A still life posed in Stimmell's backyard. Credit: Jean Stimmell

Yes, we might think weโ€™re invincible and capable of doing everything on our own, like John Wayne or James Bond; that is, until we suffer a serious injury or illness, or reach old age. Thatโ€™s when we develop a little humility and realize weโ€™re not isolated islands who must rely solely on ourselves to navigate what is hyped as a dog-eat-dog world. At that moment, we see that, at our core, we are all interdependent in the Buddhist sense of the word.

But it takes a lot to wake us up to this fact. Thatโ€™s what Mark Taylor attempts to do in a podcast with Sean Illing, basing a discussion of Taylorโ€™s book โ€œAfter the Human.โ€

Why is it so hard for us to acknowledge that we are all interdependent beings, dependent for our survival on Mother Earth? Healthy ecosystems are as critical for us as an oxygen line is for a deep-sea diver. Intellectually, I know this to be true, and I occasionally experience feeling that way, one with the universe, after my ego dissolves during meditation. 

But, regrettably, upon reentering the hubbub of everyday life, my ego quickly elbows itself back to life, sweet-talking me into eating red meat, not recycling enough and buying things on Amazon rather than shopping locally. Once again, I am hypnotically following the yellow brick road of our modern times.

There are numerous reasons why culture has conspired to separate me from nature, a circumstance we find most common in Western societies.

The Bible laid the groundwork by asserting that God gave humankind dominion over the Earth. Renรฉ Descartes separated the human mind from the physical world. The rise of agriculture and urban centers distanced humans from natural environments. The scientific revolution marked a shift from mystical and spiritual views of nature to a more rational and mechanistic perspective.

Yes, we can make excuses, but many of us know better. Yet, despite the severe consequences, we canโ€™t seem to cut the apron strings. It appears to be a quirk of human nature that we only respond to a threat when itโ€™s close upon us, like only reacting to a sabertooth tiger when itโ€™s poised to pounce and sever our jugular.

When the emergency isnโ€™t pressing, we tend to procrastinate by watching the latest Netflix series instead of pondering our own extinction. Thatโ€™s why Mike Taylor entitled his podcast โ€œWhat if humans went extinct next Friday?โ€ He is trying to get our attention by upping the ante.

And, oh, the stakes are so high:

Twenty-seven girls and staff recently drowned in a flash flood at a Texas camp and, once again, we are coughing and wheezing from raging Canadian forest fires this summer. All around the world, we are witnessing unprecedented heat waves, droughts, floods, rising sea levels and species extinction โ€” at rates 1,000 to 10,000 times greater than the natural background rate before human interference.

Taylor concludes, โ€œWe know everything we need to know to do what we know we ought to do, and yet we cannot do it, or we seem unable to do it. It’s not just because of individuals making poor choices, it’s because we’ve created a culture and a set of incentives and disincentives that push us in the direction that we’re going.โ€

If he is right that humans will soon be toast, we should indeed be pondering what happens โ€œAfter the Human.โ€