Post-Inevitability
Mycelial Resilience, Unpessimism: Notes Toward Action, Against Inevitability
tl;dr
From hardcore optimists on the vanguard of climate change discussion and action to the hardcore pessimists on a not dissimilar vanguard of the climate change discussion, from the capitalists to the anarchists—there is a driving spark of resilience on individual as well as community and network-wide levels. Ultimately, I argue that the drive for resilience opens or inherently includes an underlying space where optimistic action can be allowed to occur.
There are issues and opportunities (i.e. some Anthropocenic, idk, cultural hope) in the hot, hot friction points of time vs no time, of taking a stand, of including and excluding, of leading by doing, of risking visibility/exposure, of creating conditions of possibility.
Timelines may be too long (2030, 2050) or too shortsighted (profit, and year over year growth), but the active will to address business responsibility in the Anthropocene is present in politics/policy, as well as in business, as well as in the general public, to a sharply increasing extent marked by a stark shift in the late 2010s, and entered into operational performative discourse at the international level as of 2020, with an increase in semi-militantly optimistic perspectives in social content carrying through 2022.
To take advantage of this, branding folks hoping to help create a better Anthropocene had better be ready to be a little controversial as we try to open up spaces for big, weird, extremely sensible decisions tuned to open up spaces where things can happen new, in the brand world and unconscious.
Intentions and Atmosphere (in this Case, also Literally):
The Ongoing (Re)Archaeology of the Present
In college, three of my science credits came from a class called “Bones, Stones, and Human Evolution,” aka “Rocks for Jocks,” which was fascinating, if also stripped of some of the experimental rigor that would have made it worthy of a sciences major. In any case, the professor (who didn’t dig stuff up, himself, but whose close colleagues did) told the class that when the folks who do the digging come upon, essentially, The Dump of a long-gone group of people—it’s thrilling for them. Because paleoanthropologist-archaeologist types learn a lot about ancient societies from their garbage.
Well, in this moment,
where our (“Our”) trash is becoming the undeniable indicator of the geology of the time,
and when the Valuable Thing, to Formerly Valuable Thing, to Mere Thing, to Trash non-cycle is as fast as it’s been thus far,
when, for example, a bottle of water generates waste water at a rate of 300% over and above the drinkable water in the bottle—
when incentivizations for lower carbon emissions are being innovated, including the purchasing of carbon offsets by corporations and by their consumers/customers
which has a sort of long-fermented flavor reminiscent of the Papal Indulgence, with notes of reforestation or renewable energy investment (each of which calls labor practices and land appropriations into question, and the latter of which bears implications in terms of increased mineral extraction, with potential environmental and human rights consequences in the near, medium, and long term),
when at least one sports car floats somewhere amid the communications and surveillance satellites, and a jalopy has sat for decades on the surface of our moon, the queen of night on earth,
when I somehow never have quite what I need to wear—
In this moment, our Trash and our Useful Objects describe, reflect, and are each other. Particle board can only be turned into sawdust to be pressed into more particle board so many times. The Coca-Cola labels read “Recycle me, again!,” in green ink. Glass bottle recycling is largely useful because glass can be turned back into sand and industries like construction are experiencing a sand shortage…
In this moment, it would be too simplistic to say that we (as branders, anthropologists, artists, commentators, etc.) learn a lot about contemporary society from our garbage, much of which was only very recently soon-to-be garbage.
So as tempting as it is to launch a rant about how “the International Space Station, too, is trash that people ride trash to get to, and wear pressurized trash suits to do dangerous trash repair missions, with tools, which are also trash…” I will resist that temptation, for more, hopefully, optimistic intentions.
Charting a Relatively Brief and Narrow Survey of Optimisms and Pessimisms Over the Course of About Ten Years
From a brand and strategically oriented perspective, we’ve seen a few dominant, subordinate, and niche narratives arise, conflict, inform each other, and ignore each other. At the outset, I’m going to purposely set aside comms strategies based on denying and ignoring the realities of human influence on the environment. And I’ll name them as a watchout or, let’s say, ‘adversary’ to brands contributing to an Anthropocene I would want to live in, according to strategic considerations I would want to contribute to. What analysis such strategies and comms receive here will be presented as instructive consideration or counter-consideration, where and if appropriate.
Moving on from denial, two major categories of response to the situation of this present era range in expression along a spectrum from pessimism to optimism. The simple and overt pessimism of “We’re fucked!” tends to be highly prevalent in a proliferation of memes from the early middle of the last decade onward, as the conversation on climate change and impending doom and human involvement vs. human potential to intervene became clearer and more acceptable as part of public discourse.
The memes, of course, were accompanied by frightening headlines describing truly scary reports about things like adjusted timelines and the meaning ±0.5ºC over x number of years. Financial papers like Forbes and Bloomberg reported terrifying outcomes of government and corporate inaction, with a sense of urgency that often crossed into an aura of panic. The numbers seemed implausible, the timeframe of only a few years between one way of life and wider spread disaster felt unmanageable.
