I don’t believe we are f*cked

Maybe I'm *not* a doomer?

Cats made out of a thatched roof which made me very very very happy

I recently noticed I have been operating on the assumption that catastrophic climate change is a given, societal collapse is a given, and it is simply a matter of years until we’re all totally, irrevocably, and unequivocally fucked. 

This came up when I was discussing with my partner what our plans were for the next few years of our lives. What I imagine are the usual conversations one has when your future still seems wide open: ‘Shall we have a baby?! Shall we move abroad?! Shall we buy a van?!’ Yet every answer felt wrong, because my future didn’t feel wide open. My future felt very small, and like there was only one possibility: the aforementioned end of the world.

The thing is, as I heard the words come out of my mouth garbled by tears, I realise I don’t actually believe this. Deep down, I don’t actually believe we are totally, irrevocably, and unequivocally fucked.

I know these emotions are perfectly adequate and healthy for the kind of society we live in. One where we are constantly bombarded with news about how awful everything is, whilst at the same time we’re encouraged to continue living like everything is hunky-dory. 

As Joanna Macy writes when discussing despair: “Far from being crazy, this pain is a testimony to the unity of life, the deep interconnections that relate us to all beings. Pain for the world is not only natural, it is a necessary component of our ability to respond. As in all organisms, pain has a purpose: it is a warning signal, designed to trigger remedial reaction.”¹ 

The strongly negative feelings we are aware of is a necessary part of the shift we need to see in our society, because happy and complacent people don’t change. If you don’t feel at least a small sense of unease about how the world seems to be going, you’re not paying attention.

BUT! And this is a big but! I think I took this too far. I think I allowed myself to be swallowed by these negative emotions and forgot to allow myself to fill my hope-and-love-for-the-world levels back up. 

It’s a two-sided coin. In admitting this doom, I feel I am stepping out of the baseless hope expected by our culture. The one where we are always meant to feel super positive about our future, refusing to see the issues we face or the problems with our current ways of living. Think sci-fi-like technology will save us all, or how the government will have to solve the various crises when it gets really serious. 

I’ve found power in this, power in the realisation that yes, things are fucked, no, you’re not crazy for thinking so. 

YET! Perhaps I took this a little too far. (I’ve seen many people taking this a little too far). Assuming the world is fucked, that there is nothing to be done. (And often, therefore, refuse to input in any way, shape or form as it is all pointless.) 

Both ways of thinking actually lets you off the hook. Theologian Brian McLaren explains it incredibly well: “[B]oth hope and hopelessness can have a surprisingly similar appeal. [B]oth relieve us from the uncertainty of an unknown future. For one, a happy ending is assumed; for the other, a tragic ending is inescapable. … [B]oth promise us a future that asks nothing of us. Because things are going to turn out fine, you don’t have to do or change anything. Because there’s nothing you can do to avert doom, you don’t have to do or change anything.” ²

Whilst I don’t think I ever let myself ‘off the hook’, I noticed I had definitely got into this sort of prepper-type mindset? Because if we ARE–say it with me now–totally, irrevocably, and unequivocally fucked, I’m not quite sure what exactly I was planning to do about it?

Some unfinished idea of removing myself from society, living off grid, saving my family and friends? I was leaning into this hyper-independent, look-out-for-number-1 mindset again, that it’s the responsibility of one small individual, that I could do something about any of it. 

Ultimately, I think I have realised that I’d rather die having lived a positive, happy and fulfilled life, surrounded by people I love, doing things I love, spending my money on the things and the people I love, then depressed and alone in a cabin hugging my shotgun, waiting for the world to end and strangers to attempt to steal my stockpile of tins. 

Living this way does not mean I plan to stop doing good things, working on myself internally, or trying to create a better world. I would just like to slightly re-frame the reason I am doing these things. 

Rather than believing my current way of living is awful–ohmygodIusetoomuchplasticwhatifIbecomeinfertileIdon’tcookenoughgoodfoodIhavenosurvivalskillseverythingisfuckingfucked–I’d like to see it instead as I’m making these changes to improve my life, my health, society’s health, and the planet's health. 

I want to learn to grow my own food to eat nutritiously and take myself another step out of the capitalist order. I want to reduce my plastic use for my health and to reduce its impact on the Earth. I want to build a community to enjoy life with those I love and remove the burdens of hyper-independent living. 

I am doing these things because they will make the world a better place. I am not doing them because the way I live now is awful and wrong and suck-y. I feel this shift in my thinking changes every step in this direction from feeling like an uphill battle, to feeling like a step in the right direction, a small success I can celebrate every day of my life. 

P.S. If you enjoy my writing, you can buy me a coffee to fuel my work.

1. World as Lover, World as Self by Joanna Macy

2. Life After Doom by Brian McLaren