The ironic shadow cast by the light of self-awareness is the dark foreknowledge of that same self’s inescapable demise. And yet, putting aside beliefs in an afterlife, we can find solace in knowing that we somehow continue through our children, our creative works, or our meaningful contributions to an enduring culture. What happens to that sense of continuity and meaning in the face the apocalyptic twins: the threats of nuclear war and ecocide?
To my mind, the possibility that humanity could cause its own extinction casts a dark shadow of radical discontinuity and meaninglessness. What are we to make of a species (even if only a small subset of that species) that sacrifices its future to the gods of profit, convenience, or military conquest? No wonder some of us succumb to the misanthropic temptation!
One reason I teach is to learn from my students—both the new ideas and the coping skills entailed in coming of age in a very messy world. Last week, they taught me a new word: eco-nihilism, the belief that if people cannot live in harmony with the Earth, we deserve to go extinct. As one student put it, “I’m at peace with human extinction; it would be for the greater good.”
I want to probe deeper: really? How can I be fully human while embracing our own collective demise—especially if I’m operating from a place of privilege? And who deserves extinction—the billions of people who will be hit hardest by climate disruption but who did virtually nothing to cause the problem? And how dare I say that I know what the future holds, and therefore exempt myself from responsibility?
I understand the temptation—sometimes our failings feel like too much to bear. Sometimes I need to retreat and as Wendell Berry says, “come into the peace of wild things” to regain my native vitality. I’ve also come to recognize my misanthropy as a form of compensatory thinking, a cognitive sublimation of a far messier mélange of grief, guilt, fear, and anger. When I let my e-motions do what they’re designed to do—to literally move me—a different mode of thinking and therefore different actions emerge.
In those luminous moments of connection, I gladly yoke myself to the collective uprising that our country’s young poet Amanda Gorman calls a new form of Earthrise. Yes, we face an uncertain future but one thing is certain: we are alive now and can help shape that future!