Climate, Part 2: Self-Responsibility is Sexy

(un)Atomic Habits

Ok, where were we? Ah, yes. Humans.

Our built-in and cultivated short-sightedness manifests in our repeated choices, which are powerful drivers of behavior; I could sit here and tell you that you can’t help it, that the science says that you have no choice but to consume, consume, consume so you might as well look cute in that 17th off-white cotton t-shirt while doing it (it fits SO WELL, I know you literally HAD to get it). The truth, though, is that human beings don’t only have evolutionary mechanisms; modern society is proof of that. We also have choice. Whatever your theory of human consciousness – evolved, bestowed by a god or by God, accidental, chosen, programmed – it is undeniable that we have the ability to choose in a way that no other creatures on Earth can. I heard it said that “a human being is the only creature that can choose today to be different than it was yesterday” (I’m paraphrasing). How beautiful, what an opportunity! We can choose kindness, joy, compassion, magnanimity. And, we are also the only creatures that can repeatedly choose to go against our own evolutionary mandates; we can choose spite, pettiness, and cruelty.

From hunger strikes to living kid-free, political tribalism to suicide, doom scrolling to stress eating, we make small choices every day that are counter to our biological, physiological, social, or psychological mandates. Often in our modern world, we make those little choices based on convenience, on the path of least resistance, on fulfilling our mutated “now” mandate through habits and technologies that bring instant gratification or general ease.

A focus on the wants of the present is not always bad – many of us are living longer and more comfortably than our ancestors, have access to more information, and have capabilities in science and medicine that even 25 years ago seemed to be the province of fiction; it is also why the COP28 climate conference was presided over by the CEO of one of the world’s most prominent and wealthy oil states. It’s why I still drive a diesel pickup truck even though I know it would be better for the world AND my bank account to make a different choice.

You have chosen…wisely

Choice. Wise choice (cue Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade) made repeatedly and the subsequent intentional transformation of our small daily habits, driven by a conscious embrace of our common humanity and mandated by the urgency of a situation we can only partially grasp, is the deciding factor between the end of the human race, or its evolution.

In sport we talk a lot about “the process,” which really is a way of naming the means by which we put ourselves in position to achieve a goal; it is the aggregated small choices, often to do something hard, worthwhile, and intrinsically meaningful, that lead to growth and fulfillment. In the case of humanity’s evolution back into harmony with Nature, fulfillment of the goal means the survival not just of our species, but of whatever species are able to stick around as we bumble along towards that harmony.

It is possible, of course, that we are simply in the throes of the Earth’s 6th mass extinction cycle (1). There have been 5 before this one in the last 540 million years, if you include the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs. Is this a natural process? Were the dinosaurs just unlucky, like a T-Rex unknowingly signing up for a push-up contest? Or have the previous cycles, like this one, been driven by humans or whatever that cycle’s version of a sentient, ego-driven species was that prompted Mother Earth to hit the reset button. To me, it feels like that’s what’s happening right now. But, that’s just my story.

Change your mind to change your brain

Whatever conclusions we draw to make sense of what’s happening in a given moment, we are doing it through stories. In Part 1, I told you some of the story of why I like trucks, and you likely drew some conclusions from it – you think I’m a clever writer, you think I’m a hillbilly, you feel sorry for me and all my injuries, you don’t think that’s an excuse to drive an obnoxious, smelly monstrosity. I told you the story of my mom’s KitchenAid and maybe you’re curious about how she became the best bread-baker I’ve ever met.

Human beings, because of the needs of our egos, engage in something called confirmation bias, which means that we seek out evidence that supports the stories we tell and the opinions we latch onto, then discount, ignore, or discard the rest; this, a mean streak, some real fragile egos and a double dose of delusion are the basis of political discourse in 2023. It is also how, every time I eat my mom’s bread, I am convinced that it’s the best I’ve had, a perspective made especially salient by the fact that I don’t really eat much other homemade bread. If I did, would my story – my bias – be challenged? Maybe, maybe not. But by not eating anyone else’s homemade bread – and only gathering opinions about bread from people who also only eat my mom’s bread – I have convinced myself that my opinion is fact (in this case, it actually is though. Just try the bread). As long as the KitchenAid keeps rolling along, I don’t have to change my mind.

