Climate Thoughts with Brian

‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’

Robinson opens his text by challenging his reader to be aware of the invisible world and to understand its long connection and relationship with humans. Microorganisms have existed on planet Earth for billions of years and will likely continue to do so long after humanity has been and gone. Many fascinating phenomena in our world often go unnoticed. The incredible diversity of the microscopic realm around us holds many secrets. He urges us to appreciate and wonder at an invisible world of microbes- a world where humans are not the dominant life form, but instead the short terms guests. With each human having a microbiome with an estimated 39 trillion microbial cells, we could, as Robinson suggests, describe ourselves as ‘walking ecosystems.’ He repeats that Microbes are essential features of our ecosystems, health, social structures, behaviour, food systems and cultures. And quotes Louis Pasteur when he echoes, ‘The role of the infinitely small in nature is infinitely great.’

This book is a fascinating exploration of the possibility of the microscopic world: from outlining the last microbiota-gut-brain axis research; to exploring forensic microbiology in potentially replacing if not complementing DNA in the legal and policing worlds; to describing microbiome-inspired green infrastructure; and finally turning attention to the level of connectedness that we need with nature.

We are all in this together. We are all connected through our invisible friends.

A loss of immunity?

Unfortunately, when we don’t have the collectivism mindset and instead forge ahead with an individualist mindset, we run the risk of not seeing what we have lost until it is too late. Robinson explores the hypothesis of microbes as ‘old friends’, without which, we run the risk of putting ourselves in danger. ‘It is the removal of natural biodiversity from our lives and the lack of interaction between ourselves and the microbes we co-evolved with that causes immune-system issues and inflammatory diseases like allergies.’ He acknowledges and warns against the dangers of misuse of antibiotics in treatment when immune systems are weakened and cautions that this could herald the rise of resistant strains. ‘Nowadays, many people’s immune systems seem to be weakening, and we turn to antibiotics for help.’ Robinson explores the environment factor and uses the ‘Glasgow Effect’ as supporting evidence of the social inequity in exposure to microbes. Researchers found a disparity of 18 years in life expectancy between two neighbouring regions of the city and considered a range of explanations. ‘Scientists have put together various hypotheses forward to explain this disparity, including land contamination by toxins, higher derelict land levels and poor housing quality and social support. All these phenomena could potentially drive inequities in exposure to microbes.’ With ‘nature prescriptions’ on the rise in the UK, an equal exposure and access to green space and ‘forest-bathing’, may be an under-researched and under-used strategy to advance health. ‘The opportunity to ‘bathe’ in friendly microbes and plant chemicals should be available to all.’

Sadly, in the UK, what most of do ‘bathe’ in, when we go to the coasts, is untreated sewage. Clear information is now in the public domain about the water industry and the lack of action from Government bodies to remedy the amount of sewage that is polluting the waterways around the UK. As Robinson identifies, ‘Another important source of antibiotic-resistance genes in our landscapes is sewage.’ He urges us to picture- worryingly not ‘imagine’- the current state of superbugs and the dangers thereof. ‘Just imagine the indomitable armada of antibiotic-resistant bacteria sailing in their fleets in unfathomable numbers through the pipes and into the rivers and seas when raw human sewage is discharged. This is the reality of the situation in the UK.’

‘We’re living in a microbial world.’

Robinson explores in a detailed manner how the psychobiotic revolution has happened and suggests that more research into microbe interactions may impact and alleviate suffering from diseases such as MS. He outlines the numerous pathways linking gut microbes to the brain and suggests that ‘the chemicals produced by microbes are critical players in gut-brain communication.’ A better understanding of this communication may have an impact on human behaviour and learning, as well as implications for treatment. ‘It has been shown that people with MS are more likely to have dysbiotic gut microbiomes, including a reduced number of microbial species, than control groups…

Continuing to study gut microbe interactions provides the hope of understanding more about how MS works- and, dare I say, with crossed fingers and toes, how it could potentially be alleviated.’

On a more philosophical note, Robinson also questions whether microbes could play a part in the debate surrounding human will. Could our microbes affect our perceptions, action and intuition by regulating our impulses? Should we consider this when debating the notions of free will and determinism? It is also worth considering that as humans we have approximately 30 trillion human cells balanced against approximately 39 trillion microbial cells- therefore, what does this relationship mean for an understanding of what it means to be human itself?

A world without microbes

Although Robinson doesn’t like the terms ‘good’ and ‘bad’ as he accepts that even pathogens are part of a normal functioning ecosystem, he takes the time to warn that biodiversity loss, especially that of tree-felling, could have dramatic impacts on our environment. Indeed, the ongoing degradation of ecosystems means that we are living in good times for ‘bad’ microbes, and bad times for ‘good’ microbes. Robinson outlines the vital importance and role that microbes have in our ecosystems. Microbes are the glue that holds our ecosystems together. He imagines a powerful vision of the loss of microbes, with the rapid domino effect that this would have. If microbes were wiped out, plants would no longer draw in vital nutrients and convert them into useful chemicals. They would rapidly lose all capacity to produce energy via photosynthesis, and would swiftly die. All other organisms that depend on plants to survive would soon be cursed with the same fate.

A cultural transformation.

Robinson urges that a cultural transformation is needed in how humans view, understand and relate to the microbial world. He suggests that the possibilities to learn from and work with this world would be hugely advantageous. He enthusiastically describes bioreceptive wall panels, green infrastructure and algae-powered buildings, as in Hamburg, Germany, as only the starting point of what a positive symbiotic relationship could mean. With air pollution becoming a rising concern in most countries and cities, Robinson suggests that a template mitigation method may already exist, ‘to reduce the impacts of city air pollution, the algae powered breathing pavilions produce breathable oxygen whilst purifying the local air.’ Robinson argues thatecological policies and behaviours could be better adapted, once we acknowledge that we live in an interrelated world. But once we acknowledge that we are essentially walking communities exchanging invisible life-forms with our environments, we can use ecological principles to help guide our social policy and behaviour.

He urges ‘that all forms of life-both the seen and the unseen-are in some way connected, ecologically, socially and evolutionarily.’ With this profound shift in mindset from humans, powerful methods of optimising restoration and regeneration policies can be implemented, which would have beneficial impact on humans. From a microbiome perspective, we need to understand how to optimise restoration strategies so that nature can do its thing and heal us. He quotes the doyenne of nature relationships, Robin Wall Kimmerer, to support his argument of a healthy positive relationship with nature. ‘We restore the land, and the land restores us.’

Shifts in architecture, restoration and lower levels of air pollution are only the start. Robinson also conjectures about a future where forensic microbiology may help a criminal justice system in identification of criminal behaviour. He reminds us of Locard’s exchange principle when he writes ‘We leave swathes of microbes behind on objects and surfaces’ and suggests that a better understanding of microbes may eventually replace DNA evidence. Each of us humanoids may be uniquely identified based on the microbial communities living in and on our bodies- our microbial ‘fingerprints’.

We live in an interrelated world

This is not a book written to shock the reader, or to make the reader aghast at the number of microbes on their eyelashes, or in every breath they take. Rather, it is a book to prompt the restoration of the symbiotic relationship between the visible and invisible worlds, as well as the awareness and appreciation of what is contained within our microbiomes. ‘Simply taking a mindful moment to think about this web of interconnectivity can be humbling, and acknowledging its existence and power can be transformative. Ultimately, all the nature you can see intimately depends on all the nature you can’t see.’

Understanding our connectedness with the invisible world can remind us to tread gently and change our behaviour, so that the smallest creatures on the planet can continue to thrive. We are visitors in their world. As Robinson concludes, we cannot do without them.

‘Microbes influence every corner of the world and every second of our lives.’

What are your views of ‘Government’ and where do these come from?

How much should any government regulate industry, if at all?

With the fossil fuel giant Shell reporting their highest profits in 115 years of almost $40 billion this year, calls have intensified in the UK at least, for a bigger windfall tax on energy companies from the government.

When we observe how big businesses, and individual business owners behave today, wielding their power autocratically- surely it’s time to ask if this is really how we want business to behave. How can we hold them to account as they create mega-media conglomerates and monopolies?

Oreskes and Conway return in ‘The Big Myth- How American Business Taught Us To Loathe Government And Love The Free Market’ to reveal how the narrative and belief system of a ‘free market’ has dominated the American ideology- oftentimes in the face of evidence that leads to the opposition view. The meticulous, detailed, patient and thorough research that was the hallmark of ‘Merchants of Doubt’ is once again on display, as the authors evaluate ‘the history of a construction of a myth.’ The forensic unravelling of the dominant pro-business ideology is potentially more aimed at an American audience, with cultural and historical references throughout. The underlying moral however, has lessons for all countries, as the 21^st century faces multiplying threats and the narrative continues as to where the solutions will come from. ‘Many people think climate change will be best addressed by technological innovation in the marketplace’

 This book therefore, is not one which simply looks back to how a myth was constructed in one country throughout the 20^th century, but rather a studious deconstruction of why we have thought of ‘government’ and ‘business’ in particular ways and who has benefitted from this conditioning.

