Opposites and Our Relationship to Climate Change
Everything requires for its existence its own opposite, or else it fades into nothingness.
—C. G. Jung
I awake early in the morning. It’s dark outside, and I hesitate to get out of bed, but early mornings are a good time for me, and my lifelong practice of early rising has allowed me to witness the recurring transition from night to day. Standing at my window, I watch the night sky give way to the first small, reddish luminescence of sunshine. I continue watching as it displays a range of reds, violets, and glowing pink hues. Finally, the whole bright white disk of the sun rests above the horizon. Watching this daily development I experience the opposites of light and dark. For billions of years Earth’s turning on its axis has created this periodic phenomenon. I picture our hominid ancestors standing on the savannah of southern Africa watching this recurring event. I imagine their nocturnal fears of predators diminishing with the slow appearance of first light. Is it any wonder that indigenous peoples created ceremonies to honor the rising sun, one of our earliest lived experiences of opposites?
Along with light and dark, sun and moon, our parents form a primal pair of opposites whose union gives us life. Given these primal experiences of polarity, it is not surprising that the pattern of opposites has played a critical role in how we perceive and experience our worlds. It is imperative that we explore the role opposites play in our lives; they pervade our everyday world and often give rise to tensions. What are the opposites that we experience? How do they affect our relationship to the world?
Opposites hold polarity by their very nature; you cannot have one pole without the other. Given this fundamental situation, opposites must be a part of our new story for the future. Neglecting the existence of opposites in our outer and inner worlds leads to turmoil; we become too one-sided if we turn away from them. One-sidedness is the seed of discord, for we fail to see the other side of a situation. We do not allow ourselves to contemplate what it is like from the other’s perspective. We also fail to recognize that our side depends on its opposite. Day would mean nothing without night, light without dark. If I put opposites in relation, I avoid being one-sided.
A scientist has to get used to defending his or her ideas. Scientists are trained to argue and critique one another’s work. We thrive on challenging each other through debate at conferences or by reviewing each other’s manuscripts. At times, the disagreements can become very personal, and it may take a long time to settle on the idea that best explains an observation. Nevertheless, the process of determining the best explanation is rooted in facts, not opinions. Scientists naively thought the same process would apply in public debates. We were mistaken about this. The climate debate in the United States and a few other countries is highly irrational. Scientists quickly learned that using reason and presenting facts were unlikely to convince those opposed to the science of climate change. In addition, the disagreements were not about discussing differing ideas but were extremely personal. The moral character of scientists was questioned. Death threats were made against them and their family members. This was a completely unanticipated form of opposition. There is tremendous polarity over this issue. Some accept the science of climate change; others reject it. Some are attracted to building a sustainable world; others are repulsed by the idea. I have encountered these opposites when making public presentations on the issue. At times I would need to stand before a hostile audience and hold the tension of opposites in the room. I could feel strong emotions within and needed to stay calm. I came to realize that the polarity surrounding this issue is deep seated, hence the need to explore patterns of opposites.
Every day we are faced with decisions involving opposites. The decisions range from the simple to the complex. Most of the time we are able to make a decision and move on. At other times, the decision is painful and difficult. I have experienced this process in my own life. When deciding to become a Jungian analyst I suffered tremendous internal tension. Should I invest all this time and money to become an analyst, or should I not? In the end the pull to become an analyst won out. As an analyst, my work with people often begins with identifying an internal conflict that keeps a person stuck. If the internal conflict becomes too intense, it may make life unbearable. Should I stay in this job, or should I leave it? Do I love this person or not? Should I buy that car or not? Opposites can also be at the root of disagreement with others. If your views are opposed to my views, we are ripe for conflict. Think of the last argument you had with someone. How was it affected by the polarity of opposing viewpoints?
