. Someone commented that watching the news was not all bad because, ‘it gives you something to talk about.’

After a brief chuckle to myself I realised he was correct in one sense: people do talk about “the News.” However, it is unlikely to be an informed conversation as the conversation is likely to simply repeat the opinions that are being slanted as “news.” If not repeated, then another flawed opinion is likely to be added to the conversation to challenge the initial spurious argument.

Nor is having the “News” to talk about able to bring about greater awareness. The “News” is a diversion. Watching Roman gladiatorial games no doubt also gave the Romans something to talk about.

Meantime the Roman Empire was collapsing.

Just as our civilisation today is collapsing. But we’ll never hear or see that on “the News.”

Large Language Models: Destroyers of Communication

This blog is on a topic I know little about. However, I do know three things. First, I know how to listen to my inner-tutor (my intuition) and second, I know how to listen to experts in the field. Third, and most importantly, I know how important trust is to the building and maintenance of community and global well-being.

Large Language Models (LLMs) are computational models that enable language generation and processing. Probably the most well-known expression of LLMs is ChatGPT.

When I listen to my intuition and the thoughts of experts, I grow increasingly wary of, and sceptical of, LLMs and Artificial Intelligence (AI) in general.

AI poses many threats and risks to humanity and the rest of the world. To mention just a few here: 1. The energy use by AI is doubling every 100 days, 2. Studies are now being show that LLMs are learning to lie and deceive, 3. Universities and other institutions are being challenged by the issue of plagiarism and originality of thought because of LLMs, 4. Inbuilt bias (gender, race, class, sexuality etc) occurs in the ‘harvesting of words’¹ that LLMs undertake, 5. AI undermines democracy and privacy.

I want to focus here on another issue, that of trust.

First though, we must discuss what communication is and is not. Communication is not simply the passing on of information. As with many words in the English language, communication comes to us via Latin, in this case, communicare. In Latin this word can be translated as: to share, divide out, join, unite, participate in, impart, inform.

Communicare itself derives from communis, meaning in common. Com = with, together, and unis = oneness, union.

When we understand this, we realise that communication is much, much, more than simply passing on information.

Communication is a means to commune, a way of building and maintaining relationships. Wholesome communication is a cornerstone of healthy communities.

This is what AI destroys.

Relationships are built on trust, and that is what LLMs undermine.

A study undertaken by the University of Queensland in 2023 of over 17,000 people from 17 countries showed that three out of five people were wary of trusting AI systems.²

Not trusting AI systems is one thing. Not trusting each other is another. AI does nothing to mitigate the already high levels of mistrust and polarisation in the world. It may indeed exacerbate it.

The reason for this is that LLMs are not a communication tool. They are simply an information tool. They pass on information, without regard to the veracity of the information gleaned and generated.

Let me pose a scenario, which is likely to become more prevalent in the future. Suppose I am in communication with someone and have built a relationship of trust with that person. When I read something from them I do not question that what I read is that person’s own ideas and thought.

But then, what happens if I discover that that person has begun to use ChatGPT (or other AI) to generate what they write? Will I accept that the words are indeed those of the person I am in communication with?

If all I am interested in is the information in what I read, then I will possibly be accepting of the material.

However, if my concern is more that of maintaining a relationship with that person (including the exchange of information) then knowing that the material has been generated by AI, and not by the person themselves, my trust in future interactions with that person is likely to be diminished. In other words, the communication between us is seriously undermined.

LLMs, and AI generally, is poised to damage levels of trust between people. When trust is destabilised then relationships founder, and polarisation follows.

Already, the levels of inter-personal (and inter-national) trust are decreasing, and polarisation  increasing.³ AI exacerbates this trend.

AI is destroying true communication.

Notes:

1. Harvesting of words: a term used by Tracey Spicer in a public presentation on Artificial Intelligence, 8 June 2024. Spicer is the author of Man-Made: How the bias of the past is being built into the future, Simon & Schuster, Australia, 2023.

