The types of arguments against the existence of human-made climate change range from the uninformed to the misinformed; from urban myths, to cherry-picking information in order to form a more palatable narrative.
Arguments include: 'There's no scientific consensus'; 'How can we be sure when we can't even predict the weather next week?'; 'Warming is not new and is part of a natural cycle'; 'What's wrong with warmer weather? Saves me booking a tropical holiday'; 'Global warming is a hoax'; and 'Greenland used to be green'.
This so-called 'debate' shows the enormous danger in believing that we humans are principally, and reliably, rational. Our western narrative has a longstanding habit of putting homo sapiens above nature. Could this skewed view actually allow for self-sabotage on a massive scale? If so, we need serious doses of both understanding and compassion in order to save us from ourselves.
Like many people, I've been watching the HBO series Chernobyl, which, in its recreation of the events surrounding the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear incident, portrays a real life example of one irrational human decision after another with disastrous results. Warnings and risks were not only ignored but their records deliberately hidden. Highly trained individuals in positions of power completely ignored the facts in pursuit of remarkably short-term interests. Workers who participated in rule-breaking that led to nuclear disaster understood that their actions were likely to result in such a catastrophe.
History gives example after example of the variety of human biases, and how they can make us do very unreasonable, often very bad, things. In the words of Professor of Psychology and Behavioural Economics at Duke University, Dan Ariely, our species is 'predictably irrational' — and he lays this out in his book of the same name. Importantly, he believes it is helpful for us to know this, not so we can be disparaging about ourselves, but so we can actually become better.
New York Times reviewer David Berreby summed up the book's findings as: 'What the past few decades of work in psychology, sociology and economics has shown, as Ariely describes, is that ... yes, you have a rational self, but it's not your only one, nor is it often in charge. A more accurate picture is that there are a bunch of different versions of you, who come to the fore under different conditions. We aren't cool calculators of self-interest who sometimes go crazy; we're crazies who are, under special circumstances, sometimes rational.'
While making a name around demonstrating the extent of our irrational tendencies, Ariely has also demonstrated that this side of our nature has its upsides. In some scenarios, it can lead us to choose love, generosity and trust, even when it is irrational to do so. So, total rationality is not the panacea — but developing an honest awareness of how our minds work could go a long way towards offsetting the dangers. In the case of climate change and the fate of humanity, we could be seeing the ultimate struggle between scientific fact and myopic human ego.
"The question is not whether climate change will obliterate Earth, but rather the potential for it to disrupt Earth’s eco-systems so fundamentally that it can no longer support our health and survival."
Of course, there have been many rational voices speaking out about climate breakdown. Experts are now saying we need to change the messaging around the topic. In 2015, psychologist and economist Per Espen Stoknes released his book What We Think About When We Try Not to Think About Global Warming: Toward a new psychology of climate action. Stoknes identified five psychological defences that stop humans from taking action on climate change: distance, doom, dissonance, denial and identity.
'Over the previous decade we've seen large growth in scientific certainty in how serious this issue is and is human caused,' Stoknes told US radio station 'ViewPoints' in 2016. 'So we had like five IPCC reports and 30,000 scientific articles but people, at least in Norway and the US are less concerned about climate change today than they were 25 years ago ... you'd believe that when we get more facts, more information and more knowledge about this issue, people would recognise how critical it is, but the opposite seems to be reality.'
Stoknes referred to this as the 'psychological climate paradox'. He also made an enlightening comparison with insurance: 'We don't really think that our house will burn down, yet we do have fire insurance ... This has been promoted quite effective (sic) in the US report authored by a republican and a democrat. Andy Paulson and Bloomberg hold risky business. They now say, time to take out climate insurance of our own; it's just plain, good business sense.'
Stoknes offers several solutions, including: framing the problem in ways that are supportive and positive to avoid knee-jerk negative feelings; managing cognitive dissonance by discussing the tangible opportunities for effective action; using language that's less likely to trigger a reaction of fear or guilt, both of which he categorises as 'deeply pacifying'; avoiding political polarisation of the topic; and making the issue feel human, personal and urgent.
Interestingly, Stoknes suggests re-framing climate change as a human health issue, which it essentially is. When scientists talk about destroying the planet, the question is not whether climate change will obliterate Earth, but rather the potential for it to disrupt Earth’s eco-systems so fundamentally that it can no longer support our health and survival.
Stoknes told ViewPoints Radio that people generally place a high political priority on the economy, health, education and jobs, but 'climate change, if it's listed as such, becomes like 19 out of 20'. 'The ozone layer came with a framing of really being about health here, and now, in the sense that if we didn't do it, I would get skin cancer, right? And this is not necessarily doom, but it's health framing.'
The hope is that we can better engage our more rational side, in order to become aware of the side which is categorically not. Sure, this process is humbling. But if it is the difference between the conclusion of our story, or surviving to take part in an epic sequel, then humility seems a small price to pay.
Megan Graham is a Melbourne based writer.