On an archetypal level, opposites help us make sense of our inner and outer worlds. Consider how our being here in the world immediately implies a beginning and an end, which defines life. We look around and see newborn babies and the frailty of age at the same time, and we recognize that each of us carries these polarities. Life’s process of beginning and ending extends throughout the universe. When we look into the cosmos we see whole galaxies experiencing a birth process while others suffer their demise. Life is an eternal process of coming and going. Knowing our life will end gives birth to our most basic existential anxiety. Addressing this basic anxiety was perhaps the origin of our oldest stories: our myths. Creation stories brought understanding to why things come into being. Stories of the world’s end instill fear and hope at the same time, fear that this bodily existence will end and hope that something exists afterward. Seeing these stories as concrete realities often sows the seeds of discord. Many of the conflicts today are rooted in concretized myths concerning creation and destruction. I wonder to what extent our fear over climate change is rooted in our basic anxiety about endings.
Of course opposites also help us in orienting ourselves in the world. They create contrast, which is essential to experiencing the phenomenal world: up/down, north/south, and east/west. Our senses are immersed in opposites. We hear loud and soft sounds, taste bitter and sweet, touch smooth and rough, cold and hot, see white and black. Even our sense of time dwells in the realm of opposites: we look back at the past and peer into the future. Opposites permeate not only our outer world of sense perceptions but also our inner world. We define our sense of self at any moment in terms of moods: happy or sad, agitated or peaceful. We may feel closeness or distance.
Typically, we have a preferred way of orienting ourselves in the world based on one of the qualities of thinking, feeling, sensation, or intuition. There may be other ways of relating to our world, but these four are basic. If our tendency is to use thinking as our way of relating, we are inclined to define the world in terms of concepts and ideas. We are adept at defining and categorizing things in our world, often in terms of abstraction. We focus on knowing what a thing is and how it works. Feeling allows us to see the value of something. In this way, feeling brings us closer to the world. We are less inclined to define something in terms of abstract concepts. We experience a different sense of “knowing,” one that involves empathy. We are emotionally moved by the world.
As a scientist my dominant mode of understanding the world is through concepts and thoughts. Scientists formulate ideas about the world and then test them by observing whether the world fits with these ideas. If the concepts do not describe the observations, they are improved through application of the fundamental laws of nature. Science is a constant process of narrowing uncertainty to gain improved understanding. It is not static. Imagine a scientist conversing with someone whose dominant approach to matters is through feeling. The scientist will argue from a position rooted in the laws of nature, but the other person will be listening for the value in what is being said. We are set for disagreement if the scientist cannot speak about value or the other person cannot grasp concepts. The two are at opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of communication. This is often the situation when scientists communicate with the public. They are speaking from the position of concepts while some listeners are hearing through the filter of values, which is usually tied strongly to emotions.
In using our senses we collect information about what is immediately before us. Although the information from our senses is often viewed as the way of orientation that is most reliable, all sense information is filtered; it is a process tinting how we see the world based upon past experiences and values. Two people seeing the same object perceive it differently. Scientists use sensed observations to study nature. By collecting and compiling this information they build a picture of how the world is. Combining observations with thought leads to a more holistic view of the world.
In terms of intuition, we allow our “gut feelings” to influence strongly what to do in a situation. This approach is for the most part unconscious and taps into older parts of the brain that rely on image and metaphor to perceive the world. This particular decision-making process often raises concerns because of its unpredictable nature. However, studies indicate that this approach often provides very effective solutions to problems. The unconscious has developed the ability to assimilate information in an associative way that is much faster than our conscious reasoning. This intuitive way of seeing problems and quickly making a choice clearly has evolutionary advantages. Scientists and artists can be very intuitive in their work. Some of my most exciting insights as a scientist have occurred through intuition.
