Are you an optimist, pessimist, or realist about the future?

In the age of climate change, “natural disaster” is more of a misnomer than ever. We can absolve ourselves of responsibility for volcanic eruptions and earthquakes (except the ones caused by fracking). But the lengthening hurricane season, the floods, and the droughts? They’ve got our fingerprints all over them. Higher average temperatures and drier vegetation are making wildfires burn hotter and break out more frequently—a development that was hard to ignore this past summer. Smoke from Canadian wildfires in June turned the skies over New York and Washington, D.C., a lurid, choking orange. A fire on Maui incinerated the town of Lahaina and killed nearly a hundred people. “We can’t really call them wildfires anymore,” a climate scientist named Jennifer Francis told the A.P. in July. “They’re not wild. They’re not natural anymore.” Who or what we blame for such calamities helps determine how we respond to them. —Margaret Talbot

As I recall, I was a faculty sponsor at the high school in which I taught for the first Earth Day in 1970. The events of the day may have included a teach-in, a park clean up, tree plantings, and a letter writing campaign to urge lawmakers to enact stronger environmental laws.

Today, we have a much deeper understanding of both the damage we are doing to the planet and the complex solutions required to address that damage.

A recent story about the lives children born this year will likely experience by 2100 prompted a calculation of how old they will be in that year, which turned out to be 77, my current age.

That caused me to wonder what, if anything, I have learned during my lifespan that might be useful to that rising generation.

The first is that change is inevitable and unpredictable, and that the pace of that change will undoubtedly accelerate in the decades ahead. In addition, because many of the changes affect dynamic systems, they will likely be even more extreme and unpredictable.

Consider the changes caused by the intertwined crises affecting the climate and democracy.

The first is triggering climate migration within and between countries and increasing the likelihood of wars. It will widen the gap between the haves and have-nots and divert resources from other pressing problems, like poverty and healthcare.

Because catastrophic climate change will amplify political instability, it will boost authoritarianism, which in turn will make it more difficult to effectively address climate change. And so it goes….

The second prediction about which I have some confidence is that leaders will matter more than ever. What leaders value, believe, and say will make a difference. So, too, will their emotions, either uniting us by spreading hope or dividing us by stoking anger and fear.

To complicate things even further, the generation preceding the one born this year has experienced both the alarming consequences of authoritarianism on our political system and academic deficits and emotional problems experts attribute to the pandemic.

Technologies will undoubtedly be invented this century that will slow the damage done to our planet and perhaps buy us some time. A great deal will also be learned about human psychology, group dynamics, and political behavior that will help with the human aspects of the problem.

So I am hopeful because it is easier to live with hope than not, while recognizing hope is not a strategy that by itself can solve the problems we face.

As I wrote the above, I tried to determine if I was an optimist (“not to worry, technology will save the day”), a pessimist (“we are doomed”), or a realist (“the jury is out about whether rising generations will have the political skills and resilience to do what has to be done”).

Given all that, will those born this year have the ability to create and sustain the political will to successfully address these problems? Will they choose their leaders wisely?

What do you think? Are you an optimist, pessimist, or realist about whether rising generations will have what it takes to address the unprecedented challenges we are passing on to them?

Does our species have what it takes to address climate change?

Thirty-seven thousand Americans died in car accidents in 1955, six times today’s rate adjusted for miles driven.

Ford began offering seat belts in every model that year. It was a $27 upgrade, equivalent to about $190 today. Research showed they reduced traffic fatalities by nearly 70%.

But only 2% of customers opted for the upgrade. Ninety-eight percent of buyers chose to remain at the mercy of inertia.

Things eventually changed, but it took decades. Seatbelt usage was still under 15% in the early 1980s. It didn’t exceed 80% until the early 2000s – almost half a century after Ford offered them in all cars. —Morgan Housel

Amazing!

It took more than 40 years for seatbelts to go from 2% of car customers wanting them to 80% even after seatbelts were mandated in cars in 1968 and many years after some states and provinces began “click it or ticket” campaigns.

That in spite of the fact that putting on a seat belt is a “low cost” intervention that takes only a few seconds, intuitively makes sense, and demonstrably saves lives.

Compare that with the many changes required of us individually and collectively to address the existential threat of climate change, most of which will be far more demanding than clicking a seat belt.

On the one hand, we can be cheered by and learn from the resilience of those advocating seat belts across decades to accomplish their goal. The same might be said about successful, long-term efforts to curb smoking and drunk driving, among other public health campaigns.

On the other hand, we don’t have decades, and we do have good reasons to believe that the cognitive and psychological limitations of our species, perhaps programmed into our genes through the millennia, will prohibit us from doing all that is necessary to solve the bundle of long-term, interdependent problems that make up climate change.

Some say that we are doing too little, too late to minimize the profound effects of climate change on many millions of people who are for the most part the poorest and most powerless among us.

Others say that the situation is not as dire as scientists claim or that technology will save us. 

Do you have reason for optimism, or does the future of our planet look grim?