The authors are keen to highlight that the presented false dichotomies of ‘Big Business’ or ‘Big Government’ are not the absolute choices that they appear to be. ‘Our choices are not confined to oppressive communism or heartless capitalism. To suggest that they are is a dangerous failure of vision.’

Understanding the insidious messaging and omnipresent integration propaganda that has existed, whether for the tobacco industry, the fossil fuel industry, or business interests can help with ‘pre-bunking’ the ‘The Big Myth’ that only one viewpoint can hold sway.

As Oreskes and Conway conclude, ‘The big myth’s expiration date is long past due. Our futures depend on rejecting it.’

How did so many Americans come to have so much faith in markets and so little faith in government?

Oreskes and Conway open the book by identifying the starting place for ‘market fundamentalism’ in the late 19^th century, as a burgeoning USA was beginning to assert its identity. ‘Market fundamentalism is a quasi-religious belief that the best way to address our needs- whether economic or otherwise- is to let markets do their thing, and not rely on government.’

‘The market’ became this entity, almost in its own right, that existed nebulously outside of regulation, where ‘economic freedom’ could rule and any regulation of the marketplace ‘would be the first step on a slippery slope to socialism, communism or worse.’ However, the authors suggest that, ‘”The Market” doesn’t exist outside of society, but is part of society and like society’s other parts, must be subject to law and regulation.’

In Chapter 1 then, the authors explore that expressing any type of freedom is always a balance of competing rights. They scrutinise the impact of Amendments to the Constitution and how this balance of protection of citizens could be balanced with capitalist growth. They are also at pains to emphasise the importance of the opening of the Constitution, ‘We the People of the United States’, to highlight the omission of the capitalist focus, therefore opening the question to, where, when and why, did this narrative take hold.

As Oreskes and Conway find, ‘Americans in the early twentieth century were largely suspicious of “Big Business” and saw the government as their ally. By the later decades of the century, this had flipped.’ It is true to note as well that Governments tend not to spend their financial budgets on advertising and promoting their own narratives and ideology, whereas companies and businesses ringfence large amounts of their budgets for the promotion of a free market economy. It is also true to stress the importance of the ‘Tripod of Freedom’, which emerged as a claim that free enterprise was an inseparable part of American identity. ‘The myth of the Tripod of Freedom, the claim that America was founded on three basic, interdependent principles: representative democracy, political freedom and free enterprise. Free enterprise appears in neither the Declaration of Independence nor the constitution.’

Experts for hire

Oreskes and Conway begin by exploring how this narrative started to change in the opening decades of the 20^th century and how the electrical industry, and more particularly the National Association of Manufacturers (NAM), which ‘insisted that the federal government should stay out of its way and not regulate the workplace.’ The power of industry and financial backing of industry for advertising campaigns and favourable editorials alongside industry backed ‘studies’ that demonstrated whatever the industry wanted them to demonstrate began to reach hundreds of thousands of consumers. Almost 100 years on, we can see the same playbook being used by fossil fuel companies and advocates to delay the full emergence of the renewable energy industry. Language began to be artfully used to create opposites. That ‘liberal’ now meant ‘anti-American’, or ‘anti-whatever convenient label’ that could be used, including the dreaded label of being a ‘socialist’, forgetting perhaps the Constitution words, ‘to promote the general welfare.’. These campaigns from the National Electric Light Association as well, ‘foreshadowed later efforts by the tobacco industry to fight the facts about their products and influence scientific researchers and educators to promote their point of view.’ And ‘helped to construct a key plank in the platform of American market fundamentalism and a key factor in the big myth of the Free Market.

This messaging came to a crashing halt on October 29, 1929, when the New York Stock Exchange collapsed and the scale of market failure could be clearly evidenced.

Business regroups

Despite the New Deal offering security, business interests regrouped and spent the decade following creating ‘the proposition that any compromise to economic freedom would inevitably lead to despotism- and that political and economic freedom were therefore inseparable- would become one of the fundamental tenets of market fundamentalism’s big myths… Freedom would be defined above all as economic freedom.

This created the necessary cultural semantic echo between ‘inseparable’ and ‘indivisible’- which, in turn, meant that business could now attack any government activity into the marketplace as a ‘threat to freedom, a threat to the American way of life.’ With radio being hugely important as a means of communication and reaching over 80% of American families by the end of the 1930s, a new platform for propaganda could be used continuously and invisibly. ‘Capitalism was about freedom, NAM would insist, and the survival of American democracy was at stake.’

Modes of communication

Oreskes and Conway analyse in depth popular media of the following decades- evaluating the impact the binary rhetoric that was promoted by religious Christian Libertarians of Government or God- or ‘You are either with us, or against us,’ had in promoting absolutes. Absolutes which led to the American people finding it difficult to have constructive conversations about identity, or how they had been led astray.

Influential film directors and writers, from Frank Capra’s ‘It’s a Wonderful Life, to Wilder’s ‘Little House’ books began to counter and promote the interests of business respectively. ‘During the 1940s and ‘50s, libertarian moviemakers and their allies in business deployed censorship, intimidation, and overt propaganda to change the tone of America’s screens and disseminate the myth of the free market.’

‘The era of Big government is over.’

As the final decades of the 20^th century arrived, the messaging of the Big Myth of the ‘magic of the marketplace’ was completed by Ronald Reagan. ‘In the 1920s, Americans had hated “Big Business”; Reagan would persuade us to hate “Big Government.” Reagan’s repeated insistence of ‘the magic of the marketplace’- in reality, an empty clichéd phrase- became his catch phrase. A repeated message repeated daily and with the backing of industry can prove very effective at convincing people not to look beyond the words and look for the evidence instead- even when the public are being negatively impacted directly. This was a strategy that Donald Trump would later employ with deadly consequences during both his presidential campaign and during the Covid pandemic.

“Government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem.”- Ronald Reagan.

In 1996, when Bill Clinton declared “the era of Big Government is over”, business must have rejoiced. What is often forgotten though is that ‘Clinton governed from the center-left, defending Social Security and Medicare.’

Oreskes and Conway begin to conclude ‘The Big Myth’ by drawing attention to the continued market failures to regulate itself, by highlighting the Enron implosion and by exploring the lack of business support for climate action, which hinders business progress.

‘The fossil fuel industry’s economic interests in preventing climate action have always been obvious; less understood is how it camouflaged those interests. No one ever said “I am denying climate change to protect corporate profits.” They said that they were protecting jobs, protecting the economy, and protecting free markets from government “encroachment”. They said they were fighting for capitalism and freedom.’

The response to the Covid pandemic is also highlighted as a market failure, as the authors comment that, ‘The Covid-19 pandemic has shown us how expensive overreliance on the “free” market can be.’ They also conclude that ‘the Covid-19 crisis has made crystal clear why some problems demand substantive governmental solutions, and why many of them can’t just be temporary.’

The era of ‘Big Business’ is over?

The authors caution that a century of programming and conditioning that loving the free market and loathing of Government ‘is not easily undone.’ They warn that‘The Big Myth has a tenacious hold. Polls show that in many domains. Americans trust the private sector more that they trust “The Government.” This continued hostility and lack of trust allows for the rhetoric that any Government can’t be trusted, even in the face of existential threats like climate change. The true costs of the ‘free’ market may be becoming more visible, despite business interests to the contrary.

‘Five hundred thousand dead from opioids, over a million dead from Covid-19, massive inequality, rampant anxiety and unhappiness, and the well-being of us all threatened by climate change: these are the true costs of the “free” market.’

As Oreskes and Conway conclude,

‘Government is not the solution to all our problems, but it is the solution to many of our biggest ones.’

‘The Lost Rainforests of Britain’ by Guy Shrubsole charts the author’s awakening to the ‘lost worlds’ of Britain and reflects the dedicated and personal journey that he made to appreciate and love the temperate rainforests that once dominated Britain.

Although Shrubsole notes early in his text that ‘Few people realise that Britain harbours fragments of a globally rare habitat: temperate rainforest’, my feeling is that this awareness is expanding and growing- more so in recent months, with more and more of these texts breaking into the public awareness. Education, appreciation and love of the rainforests and the natural world are all core concepts explored in the book.

‘So much has been lost; so little remains.’

The, at best, indifferent attitude to the protection of temperate rainforests in Britain over the centuries has led to a devasting decline in their existence. The transactional relationship and exploitation of nature for our own resources has reinforced the dangerous belief that humanity stands proudly above the other species of this planet and that this planet is in some way ‘ours’, to do with as we please.

 Shrubsole notes that although Britain lies in a ‘bioclimatic zone’, which lends itself to the promotion of temperate rainforests, of about 11 million acres of Britain or a ‘staggering 20 per cent of the country’, the existence of rainforests remains solely in isolated pockets- mainly on the western coastal areas. ‘Over the millenia, we’ve destroyed our rainforests, so that now only tiny fragments and relics remain. We’re so unfamiliar with these enchanting places, we’ve forgotten they exist.’ Shrubsole is not afraid to pin the blame on humanity’s actions, ‘But we didn’t just lose our rainforests through some tragic accident. We actively destroyed them.’ It is important to appreciate the intentional nature of the actions which led to this reduction of temperate rainforest. The two culprits examined in depth in this book are the overgrazing done by sheep and deer, as well as the unchecked proliferation of rhododendron. He comments that, ‘Out of the 74,000 acres of temperate rainforest left in Scotland, around 40 per cent is estimated to be infested with rhododendron.’