2. Gillespie, N., Lockey, S., Curtis, C., Pool, J., & Akbari, A. Trust in Artificial Intelligence: A Global Study. The University of Queensland and KPMG Australia. 2023, doi:10.14264/00d3c94

3. For example, in the US less than 40% of people felt that ‘most people can be trusted.’ Dan Vallone et al., Two Stories of Distrust in America, More in Common, New York, 2021.

Less Pointing, More Listening

Last week’s blog bemoaned the pointing of the finger in religious circles. The theme of that blog could just as easily be applied to many other human spheres: politics, economics, philosophy, history, statehood, even opposing football teams.

When we consider the many interlocking, and mutually reinforcing, ills of the world today, they can all be traced back to three basic disconnections: disconnection from nature, disconnection from each other, and disconnection from our own selves.

Our willingness, often eagerness, to point the finger of blame is one of the most perfidious behaviours that reinforces the disconnection from each other.¹

The blame game sets up, and maintains, an us/them separation. The dualism of this results in further dualisms of right/wrong, good/evil, and superior/inferior. Blaming says ‘I am right, you are wrong,’ and that no further discussion can be entered into – the judgment has already been formed and delivered.

We may not realise that in pointing the finger, not only does this help disconnect us from others; it also serves to disconnect us from our very selves.

Without realising it, blaming others is often based in fear. Fear, in turn, drives three possible responses – fight, flight, or freeze. Pointing the finger is a fight response. It increases adrenalin in our body, priming us to prepare to fight (even if fight may solely be a war of words.) Physical or verbal, this fight disturbs our emotional state, and our sympathetic nervous system takes over. Of course, this response can be useful, but not if it remains on high alert.

The negative mental state that this fosters can lead to heart problems.

Once we enter the blame game it is very easy to get hooked when others are playing the same game. When other players point their finger at us, our response can easily be to return the gesture. Blame stimulates and encourages blame. Blame does not eliminate our fight response; it keeps us ready to fight.

When the act of blaming becomes habitual (as it can) the negative effects of continued heightening of the sympathetic nervous system become chronic. Heart problems are the symptom.

An Antidote – Listening

How can we relieve ourselves of this state? One of the antidotes to blaming is listening. Not the sort of listening which is simply a vehicle for finding a space in which to voice our own opinions, thoughts, or retorts however.

What is required is creative (sometimes called active) listening. This sort of listening involves various techniques and behaviours that can be learnt. Examples of some of these techniques are as follows:²

Reflecting:  A speaker may use a word or a phrase at the end of a thought.  Reflecting that word or phrase back encourages the speaker to continue or to expand on the thought.  Reflecting also helps the speaker to realise that they have been accurately listened to.

Paraphrasing:  Closely related to reflecting, paraphrasing is summarising in the listeners words what it is that they have understood the speaker to have said.  This enables the speaker to know that they have been accurately heard and to correct any misapprehension that the listener may have.

Non-verbal Actions:  It is important to realise that communication involves so much more than the words being spoken (or heard).  For the listener this means using non-verbal actions that show an interest in what the speaker is saying.  A simple smile, a nod of the head or eye contact help to convey such attention.  A word of caution however; in some cultures eye contact can be interpreted as a sign of rudeness, so be warned.

Clarification:  Questions of a clarifying nature can be useful to help a speaker know that they have been listened to and to more fully explore what it is they wish to convey.

Positive Reinforcement:   Words such as “go on,” “tell me more,” can be encouraging but should be used sparingly so as not to become distracting.  Words that imply agreement (e.g. “yes,” “very good,” or “indeed”) can become annoying and it is usually better to wait until a time when it is appropriate to indicate agreement on behalf of the listener.

When listening in this way is practiced it becomes very difficult, nigh on impossible, to judge and blame another person.

Furthermore, creative listening allows our parasympathetic nervous system to settle us. The parasympathetic nervous system is the system that restores us to a state of calm and maintains that state. Ultimately, this eases the stress on our body, especially our heart. It’s got to be good for us!

In conclusion then: Less pointing and more listening can help overcome our disconnection from others, and from our own selves.

Notes:

1. In my life I have struggled frequently to remove myself from the blame game. Hence, I know how hard it can be to do so.

