On Ecological Grief
Find the German version here >>
Life doesn't come with an invitation. We are not asked: Hey, do you want to come into the world? We just show up one day. Thrown into the world like that, we see the years pass and we grow from a baby to a child, then to a teenager and finally to an adult. It is not just our biological clock that is ticking, though we tend to forget that. The ravages of time are also gnawing away at those generations before us.
Our parents and grandparents are starting to show signs of ageing, a reality that often feels surreal. To my eyes, my mother has always been around forty somehow, but when I squint my eyes a little, when I take a step back, she is not. The same goes for my grandfather, whose once raven hair has turned grey. I couldn't pinpoint when this happened.
Life takes its toll over time. We say goodbye to our great-grandparents, then to our grandparents, and finally, if life follows its natural course, to our parents. One morning we wake up to the realization that there are no more predecessors.
'Endling' is an incredibly sad word, perhaps the saddest word I know. It was proposed in 1996 by Robert M. Webster and Bruce Erickson to describe people or organisms that are the last of their lineage or species. It is a term that not only describes a biological or cultural condition, but also carries a deep emotional meaning. It embodies the last moments on the brink of extinction, and the presence of such a term in human language reflects the recognition of this reality. The composer Andrew Schultz has written a symphony called Endling and has posted the following text about it on his website:
“[The journal] “Nature” has defined the “endling” as the “last surviving individual of a species or plant.” This piece flows from a feeling of immense regret and sorrow about all that has been lost from the face of the earth. Beautifully adapted plants, animals and societies that are no more and have been replaced by what? A world of ugliness, material obsession, perpetual and pointless change, and the hideous “marketing” of everything from a symphony to a child’s smile.”
Understanding Biodiversity
When we talk about endlings, we talk about species extinction, we talk about biodiversity loss. Many people have heard of the term 'biodiversity', not only because it is increasingly covered in the media (but not nearly enough, no). While 'biodiversity' is a familiar term today, it wasn't widely discussed until after the 1990s. A surge of attention came after the 1992 UN Conference in Rio, which focused on conservation and sustainability.
The word describes the full range of life on our planet. It includes not only species diversity (the number of different plants, animals, fungi, and micro-organisms) but also genetic variation within species. This means different individuals of a particular species possess different genetic information, leading to distinct characteristics that may be important for survival.
Biodiversity also includes the diversity of ecosystems, the different habitats and communities such as forests, deserts or wetlands. It's about the relationships between living (and dead) things, about nutrient cycles, about interactions. This global complexity exists in a sensitive balance that ensures the sustainability and resilience of ecosystems. The loss of biodiversity threatens to destroy these complex ecological networks — and with them, the livelihoods of woodpeckers, beavers and bees, as well as our own.
Loss and Denial
There are things that are hard to imagine — what it will be like when you are dead; that the universe is constantly expanding; infinity; humanity dying out; God. These are all things that get tangled up in a vague, unmanageable pile in our brains. Things for which no real images can emerge because they are too abstract for us.
The philosopher Immanuel Kant called phenomena that escape immediate human experience "transcendental". This means that they are beyond our sensory perception and can only be grasped through pure thought. Accordingly: What lies beyond our empirical (= somehow measurable and perceptible) capacity of understanding, cannot be known, but can only be believed. And there are things that one would prefer not to believe.
Although it is something that can be experienced and measured, for many people the loss of biodiversity feels as remote as the examples above. For me, this is human, and it is psychologically understandable. The polar bears going extinct? You can imagine that. You have pictures in your head, you might feel sad or worried. You see empty ice deserts, you see the last polar bear ageing in a zoo that is far too warm. But when you hear: the progressive loss of biodiversity will eventually lead to humanity becoming an endangered species. A blank screen appears in your mind. No images.
Our human psyche, which refuses to think about mortality or finitude for reasons of self-protection, naturally shies away from confronting the possibility of actual extinction. Denial is a common psychological defence mechanism used to protect ourselves from uncomfortable truths or realities. When we deny, we create a buffer against our fears. This is actually a good thing. But when this defence mechanism is activated in the face of existential threats, it causes trouble. It prevents us from seeing the real problem — the danger! — and from acting accordingly.
