Frustrated with humanity? You’re not alone—and that’s a good thing

As long as there are activists, there will be good-natured hand-wringing over their tactics and messaging. We were reminded of this last month when climate activists “attacked” Stonehenge (by spraying a washable dye on the stones) in protest of government inaction to mitigate climate change. Cultural critics across the political spectrum reacted scoldingly, with even some fellow climate activists tsk-tsking the action and calling the people behind it “self-aggrandizing vandals” and “spoiled brats.”

Writing for The Atlantic, Tyler Austin Harper, a professor of environmental studies at Bates College, says with more nuance that the well-intentioned activists are influenced by “environmental misanthropes” and “extreme pessimists.” He argues that the action at Stonehenge wrongly targets all of humanity rather than specific responsible actors, like wasteful celebrities who make frequent use of private jets.

While I’m all for taking the billionaires of the world to task for their gargantuan carbon footprints, I actually don’t think the activists, part of a group called Just Stop Oil, are wrong for casting a wider net. Taylor Swift alone didn’t get us into this mess—the story of climate change is one that involves all of us.

Generally speaking, I don’t believe in blaming everyday individuals for structural problems, but when it comes to the environment, it doesn’t feel honest to portray ourselves as mere victims to a powerful few. As a society, we tend to look the other way, if not actively participate, when a dubious process gives us something we want. Fast fashion companies wouldn’t be able to produce ocean-clogging volume of waste if people weren’t willing to drop money on cheap clothes they only wear once. If everyone decided to become a vegan tomorrow, factory farms would buckle at the knees. Even pop stars wouldn’t be able to jet set the way they do if not for fans purchasing tickets to see them live. But despite having the knowledge and, often, the resources to divest from industries that are destroying our planet, many of us simply don’t.

Humans are responsible for some horrific things, both in the past and the present. We kill billions of animals each year, but not before torturing them physically and emotionally. We adore machines that poison our atmosphere, sickening ourselves and the rest of life on earth. We discriminate against groups of people based on characteristics like race, gender, religion, and sexual orientation. We turn a blind eye to wars and genocides.

All of this considered, I think it’s only natural to have a critical view of humanity, if not to consider our species a plague upon the earth. But for some reason, those of us with a disdain for humankind as we know it are called “extreme pessimists,” and told our activism ought to instead be “humanistic.” We’re told we ought to revere the symbols and artifacts of human accomplishment, separating marvels like the Colosseum from the very atrocities that enabled them, like slavery, rape, and death. The highs and lows of humanity are, in so many cases, inextricably interconnected—when we add it all up, is it really so extreme to believe that humanity has had a net negative impact?

I would argue that this worldview isn’t technically built on misanthropy at all; if anything, it’s the reverse. To even have this conversation betrays a sliver of hope, no matter how faint, that humanity could be better. In actuality, maybe we will and maybe we won’t—but no problem has ever been solved without first being acknowledged. The only way to change anything about ourselves, our societies, or our species is to first point out what needs to change.

Some might counter that point by questioning if a pessimistic attitude toward humanity is more of a help or a hindrance in actually effecting change, and I’ll admit, I don’t have an easy answer. On one hand, I agree that the messaging of any movement matters, and making people feel bad about themselves generally isn’t the best way to get them to join your camp. That’s one reason why people tend to feel more comfortable focusing their climate ire on billionaires rather than on things average people engage in. It’s also why I’ve taken the “reducetarian” approach in my advocacy. It encourages people to change their behavior (in this case, eat less meat and dairy and fewer eggs) without shaming them or demanding more than they feel capable of giving. It calls people in rather than calling them out. So I can understand how “humanity sucks” might not be the most inviting message.

But that said, we’ve spent generations propagating feel-good messages about recycling and appreciating Mother Nature, and the climate crisis is more dire than ever. We’ve tried all sorts of more-palatable kinds of activism, and yet the modern world is still reliant on fossil fuels and industrial animal agriculture. In the face of unfolding climate disaster, it feels like petty tone-policing to wag our fingers at the “pessimists” who are actually out there, trying to make their message heard (with potentially some success at that).

And sure, individual action like using fewer straws and bags is too often encouraged in a world where corporations are allowed to keep polluting and draining resources at a massive scale. As a matter of strategy, I agree with Harper that our efforts should largely be focused on holding the powerful few accountable. But that doesn’t change the fact these businesses wouldn’t exist if people stopped funding them. Be honest—how many people do you know who would actually vote for a meat tax? Or pay more for a flight powered by cleaner fuel? It’s an unpopular sentiment in some quarters, but let’s face it: on average, humans act selfishly.

So at what point does it become okay to start making people feel a little uncomfortable? Is it really so offensive to (pretend to) deface historic works of art or interrupt a Broadway play, when our governments are allowing industry to sicken and kill people unchecked? Is it really so extreme to suggest that humanity might need a wake-up call to truly understand what we’ve done and continue to do to our planet and to each other?

As long as humanity behaves as a “terrestrial parasite poisoning the Earth,” in Harper’s words, it shouldn’t be taboo to say so. We’re at a moment in time when people are thinking seriously about the future of our species on this planet and beyond. Some folks are personally and politically advocating for increasing birth rates; others are discussing how space colonization is not only a good thing, but a moral imperative. The last half-century of computer science has been obsessed with making machines that resemble humans as closely as possible. As a species, our numbers and impact are only growing. It’s valid to wonder if this is actually a good thing. I for one have my doubts, and you should, too.