2. When first learning these techniques they can feel mechanical, contrived, or clinical. However, with practise and continual use, they eventually become natural and simply part of our listening style.

Silent Listening

A few years ago, someone pointed out to me that the word LISTEN is an anagram of the word SILENT. That’s pretty cool I thought. Cool, maybe, yet the connection between the two words is significant.

Whether listening to someone else, listening to ourselves, or listening to nature; the role of silence is critical. Indeed, it could be argued that the ability to be silent is the most basic skill required to truly listen.

Listening to Others

Listening to other people is perhaps the first thing that comes to mind when we hear (or read) the word listen. And, not without cause. We spend a lot of time in communication with other people; whether sitting in a café chatting over a coffee, spending time in intimate conversation with significant others, or in a formal (or informal) setting with a group of people.

If you were a ‘fly-on-the-wall’ and able to listen-in to these conversations you would probably notice that there is not a lot of quiet time, not much silence.

Yet, silence could bring a greatly enhanced meaning to conversations. Silence can allow for a more abundant depth of listening than can a spoken response. This is especially true of conversations involving significant emotional content (such as: grief, turmoil, ecstasy, wonder, pain and loss, depression, or love and excitement.)

Silence is recognised as a core skill in the art of active/creative listening. It is a crucial part of healing circles, or indeed, any groupwork circle. Within such circles the sharing is often deep, emotionally imbued, and sometimes uttered from a place of vulnerability. Silence following such sharing does two things: First, it indicates to the sharer (speaker) that they have been heard, and that what they shared is acknowledged within the silent space that follows. Second, it allows those of us who have been privileged to listen to drop into a silent space to reflect upon what has been said and discover our common humanity.

Listening to Nature

Richard Louv¹ coined the term Nature Deficit Disorder in 2005 to recognise the growing awareness that our disconnection from nature had serious implications, not only for our environment, but also for our own selves.

The writer, Hermann Hesse, noted that, ‘Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.’

That requires silence. To go into the forest, or the bush, or any natural setting, obliges us to do so in silence. In silence it is possible to truly hear what the trees, nature, the forest, the birds, the animals, are saying. Such an encounter with nature is at the heart of the Japanese practice of shinrin yoku (literally meaning to bathe in the forest environment, to take in the forest through giving mindful attention to our senses.) One of the first researchers into the benefits of forest bathing, Yoshifumi Miyazaki, says that ‘…it is clear that our bodies still recognise nature as our home…’ ²

To reconnect with nature, to recognise our home, and gain the tremendous benefits that home (nature) provides, we must appreciate the significant role of silence.

Listening to Ourselves

How often do we truly listen to ourselves? Were we to stop and sit, and honestly listen to ourselves, we might be surprised by what we learn. The 17^th century French mathematician, physicist, and philosopher, Blaise Pascal, went further, proposing that, ‘All of humanity’s problems stem from (our) inability to sit quietly in a room alone.’

Is Pascal correct in this assertion? Perhaps if we did as he suggested, and sat in silence for awhile and listened, we might discover that he was telling a truth.

How do we listen to ourselves?

One of the most beautiful descriptions of this inner listening comes from Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr Baumann, a Ngangikurungkurr woman from northern Australia. She describes the word dadirri as:

“inner, deep listening and quiet, still awareness. Dadirri recognises the deep spring that is inside us. We call on it and it calls to us. This is the gift that Australia (and the world – ed.) is thirsting for. It is something like what you call ‘contemplation.’ When I experience dadirri, I am made whole again. I can sit on the riverbank or walk through the trees; even if someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent awareness. There is no need of words. A big part of dadirri is listening. Through the years we have listened to our stories. They are told and sung, over and over, as the seasons go by. Today we still gather around the campfires and together we hear the sacred stories.”³

What we further notice in this beautiful word picture is that all three aspects of listening (to others, to nature, and to ourselves) are woven together like a fine tapestry.

