What if We Are Not in a Crises?

Hello and welcome to rewilding philosophy, your newsletter about ekoPhilosophical health for our times or how I like to describe it lately: life advice, but with values. I hope you enjoy your summer.

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Bayo Akomolafe says that the way we address the crisis is the crisis.

I wonder if the way we frame the crisis is the crisis.

George Lakoff, in his book "Don't Think of an Elephant!: Know Your Values and Frame the Debate,” posits that frames are mental structures that shape the way we perceive reality and understand information. Frames are cognitive frameworks that organize our thoughts, beliefs, and experiences, influencing how we interpret events, make judgments, and form opinions.

According to Lakoff, frames operate by providing a conceptual structure through which we process information and make sense of the world around us. Frames help us categorize incoming information, assign meaning to it, and relate it to existing knowledge and experiences. They shape how we perceive issues, prioritize certain aspects of information over others, and form opinions and attitudes.

“That is what framing is about. Framing is about getting language that fits your worldview. It is not just language. The ideas are primary—and the language carries those ideas, evokes those ideas.” - George Lakoff

Frames are often based on underlying metaphors, symbols, and cultural narratives that are deeply embedded in language and communication. These metaphors and symbols activate specific neural pathways in the brain, reinforcing particular interpretations and understandings of the world.

Lakoff emphasizes that frames are not neutral or objective; instead, they reflect underlying values, beliefs, and ideologies. Different frames can lead to contrasting interpretations of the same issue, highlighting the importance of framing in shaping public discourse, political debates, and social narratives.

I am wondering if the idea of a crisis is the best frame to evoke the responses that we need.

Just like sustainability needed a reframing, because it wasn’t fully expressing what is needed and is now (by many) referred to as regeneration, maybe our “crisis” also needs a reframing.

If regeneration is the response, is crisis a good question?

The word "crisis" has its etymological roots in the Greek word "krisis," which means "decision" or "judgment." The term originates from the Greek verb "krinein," meaning "to separate," "to decide," or "to judge."

Are we really at a point of separation, decision, or judgment? What are the common associations we have with the word crisis?

One association with crisis is that it is something that can be overcome, that can be solved. Something temporary that—with the right tools—can be managed. A crisis is full of urgency and immediacy. It usually emerges suddenly, without warning, leaving one in a sense of helplessness. It reflects a state of instability or upheaval, where existing conditions are precarious or unsustainable. A crisis conveys the idea that current systems or structures are unable to adequately address emerging challenges. In our personal lives, a crisis often comes from losing a job or a partner, someone close to us dying, getting ill, or losing a sense of meaning. We don’t expect crises to last. Instead, we desire or necessitate resolving or mitigating the identified problems, to find solutions that restore stability, security, and normalcy.

While these associations seem very fitting and true, they also cause some trouble.

For example, while the word "crisis" implies an acute and immediate threat, the issues associated with the Anthropocene, such as species extinction, ocean acidification, and social inequality, are rather chronic, multifaceted, and deeply ingrained in our socioeconomic-ecological systems. Labeling them as mere crises may inadvertently minimize their complexity and long-term implications.

As Nora Bateson expressed in her recent book “Combining,” what we see on the surface has been brewing for a very long time. Addressing what we see is not addressing the real problem because the problem emerged from years of specific conditions. A crisis indicates something acute that is happening in the moment without contextual and especially historical embeddedness. Is the crisis now or is the crisis what happened back then?

When we are in crisis, we might jump to addressing what we see, not what led to it.

Moreover, we typically perceive a crisis as something that happens TO us, a surprise that engulfs our lives without warning. We have been warned though; we have been watching how this slowly built up. It’s almost like a “planned obsolescence”—a term used in product development to design products with a limited lifespan or intentionally reducing their durability to ensure that they become obsolete or non-functional within a relatively short period, thereby stimulating repeat purchases. I guess for those of us who plan to move to Mars, the hope is to repeat purchase.

When I read books that are 200, 100, or 50 years old, I am often surprised at how often the authors point out that the world is in a crisis. Are we in a constant crisis? Do we constantly perceive the world as a crisis?