As a scientist, one of the first problems I studied in my career was Earth’s early climate. Carl Sagan pointed out in 1972 that solar physics tells us that billions of years ago our sun was much fainter than it is now. Yet geologic evidence indicates the Earth had fluid water on the surface at this time. Sagan deduced that with such a faint sun, all the water on Earth should have been frozen. How could there be liquid water with so little sunlight reaching Earth’s surface? This became known as the Faint Young Sun paradox. Sagan and a colleague argued that perhaps greenhouse gases could resolve the paradox. He speculated that abundant amounts of ammonia would have acted as an effective greenhouse gas to keep the planet above freezing. Scientists later argued that ammonia could never have built up in high enough concentrations for this to work. It was then proposed that extremely high levels of the greenhouse gas carbon dioxide kept the planet above freezing, but the levels necessary would have been too high to agree with what the geologic record told us about Earth’s early atmosphere. What to do? It was around this time that I began to think about the paradox. I had an intuition that early life could play an important role in solving the paradox. At this time, I was reading about Earth’s earliest life forms, which were bacteria. These small organisms existed without oxygen and released methane into the atmosphere. I was able to show that by accounting for methane in the early atmosphere one would not need as much carbon dioxide to keep the planet warm. Methane is a very potent greenhouse gas, over twenty times more potent than carbon dioxide, so a little bit of it in the atmosphere can go a long way. By assuming Earth’s early atmosphere was composed of a combination of these two greenhouse gases one could solve the paradox. Since my work was published, many more embellishments have been added to solving this paradox. My intuition about the connections between early life and its effects on the climate proved to be quite fruitful. My scientific career has been rich in both serendipity and intuition. In talking with colleagues over the years, I have heard many stories about the important role intuition and serendipity have played in their scientific discoveries.
As a Jungian analyst, intuition plays a critical role in how I work with clients. Sitting across from someone who is suffering, I often will have an intuitive sense of what the person is feeling or thinking. I often check in with the person to see if my intuition matches what is going on within the person. This resonance between the two of us creates a strong therapeutic bond that aids the healing process tremendously. I have even experienced instances during initial meetings with a prospective client of what the presenting problem is before they tell me. Once I greeted a young man who had wanted to receive career counseling. When I shook the man’s hand I knew immediately he was actually depressed, even though he outwardly looked fine. After a couple of sessions, the man began to talk about his depression, and that was why he really wanted to see someone.
Sensation and intuition are opposites; however, it is important to understand they are not mutually exclusive. If we have a tendency toward one of them, it does not mean we lack the other. Similarly, thinking does not imply a complete absence of feeling, only a tendency to depend on it more often.
These opposites make themselves felt in how we make decisions about our world. We may choose to look at things rationally, in which we collect as much factual information as possible and use reason to order and interpret this information. We then weigh options and make the “best” decision possible given what we know. This rational approach appeals to some because it attempts to be thoroughly objective, unaffected by any emotional relationship to the information gathered. Many believe this is the way all of our decisions should be made, especially political decisions, which have wide-reaching effects, yet we know from experience that most decisions are not based solely on reason.
Becoming too one-sided in our approach to seeing the world limits our ability to find comprehensive solutions to problems. It is like a marriage in which one of the partners is very logical while the other approaches life through feelings. These fundamental differences in seeing the world often lead to tensions in a marriage. However, if the couple learns to recognize and value the other’s perspective, they can make far more effective, agreeable decisions. The key to this balanced way of living is learning to respect the other’s perspective. If the head cannot value the ways of the heart, the two will not work together. Similarly, the ways of the heart need to value those of the head. Ultimately, we need to find ways for head and heart to cooperate creatively.
There are other archetypal opposites that strongly affect how we experience the world. Perhaps the most fundamental of these is the masculine/feminine dyad, which pervades all cultures throughout history. It is essential to note that these two qualities are present in both males and females. They transcend gender, and one quality is not better than the other. The masculine qualities usually include discernment, critical analysis, action, and force; feminine qualities include reflection, synthesis, patience, and receptivity. The positive side of the masculine is the ability to assess a situation, strategize to come up with a plan of action, and implement the plan. The positive side of the feminine is to reflect on the whole situation, consider the connections among the various parts of the whole problem, listen to those involved, synthesize everything, and propose a plan that is inclusive. The masculine approach usually is implemented quickly. The negative aspects of the masculine approach is that it may exclude many people involved in the problem, may overlook critical connections embedded in the problem, and may be forced onto those who were not included. The negative side of the feminine is that it can miss critical moments when action is essential and may never reach a desired state of consensus. The dark side of the masculine is that it can be violent and aggressive; the dark side of the feminine is manipulative and destructive. Within each of us are these various aspects of the masculine and feminine.
