Note: This essay was written in a Fall 2019 University of Minnesota course, “Living the Good Life at the End of the World: Sustainability in the Anthropocene”
In a rapidly-dwindling nineteen months from this date, should all go according to plan (yes, Mom, I promise to see it through…), I will finish my undergraduate degree in Global Studies (concentrations on the African region and Political Economy & Environmental Change) with minors in French Studies and Sustainability Studies from the College of Liberal Arts at the University of Minnesota – Twin Cities. Whew. Now, that sounds like quite a mouthful, which of course, it purposely is. In theory, the thousands of dollars spent, hours dedicated, words written, read and spoken, and waking moments lived in college should culminate in a fanfare-like climax the moment I grasp my small maroon-and-gold diploma. More simply, at that moment I should be adequately prepared to chart a course for a good life.
This idea is rooted into us from our earliest years: you go to college to find a good passion, land a good career, make good money, raise a good family, and lead a good life. But what exactly does that mean? How can all of these “goods” possibly be blanket-statemented? If the past few years have taught me anything, it is that my definition of the “good life” is much different than many of my peers, as well as that of society on the whole.
Today, we inhabit a world of massively compressed time scales. Just two hundred years ago — or two potential modern human lives — the place we’ve christened “Minneapolis” was nothing but towering old-growth, churning river, and bountiful biodiversity. It is quite literally impossible for our stone-age minds housed in modern skulls to comprehend the sheer pace of change that has come upon us; as well as has been wrought on the non-human world. And this goes far beyond physical transformations; in our über-connected, blissed out on consumption, yet more widely than ever stressed out global society, the “good life” has become synonymous with increasing detachment from the ecological systems, natural limits, and fellow living beings with which we evolved over millions of years.
We wonder why history so often repeats itself, but to me the answer is quite simple, and speaks also to why the “good life” is broadly defined as it is by today’s society; humans, as do all animals governed by the fundamental struggle to survive and reproduce, are prey to an “immediacy effect.” This is quite natural; we were not evolved to think of the effects of our livelihoods on far-off future generations, nor how they might differ (in ways problematic or harmful) from generations passed. So… we don’t. In other words, our deepest biases, tendencies, values, attentions, and desires are puppeteered by the present, by the immediate. They are the undercurrent of our existence, what our mammalian brains and bodies fall back upon without our even realizing because that’s how our evolution designed them to work.
Why does this matter? Because such a mechanism allows us to accept that the technological, social, economic innovations giving rise to a world of Airbusses, one-day deliveries, urban sprawl, medical miracles, and massive inequalities of all type is just how the present is, or how it’s pre-destined to be. It makes it much easier to generally reconcile the god-like iron fist we clench over the Earth’s lands, waters, resources, and lifeforms, or to ascribe such a “right” to god-like higher powers.
The survival of ourselves, our kin, and the status quo nurturing that survival is inherently a core value of the modern human; no matter if that status quo, as we’re now experiencing in the Anthropocene, is very much unsustainable. And so, I suppose, our cyclical history spins on.
As just one specific example, this seems to be why when we hear so frequently about energy transitions, the key question for many at the heart of the problem is not whether a radical paradigm shift in human society is necessary for a truly sustainable future, but rather what can be substituted in to keep it running as closely as possible to the current model. Few are talking about actually reducing the energy we consume, and thereby softening numerous environmental drivers of change caused by production and pollution, since the lifestyles we’ve become accustomed to are the “good lives” we’re not apt to give up.
Put simply — for all the aforementioned reasons — we fear change, and our current governments, cultures, and visions of the “good life” are structured to keep things the way they are.
But all of this, again, is not my personal vision of a healthy, good, just world. Despite what is widely predicated to my generation, I question whether going to college, climbing the wealth and status ladder, living out my days as a well-greased cog, and then kicking the bucket really is the definition of success in this life. Does this sound a bit harsh? Yes. But I do truly believe that our communities, states, nations, and world need to be shaken out of the trance we are under.
One of my fundamental values as a person is the virtue of time spent with other lifeforms and environments. I value a simpler life, a less mechanized and industrialized life, but one still filled with vibrancy, art, community, and connection to the rest of nature. In response, I think, engaging deeply with ourselves may be the first step towards creating the future we each desire, and taking on the challenges and opportunities of the Anthropocene.
It must go even further, though. Engaging with ourselves will give us the grounding and purpose to engage with others, on the grassroots level first — changing our family values, local educational values, business values and funding habits. This will make our communities more resilient to change, and perhaps each of us more flexible to change. Slowly (or ideally, quickly), these new, on-the-ground models of what the “good life” can be may trickle up, influencing or forcing the hands of those in positions of power to alter the common narrative of fear surrounding societal transitions.
We’ll surely all still have different visions of what a “good life” entails throughout this process, but as long as the baselines are shifted, I believe we’ll be better on our path to a truly good, and lasting, future.
Jake Marble 