‘Britain was once a rainforest nation. But we lost most of our rainforests.’

Although the physical evidence of rainforests is now reduced, Shrubsole champions movements and pressure groups whose focus is the rewilding of the country, to recover what has been lost. ‘A habitat that once flourished over perhaps a fifth of Britain has been reduced to scattered fragments covering less than 1 per cent of the country.’ He convincingly argues that the cultural memory of a landscape covered with rainforests is still there, if we know the clues to conduct an effective search, but for the majority, this is something that has been forgotten. ‘This loss of cultural memory, this great forgetting that we once had rainforests, is almost as heartbreaking as the loss of the forests themselves.’

In order to find these clues, he fully analyses a number of place names, through linguistic archaeology, from Celtic and Viking origins, to demonstrate that names on maps can hold the key to the past. This was a really exciting part of the text for me, one which I thoroughly enjoyed- that the memory of what our landscape was once like, can still be found in plain sight through place names, is a fascinating area to explore. Although Shrubsole acknowledges clearly that, ‘The awful truth is that we destroyed them,’ he alsosimultaneously argues that can also be the agents of restoration. ‘If we are to stand any chance of restoring our lost rainforests, we first need to remember we once had them.’

Britain is a land full of myths surrounding trees and nature. Through the works of Tolkien, modern generations have been introduced to living trees, who have underestimated power. We are also privileged enough to have the Welsh text of ‘The Mabinogion’ to be our guide. We forget that we are also a land which has been a fusion of cultures for centuries. The Norse influence- also to be found in place names- continues to be present in modern life in the UK, with days of the week named after Norse Gods, as well as their central belief of the Yggdrasil- the tree of life. In Christian mythology, trees also figure significantly- with many homes and churches decorated with wooden crosses, symbols of the possibility of a new life. Alongside this iconography, we also see the image of the Green Man, once more hidden in plain sight. Shrubsole celebrates that this connection still exists and when discussing mythologies, argues that the power of an old story told anew may well be essential in our present world, beset with various crises. ‘It’s that these stories contain a deep love of place, infusing the real world with sacred meaning. In a time of ecological crisis, that’s a story we badly need to relearn.’

‘I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.’

One story which we could well to ‘relearn’ might be that of Dr Seuss’s ‘The Lorax’. For various generations, the loss of nature through the actions of capitalist industrialists, has been a memorable story. We are moved by the empty countryside and far-reaching ecological damage. We are left with the hopeful message that, ‘“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”’

It is clear that Shrubsole ‘cares a whole awful lot’. From the dedication in mapping the possible rainforest zones, to the simple delight that a sighting of a lichen can bring, it is clear that a connection with nature is enriching. Shrubsole comments, ‘Temperate rainforests are full of gifts for those who visit them.’ He contends that visits to rainforests can be affirming, ‘You’ll return from a visit to a British rainforest soaked from head to toe, but feeling all the more alive for it.’

However, Shrubsole also highlights that access to the countryside and to Britain’s temperate rainforests can be problematic at best. ‘But if you want to see much of the English countryside, you need to trespass. We still only have a Right to Roam over 8 per cent of England; over the other 92 per cent, the law of trespass still reigns supreme.’ In January 2023 in England, access to the countryside was further limited when a ban on wild camping on Dartmoor was imposed. This now means that there is no place in England and Wales to legally wild camp. There is an irony that humans are now being excluded from nature, when before exclusion fences limited wildlife from damaging saplings and allowed the regrowth of nature.

When access is granted- or circumvented- Shrubsole describes a temperate rainforest world that is ‘both familiar and strangely alien.’ His enjoyment comes from the observation of the tiny details of these rainforest ecosystems- details which are lost when the re-introduction of large animals make for better publicity. ‘It feels to me that we need to become much more interested in the minutia of the natural world around us. The little things are just as important as the charismatic megafauna.’

Our Once and Future Home

‘The Lost Rainforests of Britain’ then is a book which both reflects on the past and looks hopefully forwards. Shrubsole argues passionately that ‘We have a moral obligation to try and repair the damage caused by our ancestors.’ Perhaps we could extend this further into a moral obligation to our descendants to restore temperate rainforests, even if it takes centuries. Shrubsole is cautious about the ingrained, simple narrative of tree plantations, arguing that a dynamic ecosystem is one that can be self-regulating and self-renewing, full of species to appreciate and marvel at. ‘Our temperate rainforests support an abundance of life. They teem with hundreds of species of lichen, many of which are deemed by ecologists to be of international importance.’

He closes the book optimistically, highlighting that given a small chance, nature can renew itself, as it has done through time. ‘[I]t demonstrates how quickly woodland can naturally regenerate when it’s given half a chance.’ Granting nature a chance is a common refrain in ecological books and Shrubsole argues that it can be easy to forget that ‘life finds a way.’ ‘We can also overlook the gradual resurgence of nature, and forget its powers of renewal.’

He does not advocate that humans should just step back entirely and let nature take its course, but instead advocates for community engagement and a new form of ‘social commons’, which allows rainforests and humans to work together, perhaps in the most symbiotic manner that has ever been attempted. ‘But to have any hope of success, rainforest restoration has to be done with people at its heart. If we’re to bring back our lost rainforests, it’ll prove impossible to do so without the active engagement of the communities who live in and around them.’

‘A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they shall never sit.’

It would be difficult to write a review of ‘The Darkness Manifesto’ while trying to avoid the lyric of ‘Hello darkness, my old friend’, so let me get this out of the way at the start. Thankfully, Eklöf also acknowledges this familiar relationship, when he writes, ‘The night is quite simply our friend- we rest in darkness, in its stillness and subtle beauty. There’s still life in the darkness of night, so let us take back the night, let us seize it. Carpe noctem’

‘The Darkness Manifesto’ is a thorough examination of the dangerous impact that light pollution is having on eco-systems and biodiversity around the world and is a call to arms, or ‘a stirring manifesto for natural darkness.’ Eklöf defines light pollution as ‘a collective term used for light that can be regarded as superfluous but still has a great impact on our lives and ecosystems.’ And argues that humans have blurred the boundary between night and day with their spreading glow of artificial light to such an extent that nature is being confounded and disorientated.

Eklöf argues that darkness should not be regarded simply as an absence of light, but that ‘it is my absolute view that darkness has an independent worth.’ That there is a balanced interplay between these two states, ‘Because without light, no darkness, and without darkness, no light.’

At the same time, however, he acknowledges the emotional attachments that we have to darkness and comments that, ‘To be afraid of the dark lies in our genetic, as well as our cultural heritage.’ He argues that light has always represented safety to humans, as we navigate a darkness that is not our natural world, but rather one in which we are simply visitors.

‘All the light we cannot see’

With the ever-spreading ‘skyglow’ from cities, humans are creating a world where artificial light blocks out the natural wonder of the stars. Eklöf explores the Bortle scale- a scale which assesses how much a night sky is affected by light pollution. He states that, ‘In the very best of night skies, rated as a stage one or two on the Bortle scale, up to six thousand stars or other objects can be seen with the naked eye.’ Despite this majesty, he also identifies that we see but a fraction of the night sky. ‘Only one out of five people in Europe can see the Milky Way on a daily basis, and in North America and Europe, nearly everyone, 99 per cent, lives under a sky affected by artificial light. Few people know real darkness or what a starry sky looks like.’ It is therefore not an accident that astro-tourism is increasing as a hobby and people are actively seeking out the darkness to connect to areas where artificial light does not block out the sky. ‘Dark Sky’ parks and remote areas, far from the urban sprawl are more popular and are increasing in their number. Could it be that we have recognised- on some level at least- that we have lost our connection to our place in the skies and are aiming to restore this marvel, wonder and awe? ‘Out of all the stars we humans ought to be able to see with the naked eye, for most of us only a fragment, half a per cent, remains. The rest have been absorbed by artificial light, disappeared behind a smokescreen of human activity. They are there, but not for us to see.’

Impact on the natural world

The spread of light pollution has not only inhibited our view of the stars, but has had a catastrophic impact on biodiversity and marine life. In recent years, we have had repeated messages of the massive decline of insect life and Eklöf does not shy away from blaming humans. ‘Today, about 40 per cent of all insect species are threatened with extinction …shows that we’re moving towards the earth’s sixth mass extinction. And humanity is the cause.’ He does accept though that there could be a multitude of reasons for the huge decline in biodiversity, but aims to raise awareness of the impact of artificial, or human created, light. ‘The number of insects is decreasing. The reasons for insect death are many, from urbanisation and global warming to insecticides, large-scale farming, monoculture and disappearing forests. Probably all these factors play a role. But to everyone who’s ever seen an insect react to light, it is obvious that light pollution is a major cause.’ With half of the insects on the planet being nocturnal, Eklöf urges that there needs to be a re-balancing of priorities between species and that human wishes should not be paramount. ‘The more attention on the impact of light in ecological systems and our own well-being, the closer we’ll get to reconciling society’s need for light with nature’s need for darkness.’ As animals and insects feel safe in the darkness and seek its protection, it seems that humans are attempting to drown it out entirely in light, as we feel safe in the light instead. Eklöf draws attention to our religious mythology that light triumphed over darkness where chaos and uncertainty reigned and uses the Christian origin story in Genesis as an example of the historical and cultural acceptance and need that darkness must be conquered. ‘Human beings have extended their day, and at the same time have forced out the night’s inhabitants.’ We have done this to such an extent that we have changed our planet’s appearance from space- an understanding that we only recognised in the late 20^th century. ‘Humanity’s desire to illuminate the world makes the earth, viewed from space, glow in the night.’

