What If We Just Start Now?
Lexie was one of several dogs climbing to the top of Whiteface Mountain with us
Before I get started with today's article, first let me express my gratefulness that you are here reading this. Thank you for being here! This article from Adrian Lambert describes very well the journey I have been on for the last decade and a half, and loneliness is a constant companion when one begins to comprehend overshoot and collapse fully. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, so I am trying to be mindful of all the things that I am thankful for and this is one of them. I have many things to be thankful for - that I am alive during this time, that I have been blessed with so much, that just last month I was enjoying another fantastic trip to the mountains with Lexie, and that I still have relatively decent health. May you and yours have an enjoyable time during this special holiday weekend! Now, on to today's material:
So many people share the illusion that, "if we just start now," (with regards to attempts to mitigate the predicament we find ourselves in) that I would like to address this once again with some new material. I understand the desire to be an activist, but without the knowledge of how all the systems which surround us are connected, how they all work, and more importantly, how WE work, one is destined to be frustrated at best.
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| Karl in his special shirt |
George Tsakraklides published an article that really brings a better understanding of our cognitive inadequacies into the spotlight:
"History continues to repeat itself as humans sink again and again into supremacy theories that can only result in conflict. I have spoken extensively before about how dangerous artificial hierarchies are, in my essay The Narrative of Conflict. Hierarchical thinking breeds endless violence. The keystone hypothesis was a huge, missed opportunity for humans not only to truly understand ecosystems, but to begin to apply non-hierarchical principles in social science, economics, philosophy and politics. All of these disciplines continue to be steeped in the deep quicksand of supremacy and the belief in the existence of Gods, Kings and Elites.
In a comment underneath the article, William E. Rees adds this:
I have outlined previously how one must first define who "we" is. Then one can discover our lack of agency, as the above quotes demonstrate. More often than not, people confuse the issues and don't generally appear to realize that ecological overshoot is the real issue, it is a predicament, and it has an outcome (collapse), not a solution. Sure, there is a way to reduce overshoot (by voluntarily reducing technology use) to reduce the harm that life will suffer, but how likely is that? Pretty close to zero chance. The reality is rather stark, as Mike Brock explains here.
Brock's angle is from a more political angle than my efforts at explaining technology addiction here. However, I think he understands the implications quite well. He also understands wetiko from a more political angle as well. So, can anyone tell me where technology use reduction has begun? What I see is the insanity of doubling down on technology use instead, with data centers popping up everywhere and AI being featured as the requirement for such facilities.
A new video from Nate Hagens [Frankly #108] helps explain the issue a bit, although this one from my last article might help clear up any misunderstandings. Make sure to focus on the 'What to Do' part at the 17:31 mark in the video. He brings up some ideas, but the first step to behavioral change is important to note. Keeping in mind that the tail will not "be deleted," and also keeping in mind the cognitive impediments discussed in both my last article and my article on the illusion of self and separation, the "what to do" part doesn't appear to be forthcoming anytime soon.
That brings us to the "now" part of the "if we just start now." I hate to bring this inconvenient truth into the mix, but the simple fact is that we aren't starting now. Oh, I'm certain that many people will chime in and tell me what they are doing, and that's great. But that infamous "we" part is what is missing. Just because you are doing something doesn't equate to most (or all) of society doing it. Individual action doesn't equal collective action and incremental change isn't sufficient to make any real difference in the outcome.
Nobody created this predicament by himself or herself - it is a collective issue, meaning that everyone must participate. So, if getting the ball rolling is your thing, go for it! My experience has been to watch people look at you (me) as if you're (I'm) crazy, so my advice is to go into it without expectations or attachment to outcome. The bottom line here is that for all the hype regarding the "if we just start now" trope, nothing that would qualify as a game changer has been done, is being done now, or will be done in the near future. Perhaps this picture tells the story just as accurately:
As I pointed out in another article recently, humans have the ability to make changes in their behavior, but this generally is limited to one or two behaviors at a time, not an entire system of changes, and not within one generation, like what would be required for any noticeable change in outcome (if that is even possible, something I am highly skeptical of). Another predicament that will likely prevent any mass attempt at behavior change is the rising cognitive disability here in the U.S.
As a result of these simple facts, I just don't see an ability to bring society to a pro-social future such as what Hagens discusses in the video [Frankly #108] unless and until society is ready to Love and Live Now enmasse. I see no hesitation within the overshoot community, but this community makes up a very small aggregate of society. When Hagens discusses the, "median pulling the mean back towards decency," he is talking about society becoming open again to loving one another. I'm just not seeing enough of this outside of our community (and I don't think I am well-enough informed of what is happening outside of our community to make a determination).
Here's a little story I will share from my new Good News Posts page on this blog:
"The first time I found the wire cut, I grabbed my rifle. The second time, my toolbox. The third time, I just brought a gallon of water.
My name is Arthur. I’m 73, and I farm the same dust-bowl patch in Arizona my grandfather did. It’s a quiet life, punctuated only by the hum of my old Ford and the angry voices on the talk radio. They talked a lot about the border, about the “invasion.” For a long time, their anger was my anger. My fence, a simple four-strand barbed wire affair, was my line in the sand. My property. My country.
Every Tuesday, like clockwork, I’d find it: a neat snip in the wire near the old mesquite grove at the far end of my property. The first time, I saw red. I imagined thieves, vandals. I sat on my porch with my Winchester across my lap until the sun went down, but saw nothing.
The second Tuesday, I sighed, loaded my toolbox, and spent an hour under the blazing sun, stretching and stapling the wire back into place. Cursed them with every turn of the pliers. They were making my life harder. Didn't they have any respect?
