If you got past the title, you’ll probably have the guts to read to the end.
Otherwise, probably not. Go take a joyride in an SUV or something, and join us back here tomorrow when perhaps there’ll be a happy story to distract us all again.
From the Guardian’s series by Australian writers talking about getting through 2020 and beyond, climate scientist Joëlle Gergis goes hard and goes fast:
“The relentless heat and drought experienced during our nation’s hottest and driest year on record saw the last of our native forests go up in smoke. We saw terrified animals fleeing with their fur on fire, their bodies turned to ash. Those that survived faced starvation among the charred remains of their obliterated habitats.
“During Australia’s Black Summer, more than 3 billion animals were incinerated or displaced, our beloved bushland burnt to the ground. Our collective places of recharge and contemplation changed in ways that we can barely comprehend. The koala, Australia’s most emblematic species, now faces extinction in New South Wales by as early as 2050.
“Recovering the diversity and complexity of Australia’s unique ecosystems now lies beyond the scale of human lifetimes. What we witnessed was inter-generational damage: a fundamental transformation of our country.
“Then, just as the last of the bushfires went out, recording-breaking ocean temperatures triggered the third mass bleaching event recorded on the Great Barrier Reef since 2016. This time, the southern reef – spared during the 2016 and 2017 events – finally succumbed to extreme heat. The largest living organism on the planet is dying.”
Fun times. Fun times.
“I mourn all the unique animals, plants and landscapes that are forever altered by the events of our Black Summer. That the Earth as we now know it will soon no longer exist. I grieve for the generations of children who will only ever experience the Great Barrier Reef or our ancient rainforests through photographs or David Attenborough’s documentaries. In the future, his films will be like watching grainy archival footage of the Tasmanian tiger: images of a lost world.
“As we live through this growing instability, it’s becoming harder to maintain a sense of professional detachment from the work that I do. Given that humanity is facing an existential threat of planetary proportions, surely it is rational to react with despair, anger, grief and frustration. To fail to emotionally respond to a level of destruction that will be felt throughout the ages feels like sociopathic disregard for all life on Earth.”
Just in case you were wondering, yes, the essay does gets worse:
“We are being forced to come to terms with the fact that we are the generation that is likely to witness the destruction of our Earth. We have arrived at a point in human history that I think of as the “great unravelling”. I never thought I’d live to see the horror of planetary collapse unfolding.”
Anything at all you can offer us that ressembles…hope?
“As more psychologists begin to engage with the topic of climate change, they are telling us that being willing to acknowledge our personal and collective grief might be the only way out of the mess we are in. When we are finally willing to accept feelings of intense grief – for ourselves, our planet, our kids’ futures – we can use the intensity of our emotional response to propel us into action.
“Grief is not something to be pushed away; it is a function of the depth of the attachment we feel for something, be it a loved one or the planet. If we don’t allow ourselves to grieve, we stop ourselves from emotionally processing the reality of our loss. It prevents us from having to face the need to adapt to a new, unwelcome reality.
Unfortunately, we live in a culture where we actively avoid talking about hard realities; darker parts of our psyche are considered dysfunctional or intolerable. But trying to be relentlessly cheerful or stoic in the face of serious loss just buries more authentic emotions that must eventually come up for air.”
Then it’s back to the grim stuff. Sorry about that:
“While I hope this will be the summer that changes everything, my rational mind understands that governments like ours are willing to sacrifice our planetary life-support system to keep the fossil fuel industry alive for another handful of decades. I am afraid that we don’t have the heart or the courage to be moved by what we saw during our Black Summer.”
And then she moves in for the knock-out punch:
“Increasingly I am feeling overwhelmed and unsure about how I can best live my life in the face of the catastrophe that is now upon us. I’m anxious about the enormity of the scale of what needs to be done, afraid of what might be waiting in my inbox. Something inside me feels like it has snapped, as if some essential thread of hope has failed. The knowing that sometimes things can’t be saved, that the planet is dying, that we couldn’t get it together in time to save the irreplaceable. It feels as though we have reached the point in human history when all the trees in the global common are finally gone, our connection to the wisdom of our ancestors lost forever.”
This barrel of laughs was brought to you by the Guardian, Joëlle Gergis, and Reality.
[Cover photo: Adwo/Alamy]