Artificial light as a disruptor

The impact of human created light sources on marine and terrestrial life is one which is thankfully the area of more academic study. Recent studies by the University of Plymouth have focused on the impact of artificial light sources and how they are a danger for marine ecosystems. The journal Science Direct, has been blunter in their assessment and concluded that ‘Light pollution is a global threat to biodiversity.’ Eklöf recounts in his book the dangers encountered by turtles which were confused and disorientated by man-made light and instead of heading directly to the ocean, began to make their way towards human habitation instead, as they ‘trusted their instinct to follow the light.’ As a result, their natural instinct was destroyed by the light from humans, ‘It can displace 200 million years of instinct in an instant.’ Eklöf also highlights the plight of wallabies being born up to a month later owing to artificial light from a naval base and commented that ‘Nature was again disrupted by man-made light.’

Eklöf argues in ‘The Darkness Manifesto’ that we are far from understanding marine life and that the darkness of the oceans is an alien world for humans. ‘Ocean life is several hundred million years older than terrestrial life and still not fully explored.’ He celebrates the darkness of the ocean, ‘The dark and unknown deep ocean is a world completely different from our own, and there, darkness is the norm and light only comes for short visits.’ He also highlights marine animals that use echo-location, such as sperm whales, ‘whose clicking sounds are sent through the oceans at an incredible 230 decibels’- levels which are life threatening for humans. (A rocket launch has been measured at 180 decibels) He outlines that military forces such as the US navy are keen to understand more about bio-luminescence and how potentially this natural bio-light could be used to track unknown vessels in the ocean. There is much to learn from the ocean, but if we continue to pollute it through artificial light, this learning could be lost. Eklöf concludes this section of the book by commenting, ‘We are a long way from thoroughly understanding the chemistry created by darkness in the creatures of the natural world.’

Away from the water, we have all seen examples of nature flowering at ‘the wrong time’ and Eklöf suggests that artificial light plays an important role in causing this. He also warns of the domino impact on the food chain when late flowerings or no flowerings occur. ‘At the start of spring, artificial light can accelerate the awakening of the trees, making the buds open prematurely.’

‘Normally they [bird’s foot trefoil] attract large numbers of aphids, but a late flowering or the absence of flowering can decimate entire populations of aphids, which in turn affects green lacewings, damselflies, ladybirds, hoverflies…the domino effect begins, and the ecosystem is disrupted.’

‘The easiest environmental problem to solve’

With humans increasingly suffering from sleeping issues as their circadian rhythms move to an unnatural alignment, Eklöf concludes that there is much that we could do to solve the impact of human sources of light pollution. ‘Light pollution is really the easiest of all the environmental problems to solve, at least technically.’ He acknowledges that the public may find it difficult at first to accept increased darkness, but welcomes moves by councils such as in Germany, where landmarks are no longer lit in darkness. ‘Light and illuminated environments mean safety for many people, so it may be difficult to accept the increased presence of darkness.’

With the growing popularity of the annual ‘Earth Hour’, where individuals, communities and businesses are encouraged to turn off non-essential lights for one hour, Eklöf hopes that our attitudes towards the darkness may turn to one of welcome and for health benefits. ‘Perception of time changes in the dark; the clock seems to slow down and disappear. There’s long been talk of light therapy for us northerners in the winter. But the fact is that even dark therapy is starting to become a concept.’

Eklöf concludes his book, both with a warning that time is running out, but also with a list of easy steps to begin to change our cultural relationship with darkness. ‘The question is how much time we have to act. Many of the animals that live under the protection of darkness are on the verge of extinction and with them their invaluable services: pollinating insects, pest-hunting bats. Meanwhile, we humans have ever-worsening sleep and plants are ageing prematurely.’

‘The lights don’t always have to be on; there is more to be found in the dark than we think.’

‘Our species is fully responsible for what is now befalling all non-human life on Earth.’

As scientists presently decide which place will formally mark the start of the Anthropocene, Daltun’s ‘An Irish Atlantic Rainforest’ reminds us that, as humans, we have incredible potential to transform the world for the good or the ill.

Unusually for my reviews, this one begins at the end of Daltun’s journey and the end of the text, where he concluded with his key argument, ‘Quite simply, it is profoundly immoral for us to think and act as if the entire planet were ours alone, and that we don’t have to leave enough wild spaces for the millions of other species that have just as much right to exist as we do.’ The realisation and humble acceptance that our species is just one of the millions which are lucky enough to exist on the planet and not the most essential one, is a central message of the book.

My journey to this book was via ‘Losing Eden’ by Lucy Jones, ‘The Insect Crisis’ by Oliver Milman and ‘Silent Earth’ by Dave Goulson, so it was comforting and reassuring to read similar messages breaking through to a wider audience. On one hand, ‘An Irish Atlantic Rainforest’ is not a ‘climate’ book- and yet, it is. For me, it was about the change in perspective that is needed to live as a part of nature and to respect nature as a living entity.

Nature existed for millions of years, both before and without humans, and will undoubtedly do so again. Despite our existence on the planet, being in geological terms the blink of an eye, our destructive influence on the world has been marked and noticed. Daltun makes the point, early in the text that a connection with this geological timeframe is a vital one. ‘I was beginning to perceive the landscape around me and under me in ecological and geological terms and time frames, rather than just those structured around the narrow window of time that is a human life.’ Through the tactile touching of the soil and strata comes a realisation of our true place in the world and the understanding that by changing our nature of stamping artificiality on the world, we could give nature a chance. ‘Our task is mainly just to stand back and let that happen: no small thing for a species whose success thus far has been so firmly predicated on the control and manipulation of environments.’

Daltun argues that by stepping back and letting go of trying to ‘tame the wilderness’, we can be blessed with blooming ecological diversity and life. ‘We need to learn to be able to let go- and then enjoy nature come flooding back in and do its thing.’

Discovering awe

In truth, the ‘narrative’ aspect of this book, could be seen as potentially clichéd. A family moves from the city to the country and they have their eyes open to the beauty of nature and they aim to protect an area of land and ensure that an ‘Atlantic rainforest’ can breathe again. This would be a very trite reading of the book and one that attempts to minimise the deep, almost genetic memory and connection that we have when we encounter nature.

Daltun connects with a growing zeitgeist– that of experiencing awe when faced with nature and the environment. He states ‘I was in complete awe of the place.’ and describes an encounter with a sparrowhawk, which ‘left me literally ‘enraptored’, and close to tears. It felt like a very personal welcome from another world, and in a sense perhaps it was.’ There are moments in our lives when we do experience awe and wonder and are transformed by it, as we realise that our eyes and minds cannot process what we are experiencing. If you have seen the Grand Canyon, this may be the closest example that I can think of here. You may be able to intellectually cope with its formation over millions of years, but on an emotional front, it is much harder to embrace and fathom. Without these transcendental moments in our lives, we miss out on a connection. For Daltun, it is the proximity to forests which is the focus of the book, ‘In the forest, ecological time, which is only truly measured in scales stretching far beyond our own lives, potentially comes into view, if not quite within full grasp of the mind.’ He acknowledges the healing properties of nature- and notes that forest bathing is medically prescribed. Whenever I felt as if I was carrying the weight of the whole world on my shoulders, within a few steps into the woods I would feel that start to lift, often in the most indescribably powerful way.’ He continues to explore the transformative power of the connection of nature almost as a rebirth, ‘After spending time in the woods, I leave as a different person, recharged to my very core.’

Nature must be permitted to come back

This book is filled with words that try and capture the elusiveness of his journey. Daltun writes about ‘rewilding’ and ‘reverting’ and ‘renewing’ and ‘returning’ and ‘rejuvenation’, as the limits of language make it difficult to describe what the preservation of the temperate rainforest becomes. Preservation itself isn’t the right word- as it suggests interference. What Daltun describes, is almost a preservation through inaction.

He repeatedly acknowledges that he is not promoting a return to some Golden Age, but rather to create opportunities for ‘land sparing’- ‘The real objective is not to back to the past, but forward: to complex, vibrant ecosystems that actually work by themselves and are therefore more resilient in the face of climate breakdown and other shocks coming down the line. As has been said before, the aim of rewilding isn’t to turn the ecological clock back in time, but to allow it to actually start ticking again.’

We are all ecologists now

Daltun intersperses his book with images of human interaction with nature and in this, there is a similarity to the photographer Jonk’s work in ‘Naturalia’, where he visits abandoned human sites around the world, where nature has reclaimed the land and buildings. There is a humbling, haunting beauty in both the images of Jonk and the natural world described by Daltun. ‘How nature can return- and does best- when left alone.’