We know this from other areas. When you don't dare open the letter because it's bad news — but the longer you don't deal with it, the worse it gets. It’s the visit to the dentist that you keep putting off while caries eats away at your tooth. It’s the realisation that you have run out of money, and now you have to buy something quickly to ease the bad feeling. Don't worry, just pay by installments! It’s like this annoying and a bit scary assignment, with the deadline fast approaching.
There are various forms of denial about biodiversity loss, from outright rejection of scientific evidence to apathetic disinterest. I understand the latter. The constant worry about financial survival is omnipresent when someone, like many people, is struggling with existential worries, has several part-time jobs on top of their main job, and has children to provide for. I don't expect them to spend their free time learning about biodiversity.
The Uncomfortable Truths
Politics is difficult because it is made up of people. And the brains of our politicians are just as vulnerable to denial as anyone else's.
A very dear biologist friend of mine passionately researches climate change and loves nature. She frequently flies to distant locations like Brazil's rainforests, visits Giza's pyramids, and enjoys Bali's beaches. She loves steak and justifies her lifestyle by not owning a car and working in the scientific field, trying to save our environment.
I absolutely understand her. The phenomenon is called cognitive dissonance, and no one is free of it. No one, really - not even me. I'm very committed to the environment, I don't fly, I use public transport and my bicycle. I prefer to be out in nature, usually with my camera equipment. Where others have one camera, I have four, where others have three or four lenses, I have those too — per camera. The batteries, of which I have a lot, are a terrible environmental sin, as are the other components of my equipment. Couldn't a single camera get the job done? Sure, but I love photography so much that I allow myself the environmentally destructive luxury of doing what I want. I tell myself: that's why I don't drive, I don't fly, I don't eat meat. I downplay it, even to myself. That is cognitive dissonance.
Every day, we see contradictions in actions versus intentions. Yes, we need environmental protection, yes, we need to do something about climate change! Our governments are paper tigers when it comes to action. Conferences are held, documents are written, treaties are signed, there is a lot of actionism. That the agreements and targets are never met? Whatever. But at least we try, right? At the same time, we are subsidising the dairy industry here in Germany — one of the biggest climate killers of all —with billions, because they produce milk in quantities for which there are no local buyers. We are planning offshore wind farms to switch to renewable energy. We are completely ignoring the fact that we are making huge areas of the ocean uninhabitable for whales and other marine beings, which could lead to an unprecedented knock-on effect. We've done something against climate change, but at the same time we've done something that enhances species extinction; it’s wild. But we can't put wind turbines where they block the view, can we? We are worried about an ageing society, but we throw every stone we can at families, especially at women. We want to fight rising child poverty, but we cut benefits. We campaign for street dogs, donate to animal welfare and eat a steak.
We do all this because we are human. Because we often live in simultaneities in which several pieces of information are completely contradictory and we don't know how to act. Sometimes because they are equally important to us, equally true. Because all this is hard to bear and because no one is perfect. Because we are not machines, on the contrary: we have emotions, desires, longings, fears, and all this makes it difficult for us to make decisions based purely on facts. And it wouldn't always be right. We need empathy, morality and ethics if we are not to tip over into a society where the individual or the weak have no value.
Another problem is the time frame. We know that in the long run we will be better off if we exercise more and eat healthy. We do that for a while — we get up at seven o'clock to go jogging before work, we put lettuce and tofu in the shopping basket. This works for three or four days, maybe three or four weeks. But then you realise that visible success doesn't happen overnight. Yes, I changed my behaviour today, but I might not see the results for another year. What do I get out of it now? You only live once. What if I get run over by a car tomorrow? At some point the running shoes are going to gather dust, and the job is also very stressful, so you better get all the sleep you can. Slowly, sausages and chocolate creep back into the basket. I'm supposed to be more fit and healthier in a year? I can't imagine it, it's too far away, too abstract.
