Every year, NY literary agent John Brockman asks a group of folks to answer the "Edge Annual Question." This year's query is, "What should we be worried about." Below is my answer, a blend of some recent blog posts plus a new idea or two. Hope you enjoy. And feel free to check out this answer and the many other responses on Brockman's Edge website.
We should all be worried about the gaping psychological
chasm separating humanity from nature. Indeed a strong argument can be made
that bridging this divide deserves to be ranked amongst the most urgent 21st
Century priorities. Yet so far the human-nature divide hasn’t even made it to our
cultural to-do list.
For the past several decades, numerous scientists and
environmentalists have been telling us that we must change our ways and strike
a balance with nature, or face catastrophic consequences. I myself have often
participated in this echo chamber, doling out dire statistics in hopes of
engaging people in action. The unspoken assumption has been that cold, hard
facts are all that’s needed for people (including business people and elected
officials) to “get it” and alter their unsustainable ways. To date, however,
virtually all the key indicators—from greenhouse gas emissions to habitat and
species losses—are still heading in the wrong direction. The blade of the “hockey
stick” continues to lengthen.
The problem is, humans aren’t rational creatures. At least,
not when it comes to shifting their behaviors. As marketing executives have
long understood, humans are far more susceptible to emotional messages,
especially when conveyed through imagery. Want to escalate sales of some new
car model? Beautiful people driving through pristine natural settings are far
more powerful motivators than statistics on horsepower and fuel efficiency.
But what emotion is needed to foster a sustainable shift in
human behavior? In a word, love.
As the late evolutionary biologist Stephen J. Gould once
claimed in an uncharacteristic moment of sentimentality, “We cannot win this
battle to save species and environments without forging an emotional bond
between ourselves and nature—for we will not fight to save what we do not
love.” The good news is that, thanks to a lengthy evolutionary tenure living in
intimate contact with the nonhuman world, the capacity to form an emotional attachment with nature probably lays
dormant within all of us, waiting to be reawakened (think E. O. Wilson’s
“biophilia”).
The bad news is
that, as a species, we’ve never been more disconnected from the natural world. Thanks
to a variety of factors—among them fear of strangers and an obsession with
screens—children’s firsthand encounters with nature in the developed world have
dropped precipitously to less than 10% of what they were just one generation
ago. The average American youth now spends seven to ten hours per day staring
at screens compared to a mere handful of minutes in any “natural” setting. The
result of this indoor migration is a runaway health crisis, both for children
(obesity, ADHD, stress, etc.) and the places they live.
Science has been one of the primary forces driving a wedge
between humans and nature, prompting us to see nature as objects rather than subjects,
resources to be exploited rather than relatives to be respected. Yet science,
particularly over the past few decades, has also empirically demonstrated our
complete embeddedness within nature, from the trillions of bacterial cells that
far outnumber human cells in our bodies to our role as newbie actors in the 14
billion-year evolutionary epic.
Do we need more science? Of course, and the general public
must learn the necessary facts, dire and difficult though they may be. We’re
also going to need all the technological help we can get to help us navigate a
sustainable path into the future. Yet knowledge and technology without
emotional connection simply won’t cut it. The next generation of humans must
learn to see their relationship with the natural world in ways that will seem
alien to our current anthropocentric, reductionist, and materialistic
perspective.