The Age of Extremes

Equilibrium is gone, for many of us, in many ways. Earth is veering off its historical track with regard to climate change; the data is solid and also scary, even considering El Nino’s influence. The economy seems to be in never-ending more mode: more growth-at-all-costs, more corruption, more cut-to-the-bone efficiency. Wealth has skyrocketed, but so has inequality, as success-to-the-successful loops spiral without adequate brakes. Politicians’ positions get more and more extreme: as just one of many examples on both sides of the aisle, Nixon looks pretty darn liberal from where we stand today.

It feels like everything is getting bigger. On September 11, 2001, about 3000 people died in the US. At the peak of the Covid-19 pandemic, about 3000 people died in the US per day. And while 9/11 horrified and energized people (so much that we massively overreacted), at this point we seem to have settled on a collective shrug in response to Covid’s continued drag on our health and economy. Buildings are still not adequately ventilated. Vaccines are no longer effective enough (though I have hope on this front). Medicines available in other countries are held up in the approval process.

Even more extremes are on the horizon: climate change and AI top the list. Will we face them with calibrated grace or continue to stick our heads in the sand?

It’s tempting. Sticking my head in the sand can feel pretty sweet at times. I enjoy my life, and I’m grateful for the opportunities I have, and I’m not an ascetic or intending to become one. But the desire to enjoy life is not a license to ostrich along and add nothing of value to the planet and the people on it, either. It’s all about balance.

And balance is in short supply in the age of extremes. My grandparents had too little. They ate basic food, worked manual-labor jobs, and got by with small paychecks. Humans today (myself included) want the best: luxury apartments, five-star hotels, global air travel at the drop of a hat, new everything, nothing used, nothing basic. We are all or nothing, just like our era.

And all the while, the great hollow middle between the haves and have-nots grows larger, pushing us apart like a dividing sea. We’re on the right side of that divide until we’re not.

If it feels like things are escalating, they are. For a long time after World War II, a rising tide lifted most boats. Wages rose along with productivity, poverty rates around the world fell precipitously (and they continue to fall for the most part, a bright spot in a chaotic world), diseases ebbed or were vanquished by medicine, education went up and to the right.

But around the mid-1970s, wages and productivity began to diverge. Pensions began to wane, replaced by 401(k)s. Executive pay consumed more and more of companies’ profits, while workers collected less and less while themselves consuming more and more goods and services. Credit card debt ballooned. Healthcare costs began their long and seemingly never-ending spiral to infinity, perhaps outpaced only by college costs. And scientists glimpsed divergences in the trends related to global temperature. Small ones at first, then larger ones. Insects began to vanish (though we wouldn’t realize it until many years later).

At this point, the move from equilibrium to extremes has become glaringly obvious in many aspects of life. But humans are creatures of homeostasis: we seek short-term stability, often at the expense of wise action and too often at the expense of our own futures. Like anyone else, I want to continue my lifestyle, and I don’t plan to give up vacations cold-turkey. But it bears thinking about the concept of enough. What is enough?

More is not always better—and deep down I think every person knows this—but another thing many people know, deep down, is that the rot goes to the roots. The problems have become so widespread and so entrenched that they feel insoluble. A mysterious equation. A sea of I-feel-powerless. Might as well go lie on the beach.

I feel powerless too sometimes. But faced with colossal challenges, I don’t want to go out with my head in the sand. The only thing I can truly control is my attitude, and in the end, I’m just not a defeatist. I don’t buy it. Humanity emerged from the Black Death, and we can get through this period. Things change, and our current dilemmas won’t last forever. It’s possible to enjoy life and spend time working to make things better. Asceticism doesn’t sell, but maybe hope still does.