What may have been effective shock value to move readers and followers out of complacency, may also have had the counter-effect of creating a sense of powerlessness and heightened complacency. Which is a danger of pessimism, and of course has been reflected in meme culture to this day, with the still trending TikTok sound asking us time and again “why you working so hard?” and reminding us that “the world is ending,” which of course has an ironic cheeriness and willingness to embrace *rest* that reminds us of a heightened reality of the threat and a characteristically 2020s focus on self care and self worth and keeping living (i.e. staying alive) as compared with the memes and reporting of ten plus years ago.
Meanwhile, in 2012 North Carolina made it illegal to measure the rise in sea level according to forecasts matching available data, essentially choosing to favor historical linear projections rather than the more accurate to nature exponential curve favored by most researchers on the subject. The response included alarm and ridicule, and nevertheless real estate development on almost certainly unviable property persisted. It was freaky, and it’s been freaky.
And a quick glance at forbes headlines from 2010 onward shows a move from climate change skepticism, to a mixture of alarmistness and ridiculing the alarmists (it’s just good cross promo, you know), to a straightforward and pretty negative acceptance of climate change tinged with apocalyptic inevitability, and arriving at a mixed optimistic approach around 2018, with action-oriented headlines like “2018: A Tipping Point for Climate Change,” “Comprehensive Climate Reporting Must Include Methane,” and “Climate Change in Cities: What We Need to Do.” This was the same year that Extinction Rebellion, a youth-led climate activist group named after the ongoing mass extinction of the Anthropocene. (I couldn’t for the life of me find it, but somewhere out there in the leftist dank meme stashes of Facebook, lives a meme that reads something like ‘If places like Forbes and Bloomberg are telling us that there’s no hope against climate change, I’m gonna assume they have a motivation to encourage us to be complacent and hopeless. And I’m not gonna go with that.” I’d wager it appeared around 2016-17, which is speculation, but at least evocative of the churn from the weird annals of social media to popular, and at times rather conservative reporting.)
In 2020, the Guardian ran the headline “Green teen memes: how TikTok could save the planet.” And in 2021, Forbes recognized 2020 as “The Year the Narrative Changed for Sustainability Reporting” because the trustees of the International Financial Reporting Standards Foundation proposed the formation of a board to oversee and regulate sustainability reporting standards, as was once done for financial reporting, which hasn’t given us full transparency but has given us some light to cast through the cracks, or cracks where the light gets in.
Meanwhile, it’s worth noting a fairly niche, but somewhat influential notion represented by Instagram accounts like @environmentalist.anarchist that optimism, itself is a ploy to maintain complacency in the belief that slight modifications can allow us, in relatively affluent to affluent cultures, to maintain our current ways of life. In July of 2021, this page with about 52.3k followers declared,
“Climate realism is climate pessimism. It is recognizing that the crisis is already here and it’s only going to get worse and then preparing yourself and your community for the effects by working to be as independent from capital, industry, and the state as possible. It is attacking those responsible for ecocide and working toward resiliency.”
Notably, even this claim that realism is pessimism ends with a call and aspiration toward resiliency. While in January of this year Forbes ran some Deloitte Leadership sponcon headlined “Actions Companies Can Take to Become Climate Leaders.”
In the cases of both anarchist pessimism and expressions of capitalist optimism, there is a built-in desire for creating resiliency (in markets and among communities, and affinity groups in the anarchist sense). There’s also a recognition of reliance on community, necessarily extremely local in the anarchist way of thinking, and ultimately necessarily both extremely local *and* extremely global in what we’re calling the capitalist way of thinking, for now. Different definitions, different missions, but not such different goals and needs—a level of desire to keep humanity alive and at least slow extinction, attempts to cultivate personal and systemic resiliency, and creating and maintaining networks of supplies and crucially *people* to do so. Corporations aren’t people, but the specter of corporate personhood appears yet again; corporations are just made up of people after all. And the word “community” has been subject to many definitions over the course of my lifetime, including regularly as a monetizable unit (which I first actively noticed at the yoga studio where I worked in Bushwick in 2017).
Tiptoeing Gingerly through Some Implications
So we have resilience, pessimism, optimism, and networks and/or communities. And risking horseshoe theory, some underlying needs and desires among groups with fundamentally different beliefs. We all don’t want to die, and we all need people. Okay. Table stakes? Unfortunately, somehow not quite.
But beyond these reverberant, maybe resonant, tensions; and beyond the shallow optimism of reframing “We’re fucked!”; and hopefully even beyond a deeper(?) biological optimism of a body’s desire to refuse to die—there are issues and opportunities in the hot friction points of
time vs no time
taking a stand
including and excluding
risking visibility/exposure
creating toward conditions of possibility