"...and where I used to see orange groves out the window of my plane, today I looked down and saw...Houses! Shopping centers! Progress! And I want to see a lot more of it." --Richard Nixon, ca. 1950.
As a dominant culture, particularly here in North America, we have always been oriented toward the idea of "the future" or--as Nixon called it during his first Senate campaign in 1950, "progress." This optimistic future focus coevolved with the Industrial Revolution of the 19th and 20th Centuries when, for the first time in our history, vast improvements in technology, in lifestyle, in creature comforts, in general affluence, and in available goods and services became apparent between one generation and the next. To take one simple example, my grandfather was born in 1877 and died in 1966. When he was born, his world bore a closer resemblance to the world of John Adams--or even Julius Caesar--than it did to my world as a youth--the world in which he died. In 1877, there were no cars or airplanes, no electric lights or appliances, no plastics, and of course, no mass media other than newspapers. The fossil-fuel age had begun with coal, but railroads with steam engines were the only available form of industrialized mass transportation over land, while steam ships were still in the process of displacing sailing ships at sea. Yet by the time he died, the world was substantially the same as it is today--minus, of course, the digital revolution of personal computers, cellphones, and the internet.
When I was growing up, during the explosion of unprecedented affluence following the second World War, futuristic fantasies abounded, particularly among the youth, as the global market economy and technological revolution expanded around the world. In fiction, in advertising, and in movies (like the Star Wars series) and television series (like Star Trek), my generation was immersed in fantasies about the future as a technological wonderland of space travel, robotic servants, flying around in our personal jets just as we drove around in our flashy new cars, traveling to distant planets, and of course, building bigger and better suburban mansions than those we grew up in. And to a large extent, our educators and mass media continue to propagate these fantasies among our youth as ideals to strive for, so that they will continue to work hard and get good grades at school, get college and graduate degrees, and work for--or establish their own--multinational corporations, and get rich.
In recent years, however, this aggressively promoted narrative of endless growth and progress has been tarnished by growing awareness of frightening trends that have darkened our collective horizons--above all, the climate crisis. And accordingly, our familiar fantasies of a bright, affluent, technologically advanced future have been increasingly displaced by dystopic or apocalyptic fantasies and disaster movies. Yet our educational systems are still rooted in the endemic optimism of the industrial era: "Work hard, boy, and you'll find/Some day, you'll have a job like mine..." as Cat Stevens once sang. Greta Thunberg rose to instant fame simply by calling the bluff of the entire global educational establishment, rather like the little girl in "The Emperor's New Clothes," by posing the question, "WHAT future??"
What future, indeed? There is no shortage of dire scenarios to choose from, but I see no point in belaboring these. The one certainty is that a global market economy that depends entirely on the endless expansion of production, consumption, and population is fundamentally incompatible with a finite biological support system like Gaia, our living planet. And the waste product from the fossil fuels that have driven this expansion--excess carbon dioxide--has already started to heat up and destabilize our climate patterns enough that rising global temperatures will soon render large areas of our planet uninhabitable for humans and other complex life forms. The likely result will be mass migration, starvation, pervasive conflict, and upward concentration of wealth into fiercely defended islands of wealth, privilege, and armed power amidst a growing sea of poverty, violence, and destitution, culminating in a global die-off of unprecedented proportions. The future has become an image of Hell itself.
Given this grim reality that has become all too apparent, what should we tell our children? That is the huge question facing today's parents and teachers alike. Here are a few suggestions:
First, remind them that the present is all there is. That the past is just a memory, and the future is unknowable, except in broad trends. Yet the world we all share--and the future we all shape--is the collective consequence of decisions we each make every day. So if they are terrified of the future (as they have every right to be), they can take refuge in the present moment--first, by breathing, observing, and letting go; then by being well, doing good work, and keeping in touch. This is basic mindfulness practice, to which they can always return, no matter how stressed out or depressed they become.
Second, while they have no direct control over the disintegrative future of the world at large, they can still take control of the present moment right where they are--by growing gardens, growing community, and growing awareness.
Finally, they can let go of the vanishing industrial utopia of the "old" future, and instead plant the seeds of a post-apocalyptic Gaian future--whether or not they live to see it--by learning Gaia, teaching Gaia, healing Gaia, and creating Gaia. Learning, that is, to see themselves as a part of, not apart from, nature, and acting accordingly by the study and practice of Permaculture design; teaching others to do likewise; healing, by these practices, their own portion of the living planet we all share; and creating new, relocalized ways of living, new appropriate technologies, and new eco-social ethics, as a foundation for regenerating whatever is left of our living planet after our global market economy finally collapses.
This Gaian future--if it happens at all--will be very different, of course, from the suburban techno-fantasies that most of us took in with our mother's milk. It will be more labor-intensive, to be sure, but also, it could be more convivial--although resurgent tribalism will always be a danger. But if rooted in the practice of mindfulness and compassion, of earth care, people care, and fair share, it may also be a better life altogether than the alienated, endlessly distracted techno-fantasy of modern suburbia. So let's give our children a realistic, yet hopeful and empowering vision of a postindustrial Gaian future; and as for the proliferating horrors all around the world between now and then--keep in mind this line from Neil Young: "Don't let it bring you down/It's only castles burning/Just find someone who's turning,/And you will come around." So may we all "come around" to growing gardens, growing community, and growing awareness!
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