be sustained, and if we donât change, the system will at some point face a crisis, most probably a nonlinear one characterized by a disruptive, relatively sudden shift in the state of the global ecosystem.
In order to relate to these issues, people often focus on local impacts of extreme weather or natural climatic disasters. Thereâs no shortage of examples of this playing out today, with direct human and economic impacts. In my home country, Australia, we have in recent years experienced many of them. Weâve had the worst drought on record, with serious impacts on our food production and collapsing river systems. Weâve had to urgently build expensive and energy-intensive desalination plants when we faced the prospect that some of our largest cities could run out of water. Weâve had the most intense wildfires on record, with hundreds killed, and weâve had record heat waves that have led to hundreds more fatalities, like the heat wave (the kind that hits just once every three thousand years) that ravaged my hometown of Adelaide in March 2008.
As I write this book, new heat records are being set all around the world and in global averages. Pakistan is facing instability and widespread suffering from extraordinary floods. Russia has banned wheat exports after record-breaking temperatures and a severe drought threatened food supplies. Each time a record is broken or new extreme weather impacts are observed, it is easy and understandable to focus on them. However, the science says donât pay too much attention to individual events or years, focus on the global system and trends as a whole, as weâve covered. This is what should concern us most.
Despite all this evidence, when I present on this topic, one of the questions I often get is something along the lines of âSurely itâs not that bad? I understand itâs serious, but environmentalists and scientists need to shock us into action, so they exaggerate, donât they?â
In response, I often refer to what a nice day it is outside, what a pleasant and safe walk I had to the venue, what a good breakfast we all had that morning after a good nightâs sleep in a comfortable home or hotel. My point is to acknowledge that it is really hard, in the face of all this, to internalize that the global ecosystem is on the brink of crisis, or perhaps already in one, when we donât directly feel or see the signals around us.
This is a human response based on instincts we have developed over millions of years. We respond to danger that is physically close and immediate in time. This response has served us well, when the neighboring tribe attacked or when there was a tiger at the cave entrance.
So here we are in the modern era with the same instincts. For most readers, things are good, life is interesting, our needs are met, and the environment we see every day seems pretty good. Sure, there are issues, but it doesnât feel as if weâre on the verge of systemic collapse, thatâs for sure. We focus instead on tonightâs dinner, the project we have due at work, or the challenge weâre facing in our relationship.
The problem is that we donât sense any danger in our physical, instinctive senses. Those who do, such as those facing wildfire, drought, or flood, respond to that immediate challenge, focusing on their personal safety and protecting their friends and family.
To understand the threat we face here, we have to resort to global ecosystem science, an area most people find intimidating and confusing. However, we simply have no choice. Given the time it takes to change human instincts, we are going to have to work with what weâve got!
So my response to this question is that you either accept the science, articulated by groups of experts and based on a rational assessment, or you donât. This is the way it is, because most of us donât see, and critically wonât see, sufficient physical