How do we do this? What techniques should we develop so that we can access that deep spring of awareness? There seems to be four barriers we must first get past:⁴

1.   Declutter your mind.  Tapping into your inner wisdom is difficult if there is a lot of clutter in the way.  You will find your own way to declutter; some ways are to go for a walk, get into nature, listen to music or meditate.  Perhaps a shower.  Have you noticed how often you’ll get a good idea in the shower?  It’s surprisingly common.  Whatever you do, you need to give your mind freedom.

2.   Ignore what you know.  Intuition deals more with feelings, insights and emotions than it does with facts and figures.  This does not mean that you reject the facts and figures, just put them aside and ask yourself how you feel about the question, issue or problem?  How is your body responding?

3.   Get out of your head.  Go with your gut.  Often we get a “gut feeling” before our brain takes over and becomes the “knower.”  Get in tune with your gut.  Do your stomach muscles contract and tighten or do they relax?  Does your heart and chest feel as if it is expanding?

4.   Let go the need to control.  Our rational mind tells us that we should be in control at all times.  However, when we wish to tap into our inner wisdom we need to surrender this desire, and trust that our intuition will provide us with insights without our need to dictate what those insights might be.

Once we get past these four barriers, then we need to simply sit and simply be silent. Not easy, admittedly, but worth the effort to become practiced with.

Since first being alerted to the anagram of SILENT and LISTEN I have come to appreciate the strong connection between the concepts of each. Silence is a crucial element in true listening, and if we wish to truly listen then we must utilise silence.

The fact that they are anagrams of each other is a reminder of this connection.

Notes:

1. Louv, Richard: Last Child in the Woods: Saving our children from nature deficit disorder, Workman Publishing Company, New York, 2005.

2. Miyazaki, Yoshifumi: Shinrin Yoku, The Japanese art of forest bathing, Timber Press, Portland, Oregon, 2018.

3. For a full description of dadirri and more information about the work of Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr Baumann go to her Foundations website – www.miriamrosefoundation.org.au Accessed 23 November 2022.

4. Adapted from, Meder, Bruce: Opportunities Emerging: Social change in a complex world, Rainbow Juice Publishing, Coffs Harbour, NSW, Australia, 2016.

Right Of Speech - Right Speech

The Right to Freedom of Expression and Speech seems to be an indisputable one doesn’t it? After all, it has been a right for centuries. France’s Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen adopted in 1789 during the French Revolution declared it an inalienable right. Two years later, the First Amendment to the United States Constitution protected freedom of speech.

In 1948, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights – Article 19 of which declares that, “Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression.”

Today, we hear this right being insisted upon often. It is insisted upon by those wishing to spread misinformation and lies as much as by those wishing to oppose such lies.

Underlying this insistence is the assertion that the individual is paramount. “My rights,” we hear, “are inalienable, and shall not be impinged upon by society.”

The cult of the individual is very much a westernised one. Although, even in western cultures it may be only fairly recent. Alexis de Tocqueville, writing in 1856, said that individualism was “not a word used by our ancestors, for no one could rely solely on themselves to survive and prosper.”¹

More recently, individualism has grown another limb – that of Toxic Individualism. Having a belief in oneself, or a self-reliance, is one thing, but that sense of self becomes toxic individualism when an individual refuses to recognise or understand the impact one has on the lives of others and their community.

Right Speech

Several non-westernised cultures have a differing understanding of what it means to be an individual. The individual is not separate from, nor separate to, other people or nature. The Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, recognises that “I am, therefore you are. You are, therefore I am. We inter-are.”

This concept of inter-connection and non-separation is quite different to the westernised idea of the individual as standing apart.

The recognition of inter-connection has, as would be expected, a bearing upon speech. Less emphasis is given to Right of Speech and more given to Right Speech.

Right Speech is given prominence in the 8-fold path of the Buddha. Although often translated as right, the Pali word samma, could also be translated as best, wise, skillful. Indeed, such translations may be the better ones, as the word right has unfortunate associations with one side of the right-wrong dualism.

If we consider the concept of Wise Speech, Skillful Speech, or Best Speech, we begin to understand the impact our speech can have on those around us, and even upon ourselves.