The best place to see these qualities are in myths, legends, modern fiction, and films. I say the “best” place because we have a harder time identifying them in ourselves, especially the negative and dark aspects. Our stories carry these qualities for us. Indeed, they do this because we project those qualities onto these art forms. I have already mentioned the Greek myth of Earth-Destroyer and The Lord of the Rings, two narratives that contain excellent examples of the light and dark masculine and feminine. Interestingly, many stories are concerned with the light qualities overcoming the dark ones. Another motif that is nearly universal is that of the redemption of a feminine form from the clutches of a dark masculine one. Most fairy tales carry this redemption motif: the young daughter being saved from the sadistic Bluebeard, or Luke Skywalker rescuing the princess (his sister) from Darth Vader.
Throughout Western history we see the loss, disregard, and degradation of feminine qualities over those of the masculine. There is no question that the masculine qualities—positive and negative—have dominated the world for centuries, if not millennia. Although both men and women hold these two qualities, men dominate our world and mainly express masculine qualities. This situation has actually become worse over the last decade, as witnessed in the rising abuse of women worldwide. The feminine in almost all forms is missing in our world. We have failed to hold both the masculine and feminine together in a creative fashion. This failure appears in many places. Consider how we have dealt with the environment. Our relationship to nature has been mostly a stance of conquering and subduing it. The historian Carolyn Merchant has shown how our relationship with nature is mirrored in how women have been treated throughout history.
Another archetypal pair of opposites is disunion/union. Disunion, or separation, comes in degrees and cleaves us from the world. When I reflect on how we enter into a state of separation with our world, I realize that it may happen so subtly that we are often quite unaware that it has taken place. One moment I am engaged with my world, listening attentively to the person sitting across from me. In the next moment, I may find myself looking at the other as if through a telescope. I hear them and see them, but the sense of presence has departed. Have I left them, or have they left me? Perhaps we have created an unstated mutual agreement to take a moment’s leave. Clearly, however, a separation has taken place. A distinct, disturbing distance has descended upon us, which may last a brief moment or linger with seeming indefiniteness. The feelings associated with this parting vary. Loneliness may arise in that moment, but equally possible is a feeling of release. There is no question that separation is a pregnant possibility in any moment of connectedness.
What price do we pay for such disunion? If we separate too far from our world, we gaze upon it as if it were some distant, lifeless object. It is hard to feel anything so distant. We lose touch with the other, literally. Separation seeps in and kills something in us. I believe the prevalence of disconnection from the felt world is at the root of many of our environmental problems. These days so many spend so little time in touch with the world of nature. We move from home to car to work and back home. Our lives are spent encapsulated within opaque walls. Separation gives birth to emptiness, which we feel compelled to address. Isn’t it ironic that our yearning for more arises from our separation and that this separation then feeds the emptiness and sustains our yearning? Separation is self-supporting and insidious in suspending our connectedness to the world.
Separation makes our world invisible. This sense of invisibility is a part of our inability to connect with the climate problem. Much of the change occurring today is in the relatively unpopulated polar regions. The melting of sea ice and ice sheets is not palpable to most. Spatially speaking, the largest climate changes remain distant. Similarly, the largest changes will occur still in the future. The problem is largely invisible to us both in space and time, and until we sense the nearness of something, we are rarely willing to engage with it. We have a tendency to wait for change to affect us directly before we are moved to act. We act reactively rather than proactively. This tendency is not specific to climate change; we also are reactive with respect to economic decisions and other social issues. As long as the problems are distant in space and time, we turn our gaze away from them. We seem to be wired to react to the immediate but must now transform to react to what lies ahead. We are called to make the invisible visible at this great turning point in civilization.