The same goes for environmental protection. To really make a difference, to somehow slow the pace of man-made global warming and species extinction, we would have to take very unpleasant measures and then keep them in place for decades until we saw a result. And the result won't be "wow, that's right, everything's better now", but "it's the same as it was before, but the measures we took stopped it from getting worse". This "reward" tastes stale, it feels like nothing has improved. And all this effort? To keep everything the way it is? Isn't it good enough, shouldn't we be satisfied? Scientists are saying that it will be worse without the measures. But what would this "worse" look like? I can't imagine, I'm sorry. We ignore that the situation has already become worse for many people in the southern hemisphere, that it is already not good. Wars over water and resources? Not my problem. That's down there. It's the others. Centuries of colonialism and racist ideas about cultures further south put the nail in the coffin. Not our problem, I always make a donation to Bread for the World on Christmas, leave me alone.
We Are Paralysed By Fear
There are many other reasons why we as a society just can't manage to do the 'right thing'. But one is certainly that a representative democracy like the one we live in here in Germany is a mass of many people with many different goals and priorities. That in itself is a good thing, for me, there is no alternative to democracy. We need it and should defend it at all costs. But there are many things that make it tedious and unbelievably slow — a real dilemma. As the cliché goes, where there is light, there is shadow. Especially in the age of social media, where anyone can shove their opinion in their faces, politicians are in a state of fearful paralysis, worried about their election results. Don't do anything wrong now, don't upset one side or the other, don't change too much, don't make any unpleasant decisions or I'll be voted out of office. To reinstate the CFC ban in order to close the hole in the ozone layer, as we did a few decades ago? That would be unthinkable. I don't think we could do it today.
At the moment we often read: No climate dictate! But the truth is:
The "climate dictate" will come. It will come through climate change itself and it will be a tyranny.
Climate change and biodiversity loss do not care about election results. Our society's reluctance to take tough decisions means these problems persist. Ignoring them, like unopened scary mail or the spread of tooth decay, is no solution. If we don't change our comfortable Western lifestyles, harsher realities will force change. Soon we may regret not prioritising sustainable energy sooner, overlooking major polluters such as the construction industry, or dismissing scientific warnings.
Ecological Grief
Ah, the science. That's why I bothered to write this far too long text in the first place. Cunsolo & Ellis define ecological grief in their 2018 paper as follows:
"The grief felt in relation to experienced or anticipated ecological losses, including the loss of species, ecosystems, and meaningful landscapes, due to acute or chronic environmental change."
The psychological pressures and stress are immense and can lead to serious illnesses such as depression and anxiety. Scientists conducting research in the field are particularly at risk, but so are people who have a close relationship with nature, such as indigenous cultures. People who like to hike, scuba dive, climb mountains, take nature photographs or live in the countryside can also be severely affected.
This week I was in one of my current research areas, a small wetland surrounded by heavy traffic here in Hamburg. While I was taking my measurements, an elderly gentleman on a bicycle stopped and asked me what I was doing. I explained that I was doing research on biodiversity. He then told me that he was born in 1940 and had played in the moor as a child. Back then the area surrounding it was green and undeveloped, there was lots of sundew (unimaginable now), newts, salamanders, storks. He paused, we were both silent, and it looked as if he was struggling for words, overwhelmed by his feelings. But then he just smiled, nodded at me and we said goodbye.
I know a lot about ecological grief. I feel it every day. I love nature, always have, and the destruction of the environment is so hard to bear. I even went back to science, although I never wanted to, simply because there is so much work to be done. Because I feel I have to do something.
For many scientists — myself included — it is unbearable to see scientific findings being ignored. We have the data and the facts, the "evidence". We know what needs to be done. Politicians praise us, assure us of the importance of what we are doing - and then almost nothing happens. And when it does, it is too little, too late. The Earth is currently experiencing the sixth mass extinction in its history, this time caused by humans. This is accompanied by a rapid decline in the productivity of our global ecosystems. The biosphere is being irreversibly damaged by human activity. In their scientific paper defining the Anthropocene, Francine McCarthy and her team identified the sharp rise in the plutonium isotopes 239 and 240 from around 1948 as the key "marker". This increase is due to the fallout from the atomic bomb explosions. For the first time in Earth's history, this naturally extremely rare element was released in large quantities. In short, the geological footprint we humans leave in the layers of rock (and thus in the history of the Earth) is the atomic bomb - if the proposal of this research paper is accepted. That is our legacy.