When the Buddha introduced the 8-fold path, he also spoke of the connection between thoughts, words, deeds, and character. The following poem encapsulates the Buddha’s ideas, although the derivation of the poem is disputed:

“The thought manifests as the word;

The word manifests as the deed;

The deed develops into habit;

And the habit hardens into character;

So watch the thought and its ways with care;

And let it spring from love

Born out of concern for all beings.

As the shadow follows the body,

As we think, so we become.”²

When we speak our words have effects. (If they did not, why would we speak them?) Often we can see the effect our words have had, after we have spoken them. It is as though we watch the ripples flowing behind us in the wake of the ship we are steering. Once the wake has been made, we can no longer control the ripples. Yet, we also have the option to understand the ripples we make, before we make them. This is the bow-wave of our ship. The wake that precedes us. To be a-wake literally means to be so attuned to the wake we are creating that we fully understand its ripples.

The Right Speech of the 8-fold path is further enunciated and specifically advises avoiding, 1. lies, 2. divisive speech, 3. harsh speech, and 4. idle chatter.

What if we were to be mindful of Right Speech as we proclaim our Right of Speech? Would we see the divisiveness, the hatred, the bigotry, and the prejudices we see, and hear, today? Maybe, although I suspect there would be much less. And in that lessening, we might create a space for us to truly listen to one another. We might enter a deep listening, similar to that which Thich Nhat Hanh hopes for:

“Deep listening is the foundation of Right Speech. If we cannot listen mindfully, we cannot practice Right Speech. No matter what we say, it will not be mindful, because we’ll be speaking only our own ideas and not in response to the other person.”

Right Speech does not suggest that we give up our Right to Speech, only that we use it wisely.

Notes:

1. Alexis de Tocqueville, L'Ancien Régime et la Révolution (The Old Regime and the Revolution), 1856.

2. This poem has often been attributed to the Buddha, yet it does not appear in any of the early Buddhist texts. The origin remains uncertain, although many Buddhists would say that the sentiments are those of the Buddha, even if the Buddha did not say them. Other scholars suggest the poem may be of Christian origin from the 19^th century.

Excitement Of Life

Today, where I live, marks an easing of restrictions on the wearing of masks in public. At my local café I asked the person who served me how they were. “How are you?” I asked. The reply came back.

“I am very well this morning. We don’t have to wear a mask.”

The barista who served me made a similar comment, then added. “Isn’t it strange that we are excited about something like this, about returning to normal?”

That got me thinking. Yes, it is exciting. Pursuing that thinking, I arrived at the next question:

What gets us excited about life? What makes a normal life exciting? What stirs us, what rouses us to participate in (normal) life?

Literally, excite means to set something in motion in an outward direction. What feelings do we wish to express? What internal emotions are stirred within us that we wish to show to the world?

Excitement in our contemporary world tends to suggest something we are looking forward to eagerly, or that something we have witnessed or experienced brings up feelings of joy, delight, and wonder.

In its literal sense excitement could also be an expression of sadness or even something stronger – revulsion maybe.

Whatever it may be, to be excited is to be able to express our full gamut of emotions. When we do this, we enter our world fully present to what it has to offer, and how we decide to experience it.

So, what excites you? What feelings spread through your body when you first wake from sleep? What emotions do you feel when you interact with another person – perhaps the barista at your local café? What emotions does the aroma of the coffee, or its taste, allow you to experience?

Such excitement is available to us every day, not just those days when we head back to normalcy.

Perhaps I will shift my greeting from one of “How are you?” to one of “What excites you today?”

Transport Reflections

This morning I was cycling with my neighbour on a route we take often, but had not ridden for a couple of weeks. At that time of day (5.30 – 7.00 am) we occasionally meet other people out walking, either alone or with one other person. Sometimes these early morning walkers have a dog with them. We have begun to recognise familiar faces.

This morning as we cycled up a hill, we encountered a woman and her dog walking down the hill. As we passed, we called out a greeting. Her response was: ‘Lovely to see you back again.’

