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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