Remembrance of a 4th of July past

On July 4, 1976 I was in Washington, DC celebrating the 200th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence with hundreds of thousands of others. 

It was an optimistic time as Supreme Court decisions and legislation in the preceding decades had extended basic rights to more Americans—women‘s rights, reproductive and other health care rights, voting rights, civil rights, environmental rights, and collective bargaining rights, among others. The Vietnam War was at long last over, a president had just been turned out of office for attempting to cover up his efforts to interfere in an election, and several in his administration had been sent to prison. 

Although the Equal Rights Amendment was not passed, there was reason to believe, as Martin Luther King and others before him had promised, that the arc of the moral universe is long but bends toward justice. 

The decades since have seen advances in some areas and setbacks in others, but none as profound as recent Supreme Court decisions intended to reshape America to the court’s far-right Christian vision, most notably the reversal of Roe v Wade.

With that decision came threats to other “established” rights—the right to marry who we choose, to vote and have our vote count, and even the right of consenting adults to use birth control, which was not established until 1972.

Overnight what was once a fundamental right provided by Roe v Wade became in some states a criminal act. 

Such rights once lost can take decades to restore.

In addition, the authoritarian impulses that gave the country Watergate and Nixon’s vengeance against those who opposed him have been reactivated by our previous president and others with similar authoritarian, anti-democratic leanings.

Those forces will almost certainly become even more visible and powerful with the mid-term elections in November and the 2024 presidential campaigns that will begin shortly thereafter.

And perhaps of greatest long-term consequence is that these significant problems distract us from seriously addressing the very real possibility of devastating and irreversible climate change, another effort set back by a recent Supreme Court decision, whose destabilizing effects will in turn accelerate the growth of authoritarianism around the world.

And like the feedback loops within climate change that multiply its negative effects, imagine a like-minded president, Congress, and Supreme Court exploiting the shortcomings of American democracy to shape the country to a radically conservative Christian ideology that is rejected by a majority of its citizens.

Sitting on the lawn of the Capitol in 1976 watching the fireworks I could not have imagined an attack on that symbol of American democracy in 2021 intended to overturn an election and the other authoritarian threats the U. S. and the world would face in my lifetime.

How the imperfect and fragile democracy set in motion on July 4, 1776 will be affected by contemporary events is uncertain and unknowable at the moment.

Will it be a dark turning from which it will be difficult to recover or a mid-course correction on the way to a stronger, more vibrant democracy? 

That is as open a question on July 4, 2022 as any the Founders debated in 1776.

What is the role of education in solving America’s problems?

prob·lem/noun: a matter or situation regarded as unwelcome or harmful and needing to be dealt with and overcome

An article of faith for the past century or more is that schooling is the solution, or at least a big part of the solution, to problems such as poverty, racism, climate change, and the preservation of democracy, among many others.

I recently came across two essays offering somewhat contrasting views on this subject.

In the first, Joe Helms argues for a massive investment in social studies and civics education “to address eroding trust in democratic institutions.”

He describes the problem this way: “For many close observers, a direct line can be drawn from today’s civics crises to a long-standing failure to adequately teach American government, history and civic responsibility. Breadth has been emphasized over depth, they say, and the cost is a citizenry largely ignorant of the work needed to sustain a democracy.”

Citing a report from Education for American Democracy, Helms writes:

“‘Civics and history education has eroded in the U.S. over the past fifty years, and opportunities to learn these subjects are inequitably distributed,’” the report states. ‘Dangerously low proportions of the public understand and trust our democratic institutions. Majorities are functionally illiterate on our constitutional principles and forms. The relative neglect of civic education in the past half-century—a period of wrenching change—is one important cause of our civic and political dysfunction.’

“The report calls for an inquiry-based approach that would focus less on memorizing dates of wars and names of presidents and more on exploring in depth the questions and developments, good and bad, that have created the America we live in today and plan to live in well beyond the nation’s 250th anniversary in 2026.

“The new focus on educating students to become more knowledgeable citizens calls for an investment in teacher training, curriculum development and an approach that would emphasize teaching of history and civics to the same degree as STEM and English language arts courses.

Making the case for a more limited role of schools in solving difficult social problems, educational historian Larry Cuban explains our faith in the power of education this way:

“[E]ach generation of reformers believed in their hearts that they could solve thorny social, political, and economic problems. They knew what had to be done and had the answers. Public schools, they held, were the chief, if not the sole, determiner of individual and national success. Schooling was the great equalizer shaping the life journey that individual children and youth traveled. Mirroring the deeply embedded and traditional belief that American institutions can, indeed, make people better, the school, like the church and family, was an instrument for not only reforming individuals and institutions but also curing societal ills such as illiteracy, poverty, and economic slowdowns…..

“For true believers, schooling improves everyone regardless of family circumstances. Yet, (and this is a very big “yet”) much evidence has piled up over the past century that social class matters on who sails through age-graded schools and who stumbles along the way….

“[T]he research literature on children’s academic performance has shown time and again that anywhere from over half to two-thirds of minority and white students’ test scores—lower, middle, and upper class–can be attributed to a family’s socioeconomic background.”