I remarked to my neighbour that the greeting was lovely to hear. The woman with her dog had obviously seen us before and remembered us. She had also, clearly, noticed that we had been absent for a few weeks.

It got me thinking and reflecting upon the nature of transport.

Would the same interaction have occurred if the woman was driving her car, and we were also in a car, travelling in the opposite direction?

No, it would not have.

Culturally, we have become addicted, and dependent upon, travelling faster, easier, and more comfortably. We tell ourselves that this is necessary. We have to get to work. We have to get the kids to school. We have to do the weekly grocery shopping. We have to go to the movies, or a restaurant, or to some other entertainment venue.

And, doing all that, what do we do?

We enclose ourselves in a metal and plastic vehicle weighing anywhere from one tonne to more than two tonnes. It is totally enclosed. The world is shut out, and we are shut in.

We travel at speed. We travel with ease; all we need do is steer and press our foot on the accelerator. We travel in comfort; the seats are cushioned, the music (or audiobook) comes to us from well positioned speakers.

We interact with no-one - unless there are others in the vehicle. We do not hear the birds singing, we do not hear the leaves in the trees rustling. We often don’t even see the landscape through which we are passing.

Weak Ties

I notice it time and time again though, that when walking or cycling, the opportunity for small interactions - a friendly wave, a smile, a greeting - arise continuously. Researchers have labelled these interactions and relationships as weak ties.

Such small and brief relationships are not what we commonly think of when we think of community or friendship, or even acquaintanceships. They do not loom large in our thinking when it comes to how we conceive of our sense of belonging.

Yet, these weak ties can be just as important as the strong ties in our lives, and in our sense of community and belonging. Some pioneering research in 2013¹ suggested that “…seemingly trivial social experiences can shape belonging and well-being in the real world.”

Last week’s blog suggested we let go.

This week’s blog suggests we slow down, stop looking for the easy solution, and get out of our comfortable vehicles.

This week’s blog suggests we start walking or cycling. We might find the small, weak, interactions that we have along the way bring us a greater sense of belonging and well-being.

As a bonus, we would be doing the environment a great benefit.

Note:

1. Gillian M Sandstrom and Elizabeth W Dunn, Is Efficiency Overrated? Minimal Social Interactions Lead to Belonging and Positive Affect, in Social Psychology and Personality Science, September 2013.

Our Second Biggest Threat

Will the human race survive the Anthropocene Extinction – the sixth mass extinction?  It’s debatable.  And, what threatens our chances of survival?  This blog names our second biggest threat.

Covid?  The current (this blog written in August 2021) pandemic sweeping the world may or may not be the precursor to other more virulent pandemics to come.

No, covid is not our second biggest threat.

Climate chaos then?  We know the world is getting warmer.  We know that our human produced carbon emissions are a large part of that warming.  We know this warming is causing climate chaos.  We know this will almost certainly worsen.

No, not even climate chaos is our second biggest threat.

Perhaps ecological overshoot?  We know we have been extracting more and more from the earth, and producing more and more waste and pollution.  We know that since the early 1970s the earth has not been able to keep up with our ecological demand.  Our ecological footprint massively exceeds the earths biocapacity.

No, ecological overshoot is not our second biggest threat.

Our second biggest threat is our increasing polarization, and, along with it, our seemingly diminishing ability to communicate with one another.

This current covid pandemic is a glaring example of our inability to engage with one another in mutually respectful, and creative ways.  Take a look at social media posts about covid.  Two primary ‘camps’ seem to have formed.¹  In one camp are those who say we must all wear masks, get a vaccine, accede to lock-downs.  The other camp comprises those who say all the restrictions threaten individual rights, and that the vaccines are dangerous.

Each camp has its adherents who are prepared to hurl abuse at those in the other camp.  Each camp has those who label the other camp followers as ‘idiots,’ ‘uneducated ignoramuses,’ or worse epithets.  Each camp claims that the other does not know what they are talking about.  Each camp accuses the other of not doing their research.

In short, each camp has proponents who are unwilling to engage with the other.

That is the threat.

