How climate solutions are anthropocentric, and why that is okay

I recently read the book Under A White Sky (2021) by the science journalist Elizabeth Kolbert. Through snippets of her trips to various locations around the world to report on strategies of combating environmental destruction, Kolbert introduces in this book a whole new dimension to what we typically refer to as the Anthropocene. Her previous Pulitzer-winning volume The Sixth Extinction already laid out evidence for the ugly legacy of humankind on the planet. What Under A White Sky (not a direct sequel, but still an appropriate follow-up) addresses are the many solutions and projects established around the world to counteract the present and future repercussions of such legacy. Nevertheless, the book is not as hopeful as its premise seems to indicate. Spoiler alert: the “white sky” referred to in the title is the geoengineered sky, and for some readers, that signifies nothing more reassuring than the very challenges it is attempting to fix.

The book gives detailed and insightful accounts of how humans’ intrusion into nature might extend beyond the obvious and active destruction characterizing the Anthropocene in our minds. In other words, our usual image of man-harming-nature and man-causing-climate-change is not the sole proof of our involvement in changing the planet. The book instead suggests that sometimes, in the name of protecting or stewarding nature, humans enthusiastically extend our helping hands and inadvertently overlook the equally disrupting essence of such “help”. Diving into some of the most talked-about environmental issues today, from the more contentious ones like geoengineering and genetic modifications, to the less controversial missions of battling invasive species and conserving coral reef ecosystems, Kolbert deliberates over not only the implications of our interference, but also our naive and self-assured attitude that almost borderlines delusion towards these acts of “care”.

Under A White Sky calls attention to our tendency to overestimate human capabilities and perspectives, even when history has already declared these human aspects flawed and deleterious to the planet. Of course, among those wary of the current climate conditions, many have earnestly demanded a shift of paradigm in order to transition away from what has precisely led us to the current predicament. On the other hand, there seems to be a category of individuals, branded as the “techno-optimists”, who believe in human ingenuity and our ability to devise scientific and technological answers to the climate challenge. This clash in perspectives might appear to be an ideological one, but a closer examination of its underlying principles reveals philosophical notions of the anthropocentrism through which we filter all aspects of the climate movement.

Anthropocentrism has already taken a toll on the planet, leaving us in confrontation with the consequences of our own undoing (The Sixth Extinction offers ample evidence for this). Now, we are approaching a point of no-return and it is becoming indisputable (even to those who have historically asserted otherwise) that maintaining an inactive (i.e., no change) stance will lead us to our eventual collapse. Responses to this scenario range from the pragmatic (but not nihilistic) concession to the inevitability of this no-return point, to the confident vision of our collective recovery via proactive problem-solving. Either extreme of these responses appears to imply that humans can or ought to do something in the current situation, regardless of whether our actions will surmount to recovery or not. Solutions should arise from us, just as the issues have. Before we realize it, we filter our “prescriptions” for “fixing” the planet through a humanist lens, just like how we have already defined, described, and “diagnosed” climate challenges. Anthropocentrism thus continues to be the centerpiece of our movement in tackling climate change (note that one would say “ourmovement”).

Here I’m reminded of the striking metaphor by David Foster Wallace: two young fish swim in the ocean and encounter an old, wise fish, who asks, “Hello young ones, how’s the water today?”. Only after the young fish have swum past this encounter do they turn to each other and ask quizzically, “So what the hell is water anyway?”. To borrow the metaphor: if humans are fish, then anthropocentrism is water. We swim in our own anthropocentric stream of thoughts and ideas, so immersed in and well-adapted to it that we fail to recognize our operating within this overarching framework, let alone grasp its implications. Even when we rationally acknowledge the serious problems of anthropocentrism, subconsciously an anthropocentric worldview can make its way into the framing of the solutions.

Perhaps it is now worthwhile to humbly suggest that we may at this point consider abandoning the need to condemn anthropocentrism as a concept after all. Anthropocentrism is and will be, in one way or another, an underlying element in whatever action humans take to deal with climate change. Furthermore, coupling solutions to environmental issues and those that contribute to social welfare is not inherently problematic (how much of ecological health can humans afford when tackling social health, however, is a different question). Dealing with the current degradation of the planet should necessitate more gradient understanding of how our (decidedly anthropocentric) solutions appeal to specific contexts and how we can ensure anthropocentrism does not inflict more harm.

My suggestion to move beyond the avoidance of anthropocentrism comes with a few conditions. The first is that even when humans confidently propose pathways for climate recovery, we need to gradually reshape the language we use to describe and thus our perception of the non-humans. Posthumanist theories and practices offer helpful guidance for how this shift of language and understanding can take place. Just to clarify, I propose that as much as posthumanism appears to be the complete refutation of anthropocentrism, the two concepts can manifest in a non-mutually exclusive manner. Posthumanism can be the “what” of environmental solutions, while anthropocentrism is “how” the solutions emerge. In education and public communication especially, the use of “we” and “us” (which I have adopted throughout this post, albeit in reference to humans mostly) should indicate not just humans but also every aspect of the ecology we live in. Secondly, drawing attention to the interconnectedness of all species and entities is a necessary step towards the practice of watching and limiting humans’ influence on the whole system. Humans may assume the role of pulling the strings behind climate solutions, but at this point it should become evident that in this complex and interdependent web of beings, humans can very well end up as the ones being pulled.

This blog post was written as a class assignment for the course “Environmental Philosophy in Education”.