A crisis is something that can be overcome. But what is it that can be overcome? And will that not lead us into new problems that need to be overcome? Are we jumping from crisis to crisis? Or is that just what change looks and feels like? I once read that to evolve (individually) means that our problems become better—better in the sense of more interesting, more engaging, more fun to solve, more complex.

And lastly, the term crisis is something that enforces human exceptionalism and the differentiation from the more-than-human world, while this is also said to be one of the main challenges to overcome. Because if we continue to think that the crisis is something that was caused by humans, we exempt ourselves from the more-than-human world, assuming that we are capable of acting in a way that is exceptional in the living world. As philosopher and ecofeminist Val Plumwood observed,

"To overcome anthropocentrism, we must reconceive humanity as a type of animal life, mythically and materially connected to other animal and earth-borne forms."

For all these reasons: How then can we describe the predicament we are in in a way that acknowledges that things are challenging while also expressing that this is the nature of change?

Metamorphosis

One way to express this predicament is the idea of metamorphosis. In the context of transformation research and practice, the idea of metamorphosis is used rather frequently. The word "metamorphosis" originates from the Greek term "metamorphōsis," which means "transformation" or "change of shape." It is derived from the roots "meta," meaning "beyond" or "change," and "morphē," meaning "form" or "shape." Metamorphosis refers to a profound change in form, structure, or substance, especially seen in biology where it describes the transition stages in an organism's lifecycle. The most used analogy I have found is the metamorphosis of a butterfly. When ready, the caterpillar forms a chrysalis, entering the pupal stage where the caterpillar's body structure breaks down and reorganizes, eventually emerging as a fully developed adult butterfly with wings, ready to begin the cycle anew.

The reason why caterpillars are able to go through such a deep transformation is their imago cells. Imago cells are imaginal discs, sometimes referred to colloquially as imaginal cells, which are specialized groups of cells in insect larvae, most notably in holometabolous insects like butterflies. These discs remain dormant during the larval stages but become highly active during the pupal stage. They undergo rapid division and differentiation, ultimately forming the structures of the adult insect, such as wings, legs, antennae, and other body parts. Essentially, imaginal discs are the blueprints within the larva that enable the transformation into the adult form, orchestrating the metamorphosis.

We wouldn’t say that the caterpillar is in a crisis when it becomes a butterfly. It’s in a state of deep transformation.

Metamorphosis doesn’t just happen within a species; it happens across species and time.

According to Emanuele Coccia:

“Every species is the metamorphosis of all those that preceded it. One and the same life, cobbling together a new body, a new form, in order to exist differently. This is the deepest meaning of the Darwinian theory of evolution, the one that biology and pop science don’t want to think about: species are not substances or real entities. They are ‘life games’ (in the same sense as ‘language games’): unstable and necessarily ephemeral configurations of a life that likes to transit and circulate from one form to another.”

One form of being eventually merges into another form of being. No one is superior to the other.

Coming back to our current crisis, we might understand that we are currently also undergoing a metamorphosis. Yet, the metamorphosis never stops—it’s a constant process of what we commonly call evolution—one form merging into a new form. Minerals that were once stone, were part of dinosaurs, and become part of our body.

Maybe the way to grasp the polycrisis is to think that we can go through a metamorphosis on different scales. The scale of the polycrisis is a global scale.

Something “natural.”

Framing the crisis as part of a process of metamorphosis challenges us to reimagine our roles, our systems, and our impact on the planet. Much like the dormant imaginal discs within a caterpillar, potential solutions and innovations may already exist within our current state, waiting to be activated and developed into new structures that are more sustainable, equitable, and resilient.

It might shift the perspective from doom towards optimism and proactive engagement.

The metamorphosis analogy involves a period of significant reorganization and adaptation, where old forms must give way to new potentials. This requires an acceptance of change and the courage for uncertainty and upheaval.

I find that changing the language around metamorphosis not only offers a more optimistic outlook while acknowledging that the process is complex and demanding, but also embeds humans back into the more-than-human world, as the term is commonly associated with images of nature. Curious to hear what you think.