In my scientific career I have experienced this process of making things visible. Research had shown that increases in the amount of small reflective particles in the atmosphere reduced the amount of sunlight available to warm the climate system. Essentially, the particles act to shade the planet’s surface. These particles result from increased burning coal, forests, and other materials. Since an increase in greenhouse gases warms the planet, the question arose as to how much of the warming was offset by the increase in these small reflective particles. A colleague and I carried out research that showed that the offset was quite significant. On the regional scale, the smooth geographic pattern of warming from greenhouse gases was disrupted by the presence of these particles. This research aided our ability to discern and attribute changes in the climate system to humans versus to natural causes. By combining the known effects of greenhouse gases and reflective small particles, we calculated the total effect of human activity on the climate system. This research on the climate role of these small particles continued for a number of years. With each study I made the invisible visible. Science is a continual process of making what is unknown known.
In my career as a Jungian analyst I also make the invisible visible. Unseen complexes in the unconscious can cause tremendous discomfort in a person’s life. I have worked with many people who can visibly see their problematic behaviors or thoughts but are unable to find the invisible factors causing their suffering. Working together, the analyst and client are able to unveil the hidden factors that cause the suffering. This therapeutic process of exploring the visible and invisible dimensions of the psyche is tremendously rewarding for both client and analyst. Each learns something about the other and themselves in the process. Jung felt that in this healing both analyst and client are transformed, and I can testify to this.
Looking back on this meditation you may note the frequent appearance of words beginning with “dis-.” Opposites create discord, reminding me of other words associated with opposition: disagree, divisive, discount, disassociate, disconnect, and distant. All of these words relate to the issue of climate change. Media outlets sow seeds of divisiveness around the science of climate change. Some economists discount how much the damage caused by a disruptive climate will cost. Listening to all of the bad news around the topic can lead us to disconnect from it. We feel a need to distance ourselves and ignore it. What is this dis that pervades our feelings of opposition? Dis is an old Roman name for the king of the underworld, also known as Hades. He was a wealthy ruler who owned what was buried in the ground, which evokes images of the monetary riches tied to fossil fuels. Dis could make himself invisible and enter the world of the living. He was considered both good because of his wealth and bad because he was associated with death. Whenever a disagreement arises, Dis appears seemingly from nowhere. He is always standing in the wings ready to unveil himself and sow discord. There is value in bringing Dis into the discussion! Acknowledging his presence can be the first step toward compromise. In personifying our discord, we step outside of taking sides and gain the perspective of an observer, which is the beginning of agreement. We are willing to see both sides. This is what is so lacking in today’s world of Dis.
I have discussed a number of opposites: creation/destruction, masculine/feminine, and disunion/union, which create discord/accord in our lives. How do we learn to deal with opposition? How can we creatively hold and work with opposites? According to Buddhism, our very first step in perceiving the world begins with splitting the world into opposites. We use these opposites to orient ourselves in the world, but the problem then becomes that our perception of these opposites affects how we see and experience the world. We become trapped in the perceived field of opposites. The next step of perception is to value one side of the split opposites over the other. We allow our emotions to take sides, and we thereby become invested in a particular position, which we will defend. Our inner split is now thrust out onto our relations with others who may not hold our position. In addition, we add our own conditioned concepts—our values, beliefs, prejudices—to label what we see in the world. This is what we are seeing in the world today. Democrats and Republicans cannot reach a compromise on any issue, including climate change. The polarity of opposites around the world leads to conflict, war, and destruction. This is a succinct way of understanding how we form opposites and how they lead to tension in our lives. According to Buddhism, it is our ignorance of these processes that leads to the dis-ease in our lives.
To work with polarization requires an ability to consider both poles. We consider the emotional investment we have in choosing a particular side, we look at how our value systems may be affecting our choices, and we place ourselves in the position of both sides to weigh and decide how to move forward.
Our journey back to connection with the natural world is transformative work. The movement from a state of separateness to one of wholeness begins in recognizing the existence of both poles of opposites. Working toward this transformation brings balance to life, which is critical to reaching a flourishing future.
Movement to wholeness requires a radical transformation in how we see the world, but I feel such movement is needed to address climate change. We need to balance opposites in addressing this problem, the opposites of thinking with feeling, and sensing with intuition, the balance of outer and inner, masculine and feminine. The integration of opposites is critical to addressing complex issues like climate change.