The practice of humans not leaving nature alone, but instead introducing non-native species creates significant issues for Daltun, as it threatens self-regulating eco-systems. He argues, ‘It may surprise many people to learn that invasive exotic (non-native) species are recognised by ecologists as the second biggest driver of global species extinction.’ He also points out that introducing non-native plants, or larger mammals can have unintended consequences for other elements of the food chain. ‘There is strong evidence that the increasing prevalence of non-native plant species is a major factor driving the current sharp decline of insect populations across the world.’

Good intentions aren’t enough

Daltun explores in depth the complex issues that are created when humans try to interfere, sometimes with good intentions, with what they view as deficits in nature. Perhaps not understanding that if something is not there in the eco- system, then nature has probably not put it there for a reason. He bemoans the introduction of goats and sika deer, ‘Often described by ecologists as ‘desert makers’, they are responsible for helping to push native species across the planet into extinction, with fragile island ecosystems especially vulnerable.’ He supports this point by emphasising that when human activity has impacted the eco-system already, any more interference can prove costly, ‘The most crucial thing to understand about invasive species is that they tend to make most headway in ecosystems which are already heavily compromised by human activities.’

Daltun takes time to unpick the dialogue between farmers, governments and environmentalists, and explores the challenges and cooperation that is possible between these groups. His target appears to be the Government more, which tries to impose and limit nature, while at the same time allowing invasive species to damage what and threaten what remains. ‘That such a situation has been allowed to persist for so long- both sike deer and rhododendron were already recognised as serious problems by the mid-1970s- is a monumental national disgrace.’

The dangers of monoculture plantations are analysed fully in the text- ‘However, despite all the arguments in favour of treating the land gently, there is a rapid and relentless homogenisation taking place throughout the length and breadth of the Irish countryside, with flat monocultural banality the ideal always strived for.’

There is also a warning that easy political soundbite solutions should always be viewed with caution, especially the ideology that if we just plant enough trees, all will be well. ‘Tree-planting is not synonymous with conservation; it is an admission that conservation has failed.’- Oliver Rackham

Daltun suggests instead that a flourishing, diverse, self-reliant ecosystem is thebetter solution- not just for a political term, but for the generations to come. ‘Nature must be permitted to come back. Society needs it; our rapidly disappearing wildlife desperately needs it.’

Our relationship with nature is a broken one, but it can be repaired.

It is important to note that Daltun does not finish his journey with an arrogant flourish of ‘Look what I achieved and you can too, if you work hard enough.’ In truth, there is no end point to the natural rainforest journey- just perhaps a different steward and guardian at some point. The connections and awareness of time that nature allows is more vital, as is a deep gratitude. Of his own experience, Daltun writes, ‘Restoring a wild natural ecosystem- or, more accurately, removing some of the man-made impediments that were preventing it from restoring itself- has brought deep joy, fulfilment and meaning.’

For more people to experience this deep joy and meaning, he argues that a dramatic cultural shift is required- to one of awe and to one of wonder. ‘Since culture is such a key driver of human behaviour, a profound transformation in our cultural relationship with forests and other natural ecosystems, to one of respect, and indeed reverence, is vital.’

If we continue on the path of treating nature as expendable and as a resource for us to enjoy, then we will continue to be the ‘planetary killers’ as E.O. Wilson describes us. Daltun concludes by arguing that our priorities need to dramatically altered. ‘The human economy is always placed first in our order of priorities…while the natural world is actually treated as expendable…it should be the diametric opposite.’

Without this cultural shift, we could be jeopardising our own future. ‘It is not an exaggeration to say that our own very survival as a species will ultimately largely hinge on whether we can do so- or not.’

‘The essence of nature is wholeness’- Douglas Chadwick

In reading this text, I thought about the journey of the author from Italy, to South Africa to Ireland. I thought about his work as a sculptor and wondered if Michelangelo’s quotation of ‘I saw the Angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.’ could be applied to Daltun’s transformation. I felt there was a spiritual part to this book, which wasn’t based on a religion, but on a discovery- that the work of preserving and setting nature free, changed Daltun more than it changed nature. When he writes, ‘I was privileged to be witness to the most stunning, magical transformation of the land inside,’ it seemed as if nature had transformed the writer as well.

What happens to us when we lose the magic of connecting with nature and choose to not allow ourselves to be transformed?

Will our rooms refuse to transform into forests as in ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ by Maurice Sendak?

And will we always be missing a part of the wholeness that could enrich our lives?

With a title like ‘Losing Eden’, one might be forgiven that this book was going to be filled with religious allusions, where capitalism acts as the serpent deceiving mankind, until we lose that which was most precious to us. Jones goes beyond this simple interpretation and instead offers a cautious, scientific evaluation of our changing relationship with the natural world and the impact of lost knowledge.

She bookends the text cleverly with an imagined conversation across the generations regarding nature, with the warning coming from the older generation that, ‘Why did nature end? We didn’t love it enough and we forgot it could give us peace.’ Jones makes the repeated point that there is a wealth of knowledge retained in older generations about the names of plants, trees and wildlife that is being lost in the modern world with the focus and attention on ‘indoors’. ‘As fewer children connect with nature, it will follow, he argues, that if they become parents, their children will in turn have a more tenuous connection with the natural world.’ This is an early point for readers to engage with, as they may well recognised their inability to answer a child’s question about the type of plant in a park, or flower in a garden, or type of beetle.

Using apps on smartphones to identify species may be useful, but there is a huge gulf between information and knowledge and Jones points to several examples where children are being better equipped to experience the natural world. This is counter-pointed by the statistics on the loss of the natural world in a short time frame, ‘In Britain, half of our ancient woodland has disappeared in the last eighty years…Over just the last fifty years the populations of mammals, birds, reptiles and fish have fallen by 60 per cent worldwide.’

These numbers may be difficult for us to imagine and connect with and process. What follows as our response is also touched on by Jones- do we shrug apathetically, or do we begin anew to protect what remains- whether this is through protest action to protect trees from being felled, or simply by taking a long walk in nature, to refresh and renew. ‘Perhaps we are noticing this all the more now, as we are in danger of losing the living world as we have known it, and with it, potentially part of ourselves.’

Increased urbanisation

Jones begins by exploring the increased urbanisation of humanity and the dangers to self and identity that come with this. ‘What does it mean, then, to live in a city, as the vast majority of us do? By 2050, 68 per cent of the world’s population will live in urban areas.’ The distance that this creates and disconnect that is increased by this, Jones suggests, endangers our identity as natural beings, no higher or greater than other species, but as an inter-connected part. ‘If we lose our relationship with the natural world, we may, in some way, be losing a part of ourselves and a profound psychic experience that we all need.’ Jones makes this point more simply by saying ‘Without contact with the natural world, we become impoverished’ and warnsthat humanity may not notice this loss of nature, as artificiality takes over our lives. ‘Could we be sleepwalking into a time when the natural world is reduced to its bare minimum?’

Simulating nature does not give the same connection to humans and can indeed add to the contamination of the planet. ‘Will plastic trees and simulated virtual reality gardens be enough for future humans? Are we so desensitized that we are losing the thirst for a relationship with the natural world? And is the absence of this connection causing us harm, whether consciously or not?’

What impresses me most about this book, is that Jones openly asks questions and then takes the time to point to academic studies that explore the topic and reveal conclusions- in essence, Jones was prepared to be wrong, but looked at the facts and scientific evaluation and was led by this.

A wonderful moment in this text, is when Jones reminds us of moments that are special to us- when we experience the smell of petrichor- and asks why humans have this level of sensitivity- how it would be useful for us in our modern lives.

Nature is not a luxury

Jones then begins to support her arguments more fully by highlighting that ‘Nature is not a luxury: its presence or absence creates and causes different health outcomes for different groups of people. There is a direct benefit from being near nature on our mental health.’ She notes the 2013 RSPB report which ‘concluded that four out of five children did not have an adequate connection with the natural world.’ The comparison with the time spent outdoors with prison inmates, was particularly shocking for readers, ‘Three-quarters of children (aged five to twelve) in the UK now spend less time outdoors than prison inmates, who require, according to UN guidelines, at least one hour of exercise in the open air every day.’ It is worth expanding this out more that the UN offers the guidance that prisoners should have at least one hour in the open air every day, yet the majority of children in the UK spend less time outdoors than prisoners.

Jones takes the time to explore and evaluate the benefits on ecotherapy projects around the world, perhaps most famously the practice of forest bathing, though she warns that increased biodiversity loss can reduce this opportunity even further. ’Ecotherapy projects are currently on the rise in the West, from wildness therapy and pilgrimage walks to woodland therapy sessions and gardening groups.’

A walk in the woods has never hurt us, but we have so much to gain from it- yet our mythology is filled with horrors lurking in the woods- fear usually comes from a position of ignorance.

‘Biodiversity loss will deplete the natural environments where some humans go to seek restoration and thus the extent and quality of that restorative effect will shrink.’