Researchers are confronted with the consequences of our actions as a species. It's like being a witness to someone's murder, but the police don't do a thing, they just don't listen. And yet it is real. You have it right in front of you. You hear the screams, you smell the blood. You think: My God, what more does it take? You are given a form, please fill it in. No, someone has to come now, we have to save the victim! Please just fill in the form, somebody will deal with it eventually, so probably, maybe, possibly. Let's see. Just be quiet. Will you be quiet, now? Don’t overreact. Be patient. One day, it will happen.
I have seen colleagues crying after returning from field trips. I know people who have left research because they could no longer cope psychologically with seeing and dealing with this misery every day. Some of my friends have started drinking more. I left science because I couldn't imagine doing it all my life. I've had several jobs, and now I'm a writer. Actually, I just wanted to write books in peace, but now I'm back behind the microscope. To be honest, I don't know what to make of it yet. Time will tell.
In an interview with the Guardian in 2020, marine biologist Steve Simpson said the following:
“When we went back to the Great Barrier Reef after a major bleaching event in 2006, it had turned into a graveyard. (...) It was completely devastating to see individual corals that we knew and loved and had spent so long studying, now dead.
I’d just recruited a PhD student to study fish behaviour, and between the time of recruiting him and getting out for the first field season, the Great Barrier Reef died – 80% of the corals where we work were gone, and most of the fish that lived there also moved on. I told him in the interview that his visit was going to be this most wonderful experience, and it was just a tragic graveyard of historic coral reef life. (...) We come back from our field seasons increasingly broken. You can either think: I can’t do this, I’m going to have to change the science I do; or you might try to internalise all of that pain that you feel. Lots of scientists do the latter (...).”
What Can We Do?
It is important that we no longer remain silent about how we feel. That we, as researchers, share and support each other. We need to find ways of viewing scientific findings not just as sad news that we tell each other as horror stories.
But it is so difficult. When I ask colleagues if they still have hope that we will make it, they say: no. And not just some, but everyone in my department. I feel the same way. But we also agree that you can make a lot of things worse by saying: well, it doesn't matter now. Giving up is not an option, no matter how slim the chances. And yet, in theory, we have such, such good chances if we make a concerted effort. Our quality of life could improve even more, not just for us, but for all those people from poorer countries that we in the West like to exploit and then forget. But oh, humans. How can a species be so brilliant and at the same time be so stupid?
Now, many of you are probably expecting an appeal. I'm going to put it as it is: I feel like a tired parrot.
The data is clear. The facts are all there. We know what has to be done. Politicians are well informed. Everything has been said and is still being said. You cannot stop environmental destruction with bamboo toothbrushes and holidays in the Black Forest. The only effective lever is in the hands of politics, because only politics can influence the economy in a way that makes a difference.
Maybe people will share this text. Maybe they will write: This is why we must protect biodiversity! Maybe even politicians will read it and share it and say: Protecting biodiversity is essential for us! And then we all pat ourselves on the back and say: This is all really important to us. And then we go on Instagram and order something from an online shop (and I, a small, imperfect human being, am included in this) and fall back into a comfortable slumber in which we block everything out.
Do I sound frustrated? Yes, I do. Probably because I am. When people ask me these days: Do you think we'll be able to turn things around in time? I ask: clever answer or honest answer? If they want the clever answer, I say: There is always hope, we humans have achieved unimaginable things before, and if we all pull together, we can do it! There is so much potential! If you ask for the honest answer, I say: No. Because we have never put our oars in the water before things got really, really bad. You only have to look at the World Wars to know that. We are fools.
