"To love and bear; to hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates."
Shelley
The often lovely, blooming months from June through August
2021 were in other major respects the summer from hell—that is, the summer from
the future.
An intense heat dome clamped down on a huge chunk of the
normally cool Pacific Northwest, from Oregon to British Columbia and edging
into Alaska. Portland broke its all
time heat record three times in a week, topping out at 116F—hotter than the
hottest day ever measured in Houston or Atlanta. Roads collapsed, trolley rails
melted. Other places in Oregon and Canada were hotter than the hottest known
day in Las Vegas, in the Mohave Desert.
A British Columbia town had the hottest temperature ever recorded in
Canada—as hot as Death Valley.
In Alaska, glaciers were breaking apart so fast and
violently that they were creating ice quakes as powerful as small
earthquakes. Across the region,
hundreds of people died from the heat.
The heat did not end on the shore: an untold quantity of sea life
perished.
Some estimated that it was a once in several centuries
phenomenon: heat that hadn’t been seen since perhaps before Europeans knew the
place existed. Another estimate put it
at about 5,000 years—half the history of human civilization. Speaking of this event’s obvious
relationship to the larger crisis, climate scientist Peter Kalmus observed, “I
feel like the heat dome event in the Pacific Northwest moved up my sense of
where we are by about a decade or even more.”
Also this summer a heat wave in the Middle East included
temperatures in five countries that were higher than those in the Pacific
Northwest event. There was historic heat in Moscow and Australia. A heat wave across the Mediterranean included
the highest daily temperature ever recorded in Europe. It was reported in July that one day’s worth of melting
Greenland ice could cover the state of Florida in two inches of water. On
Greenland’s highest peak that only ever saw snow, it rained.
Globally, on land and sea, July 2021 was the hottest month
ever recorded in 142 years of measurement, and significantly hotter than the 20th
century average.
Ecologist Simon Lewis was among those to warn that literally
unlivable temperatures that have at times already been measured in Pakistan,
the Persian Gulf and even, momentarily, in Chicago, will occur over larger
areas and in new locations, and last longer, in coming decades.
The 2021 summer heat led to titanic fires in California and
11 other western states, as well as in Siberia, Greece and Italy. Many of these
fires are so huge and hot that they create their own fiery tornadoes, their own
thunder and lightning, as they burn through forests and fields, farms and
towns, for months. Some are burning still, not so far away, as I write this in
October.
The summer heat also deepened ongoing droughts around the
world. In Colorado, the largest
reservoir in the US declared the most severe water shortage in its 90 year
existence. In California, some rivers dried
before they reached the sea, and major species of salmon face extinction.
Historically heavy rains and floods shocked Germany and
Belguim, China and India, as well as London and several cities in the U.S. in
July. At the end of August, on the
anniversary of the devastating hurricane Katrina hitting New Orleans, the even
stronger hurricane Ida became only the third category 4 in history to make
landfall in Louisiana: one in 1856, and one last year. Even after weakening it carried heavy rains
on an unusual inland path, causing flash flooding in places like Pittsburgh
before flooding New York City subways and killing families in their basement
apartments. FEMA’s director noted that
recent hurricanes have formed faster, become larger and more destructive.
This hurricane—not likely to be the last of the
season—further demonstrated the deadpan truth that began a report in the New
York Times in July by Somini Sengupta: “The extreme weather disasters across
Europe and North America have driven home two essential facts of science and
history: The world as a whole is neither prepared to slow down climate change,
nor live with it.”
The summer brought additional news of forests being
slaughtered in the Amazon and Indonesia at record or near-record rates, of a
crash in the global population of insects (up to 75%) upon which bigger animals
and fish depend, of growing dead zones in the oceans, and of scientists worried
that the North Atlantic ocean current and the Gulf Stream have slowed down—the
doomsday scenario of The Day After Tomorrow.
In the midst of this, portions of the sixth assessment
report by the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change were
leaked and then issued—perhaps the last such report, one scientist observed,
that might make any difference, because if the world doesn’t act on this one,
there may not be time to prevent the worst in the farther future.
For as this summer shows, the future is already
happening. Agence France-Presse
summarized the report’s findings: “Climate change will fundamentally reshape
life on Earth in the coming decades, even if humans can tame planet-warming
greenhouse gas emissions...Species extinction, more widespread disease,
unlivable heat, ecosystem collapse, cities menaced by rising seas—these and other
devastating climate impacts are accelerating and bound to become painfully
obvious before a child born today turns 30.”
“The choices societies make now will determine whether our
species thrives or simply survives as the 21 century unfolds. But dangerous
thresholds are closer than once thought, and dire consequences stemming from
decades of unbridled carbon pollution are unavoidable in the short term.”
According to the IPCC report, “we need transformational
change operating on processes and behaviors at all levels.” To put it another
way, 14,000 scientists from 151 countries signed off on a study that predicted
“untold suffering” for humanity if it does not successfully address the climate
emergency.
But at least in the United States, thanks to ego-driven
partisan politics, and the heavy influence of gigantic fossil fuel
corporations, prospects for any substantial immediate action seemed dim. Meanwhile, the public response remains
largely divided between benumbed desperation and angry, self-righteous
denial. The denial is not surprising,
as the damage becomes obvious. It’s
very hard to admit that this society has contributed mightily to ongoing
self-destruction that could make the atom bomb look like less than a
firecracker.
The future, almost by definition, is always uncertain. But
the dominant context of human life in the next decades is becoming painfully
obvious. And what happens in those
decades looks like it will determine whether human civilization has more of a
future.