Time to feel awe

Jones highlights that a means of experiencing awe in our world and indeed our recognition that we are experiencing awe, comes from our connections with nature. ‘Many experiences of awe in the modern world still come from an encounter with nature, despite our disconnection.’ This has a particular resonance with me from a teaching perspective. There is a poem that is taught at GCSE level called ‘Extract from The Prelude’ by Wordsworth that students have to learn and engage with. Every year, this is the hardest poem to teach and learn, as students cannot understand how an individual can experience awe in the face of the power of nature. For me, this is the reason why this poem must be retained, so that this lesson is taught, and not removed owing to its difficulty. It is also encouraging that a new GCSE of Natural History will start to be taught in schools in the next few years. Teaching the knowledge that might otherwise be lost is a huge step in the right direction.

Jones also argues and emphasises that building connections with nature can enhance our connections with other humans. ‘Awe, then, can shift us away from pure self- interest to be interested in others. It can help us bond and relate to each other. It can turn off the self, the day-to-day concerns, to propel us into focusing on something bigger and hard to comprehend.’

Again, Jones warns that in our modern urban environments, we are intentionally reducing our opportunities to allow nature to thrive and as a result, endangering our heath. ‘We choose to bask in screens instead of mirror-calm lakes, burbling streams and above, starlings, swallows and buzzards.’

With light pollution hiding the stars, and artificial light affecting our sleep, the increased popularity of Dark Skies visits and experiences has grown. It does appear that humans are beginning to recognise on an unconscious level perhaps that there is something missing in our lives and that that gap needs to be filled. ‘We are losing the benefit of natural sounds, then, and natural smells and also natural light, which has serious consequences for psychological health.’

Access to nature

Jones then explores the imbalance between access to nature and open spaces. She asks who owns the land who it is used for. She analyses who has access to private gardens and green areas and whether economic deprivation causes health impacts. ‘Children who live in deprived areas are nine times less likely to have access to nature, through green space and places to play, than children in affluent areas, who may also have access to private gardens.’

Jones argues that a connection with the natural world should not be an accident of birth, or a by-product of wealth, but that nature should be recognised as a vital human right. ‘And it makes the case that, no matter the circumstances of birth, a connection with the natural world, the opportunity to walk barefoot on grass, to plant seeds in the soil, to hear birdong or touch the bark of an ancient oak, should be a fundamental human right.’ With more natural elements such as rivers gaining legal protection around the world, it is hoped that the recognition of nature as an individual rather than as an object to be used as a resource, will continue to expand.

The wild places

Jones begins to close the text by passionately arguing that gratitude for the ‘wild places’ will help us connect with our spiritual selves and that spirituality through nature has always helped us cope with life itself. ‘Faith, religion, spirituality have all helped people cope with death. If a connection with nature can offer transcendence, can it also help us at the end of our lives?’

She connects life and death well and points out that we have lost sight of the natural element of these elements of life. ‘It appears that through our disconnection from the natural world, we are also more separated from death and disease, and therefore less able to cope with them.’

She recognises that in the birth of her child that this was the beginning of a journey that would also end in a death and that this understanding enhances the transitory moments in a life. ‘I had given birth to a life, to my great love, but also a death at some point.’ With the Christmas season just finishing and the natural element of the ‘death’ of the dark days and the return of the light, I am reminded of the T.S. Eliot poem ‘The Journey of the Magi’,

‘Were we led all that way for

Birth or Death? There was a birth, certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.’

A new story

Jones finishes by correctly asking how we can change our current behaviour and renew the lost relationship with nature in our daily lives. ‘How can we collectively fall in love again with nature? How can we think about the relationship differently? By knowing and noticing the other beings who live around us for a start.’ I would argue that a return and a reset are needed more than something ‘new’ and this is perhaps my only disagreement with the book. ‘So it is time for a new story, a new myth, a change of mindset, attitude and behaviour. If we feel it, we must be galvanized by our ecological grief.’

Jones closes her arguments by returning to the narrative between the generations, but this time the knowledge has been passed on and lessons have been learned. The disconnect has been bridged and rebuilt and human lives have been enriched. We all have something to learn.

‘If we are disconnected from the natural world, we are missing out on nourishment for our minds.’

To notice the small world and to choose to create the time in the natural world, will help us see the big picture of the world that is not ours, but which we are living in, along with other species. A reflective moment to recognise that we can lose ourselves in time will help us all.

‘To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour.’

-Wordsworth

‘Ok is the first Icelandic glacier to lose its status as a glacier. In the next 200 years, all our glaciers are expected to follow the same path. This monument acknowledges that we know what is happening and what needs to be done.

Only you know if we did it.’-

Magnason 2019

In 2019, a solemn warning to the future was unveiled, via a memorial plaque on the Okjökull glacier, as the first glacier worldwide was lost to climate change,

The memorial on the lost glacier can surely be compared to Armstrong’s ‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’ in 1969. Armstrong’s words will be etched in history as a time of expansion for the human race. In much the same way, these words on this memorial to the first of the glaciers to have been lost will be etched in history, as a time when humanity’s expansion threatened the existence of humanity- all within the short span of 50 years.

‘You can tell stories. You must tell stories.’

‘This book is about time and water. Over the next hundred years, there will be foundational changes in the nature of water on our Earth. Glaciers will melt away. Ocean level’s will rise…All this will happen during the lifetime of a child who is born today and lives to be my grandmother’s age, ninety-five.’

Magnason defines clearly the purpose of his book quite early on and identifies one of the biggest issues facing climate change- that of communication and action.  ‘For most people the phrase ‘climate change’ is just white noise.’ He asks the question about how we connect people to a global crisis in a way that moves them- what language will they understand? ‘Should we draw words for discussing the Earth from science, emotion, statistics or religion? How personal and sentimental can we get?’

He acknowledges the difficulty of trying to fully grasp the issue of the climate crisis for an individual and what that means as a priority for them. ‘It affects everyone we know, everyone we love. We are confronted by changes that are more complex that most of what our minds typically deal with.’ At the same time, he reinforces that we do have the tools to better engage a public, who can be afflicted with mass apathy regarding a global problem that they see as being too big for them to be a part of the solution. ‘The only way to write about the subject is to go past it, to the side, below it, into the past and the future, to be personal and also scientific and to use mythological language.’

It’s not often in a book review where I can squeeze in a quotation from Tolkien- but it seems fitting considering his connections with Iceland. The character of Pippin says to his friend that maybe they are too small to make a difference. ‘Pippin: Maybe Treebeard’s right. We don’t belong here, Merry. It’s too big for us. What can we do in the end? We’ve got the Shire. Maybe we should go home.’ To which, Tolkien has the character Merry respond, ‘The fires of Isengard will spread. And the woods of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn. And all that was once green and good in this world will be gone.’

Magnason rightly suggests that what connects us all is mythology and that language is bound up in identity. ‘Words affect our emotions, our feelings. Words enable us to get a handhold on the state of being.’

How do we tell stories that are bigger than ourselves? How do we build the foundations of culture and connection?

It is not an accident that we have been telling the story of a family travelling on a donkey from Nazareth to Bethlehem for almost 2,000 years.

We have been telling the story of a cataclysmic flood, across multiple cultures, for thousands of years.

We’ve told stories of Norse Gods and Greek heroes in a way to understand our world and our place in it.

We have always been storytellers.

We are a bridge over time

The personal and intimate cadence of Magnason’s story fills the spaces of this book and echoes the refrain throughout. The book starts with personal familial connections, to know who we are and where we are from- in a bid to honour our ancestors and descendants.  Magnason’s message repeated throughout is that ‘this world is heavily interdependent. We are all interdependent. That’s the reality.’ The language used in the media of the phrase ‘by the end of the century’, Magnason argues is one which is blinding us to the reality of the crisis. He argues that humans are bad at understanding the geological age of the Earth and that using phrases like ‘by 2100’ can make us miss that connection with our responsibilities to the future.

Magnason repeats his argument that, ‘Two hundred and sixty-two years. That’s the length of time you connect across. You’ll know the people who span this time. Your time is the time of the people you know and love, the time that moulds you. And your time is also the time of the people you will know and love.’ He does this through memories and conversations of family members, who calculate how many years will pass between generations. This part of the book and this message really connected with me, as it will with many people who have young families.

My son is 5 and he is lucky enough to have great-grandparents who are 95. This means that they were born in 1927. If my son also lives to be 95, then he will see the year 2112. 12 years past the ‘end of the century’. Continuing this idea, if my son, also becomes a great-grandparent when he is 90, and that child lives to be 95, then that child will see the year 2202.

Over 270 years of connections and history within one family, with one child being the bridge across generations. What will the Earth be like by 2112, with current emissions and global temperature rise?

What will the Earth be like by 2202?

Magnason makes the point that, ‘For the Earth, one hundred years is like a moment.’ He continues more intently that there is an obligation to the future, as well as a recognition of the past. If my life is in danger, if my earth and my descendants are in danger, aren’t I obligated to understand what’s at stake? What words manage to define the world?

Unfortunately, Magnason laments the banality of our lives and our attention spans. He states that ‘The same week in October 2018, the United Nations IPCC issued a kind of ‘final warning’, the internet was consumed by an array of variously trivial things.’ A phenomenon that we have seen repeated as COP15 closed. A critical, once-in-a-decade biodiversity crisis disappeared in a torrent of social media activity over what the owner of Twitter would do next. There’s always a celebrity who generates much angst and anger over their comments online- more anger than is ever generated by the plight of the planet. Indeed, these climate and biodiversity summits are sometimes ridiculed as achieving little, ‘The Earth has abandoned geological speed; it is changing at human speed. And yet our response happens at a glacial pace. We hold a conference to determine the location for the next conference.’