If we are unable to engage with each other, without descending into name-calling and judgemental accusations, then there is very little chance that we can find any passage through the threats of climate change and ecological overshoot.  And, without that ability to engage with one another, we will not survive the Anthropocene Extinction.

The inability to engage with one another, though, is itself a symptom of the second biggest threat.

Polarization.

Again, covid is a very good marker of this trend to further and further polarization.  Each of the camps referred to above seem to be becoming further and further entrenched in their own ‘truth story.’  Each seem to be retreating into an echo chamber, wherein those who disagree are kept outside (defriended on facebook for example) and more and more evidence for their viewpoint can be found within the echo chamber.

Covid is only the latest example of this increasing polarization.  In a disturbing piece of research published in 2015, researchers in the U.S. tracked the level of cooperation, or lack thereof, between Democrats and Republicans in the U.S. House of Representatives between 1949 and 2012.  The results (see diagram) are revealing.²  Polarization has been increasing during those sixty plus years. Democrats are in blue, Republicans in red.

Of course, it could be argued that the U.S. House of Representatives does not represent the state of the world.  That is true, but only to an extent.  Our political systems often reflect the situation within the electorate, and/or tend to guide that level of political/social discourse within the electorate.  Furthermore, we know that the U.S. has a huge influence upon the culture of the western world.

Furthermore, we have established infrastructure that exacerbates, even thrives on, polarization.  Our parliamentary and legal systems, in particular, are structured on adversarial lines.  These are recipes for polarization.

Sadly, there is no way we can negotiate our way through covid, climate chaos, or ecological overshoot, if we remain trapped within echo chambers, especially echo chambers that we are adding more and more soundproofing to.

That is why polarization is our second biggest threat.

Our Biggest Threat?

You may be wondering what I consider our biggest threat to be?

Polarization is an inevitable outcome of a disconnect from one another.  When we view humanity in terms of ‘us’ and ‘them’ then we have begun the slippery slide towards polarization.

Our disconnect from one another is itself constructed on an even more fundamental disconnection.

Our disconnection from nature.

This is our biggest threat.  Yet, it is a threat we hardly even see, let alone acknowledge.  Starting with our disconnect from nature we easily slide into a disconnection from one another, and further still – a disconnection from our own selves (I prefer the term ‘soul’). 

When that happens, we find ourselves on a slide that ends with toxic individuality – the ultimate disconnect, and the ultimate polarization.

Is there a way to recover?  Is there a way to reconnect?  Is there a way to step out of our echo-chambers?  Is there a way to rediscover our souls?

Is there a way to survive?

Notes:

1. Presently it does appear that each of these ‘camps’ constitute only a small segment of the population.  Most people seem to be placing themselves outside of either camp.  How long that will last is unknowable.

2. https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0123507 Accessed 25 August 2021

Difficult Conversations

Some conversations are difficult to have, aren’t they?  Some are perhaps too difficult.  Who begins the conversation?  Who is willing to risk the loss of friendship, or status, or income, in order to initiate a difficult, yet vital, conversation?

Socially and culturally, we are faced with just such a decision now.

The evidence for environmental collapse, and therefore social collapse, is mounting almost weekly.  We may have already tipped the tipping points of climate chaos.  It may be that we have passed the opportune time to make the changes necessary to avoid runaway climate change.  It may be that no matter what we do now, we will not be able to keep global warming beneath 2 degrees C.

If that is so, and the likelihood is extremely high, then what sort of conversations should we be having?  At a minimum the conversations need to focus on: can we adapt to a rapidly heating world, how do we do so, what do we focus on, do we need to change focus?

What might a post-collapse society look like?  Asking that question is not meant to elicit simply possibilities; such a question requires some deliberate thought put into what do we do to prepare, and what do we do to increase the chance that some form of human existence will rise from the ashes of collapse?  Whatever that future looks like, there is one thing we can be certain of – it will not look like the current society, it will not be a return to “business as usual.”

Those are difficult conversations.