Then came the third Tuesday. I was out on the ridge, looking for a stray calf, my binoculars pressed to my eyes. I scanned past the broken fence and saw them. Huddled in the shade of the mesquite. A man, young, with shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and a little boy, no older than seven, who was leaning against him. The boy wasn’t crying. He was just still. Too still. The man held an empty plastic bottle, staring at it like it held all the answers.
The voices on the radio called them an invasion. A threat. But through my binoculars, all I saw was a father and his son. And they looked thirsty.
Something inside me snapped, but not in anger. It was a quiet, aching kind of break. I went back to the truck, drove home, and pulled a gallon jug of clean well water from my fridge. The next morning, before the sun was fully up, I drove out to the fence. I didn’t fix the wire. I just set the water down in the shade, right on the other side. Like I’d forgotten it there.
The next day, the water was gone. In its place, the two ends of the cut wire had been clumsily, but carefully, tied together with a strip of cloth from a t-shirt.
It became our silent conversation. Every few days, I’d find the wire cut. And I’d leave something behind. Not a handout. Just… things left behind. A bag of apples from my tree. Two sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. An old pair of my grandson’s sneakers that he’d outgrown. I never fixed the fence right away. I’d give it a day or two. When I’d come back, my offering would be gone, and the fence would be tied again. A small stack of smooth stones on the fence post one time. A single, wild desert marigold laid across the wire another.
One night, a wicked storm rolled in, the kind that turns the dry washes into raging rivers. I sat in my chair, listening to the wind howl, and I didn't think about my cattle. I thought about a father and a son.
The next morning, the ground was soft mud. I drove out, my heart pounding a little faster than usual. The fence was down in that section, flattened by the wind. And there, in the mud, were two sets of footprints walking away from it. Next to the post, etched into the wet earth with a stick, was a simple, perfect heart.
I never found the fence cut again.
Months later, a letter with no return address showed up in my P.O. box. Inside was a worn, folded photograph of that same little boy, smiling, standing in front of an elementary school. On the back, in careful handwriting, were three words."
“Gracias. Por el agua.”
Thank you. For the water.
The world is full of people shouting about building walls and drawing lines. But walls don't stop desperation, and lines on a map don't mean much to a thirsty child.
We’re told to pick a side. But kindness doesn't have a side.
It turns out, the most powerful thing you can do isn't to build a higher fence. It’s to leave a gallon of water on the other side, creating a little space for dignity to catch its breath."
It certainly would be great if society in general could go from the 'first time' to the 'third time' in this fictional story. The actual reality, however (at least here in the US), is similar to the 'first time' and appears to be worsening rather than otherwise.
Another issue is the idea that, by marching or chanting or making lots of posters and demonstrating, that anyone can make a difference. Eliza Daley shows that this is not the case and that all that energy spent only makes the existing predicament worse.
My point in all this is to highlight the predicament of overshoot (and all of its symptom predicaments) that we face and show how our very behavior, and the way that we think, is where the fault lay; and that the system of civilization itself, being unsustainable, cannot continue. Unless and until humans understand these points and begin the work of changing by opting out of the system to the extent possible, all that is really being accomplished is the continuation of the same behaviors that brought us to this point in time which will not help extricate us out of that system.
Andreas Malm and Wim Carton draw attention to all of this in an article about their new book, The Long Heat: Climate Politics When It's Too Late:
I think many people underestimate what is coming and how soon it is coming. Richard Crim explains the situation here. I have quite a few friends who, like me, think that degrowth is a great idea. I have personally embraced degrowth. However, just like me, they also think that voluntary degrowth at scale is just a fantasy. Leaf Rhetoric provides the details which foretell the actual reality that involuntary degrowth (collapse) is what will correct the system. Once one accepts this as reality and plans accordingly, he or she can move forward without false hope (aka hopium). What is required is not hope, but courage.
Yes, courage is what is needed - courage to take the necessary steps that acceptance makes you aware are needed. I provided a fairly complete map of what can be done, but honestly, whether one should do it or not is a judgment and I simply carried the title of the articles over. Why did I personally embrace degrowth? Because I could foresee that there was no alternative. Energy and resource decline was eventually going to force the issue, so I could attempt to continue living the same old way until I was forced to change, or I could begin learning new ways to live instead. Collapse now and avoid the rush sounded like wise words from John Michael Greer, and they still do. But whether one embraces degrowth and takes it upon himself or herself to actually begin that process or not, one should not be under any illusion that even a part of society will likewise begin said process (and it is a process) willingly. They will go down kicking and screaming.
Many times I have been asked why I write these articles, often with the tagline of, "...if we're so doomed?" Maybe, just maybe, other people will see the same things I see and come to acceptance of these predicaments like I did. Just because I see no reason to increase overshoot in a futile effort to maintain civilization doesn't mean that I chose to "give up" like many people have claimed. This is a false belief based on what those people perceived as some sort of "solution" or means of mitigating overshoot, which clearly was not and is not true. I simply recognize that fact (that civilization can not and will not be maintained) and choose not to join in with such ignorance. Acceptance can provide peace of mind that denial, anger, and bargaining cannot. Furthermore, the choice I made with my idea of mitigation is a far better choice than what most anyone else is doing, primarily because most people don't focus on changing their own personal behaviors - they are focused on external changes that really don't change anything because said external changes keep the overall system humming along. Look to nature for the best options says George Tsakraklides.
By the way, here is a newer set of resources compiled by Jan Andrew Bloxham for some holiday reading.
With that, I once again wish you and yours a very Happy Thanksgiving and plenty of time to relax, reflect, and rejuvenate. Now it's time for yet another set of pictures, this time from a Scenic Overlook and Falling Spring Falls and Dan Ingalls Overlook in Virginia!
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