The risks to humans

Although Magnason repeats the scientific evidence of the risk to humans, this does not feel like his primary message. The repetition of warnings about the climate crisis have not yet been heeded. Either we are not listening properly, or the story needs to change.

Magnason, perhaps rightly then, gives the headline statements, in case his reader is new to this topic. In a carefully neutral voice, he intones:

• ‘Glacial melting can have the most drastic consequences; millions, even billions of people are at risk.’
• Earth’s most densely populated regions lie around the Himalayas. Three nuclear powers surround them; Pakistan, India and China.
• Scientists have pointed out that we are experiencing the sixth mass extinction period for animal species in the Earth’s history.
• According to a 2019 UN assessment, just under a million animal species are in danger of extinction.

This is the point. If you are ‘climate literate’, you will be aware of this information- though what you are doing with this knowledge in terms of climate action is debatable. If this is the first time that you have seen and read this information, then how do you respond and on what level? Magnason identifies that perhaps we do not understand the immediacy of the crisis and that we view it still as a problem ‘tomorrow’. What people really mean here is that they will be dead and gone and so they won’t be impacted and so they feel it has nothing to do with them.

This degree of a lack of connection with the future lies at the heart of this text. Rhetorically, if you were told- ‘Your behaviour and actions right now could significantly alter the quality of life that your child has for the worst’- would you quit that behaviour? The concept of sticking to boundaries may be the inherent fault in humanity’s stars. Magnason suggests that, ‘The problem is, humans don’t seem to know any boundaries. They do not know when they are satisfied, nor when they’ve gone too far.’

We are standing at a crossroads

With humanity’s goal of lowering carbon emissions and reducing the ever-increasing global average temperature, we really are at a crossroads.

By 2050, we may have wide ranging government action across countries, as we did when the ozone layer was threatened. We acted quickly and collectively.

Knowing where we are and our point in time is crucial. As Magnason states, we must notice the present. ‘In the last ten years, we’ve seen the eight hottest years since temperature record-keeping began in the mid-nineteenth century. Since the turn of the century, the Icelandic glaciers have retreated more than they retreated in the entire previous hundred years. There’s a reason to take notice of the present. The time of greatest change is upon us.’

Will we seize this as an opportunity to agree at a global level, that we need to change. That what we have done to this point cannot serve our futures. What we owe to the future, from parent to child, has always been the opportunity that their life will be better that ours. That our children do not need to face the same struggles that we have faced. That we have sacrificed, so that they can benefit.

Why has this responsibility been lost?

Magnason notes that ‘Nothing we have done will be considered remarkable if achieving it has meant closing our eyes to science and throwing away the life and happiness of future generations.’

As a species, we have lost our compass as well as our path.

It is fitting to return to metaphorical language of directions, bearings and journeys, as this book is littered with journeys. From the physical journeys on glaciers from Magnason’s family, to the emotional and spiritual journey of Magnason himself, to that of the journey of the glaciers themselves. Stories about journeys that are connected. We all journey.

Magnason closes the text by driving home the responsibility that is owed to future generations not to rob and deprive them of so much of this Earth that is of value. For us to begin to tell the stories of why we value what we value, so it can be protected before it is lost.

‘And now we need to think and behave differently than we did before. We have the tools, all the devices and all the knowledge to do it.

And, if we do not, we fail both our ancestors and our descendants.’

Waiting for some other person, or some other time, is no longer an option.

‘The Climate Book’ really is the one-stop shop for all climate issues. There are contributions from over 100 global experts in their fields, some of which are summaries of their own books, but which address the latest position on the climate crisis and what needs to be done to avert the worst of the climate disasters. My fear in listing some of these climate leaders is that the list needs to include everyone. Reducing the list, or offering a preference for some articles over others would only indicate my own European and Northern hemisphere bias. Thunberg sets out her aim for the book- that the knowledge from the range of experts will help each reader on their own journey of climate education, ‘The idea behind this book, is that, taken together, their knowledge in their respective areas of expertise will lead you to a point where you can start to connect the dots yourself.’

There may not be a representative voice for every reader in this collection, but that is precisely Thunberg’s point- that we can all be our own representation.

Waiting for some other person, or some other time, is no longer an option.

How it is structured

The book is helpfully colour coded throughout, with Thunberg’s own words contained as introductions to the main chapter headings, before she gives way to the scientists and experts.

Thunberg breaks down the climate issues into a holistic chronological approach, outlining for a general audience the basics of how climate works, before moving on to how our planet is changing. Thunberg then focuses on how the changing planet affects us, outlines what we as a species have done about this impact, and then concludes with a strong message on what needs to be done now. The climate stripes, pioneered by Ed Hawkins, are used at the start of each chapter, as a visual representation of our progress and an alignment of what stage we are at now.

‘The climate and ecological crisis is the greatest threat that humanity has ever faced.’

The opening chapters to ‘The Climate Book’ are deliberately stark and blunt, as Thunberg is famous for ‘telling it as it is’- indeed, this is the charge that gives to her readers. She states, ‘When it comes to the climate and ecological crisis, we have solid unequivocal scientific evidence of the need for change…That ship has sailed. The science is as solid as it gets.’ She then suggests that what is needed is for scientists to speak a different language, ‘What largely remain is tactics. How to package, frame and convey the information. How disruptive do scientists dare to be?’

Thunberg’s comments in this book are stylistically unique. She lays out the facts and then offers simple choices. She dismisses despair and ‘doomerism’ and instead focuses on the positives of action. ‘And there is no time for despair; it is never too late to start saving as much as we can possibly save.’ She reminds us that the debt we owe to the past is also owed to the future, but that we should be grateful that we are alive now, so that we can be part of the greatest movement for change in humanity’s history. ‘We have the unfathomably great opportunity to be alive at the most decisive time in the history of humanity. The time has come for us to tell this story, and perhaps even change the ending. Together, we can still avoid the worst consequences.’

What about COP27?

There will be some who will claim that the timing of the book release by Thunberg is no accident though. That, with COP27 starting barely a week after the publication date, that she is trying to switch the spotlight onto her views. More cynical observers may categorise this as simply good marketing. As Thunberg resolutely and regularly advocates the listening to climate scientists and has done since she started her climate protests in 2018, it would seem churlish to argue genuinely that the timing of the book release is just self-serving for Thunberg. She makes the relevant case that ‘the EU will not update its climate targets in time for COP27’ and points out that when the media focus during COP fades, then urgency is lost and that ‘this is exactly how you create a catastrophe.’

On the other hand, do we really need another book telling us that time to act on the climate is running out and that time for climate action must now happen. Some readers may feel that there are few new messages in this book and that climate books by themselves will not be the tipping point for climate action. Thunberg acknowledges this claim head on, ‘There is nothing new about this…All the words that we say have been spoken by others. All our speeches, books and articles follow in the footsteps of those who pioneered the climate and environmental movement.’

In recent times though, we have seen an upsurge in non-violent political protest, which has been both applauded and criticised for not winning over any new followers, as some are ‘put off’ by the more direct action from protesters. Thunberg demonstrates in the book that, ‘Social norms can easily be changed’, which is a hopeful outlook on the necessary speed that is needed from an active society. Thunberg argues that ‘We need a whole new way of thinking’ as a main priority to wake people up from a deeply flawed system.

Yet, the climate clock is only getting louder and louder, as the sands of time disappear and the window narrows for options, leaving only the truly desperate measures left available. ‘All geoengineering schemes are attempts to manipulate the Earth with the same domineering mindset that got us into the climate crisis in the first place.’ Niclas Hällström, Jennie C Stephens and Isak Stoddard

 Thunberg argues that this collision course of time and action must be met bravely and advocates for systemic change, ‘Our safety as a species is on a collision course with our current system.’

An unprecedented time

Perhaps this book comes at the perfect time then, to remind us that not everyone needs to be convinced of the need for climate action, nor perhaps that everyone could be convinced of the need. Instead of wasting time trying to win over the remaining ‘dismissives’ and ‘delayers’, perhaps an awakening and activation of social behaviour is what we need. Thunberg herself comments that ‘We as individuals should use our voices, and whatever platforms we have, to become activists and communicate the urgency of the situation to those around us. We should all become active citizens and hold the people in power accountable for their actions and inactions.’ Thunberg also reminds us of the stark warning from the IPCC that ‘limiting global warming to 1.5°C will require rapid, far reaching and unprecedented changes in all aspects of society.’

The idea of better climate communication, especially in the face of an unwilling media and fossil fuel interests, is a solution that is returned to many times in the ‘The Climate Book’. There is perhaps quite a shocking statement from George Monbiot that, ‘If you were to ask me which industry is most responsible for the destruction of life on Earth, I would say the media.’ Thunberg is typically blunter, ‘We have been lied to.’ Although this is more in reference to the fossil fuel industry which knew about the impact of their actions, but which choose short-term capitalistic growth, over planetary interests.

