Moving
Past Apathy
Apathy.
The word has been bouncing around in my head for
several weeks now, ever since I read Amelia
DiGiano’s photo essay “Portraits of a Planet in
Crisis,” which you will find in our new Autumn print
issue. In it, she documents her experience
of traversing the United States, stopping in
some of the most climate-impacted communities to
photograph residents and speak with them about
their eco-anxiety. To her surprise, she found
quite a bit of “eco-apathy” instead.
The
word “apathy” popped up again in Joshua T.
Anderson’s touching essay in the issue about the
threads that bind human health to soil heath,
and the desperate need for caretaking in both of
these realms (“Rooted in Care”). “Apathy is the
most dangerous thing we grow here,” he writes
from North Dakota’s Red River farm country, the
top sugarbeet-producing region in the
nation.
Both
reflections struck a chord. Apathy can surface
in so many areas, both personal and societal. I
see it in the same places these authors do,
including in our underwhelming response to the
escalating climate crisis, our acceptance of
profit-driven healthcare, our ambivalence
towards corporate-dominated food systems. I see
it also in the lack of any accountability for
international oil companies as they hastily
withdraw from the Niger Delta (“Deserting the
Delta,” also in our new issue), and in the
global inaction over the humanitarian crisis in
Sudan and the genocide in Gaza.
Apathy
is human. It can be a defense mechanism to
feelings that overwhelm, to the inability to
meaningfully process the many crises that are
constantly unfolding around the globe. It can
stem from misinformation — from say, propaganda
downplaying the severity of the global climate
crisis or playing into fear of the “Other.” It
can be fed by our feelings of powerlessness
within a system manipulated by the super-rich,
and amplified by our own personal struggles,
which can leave little room for advocacy over
systemic injustices.
This,
I think, is what makes apathy perhaps the
biggest hurdle we face to taking action.
But,
as recent articles in both our online edition
and Autumn issue also make clear, there are many
ways to keep it at bay. Anderson is leaning into
patience, and even rage, as he cares for his dad
and the land. The community members and
activists who appear in our magazine — including
those fighting for justice in the Niger Delta,
pushing for sound forest policy in Washington
State, and standing up against a destructive mining
project in Arizona — lean into everything
from anger to science to compassion in their
determination to keep up the good fight.
Apathy
may be a human experience, but it is not a
given. With so much at stake, we must seek
inspiration where we can, including in the work
of so many others who have refused to look away,
and find our path past it.
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