In "The Climate of History: Four Theses," Dipesh Chakrabarty argues that while climate change has been seen as the academic property of the sciences, the humanities ought to--and indeed, must--study climate change in their own disciplines. In the past, historians, philosophers, and theorists have treated nature as an eternal, monolithic force that can change the course of entire civilizations, but that humans can hardly influence. Chakrabarty disputes the concept of humankind as somehow separate from nature: "the scientists who advocate the idea of the Anthropocene [. . .] argue that because humans constitute a particular kind of species they can, in the process of dominating other species, acquire the status of a geologic force. Humans, in other words, have become a natural condition, at least today" (214). In the Anthropocene era, called so because it is the first geological era in which humans have significant impact on the earth and its ecosystems, humankind must consider itself as a species in order to understand its relationship to nature.
Though the idea of an Anthropocene era may seem strictly the realm of science, this is precisely where the humanities comes in: "The Anthropocene, one might say, has been an unintended consequence of human choices. But it is also clear that for humans any though of the way out of our current predicament cannot but refer to the idea of deploying reason in global, collective life" (210). This reason is intrinsically tied to the humanities and history: "Logically then, in the the era of the Anthropocene, we need the Enlightenment (that is, reason) even more than in the past" (211). It is no longer justifiable for the humanities to leave the burden of climate change to the sciences. While the sciences have done the vast majority of the work in discovering climate change to be a crisis, the humanities are uniquely positioned to help lead us out of that crisis through the exercise of Enlightenment principles of reason, such as utilitarianism. In an age in which the individualism of capitalism has proved itself to be less than helpful in preserving the environment, utilitarianism is especially suitable for a view of humanity that treats humankind as a species working together against extinction.
A kind of proto-utilitarianism is present in John Lyly's Gallathea, in which the people of the lands surrounding the Humber river are required to sacrifice the most beautiful virgin every five years in order to appease Neptune's wrath and prevent him from destorying their society. Gallathea features its own miniature version of the Anthropocene era, as is seen in Tityrus's explanation of the virgin sacrifice to his daughter, Gallathea. As they rest under a tree, Tityrus shows his daughter a "heap of small pebble" (1.1.15) which was once a great temple to Neptune before it was destroyed by "Danes, who / instead of sacrifice committed sacrilege, instead of religion / rebellion" (1.1.24-26). In response to this desecration, Neptune enforced his own kind of climate change: "he caused the seas to break their bounds sith men / had broke their vows, and to swell as far above their reach / as men had swerved beyond their reason" (1.1.30-32). This is eerily similar to modern climate change, in which the oceans have likewise broken their bounds as sea levels have risen. Furthermore, like modern humanity, the Danes's actions are the direct cause of climate change, as Tityrus's description shows that Neptune's punishments were proportionate to their sins. The survival of society and the reliability of the climate are intrinsically linked, dependent on men who will recognize the influence they have on the natural world, and will not "swerve beyond their reason." It is important to note that like Chakrabarty, Lyly also calls on "reason" as a method to prevent extinction.
While a proponent of individualism might find the tradition virginal sacrifice perverse (as Tityrus and Melibeus, two fathers of beautiful virgins, do), the augur explains the practice as a utilitarian means to save their society from extinction: "This is the day where you must satisfy Neptune and / save yourselves. Call together your fair daughters, and for / a sacrifice take the fairest, for better it is to offer a virgin / than suffer ruin. If you think it against nature to sacrifice / your children, think it also against sense to destroy your / country" (4.1.1-6). The augur's rhetorical device sets up sacrificing children against destroying one's country, saying that one is "against nature" and the other "against sense." "Nature" here does not mean the biodiversity of life, but rather the innate qualities and characteristics of being a parent. Therefore, the augur has set up nature's individualistic need to protect one's own offspring as less honorable than sense's utilitarian desire to save one's country. The "sense" that should convince the people to sacrifice their beautiful daughters is again similar to the "reason" that Chakrabarty claims can save humanity from destruction.
Unfortunately, the "sense" of the people fails, and as a result Neptune does not accept their sacrifice. Luckily, a quarrel between Diana and Venus distracts Neptune from his destructive plans, and in the end Diana and Venus convince Neptune to let Gallathea and Phillida marry each other instead of sacrificing them. In a truly comic ending--which hardly any of the characters deserve--Neptune refrains from destroying the society and everyone is happily satisfied by the marriage. This ending differs drastically from the one Chakrabarty imagines for humankind at large. There is no Neptune, Diana, or Venus available to the human race to save us from ourselves when our reason fails.
We need some deus ex machina _stat_ for current global warming.
ReplyDeleteAveryl, I really dig the idea of Neptune as climate change maker. It makes me wonder what Chakrabarty (or any of us) would have as the virgin sacrifices of today. Your analysis is really thought-provoking. Now if only the Anthropocene would end in a happy marriage for everyone. Doesn't look good though.
Averyl, I am quite enamored of the idea of a narrative of climate change/destruction in texts that privilege stories of a higher power that uses the weather to wreak havoc on the disobedient humans that have lost or misused their reasoning. This narrative can be found throughout recorded history, but I had never thought to connect it to an idea like Chakrabarty's. I couldn't help but think, as I was reading your post, of the perhaps similar biblical story of Noah, whose family is chosen to be saved because they have lived 'correctly.' God sends 40 days and nights of rain to wash away the rest of humanity: "So God said to Noah, 'I am going to put an end to all people, for the earth is filled with violence because of them. I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth'" (Genesis 6:13). Noah and his family and each pair of animals Noah saves become in this instance, however, the tragicomic ending. God had hoped that by cleansing the earth of the violent ones, the new line of humans would treat the earth and each other better the second time around. So far it would seem we haven't done the best job of living up to that mandate. I would be very interested to trace a path of climate change in mythical and biblical texts. Thanks for pointing this out!
ReplyDelete(Also because I can't help myself: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PflCQuo_uoQ/UoWZTRPWHQI/AAAAAAAAAVI/vHzeR_pffuY/s0-c/NOAH.png)
Climate change and the higher power...yes, the age-old threat! Of course, as Chakrabarty notes, we are the primary geological agents of catastrophe now, not the divine (read: the old-school nature/culture divide that the notion of the Anthropocene rejects). In terms of the representation of myth, however, we might consider that humans take on the power that was once reserved solely for the divine. What does myth look like in the Anthropocene? Let's think about dystopian narratives and history, for example...
ReplyDeleteEven in the Anthropocene, I think the topos of ordinary citizens at the mercy of a demanding, entitled, catastrophically destructive god is pretty fitting. I say this because I don't know that I would extend the blame for human-caused environmental chaos to individual humans in the general sense; I think that the primary forces destroying the natural environment are in the service of only a very few humans' desires/priorities. Most humans (globally speaking) neither orchestrate nor particular benefit from the large-scale destruction demanded by the cult of the money god to which they must still sacrifice.
ReplyDeleteI also get a sense from the pervasive, individualistic "you can make a difference" messaging that we're locking the windows while the doors are wide open. I feel a little guilty when I take a hot shower or run my air conditioner. I wonder, if the CEO of an artillery manufacturer were to stop by Accounts Payable and glance at the plant's five-figure power bill, would it say at the top, "Go Green! Do your part! Replace an incandescent bulb with a CFL!"?