One of the founders of the Dark Mountain literary group, Paul Kingsnorth, would write, three years after the publication of the “Uncivilisation" manifesto, of the value of “building refuges” from the social breakdown currently transpiring: “Can you think, or act, like the librarian of a monastery through the Dark Ages, guarding the old books as empires rise and fall outside?” Can you, that is, preserve civilization?
I believe it was Terry Eagleton who once noted that it is always dangerous to regard oneself as part of a remnant community. Nonetheless, there is something attractive in this notion – whether it’s monks on Iona or the human books of Fahrenheit 451 – of preserving what you believe is worth preserving of “civilization” (if anything is). And why not? Crows cache shiny objects; people (some people) cache books. Whether or not that will be possible indefinitely is questionable. But like Kingsnorth, I guess I do believe that there are some stories and songs, even some writing -- esp. writing that went against the grain of the times -- that I’d like the future to have, if possible. Including the Dark Mountain manifesto. Which raises a question: does one’s ethical responsibility to the land and to non-human beings preclude an ethical responsibility toward members of one’s own species? Indeed, do both make an equal ethical claim on our thoughts and actions – by the same token? Gaia does not play favorites, as we are learning, to our horror. It seems to me that retreating to the foothills is neither ethical nor prudent. It’s imprudent in that, if any bearable civilization or culture is to emerge on the other end of this mess (if there is one), it will have to be the result of people’s coming together, rather than seeking to put as much distance between themselves as possible. The American myth of the frontiersman or the romanticized homesteader is extremely dangerous at the present day, I think. And we must remember: a lot of frontiersmen and homesteaders died young – from violence, disease, starvation, exposure, etc. As far as I can tell, the only thing that’s fended off those ills, historically, has been humans working together. Likewise, the climate crisis. Even if I’m rich, will I really be better off shutting myself up in a luxury retrofitted missile silo, or even a survivalist compound with a few others, than I would be toughing it out with the people in my town? If there is any hope of mitigating climate change, it will only be via mass disruptive intervention by a large percentage of all the people in the world, and that very very soon. Even if you think such a scenario unlikely (as I have to say I do), preparation for the worst effects of climate change (for all but the 1%) will necessitate government & community mobilization to adapt to more frequent and intense storms and droughts, shortages of water and food, mass migration, etc. And I’m not sure where else literature or orature makes any sense but in relation to other human beings, at least to oneself, regardless of the circumstances. We can’t run away from our nature, any more than we can run away to “nature.” Now, I have to give the Dark Mountaineers credit for at least trying to think through the role of literature in a world where “civilisation” is fraying, if not unraveling. Indeed, they deserve a place in literary history for that effort. I can’t say the same about most authors in the English-speaking world, alas. Would that more poets were actually writing about the climate emergency per se. Dark Mountain just celebrated its tenth anniversary, and it may be things are changing, for them. Things are certainly changing for England: vide the recent Extinction Rebellion protests in the center of London. Dark Mountaineer Charlotte Du Cann recently wrote a NYT op-ed about that movement and how it seems to be affecting the “narrative” around climate change. I am inclined to agree with everything she says therein. So maybe the poetics of “fuck-it-all-I’m-getting-out-of-here” is giving way to something a bit more engaged with human culture more generally – including, I hope, literary innovations on a scale to match that of the climate crisis itself. If we keep using words the way we’ve always been used to using them, we should not be surprised if we end up with the world we’ve always been used to living in – only much much more so. And that eventuality will bode very badly for homo sapiens – the only one of the various human species, it should be noted, that has not yet become extinct.
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June 2021
Kristin Prevallet Author/Editor
I'm a writer & teacher in Lawrence, Kansas who actually believes the scientists. I wrote a book of poems called Of Some Sky that seems to have something to do with all this. |