Climate Salvation vs. the Foraging Assumption

Nothing seems to help. Even though we now know that human activity has profoundly affected the climate, humans keep making it worse.

Why has it been so hard to change? Many people care about animals on the verge of extinction, contribute to environmental causes, and recycle assiduously. But few are deeply energized, focused on, or committed to environmental preservation. Apparently, idealism isn’t enough.

Climate change zealots emphasize that, sooner or later, we will all be affected by the changes that are taking place. Our shorelines will be inundated when rising sea levels are drowning island nations. Our species is one of those in danger of extinction. But even self-interest doesn’t seem to be enough. Surely people who live in southern Florida, where the sea is already encroaching, in the drought-plagued Southwest, and the flood-prone Southeast, are interested in keeping the planet from overheating. But even hurricanes, floods, wildfires, or chronically polluted air aren’t enough to convince people to modify their behavior or motivate them to press politicians to do more to address impending catastrophes.

And, of course, self-interest can lead people in the opposite direction. After each catastrophe, families devastated by climate-change events continue to build in the same place. People with the resources simply retreat to property high above sea level or drought-free locations. Nations can focus (and have focused) on their narrow interests.

What’s going on here? Why is it so hard for people to accept that disasters lie ahead if we don’t make an immediate, concerted effort to reduce global warming? In an earlier post, we described what we called “the tragedy of the foraging assumption.” Like all other creatures, our foraging ancestors took whatever they needed from nature–food, tools, shelter. They simply assumed that they were entitled to do so, that everything in nature was theirs for the taking. Because they were nomadic, for the most part, they didn’t have a negative effect on the environment. When they moved on, nature could recover fairly quickly and easily.

Unfortunately, after our ancestors started to engage in large-scale agriculture, they continued to operate according to the foraging assumption: anything goes. However, as they began to make changes to the environment–clearing land for crops, creating irrigation systems, and building cities–they began to transform the natural world. These changes were often deleterious. For example, Mesopotamian irrigation caused alkaline build-up in the soil, making it useless for growing crops, so farmers had to keep moving to new fields. Nevertheless, the assumption that whatever was in nature was theirs for the taking remained. And that continued, unexamined, through the industrial revolution and well into the 20th century.

We suspect this assumption is so resistant to examination because it’s buried in our genes; we’re not conscious of it. And, after all, the world is so big, and we humans are so small. How could we possibly damage the environment beyond repair? The oceans are immense, the skies unlimited. Of course, the environment will recover; how could it not?

Is there a way to overcome the influence of this now life-threatening assumption? There is no easy answer. Overriding the foraging assumption requires more than dedicated recycling. It means changing what we buy, eat, and move from one place to another. It means lots of change and sacrifice. To actually make such changes, we must first recognize the influence of the foraging assumption in ourselves and accept that we are destroying the planet. We need a sort of species-wide psychotherapy.

One thing is for certain: If we don’t get serious about climate change on a grand scale very soon, everyone will lose. The selfish may be the last to go, but they, too, will go.