I agree with Education for American Democracy that civics can be better taught, but so, too, can science and critical thinking, particularly in the discernment of valid information sources, to name just two curricular areas.

Which means that more and better professional learning is required in those areas.

I also agree with Cuban that socioeconomic forces are too strong to be overcome by schools alone.

And I think it likely that Helms and Cuban would agree that while teaching and learning can be improved, schools alone cannot solve this country’s most intractable problems.

The unintended consequence of both points of view, unfortunately, is that without skillful leadership they can cause teachers and administrators to feel overwhelmed and powerless.

While schools have an essential role to play in solving complex, long-standing problems, business and political leaders and policy makers at all levels of government, among others, must step up to their civic and moral responsibilities in addressing poverty, racism, and the underfunding of public education, among other pressing issues.

What role do you think schools should play in solving such problems?

3 predictable responses to serious problems

1. Deny: There is no problem.

2. Minimize/deflect: There is a problem, but it isn’t serious and will take care of itself, or, it is a different problem than the one you think it is.

3. Give up/resignation: There is a problem, but the problem is too big or it is too late for us to do anything about it.

Given that climate change is arguably the most significant problem facing our planet, it provides an outstanding example of these responses. 

Denial: Climate change doesn’t exist.

Minimize/deflect: Okay, there may be climate change, but it isn’t due to human activity. Or, it is a hoax created by the Chinese.

Give up/resignation: There is climate change, humans have caused or at least exacerbated it, but it is too late to do anything about it.

Then what happens?

Delaying prompt, serious, and sustained international action on climate change will produce increasing levels of drought, flooding, and other weather-related calamities.

Those events will cause untold numbers of refugees both within and between countries, most of whom will be very poor.

Mass migrations of people will intensify the xenophobia, anger, and fear that we are now experiencing and lead to small and large-scale wars.

Scapegoating, publicly-sanctioned discrimination, and other acts that were once unthinkable become common.

The very rich and the otherwise powerful protect and perhaps even expand what is theirs by inexplicably convincing the have nots that it will be in their best interests for the haves to have even more.

All of this is predictable.

What is required are prompt, well-focused actions by individuals and governments to address an impending crisis of unprecedented proportions.

What will you do (and perhaps sacrifice today) to help create a sustainable, stable, and peaceful world for your children and grandchildren?

The high cost of resignation

Some people confuse current reality with how they want things to be. They not only don’t see the forest for the trees, but they fail to see the forest because they don’t think it should be there.

Other people are so overwhelmed by current reality that they become resigned to the status quo, believing nothing can be done to alter it.

I am reminded of that whenever I hear people talk about climate change.

Some people say that there is no climate change because science can’t be trusted. Deny.

Others say that there may be climate change, but humans have not caused it. Deny. Minimize.

Still others say that, yes, there is climate change, and, yes, it may be caused by humans, but it is too late to do anything about it. Resignation.

That’s a common pattern: Deny —> Minimize —> Resignation to the status quo.

There is another way, however, an approach that can be applied in our personal lives and work settings:

• Conduct an honest and thorough assessment of current reality. (You can’t design a roadmap to a better future if you don’t know where the trip is beginning.)
• Then create a vision of an alternative, desired future—the new reality you wish to create.
• Engage in planning and in persistent, focused action to create that new reality.

How have denial, minimizing, and/or resignation manifested themselves in your work or personal life, and how have you countered those tendencies?

The leader’s role in creating resilient schools

The January 7, 2013 issue of the New Yorker features an article (“Adaptation”) about ways that cities can adapt to climate change (unfortunately, the article is not available without a subscription). The solutions fall into two broad categories.

• “Climate proof cities” – restore wetlands; upgrade infrastructure related to power, transportation, and communication; and build gates and other barriers.

• Cultivate human resilience in the face of an adversity that will be with us for the foreseeable future.

As an example of such resilience the story describes two adjacent “hyper-segregated” communities in Chicago during a 1995 heatwave that killed 739 residents of the city.

While the communities had similar demographics, one had 33 deaths per hundred thousand residents while the other had three per thousand, which made it far safer that even most of the affluent neighborhoods in the city.

Various studies illuminated the source of this resilience in the safer neighborhood and in other settings and, as result, “. . . governments and disaster planners are recognizing the importance of social infrastructure: the people, places, and institutions that foster cohesion and support,” Eric Klinenberg, the article’s author, notes.

Resilience is also a hallmark of successful schools, particularly those that serve students in communities challenged by high levels of poverty and unimaginable tragedies.

Social networks and connections are of universal value, but they take on even greater importance when organizations are stressed.

Consequently, a major responsibility of leaders is developing school cultures that enhance the relationship-based resilience already found within schools and in their surrounding neighborhoods.

To that end, successful principals and teacher leaders promote a sense of common purpose and mutual support within classrooms and schools, form strong bonds with families and community organizations, and create or strengthen already existing teacher teams and networks.

The results of such efforts, carefully nurtured over time, prepare school communities for both anticipated challenges and the unexpected events that can affect all schools without warning.