Stories and their accompanying emotions are how we interact with the world, and the stories that we repeatedly tell or live by, or use to define ourselves and our world, literally shape our brains. The more we engage with a particular thought pattern, calculation method, mental approach, emotional response, or way of communicating, the more electrons travel those pathways and the more open and clear the pathways become. It’s akin to going from a little deer trail to a footpath to a country road to a highway. In this way, it is easier to keep thinking the way we do, and becomes even more so the more we do it.

Our neural architecture ensures this; when all we had to think about was surviving, circa 8,000 years ago, this was crucially beneficial. We are not the way we are by accident, but the state of the modern world demands that we begin to take responsibility for changing how we apply our biological imperatives, both because among all the creatures, we uniquely CAN, and because the moment demands that we DO. We have to change the way we define the world in order to create a new paradigm of behavior; we need new stories.

Self-responsibility is sexy

The thing about our neural architecture that makes it possible both for us to continue to do what’s bad for us, and for us to save ourselves even if we don’t believe we can – or even should – right now, is that our brains retain a quality called neuroplasiticity. Neuroplasticity is the ability of our brain’s structure to change under certain conditions, for example through repeated practice of a skill, or in repeatedly choosing to respond to adversity differently than I do now through a consistent mindfulness practice. New pathways associated with new thoughts and behaviors open up, and old ones wither away. Our brains are more changeable when we’re young, and less as the brain develops towards completion around age 25. But, we still have it throughout our lives, especially if we make a practice of utilizing it.

Neuroplasticity is one of the main reasons that methods like cognitive behavioral therapy have lasting positive effect; telling different stories or thinking about things differently repeatedly over time can change my innate behavior. So, if the thing that really makes a human being unique is the power of choice, and that power gives each of us the ability to make decisions or tell stories that run counter to both evolutionary programming and modern conditioning, then we must accept the responsibility of using that power for more than just whatever seems like a good idea at the time.

Changing the stories I tell likely means that I have to begin by decentering my own importance in those stories. I have to accept that I’m not the center of the universe, while also acknowledging that my choices do still matter. Luckily, I don’t have to be all-powerful or all-important to make a difference. A change in a small corner of the system changes the system, so if my own personal growth is driven by the small daily choices I make, and I am part of the world ecosystem, doesn’t it hold true that a change in me affects the world around me? I am a part of, rather than apart from, Nature. So, my choices actually do matter, and my actions and habits can be part of a larger movement towards change.

New whip, who dis?

When a scientist is presented with a problem, the first thing they do is figure out the right questions to ask, and then they form a hypothesis and test it, gather data and see where it leads; science is about curiosity and the process of finding solutions through discovery. If the hypothesis continually holds up under testing - sometimes this looks like trial and error - then the hypothesis becomes a theory. In the human experiment, it sure seems like we’ve made more than enough errors to draw some conclusions…do we hold up under scrutiny?

I started this conversation with a question about a truck; my hypothesis is that what I drive does matter in a small but measurable way, both to the Earth and to its creatures. While there may be no perfect immediate solution to my first-world dilemma - especially since I’m emotionally attached not to the truck but to the lifestyle that it enables - there are unquestionably both the necessity for change and my own capability to effect (and affect) it.

Life on Earth is supposed to be complex. Evolution is driven by pressure; life is not supposed to be as comfortable as we’re desperately trying to make it. The human body’s innate fragility AND its awesome potential are evidence that we need discomfort in order to experience necessary growth. So, my encouragement to myself, and to you, is to take some responsibility for where we are, how we got here, and the changes required of us to get where we want to go. Let’s learn to ask the right questions and pay attention to the answers, especially if we arrived at them honestly and most especially if they’re not what we expected or wanted to hear. This is how we make sure the next chapter in the story of humanity isn’t just a repetition of the ones that came before it.

Lately we’ve been living on credit; let’s make the most of this opportunity to change our opinions, stories, and habits, so that we can make sure our kids don’t get stuck with the bill.

References

1.    McCallum, M. L. (2015). Vertebrate biodiversity losses point to a sixth mass extinction. Biodiversity and Conservation, 24(10), 2497-2519

Originally published on December 28, 2023