This text is, firstly, far too long, secondly, not at all wholesome, and, thirdly, very personal. These are my thoughts, this is my current state of mind, which fortunately is not universal. There are many people who are more hopeful than I am. But I am not completely without hope. I don't think we'll make it, but somehow I hope we will. After all, I'm only human, and between all the dark clouds of thought in our heads there's still that little glowing beacon that gives us hope, no matter how slim the odds. People are strange, aren't they? In the end, I have no choice. I research, I manage extinction with tens of thousands of other researchers, I catalogue, I write about it in articles and books; in between I sometimes cry, rant and curse, but I also keep hoping, because otherwise I’d go completely mad.
It's sad when all you have left is hope.
It's good when at least hope remains.
If you speak German:
Falls das noch nicht deprimierend genug war und du Lust hast, über das Artensterben in (trauriger, lustiger und ein bisschen gruseliger) Romanform zu lesen, kann ich dir meinen neuen Roman empfehlen. Er heißt “ENDLING” und kommt am 24. November raus. Er ist jetzt schon vorbestellbar, und am meisten habe ich davon, wenn du ihn im Shop der Autorenwelt vorbestellst. Das geht hier.
Und wenn du diese Bestellung bis zum 05. November machst, gibt es das Buch sogar signiert.
Wenn du mehr über Biodiversität und Natur erfahren willst, empfehle ich dir noch meine beiden Bücher “Biodiversität, 100 Seiten” und “Schreibers Naturarium”. Letzteres ist sogar wholesome – versprochen.
Sources
Usher, K., Durkin, J., & Bhullar, N. (2019). Eco-anxiety: How thinking about climate change-related environmental decline is affecting our mental health. International Journal of Mental Health Nursing, 28(6), 1233–1234. https://doi.org/10.1111/INM.12673
How scientists are coping with ‘ecological grief’ | Science | The Guardian. (n.d.). Retrieved October 20, 2023, from https://www.theguardian.com/science/2020/jan/12/how-scientists-are-coping-with-environmental-grief
Cunsolo, A., & Ellis, N. R. (2018). Ecological grief as a mental health response to climate change-related loss. Nature Climate Change 2018 8:4, 8(4), 275–281. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41558-018-0092-2
Rosol, C., Schäfer, G. N., Turner, S. D., Waters, C. N., Head, M. J., Zalasiewicz, J., Rossée, C., Renn, J., Klingan, K., & Scherer, B. M. (2023). Evidence and experiment: Curating contexts of Anthropocene geology. Anthropocene Review. https://doi.org/10.1177/20530196231165621
Crawford Lake designated as “golden spike” | Max-Planck-Gesellschaft. (n.d.). Retrieved October 20, 2023, from https://www.mpg.de/20614579/crawford-lake-anthropocene
McCarthy, F. M. G., Patterson, T., Head, M. J., Riddick, N. L., Cumming, B. F., Hamilton, P. B., Pisaric, M. F. J., Gushulak, C., Leavitt, P. R., Lafond, K. M., Llew-Williams, B., Marshall, M., Heyde, A., Pilkington, P. M., Moraal, J., Boyce, J. I., Nasser, N. A., Walsh, C., Garvie, M., … McAndrews, J. H. (2023). The varved succession of Crawford Lake, Milton, Ontario, Canada as a candidate Global boundary Stratotype Section and Point for the Anthropocene series. Anthropocene Review. https://doi.org/10.1177/20530196221149281
Comtesse, H., Ertl, V., Hengst, S. M. C., Rosner, R., & Smid, G. E. (2021). Ecological Grief as a Response to Environmental Change: A Mental Health Risk or Functional Response? International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 18(2), 1–10. https://doi.org/10.3390/IJERPH18020734
Offshore-Windkraft in Deutschland - NABU. (n.d.). Retrieved October 20, 2023, from https://www.nabu.de/natur-und-landschaft/meere/offshore-windparks/index.html
Biodiversity - Search Results - PubMed. Retrieved March 9, 2022, from https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/?term=biodiversity&timeline=expanded