attachment gone wrong

Of all the dangers we face, from climate chaos to nuclear war, none is so great as the deadening of our response.

—Joanna Macy

In popular conversations about climate change and ecological disaster, many of us are inclined to fall back on the conventional, modern explanation. That is, we frame the entire situation as a technological problem. If we could just re-work our machines to burn some kind of planet-friendly fuel, our problems would be solved, so we pin our hopes on new technologies that will lead us to a bright green future of ecological harmony and sustainability. But this framing is a distraction from the real upstream problem of the day–our psycho-spiritual disconnection from the natural world and our amnesia about who we really are. In effect, we are connected to the wrong things. 

infants and children are sticky

Imagine a typical human birth, especially in prehistory. By virtue of your big brain and head, nature sees to it that you’re born premature, exceedingly vulnerable, powerless and helpless. There’s simply no way you can survive on your own, so it’s absolutely essential that you attach to someone who can help. Generally, it’s Mom, but any functional adult will do. If you succeed in this attachment, you’ve got a shot at growing up strong and viable. This is a good start, but the young infant is also inclined to attach to other life-supporting systems of habitat, tribe and culture. The young animal body understands these connections as primary and essential to survival.

This kind of identification is a human universal and is historically normal. Across the world, native and indigenous people say “I am the land, the land is me.” “I am the forest, the forest is me.” “I am the river, the river is me.” “I am my people, my people are me.” This is not some kind of strange, hippy-native talk; this is how historically-normal people describe their relationship with the world. 

But somewhere along the way, things went sideways. Agriculture distracted us from our original relationships and industrialization made it a thousand times worse. And today, there’s so much noise in the system that we’ve forgotten not only who we are, but also the kinds of attachment and identification that would normally sustain us. Distracted and confused, we still feel the need to attach, but there’s just too much going on. Impulsively, we reach out for connection and latch on to whatever’s handy. And often, these novel points of attachment become dangerous, toxic or absurd. 

life and death of the party

Suppose you’re invited to a cocktail party. Inevitably, people will want to know who you are and what you relate to. They’ll ask you about your job, your hobbies, and your family. They’ll expect you to say something like “I’m an entrepreneur. I drive a Tesla and I’m a big fan of the Golden State Warriors.” Or, “I’m a teacher and I’m really interested in quantum computing, app development and the history of modern Europe.” Everyone will understand, ask some polite questions, put you in a pigeon hole and let it go at that.

But suppose you tell them “I am the land, the land is me.” Or, “I am the forest, the forest is me.” Or, “I am the river, the river is me.” Inevitably, your listeners will be taken aback and maybe even stunned into silence. This is not how modern people talk. Your listeners will get uncomfortable, make some excuses about needing another drink and move on to something more familiar. Later they’ll tell their friends about the really strange person they met at the party. “He was just really weird, you know.”

But in fact, if you do speak this way, you’re actually expressing a historically-normal sense of affiliation; there’s nothing weird or deviant about you. You’re simply sharing what native, normal, indigenous people have been saying for thousands of years. It only sounds strange because you’re living in an alien culture that’s afflicted by a profound and potentially lethal form of amnesia. 

attachment gone wrong

When primary attachment fails, we go in search of other forms that might sustain us. And so the modern person identifies with whatever’s handy, especially things that promise power, magic or status. Common compensatory attachments include:

“I am the brand, the brand is me.”

“I am my income, my income is me.”

“I am my profession, my profession is me.”

“I am my vehicle, my vehicle is me.”

“I am my company, my company is me.”

“I am my sports team, my sports team is me.”

“I am my political party, my political party is me.”

 “I am my technology, my technology is me.”

These statements of identification are exceedingly common, highly abnormal and heartbreakingly sad. Each is a reminder of how far we’ve drifted from our life-sustaining roots. And even more to the point, they lie at the heart of our dysfunctional relationship with habitat and our ongoing destruction of the natural world.

Simply put, if you don’t identify with something, you won’t much care if that thing is being destroyed. And this is precisely why most modern people aren’t in a state of outrage about the relentless destruction of the natural world. If you aren’t attached to habitat, you aren’t going to pay much attention when it’s bulldozed, dammed, poisoned or imperialized. In fact, modern people are more likely to be outraged if their cell phone goes bad or someone disrespects their home team. 

All of this misplaced attachment is made a thousand times worse by a highly aggressive, neurologically-sophisticated marketing and advertising industry. The objective couldn’t be clearer: to derail our historically-normal, life supporting identity and replace it with brand affiliation and most especially, brand loyalty. In fact, it’s easy to imagine a group of diabolical marketers sitting around the corporate conference table, cooking up a new plan: “If we could just get people to stop identifying with habitat and life on this planet and start attaching their identity to our brand, we could increase our revenue and bring greater profit to our shareholders.”  

the simple solution

The simple answer to this conundrum would be for people to re-examine their attachments and reconnect with body, habitat and humanity. But this is actually a big ask because when we relate to the biosphere in an intimate way, we also expose ourselves to an excruciating level of pain and grief. As the conservationist Aldo Leopold famously put it, “One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds.”

When we say “I am the forest, the forest is me,” we actually begin to feel the deforestation of the planet in our own bodies. When we say “I am the river, the river is me,” we feel the pain of dams, sand mining and waste dumping. When we say “I am my bioregion, my bioregion is me,” we actually feel the pain of rampant development, industrial agriculture, road building and fracking. In fact, this is precisely why so many of us go in the other direction entirely. It hurts to identify with habitat that’s under relentless assault, so we identify with things that are less challenging: consumer products, vehicles, computers or brands. These are weak and superficial substitutes, but they sure don’t hurt as much. And because advertisers never tell us the disturbing back stories of their products and services, it’s easy to imagine ourselves as innocent bystanders in the ongoing destruction of our home.

a better way

So what’s to be done about our attachment gone wrong? In theory at least, it’s simple. Start with an inventory of your identifications. Rid yourself of superficial, compensatory attachments and return to the systems and processes that support our lives and our future, specifically the earth, habitat and humanity. Trash your T-shirts that declare your allegiance to corporations, products, software applications and operating systems. 

Likewise, have a look at what you’re doing in the world of schooling and education. If you’re a teacher, trainer or coach, your job is to remind students, over and over again, of what really keeps them alive and what they should attach to. Keep them focused and don’t let their identities drift.

And as always, be strong and courageous. Feel the pain, but keep your wits about you. Remember what you’re up against: a goliath of industries whose primary aim is to keep us distracted from what really matters.

Above all, honor the earth and remember: “I am the planet, the planet is me.”