10,000 year con job

“Do you ever have those moments where suddenly you make a quantum jump in understanding, where you see the world so differently that you cannot imagine how you could have perceived it any other way before? Do you have those times when this new understanding makes you feel as though up until that moment you must have been deluded or asleep or just plain stupid?”― Derrick Jensen, Endgame

What the hell has happened to us?

It wasn’t so long ago that we were wild animals, fully as healthy as any other animal living in natural habitat. We were just as robust as the chimpanzees in Africa, just as physically vital as the bears and wolves of North America, just as intelligent and healthy as any of our pre-modern ancestors. Except for occasional injuries and illness, we were as strong, resilient and adaptable as any wild creature.

By contrast, today we can hardly bring ourselves to think of ourselves as animals at all. We claim that we are something else entirely, exceptional and exempt from the rest of creation. We claim to be a superior species, the greatest in the entire history of life on Earth, but that just doesn’t square with the fact that our modern bodies are so often weak, confused, depressed, anxious, and depleted by the predicament we now face. Formerly wild animals, we’re massively dependent on medical intervention, agriculture and industrialized life-support to even make it through the day. So maybe it’s no wonder that we’re terrified.

There are dozens of possible perpetrators here. We might well point to sedentary living, a food supply poisoned by toxins, glyphosate (RoundUp), endocrine disruptors, excessive antibiotics, plastic and all the rest. But familiar culprits aside, there’s something psycho-spiritual at work here as well. Ours is a problem, not just of chemistry, but of memory– a deep form of cultural and individual amnesia. We’ve lost touch with our ancestry and in the process, we’ve forgotten our power as animals. We’ve lost our sense of identity and instead of feeling our power through the earth and living systems, we invest ourselves in the structures, hierarchies and methods of civilization. And in this sense, we're living alien, artificial lives.

All of which came into sharp focus in the 1992 movie Thunderheart. Actor Val Kilmer plays Ray Levoi, an FBI agent with Sioux heritage investigating a homicide on a Native American reservation. In one particularly poignant scene, Maggie Eagle Bear–played by Sheila Tousey–tries to educate agent Levoi about the true nature of power. Levoi speaks the white man’s language and presents a piece of paper that might be the key to cracking open the investigation. “This evidence is the power we have to build a case” he declares. Eagle Bear looks at the paper and explains: “That’s not power Ray. That’s paper. Power is a rainstorm. Power is that river, right there.”

In just this short clip, world views collide and Ray begins to see his world for what it is: a construct, an abstraction, an artificial structure with no real relationship to life on the ground. The old ways are deeply rooted in nature, but Levoi’s world exists in the mind, in symbols, and in concepts. He wields power of a sort, but it’s imaginary– a shared social and cultural consensus, an agreement, but nothing more. Levoi’s paper has power only when people believe it and if that belief fails, the entire structure collapses.

Seen from this perspective, industrial civilization comes across as a monstrous cultural delusion, an epic distraction and a fundamental error of consciousness. Not only are we on the verge of destroying the habitability of the natural world, we’re also on the verge of forgetting who we truly are.

This is the shadow side of civilization, a side effect that few of us are willing to talk about. We’re conditioned to celebrate the many practical benefits of the modern world–the easy transport, reliable food supply, technical devices and advanced medical care–and we’re expected to get on board with progress. But all of this distracts us from the distraction. By promoting an artificial view of power, we distance ourselves from the natural world and the innate power that lives there. In the process, we actually make ourselves weaker.

In popular conversations about stress and meditation, teachers often point to the power of attention, specifically the way that it shapes our experience and our world. As the saying goes, “That which you focus on grows.” If we focus intentionally on things that bring us joy and happiness for example, our sense of joy and happiness begins to expand. Or as some people put it, “That which we appreciate, appreciates.” And this, we can be sure, holds true not just for individuals, but for entire cultures and societies.

But the inverse corollary is also worth noting. That is, “that which we don’t focus on shrinks.” Or, “that which we fail to appreciate, depreciates.” This may well seem obvious, but has epic meaning for the modern human predicament. That is, when we stop paying attention to the land and in particular, our ancient human bond and identity with habitat, these things begin to shrink. And this is precisely the problem. Agriculture–especially the modern industrial form–severely weakens our primal bond with habitat and in the process, leaves us weaker. And when our power is invested in paper, we become radically vulnerable to the gathering storm.

Which is precisely why we’re so terrified. Civilization distracts us from the innate power of nature and shifts it to documents, hierarchy, rank and of course, machines. Strength comes, not from the living world, but from labels, boxes and pigeon holes. And if this abstract structure collapses, we’ve got nothing left. Then, as the doom starts to settle in, we wring our hands and lay awake at night. The imminent demise of our artificial life-support system leaves us without apparent options. When governments, corporations, supply chains and economic systems fail, we’ll be left with nothing, so the feeling goes.

But what if we’re completely wrong about all of this? What if our modern condition is simply a monumental lapse of human memory? What if civilization–especially industrial civilization–has been a side show and a distraction from what really matters? What if we’re actually incredibly powerful animals at our core?

In fact, this must be the message of the day. If you’re a teacher, trainer, coach or health professional, your job is–or should be–to jog the memory of your students, clients, patients and athletes. Remind them of their heritage as animals. Remind them of the innate, ancestral powers that are baked into their bodies. Tell them stories of resilient explorers, hunters and adventurers. Tell them about their hunting and gathering heritage and the robust vitality that moved them each day. The human animal is incredibly adaptable and capable of withstanding immense hardship and exposure. Tell this story.

Above all, stop being so afraid. Stop grieving the imminent end of industrial civilization. Yes, suffering is now inevitable and will be wickedly unjust. Even in a best case, millions of people and non-human animals are going to suffer and vast areas of habitat are going to be degraded. But when the civilized world burns down, so too will the illusion. When industry collapses, the distraction narrative will also collapse.

And we’ll be forced to remember who we really are.