They are difficult because they challenge our sense of hope, they challenge our desire for control, they challenge our wish for certainty.  Fundamentally, they challenge our mortality.  They challenge our self-preservation instinct.  They challenge us psychologically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Tragically, the longer we remain trapped within the, now redundant, conversation of how to avert, stop, and reverse climate chaos, then the longer we put off the conversations that we need to be having.

We had chances before

Since the mid-20^th century we have had chances to engage in difficult conversations – and failed to take them.  Had we taken those chances then, we may have been in a different place today and not have to engage in the difficult conversation about what to do in the face of environmental and social collapse.

In the late 1960s through to the late 1970s we had warnings of environmental crises.  Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring was published in 1962, followed by books such as, The Population Bomb, A Blueprint for Survival, the ground-breaking Limits to Growth, and Small is Beautiful.  All these pointed to the degradation of the environment and suggesting that a change was needed in our approach to living with Mother Earth.  These writers and others hoped for some difficult conversations.  They did not happen, or at least did not happen at a large enough scale.

During the 1990s we had a chance to have another difficult conversation – this time about global warming (later termed climate change and now climate chaos.)  Bill McKibben’s The End of Nature in 1989 heralded the possibility of such a conversation.  Although a global climate conference had been held as early as 1979, it was not until 1988 that the International Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) was established.  Since then there have been numerous reports and conferences related to climate change.  It would be hard to contend that the difficult conversations needed then (twenty or thirty years ago) took place.  The difficult conversations related to climate change have only begun to occur in the last decade or so.

Far too late!

Climate change has passed us by whilst we stood about engaged in small talk.

Will we let this opportunity to initiate difficult conversations also pass us by?

The conversations we need to be having now are even more difficult than the ones we should have had over the past sixty years.

Recognising Our Mortality

It is claimed that human beings are the only species able to contemplate our own death.  Other species (e.g., elephants) do seem to mourn the deaths of one of their own, but we do not yet know whether they associate that with their own eventual death.  Understanding that we will die on an individual level confronts us with our emotional and psychological response to that knowledge.  There appears to be two broad responses; a fear and anguish-inducing despair, or a calm and deliberate acceptance, almost a contented yearning (for some.)

At a societal and cultural level any talk of demise of humanity raises possibilities of despair and dismal gloominess.  Such feelings can easily lead to inaction and a lacklustre outlook – a “what’s-the-point” attitude. 

These difficult conversations will need to acknowledge and embrace that possibility.

However, recognising the collapse of society need not be faced with despair and anguish.  Moving beyond despair, anguish, anger, and denial may enable us (collectively) to re-discover what is beautiful in the world.  We may move into a realm of love born out of our grief.  Rupert Read, an English academic and active in the UK Extinction Rebellion movement, counsels that, “Grief is how love survives loss.”  Wise words. 

For the future post-collapse to embrace beauty and love we need difficult conversations.  We need to be able to move the conversation from one based on fear (the threat of climate change) to one based on love.  Charles Eisenstein notes in his book Climate: A New Story¹ that what often brought people to an environmental awareness and activism was love – a love for the forests, bush, mountains, oceans, birds, animals, trees. 

It is possible to re-animate that love of nature and beauty, even whilst acknowledging social collapse.  Those who are closer to the end of their lives may be able to recognise that easier than someone much younger.  Yet, paradoxically, that is why we must engage in the difficult conversations. 

Older people must engage with younger people.  Because the older generation failed to have difficult conversations in the past, it now means the older generations have failed their children and future generations.  We must have difficult conversations.  We need to tell the truth.  We need to acknowledge that we have failed.  Trying to protect children from that truth is another failure.  We must have the difficult conversations even if it means admitting that our previous failures have condemned future generations to ecological and social collapse.  We must not fail again.

Colonising cultures must engage with colonised cultures.  The colonisers of the world (primarily euro-centric, western-styled cultures) must admit that our impact upon the earth and upon indigenous society has been a failure.  Ignoring that and continuing to act as if we can “solve” the problems we have wrought is another failure.    

No matter who we are, or where we are on our individual life’s journey – we must have difficult conversations.

Note:

1. Charles Eisenstein, Climate: A New Story, North Atlantic Books, Berkeley, California, 2018.