‘This is not the ‘new normal’- this is only the very beginning of a changing climate’

‘The Climate Book’ focuses heavily on the science. There are over 80 articles from leading scientists, experts and community leaders, with most articles being a manageable 3 or 4 pages only. Almost every page and article has a quotable message that sums up a narrative that has been allowed to continue for too long.

Thunberg herself comments, ‘We are all in the same storm, but we are definitely not in the same boat.’ She continues, ‘But the climate is not just changing. It is destabilizing. It is breaking down.’

This is supported by the argument from Dr Friederike Otto, who has a similar blunt style to that of Thunberg. ‘Today, those of us who are not completely delusional have realized that climate change is not something happening somewhere else, at some point in the future, but a phenomenon that is killing people here and now.’

As you would expect, there are repeated messages in the book: humanity’s reliance and dependence on fossil fuels has to stop, holistic solutions are best, and the evidence that humanity can change quickly in the face of global emergencies.

 ‘We need to take immediate action. First and foremost, we must immediately and drastically reduce greenhouse gas emissions.’ Jennifer L. Soong

‘We must immediately stop extracting fossil fuel from reserves in the Arctic’ Örjan Gustafsson

‘The climate crisis is upon us, powered by our addiction to fossil fuels.’ Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus

‘And still, instead of taking steps to overcome our fossil fuel dependency, we are deepening it,’ Thunberg

The other repeated message in the book, is that holistic solutions are needed to face a multi-faceted problem of the climate crisis- that there is no one silver bullet that can be used quickly to solve and perhaps absolve governments and companies from years of inaction. Margaret Atwood argues that, ‘The climate crisis is multidimensional; any solution to it will have to be multidimensional as well.’ On the other hand, Naomi Klein believes that this transformational approach has yet to be attempted, ‘Holistic transformations, on the other hand, have never been tried in the face of the climate crisis.’

The equality of climate justice and the acceptance that ‘loss and damages’ is a requirement and not just a political phrase is argued strongly. As Saleemul Huq says ‘Loss and damages’ is also a diplomatically negotiated euphemism for something we’re not allowed to talk about: ’liability and compensation.’ Finally, the principle that the polluter must pay echoes throughout the text and is given space and time by Thunberg.

What we can learn from recent global emergencies such as COVID, is that humanity has demonstrably acted in self-preservation before, be that during world wars, managing the hole in the ozone, or in the face of global pandemics. As Seth Klein argues convincingly in the book, better communication can lead to better outcomes. ‘In frequency and tone, in words and in action, emergencies need to look and sound and feel like emergencies. The Second World War leaders we remember best were outstanding communicators who were forthright with the public about the gravity of the crisis yet still managed to impart hope.’

‘Winning slowly is the same thing as losing.’- Alex Steffen

Thunberg concludes ‘The Climate Book’ by heading straight into the imagery and language of ‘The Day The Earth Stood Still’, both the original and the remake. The iconic 1951 film concludes with the words, ‘this Earth of yours will be reduced to a burned-out cinder. Your choice is simple: join us and live in peace, or pursue your present course and face obliteration. We shall be waiting for your answer. The decision rests with you.’ The remake in 2008, uses similar language about the human species reaching their adaption point. ‘You say we’re on the brink of destruction and you’re right. But it’s only on the brink that people find the will to change. Only at the precipice do we evolve. This is our moment.’

Thunberg finishes using a similar metaphor to that of film fiction, ‘There is still time to undo our mistakes, to step back from the edge of the cliff and choose a new path, a sustainable path, a just path. A path which leads to a future for everyone. And no matter how dark things may become, giving up will never be an option. Because every fraction of a degree and every tonne of carbon dioxide will always matter. It will never be too late for us to save as much as we can possibly save.’

Correctly, the final word should not go to Thunberg, indeed she advocates against that herself.

George Monbiot calls up the cultural imagery and reference to the public awareness, boosted by Rachel Carson when he states,‘We can replace our silent spring with a raucous summer.’

Perhaps what is required, expected and demanded of each individual now, is that they renew their view of the relationship with nature and realise that there is no planet B and that our environment is worth fighting for.

‘Do not gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’ -Dylan Thomas

Review of ‘The Intersectional Environmentalist: How to Dismantle Systems of Oppression to Protect People + Planet’ by Leah Thomas

‘Climate justice is only justice if it includes all of us.’ Vanessa Nakate

An environment book that made a soft landing in September was ‘The Intersectional Environmentalist’ by Leah Thomas. In recent weeks, this book has made a larger impact, as audiences have noted its authenticity and values of caring.

‘The Intersectional Environmentalist’ is rooted in identity, advocacy and people.

Thomas lays out in depth how climate injustice has impacted communities such as Black Americans, Latinx Americans, Indigenous communities, and Asian American and Native Hawaiians/ Pacific Islanders. For each group, she identifies the challenges of air quality, extreme heat, food security and water access that each group historically had had to face, as well as outlining the continuing issues faced by each group. Although Leah Thomas is an intersectional environmental educator, writer, and creative based in Southern California, she’s also passionate about advocating for and exploring the relationship between social justice and environmentalism globally and feels that every voice needs to be amplified.

Thomas builds on the work of Professor Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, who is a Black feminist legal theorist, who in the late 1980s, focused heavily on the intersecting identities of discrimination that were identifiable then in the legal courts. “Intersectionality was a prism to bring to light dynamics within discrimination law that weren’t being appreciated by the courts”. For Thomas then, intersectionality is the ‘complex, cumulative way in which the effects of multiple forms of discrimination (such as racism, sexism and classism) combine, overlap , or intersect, especially in the experience of marginalized individuals or groups.’ She aims to focus on the ‘sometimes double or triple marginalization that people with several oppressed identities faced.’

Unheard voices

As Thomas states in her introduction, ‘We can’t save the planet without uplifting the voices of its people, especially those most often unheard. As a society, we often forget that humans are a part of our global ecosystem and that we don’t exist separately from nature; we coexist with it each and every day.’

Thomas acknowledges that, in 2020, she felt ‘alone and unheard, without much acknowledgement from the wider environmental community.’ She comments that ‘Our identities flow through our politics, our advocacy, what we care about- whether we realize it or not.’ When her intersectional environment graphic went viral, Thomas realised that there was a global audience wanting to hear this message and that her identity and her voice, were part of the narrative. Thomas’s aim in this book is to inform and acknowledge that ‘social justice and environmentalism are deeply intertwined and that addressing this interconnection is crucial for attaining justice for both people and planet.’ Her drive for an audience to seek out stories of marginalised groups and address the relevant social injustices echoes strongly throughout her message. Indeed, she comments that ‘It is an immense privilege to create space for and hold a piece of their magic and legacies every time the word ‘intersectionality’ is said or written down.’

Thomas divides her book into clear focus areas- Intersectional theory, Feminism and Intersectional Environmentalism, Environmental Justice, Unpacking Privilege, Who’s Affected: the Reality for BIPOC Communities and then effectively concludes with People and Planet.

Thomas argues that ‘Intersectional Environmentalism (IE) is an inclusive approach to environmentalism that advocates for the protection of both people and the planet. IE argues that social and environmental justice are intertwined and that environmental advocacy that disregards this connection is harmful and incomplete.’ She continues that ‘Intersectional environmentalism argues that the same systems of oppression that oppress people also oppress and degrade the planet.’ As Diandra Marizet puts it: ‘Intersectional environmentalism is the lens. Environmental justice is the goal.’

Understanding privilege

As a white male, in the Northern hemisphere, I questioned whether I was being challenged with this book to feel uncomfortable. I felt that it was not Thomas’s goal to finger point and blame, but rather to acknowledge the past and understand that our present is rooted in the past. As Thomas says, ‘The more we talk about our identities and the ways they influence how we experience the world, the better we can understand how they’re connected to both the privileges and prejudices we might experience. The truth is, ignoring our differences doesn’t stop discrimination or lead to systemic change.’ Am I being asked to listen and to understand? Yes. Is this a negative? No.

It is important to note that repeated point in the book, that social injustices didn’t magically stop at some point in the 1970s or 1980s. Thomas points to the many examples of recurring prejudice towards minority communities, whether in Flint, Michigan, or post hurricane disasters. She cites Paul Mohai, an environmental justice expert and professor who found that ‘even when socioeconomic factors are similar across white and non-white communities, the community of color is still more likely to be near environmental hazards.’ ‘Startingly, as of 2019, race is still the number one indicator of where waste facilities are located in the U.S.’

What can I do?

Thomas asks of us all that we abide by the IE tenet: ‘I will amplify the messages of Black, Indigenous and POC activists and environmental leaders. I will not remain silent during pivotal political and cultural moments that impact Black, Indigenous, and POC communities and all marginalized identities.’

She argues that ‘This tenet of the pledge is one of the most important. It’s twofold: it encourages you to 1) amplify the messages of diverse climate leaders and activists and 2) not remain silent.

Silence is what allows the status quo to continue. Together all of our voices are so powerful—much more powerful than we might think.’

Thomas concludes her inclusive approach by saying, ‘One day I hope that when people think of an environmentalist, they’ll automatically envision a person who cares very deeply about both people and planet.

The future can and will be intersectional.’