Dr Niki Harre
It’s strange – I’ve been told many times that our current situation is urgent and we are in a crisis that renders optimism a dangerous form of denial. Yet whenever someone suggests that we are headed towards Climate Armageddon, I become flooded with fear, as if it is a bolt from the blue.
I am teleported back to my 14-year-old self, aware that powerful men in the northern hemisphere control nuclear weapons that could wipe out everything, most importantly me. I am utterly vulnerable, utterly powerless and have nothing to say.
Like all emotions, fear is a complex of bodily sensations, thoughts and action tendencies. It floods us with awareness of the problem at hand and blocks out extraneous information. In this sense, fear makes us rigid and able to run only along the lines it demands. We can no longer assess a situation in its full depth or make choices in any meaningful sense. Fear is valuable when the problem is clear and the person concerned believes they have the means to solve, or at least alleviate, the situation. So for example, if we learn we are ill, the shock of this knowledge is useful in pushing us towards the recommended treatment. We undergo surgery and take medication even if it is inconvenient, uncomfortable and expensive. At the political level, the problem and solution may also sometimes come together in a way that demands a certain type of action. For example, during the 1970s while I was a worried teenager in Napier, people with similar fears in Europe and the USA were able to attend massive protest rallies against the nuclear arms race.
When the problem and solution are widely contested and no clear path lies before us, fear confuses both our body and our mind. Our body now alert to a problem wants to respond – to do something. Failing any better alternative, it freezes, closing down into a self-protective state that gives out as little as it can. Our mind struggles to make sense of what is happening – searching for the right approach but finding nothing convincing enough to act upon. Shame sneaks in too – shame that we are not altruistic, brave or determined enough to rise above ourselves and get out there and do what is needed. But, hang on, when it comes to solving climate change what exactly is needed from me? Should I give up my day job to be a climate activist? Join the Extinction Rebellion? Write letters to my local Members of Parliament? Concentrate on enabling young people to get active?
So how should I, or any of us, respond when knocked off our perch by fear? Well perhaps we should recognise and name the fear, and our incoherence in the face of it. We are, after all, biological creatures and emotions quite literally, push us around. Some people may be more able to deal in fear than me, or see it as an unfortunate by-product of the change process. But for me, optimism feels like the more compelling way to invite people into the game - and the surest truth I hold is that bringing people into the game is the game. To anyone who cares about the future of our planet, I always want to say: yes, there are worthwhile moves you can make, and in doing so you will be joining the vast number of others who also care. Together, we just might get there.
For an extended version, please go to www.infinite-game.net/blog.
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Dr Niki Harre
Dr Niki Harre
It’s strange – I’ve been told many times that our current situation is urgent and we are in a crisis that renders optimism a dangerous form of denial. Yet whenever someone suggests that we are headed towards Climate Armageddon, I become flooded with fear, as if it is a bolt from the blue.
I am teleported back to my 14-year-old self, aware that powerful men in the northern hemisphere control nuclear weapons that could wipe out everything, most importantly me. I am utterly vulnerable, utterly powerless and have nothing to say.
Like all emotions, fear is a complex of bodily sensations, thoughts and action tendencies. It floods us with awareness of the problem at hand and blocks out extraneous information. In this sense, fear makes us rigid and able to run only along the lines it demands. We can no longer assess a situation in its full depth or make choices in any meaningful sense. Fear is valuable when the problem is clear and the person concerned believes they have the means to solve, or at least alleviate, the situation. So for example, if we learn we are ill, the shock of this knowledge is useful in pushing us towards the recommended treatment. We undergo surgery and take medication even if it is inconvenient, uncomfortable and expensive. At the political level, the problem and solution may also sometimes come together in a way that demands a certain type of action. For example, during the 1970s while I was a worried teenager in Napier, people with similar fears in Europe and the USA were able to attend massive protest rallies against the nuclear arms race.
When the problem and solution are widely contested and no clear path lies before us, fear confuses both our body and our mind. Our body now alert to a problem wants to respond – to do something. Failing any better alternative, it freezes, closing down into a self-protective state that gives out as little as it can. Our mind struggles to make sense of what is happening – searching for the right approach but finding nothing convincing enough to act upon. Shame sneaks in too – shame that we are not altruistic, brave or determined enough to rise above ourselves and get out there and do what is needed. But, hang on, when it comes to solving climate change what exactly is needed from me? Should I give up my day job to be a climate activist? Join the Extinction Rebellion? Write letters to my local Members of Parliament? Concentrate on enabling young people to get active?
So how should I, or any of us, respond when knocked off our perch by fear? Well perhaps we should recognise and name the fear, and our incoherence in the face of it. We are, after all, biological creatures and emotions quite literally, push us around. Some people may be more able to deal in fear than me, or see it as an unfortunate by-product of the change process. But for me, optimism feels like the more compelling way to invite people into the game - and the surest truth I hold is that bringing people into the game is the game. To anyone who cares about the future of our planet, I always want to say: yes, there are worthwhile moves you can make, and in doing so you will be joining the vast number of others who also care. Together, we just might get there.
For an extended version, please go to www.infinite-game.net/blog.
Dr Niki Harre
It’s strange – I’ve been told many times that our current situation is urgent and we are in a crisis that renders optimism a dangerous form of denial. Yet whenever someone suggests that we are headed towards Climate Armageddon, I become flooded with fear, as if it is a bolt from the blue.
I am teleported back to my 14-year-old self, aware that powerful men in the northern hemisphere control nuclear weapons that could wipe out everything, most importantly me. I am utterly vulnerable, utterly powerless and have nothing to say.
Like all emotions, fear is a complex of bodily sensations, thoughts and action tendencies. It floods us with awareness of the problem at hand and blocks out extraneous information. In this sense, fear makes us rigid and able to run only along the lines it demands. We can no longer assess a situation in its full depth or make choices in any meaningful sense. Fear is valuable when the problem is clear and the person concerned believes they have the means to solve, or at least alleviate, the situation. So for example, if we learn we are ill, the shock of this knowledge is useful in pushing us towards the recommended treatment. We undergo surgery and take medication even if it is inconvenient, uncomfortable and expensive. At the political level, the problem and solution may also sometimes come together in a way that demands a certain type of action. For example, during the 1970s while I was a worried teenager in Napier, people with similar fears in Europe and the USA were able to attend massive protest rallies against the nuclear arms race.
When the problem and solution are widely contested and no clear path lies before us, fear confuses both our body and our mind. Our body now alert to a problem wants to respond – to do something. Failing any better alternative, it freezes, closing down into a self-protective state that gives out as little as it can. Our mind struggles to make sense of what is happening – searching for the right approach but finding nothing convincing enough to act upon. Shame sneaks in too – shame that we are not altruistic, brave or determined enough to rise above ourselves and get out there and do what is needed. But, hang on, when it comes to solving climate change what exactly is needed from me? Should I give up my day job to be a climate activist? Join the Extinction Rebellion? Write letters to my local Members of Parliament? Concentrate on enabling young people to get active?
So how should I, or any of us, respond when knocked off our perch by fear? Well perhaps we should recognise and name the fear, and our incoherence in the face of it. We are, after all, biological creatures and emotions quite literally, push us around. Some people may be more able to deal in fear than me, or see it as an unfortunate by-product of the change process. But for me, optimism feels like the more compelling way to invite people into the game - and the surest truth I hold is that bringing people into the game is the game. To anyone who cares about the future of our planet, I always want to say: yes, there are worthwhile moves you can make, and in doing so you will be joining the vast number of others who also care. Together, we just might get there.
For an extended version, please go to www.infinite-game.net/blog.
Dr Niki Harre
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