So where are the grounds for hope? From a philosophical or conceptual point of view, hope
presupposes a situation that has something wrong with it. Otherwise there would be no need to hope for
a better future.
Hope becomes an issue, and tends to arise, when things are very
bad. Before he became President of his
country, Vaclev Havel was a playwright and activist in communist Czechoslovakia who was jailed for
expressing his dissent. He championed a
particular view of hope.
“...the kind of hope
I often think about (especially in situations that are particularly hopeless,
such as prison),” he wrote in Disturbing the Peace, “ I understand above
all as a state of mind, not a state of the world. Either we have hope within us or we don’t; it is a dimension of
the soul, and it’s not essentially dependent on some particular observation of
the world or estimate of the situation.
Hope is not prognostication. It
is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart; it transcends the
world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its
horizons.”
There are those (such as the British author John Gray) who
see this current self-destruction as inevitable, because of the imperatives of
the “selfish gene” driving evolution.
But the orientation represented by Havel
may be at least partly based on a rejection of this rigid and
mechanistic view.
"To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly
romantic,” writes American historian and activist Howard Zinn, in the
concluding paragraphs of his 1994 book,
You Can’t Be Neutral On A Moving
Train. “It is based on the fact
that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion,
sacrifice, courage, kindness.”
“What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will
determine our lives,” Zinn continues.
“If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do
something. If we remember those times
and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this
gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this
spinning top of a world in a different direction.”
“ And if we do act, in however
small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of
presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of
all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory."
For Zinn and for others, to hope is to act. Hope as an emotion is insufficient. It may even be unnecessary. What makes hope is action. Hope is enacted. Hope for the future is not
primarily how you feel or don’t feel: hope is what you do.
Those of us winding up our lives may continue to contribute
to that future. There’s a lot of
bullshit out there characterizing and mostly maligning the Baby Boom generation,
and these projections and over-generalizations verge on slander. The activist element of the huge boomer
generation was always a minority, but those that remain may still direct their
resources to the future. Activists Bill
McKibben and Akaya Windwood recently published a piece in the Los Angeles Times
calling upon progressive boomers to once again step up, perhaps through the
organization they co-founded called Third Act.
“But older people too can be catalysts for deep change...If enough of
the 70 million of us who passed the six-decade mark join it, then we’ve got a
chance. We’ve done it before.”
But it is the young who have the greatest stake in the
future because they will live it, as will their children. So it is crucial that
they realize that hope is created by the choices they make.
A recent article in the Guardian is headlined: “No point in anything else’: Gen Z members
flock to climate careers.” “
Survey after survey shows young people are not just incorporating new
climate-conscious behaviors into their day-to-day lives—they’re in it for the
long haul. College administrators say
surging numbers of students are pursuing environmental-related degrees and
careers that were once considered irresponsible, romantic flights of fancy
compared to more ‘stable’ paths like business, medicine, or law.”
But environmental careers are just part of enacting
hope. There are choices within choices:
within medicine, public health and treatments for climate-related ills; within
law, environmental law is very important, as global impetus grows for giving
legal standing to the environment and the future itself.
Though business is more likely to be a self-deceptive
choice, Kim Stanley Robinson has argued for the necessity of changing the
global financial structure in order to address the immense scope and variety of
the climate emergency.
There are choices within the sciences, where research
remains a source of hope. The arts need to free themselves from consumerism and
apply themselves to reality on all levels. And effectively expressing what
needs to be done really, really needs to be done.
This commitment to hope in action begins basically with a
rejection, stated or not, of predominant values: making and spending money as
the object and activity and priority of life.
There is no financial stability in a world that is cooking itself.
Without becoming unrealistically one-sided, it may mean
rejecting the very idea of career, replacing it with vocation—the commitment to
use personal talents to be of use, to contribute.
As President Obama was leaving the presidency, he spoke to
his last group of White House interns. He advised them to get beyond career
goals, because ultimately the opportunities are often a matter of luck, of
happenstance. He told them instead to
emphasize not what they wanted to be, but what they wanted to do.
“Be kind, be useful,
be fearless,” he told them. I think I would change “fearless” to “brave.” But otherwise, I can’t think of a better
formula for hope for the future. We can live with the future in mind, but we
live only our own lifetime. We can only
decide how to live.
That's also why it's important to note that President Obama started out his advice with "Be kind." Hope's reality in the world is what we do, but also what we are. How we live is partly action--what do we choose, among the choices we have? But it is also how we are, to ourselves and others.
A few years ago I was talking about the prospects for the future in the context of the climate emergency with some high-powered tech industry people in their 20s and 30s. One of them saw it as a race--can the climate future be addressed effectively before it is too late to make enough of a difference? It is a race--and the truth of the near future is that it will remain a race for decades while no one knows whether it is being won or lost. There is too much of a time lag between cause and effect. So for the foreseeable future, the reality is the race, and the race is the reality.
For whatever the future holds, at least for the next several
decades, people are going to live in it.
That future will be their present.
In some respects, maybe many respects, life may be harder. But it could also be more exciting, more
enlivening.
That’s also where courage comes in: facing the apparent
hopelessness, and facing down those who insist on giving up, on living without
integrity and love for each other, for the future and the life of the
planet. “”Such hopelessness can arise,
I think, only from an inability to face the present, to live in the present,”
wrote Ursula Le Guin, “to live as responsible beings among other beings in this
sacred world here and now, which is all we have, and all we need to found our
hopes upon.”
I've been promising to end this series, which I will do with the next post, plus an appendix/bibliography.