Review
Books
Climate
Culture
4 min read

The rude guests

The Earth Transformed chronicles what happens when civilisation comes up against environmental change. Hannah Eves reviews Peter Frankopan’s analysis.

Hannah Eves is a policy officer at A Rocha UK, a Christian nature charity working to protect and restore nature in the UK and equip individuals and churches to care for creation. 

The head and torso of a mannequin lie abandoned in undergrowth
Dragon Pan on Unsplash.

In his meditation on nature, The Peace of Wild Things, the agrarian poet Wendell Berry writes: ‘When despair for the world grows in me… I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought.’ The despair Berry describes sounds a lot like climate anxiety, the fear or worry about the environmental doom that more and more people are feeling, because anyone who has understood recent climate and biodiversity trends has been burdened with forethought on behalf of wild things. It’s a forethought that can lead very easily to despair. Only last month, the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) issued its most serious warning yet about irreversible levels of global heating and the catastrophic impacts the world is facing without drastic action to address climate breakdown. Secretary-General of the UN António Guterres issued this warning: ‘Humanity is on thin ice – and that ice is melting fast… In short, our world needs climate action on all fronts -- everything, everywhere, all at once.’  

While climate change is often seen as a modern political issue, the question of how to understand or adapt to changes in the natural world, and failures to do so, is not unique to the last century. In fact, it’s foundational to all of history, so argues historian Peter Frankopan in his new book The Earth Transformed. Frankopan charts a path from the dawn of time through development of human civilisation and empire up to the making of the modern world asserting that underpinning everything that has ever happened (ever) is a central relationship of transformation. The natural environment shaped the development of human civilisation and humanity has ‘expanded, colonised, reproduced, created and dominated’, but also ‘destroyed, devastated and exterminated’, the natural landscape.  

Frankopan shows how environmental fluctuations and changes have shaped the course of history. For example, he tells the story of how a ‘mighty civilisation’ folded in on itself in the face of environmental catastrophe. Around 2253 BC Naram-Sin ruled over the Akkadian empire (in Mesopotamia in modern Iraq) during which ‘The Curse of Akkad’ grips the empire. Said to be a divine judgement of Naram-Sin’s rule and ‘insulting behaviour’, the curse was a period of drought and crop failure, leading to price inflation, mass death and political chaos. Climate data shows that what actually happened was an ‘evaporation event’ leading to drought impacting most severely areas that were ecologically sensitive and having such a ripple effect as to prompt what one scholar called a ‘Dark Age’ of ecological collapse and political instability. Frankopan notes, ‘changes in climate had brought about nothing less than the collapse of the Akkadian empire.’ 
The Earth Transformed places human beings within a wider context of all creation, not only transforming the natural world but being shaped and transformed by it. In fact, human beings are like ‘rude guests’ who arrive late, cause havoc and destroy the house to which they have been invited. We are a new and late arrival in the grand scheme of history and yet our impact on the natural world has been substantial and has pushed scientists to the point of questioning the long-term viability of human life.  

However, we are not alone in transforming the world around us; nature is not a passive force but actively ‘involved in the process of change, adaptation and evolution, sometimes with devastating consequences’. And so, Frankopan insightfully illustrates how nature underpins everything that makes our lives possible. It’s not simply that environmental factors are actors in the story of our species, they ‘provide the very stage on which our existence plays out, shaping everything we do, who we are, where and how we live.’ And yet, we are living on the edge of our means and are dependent on ‘everything to go right and with little margin of error for things to go wrong.’  

The book closes with this harrowing warning that ‘it would be nature, rather than human action, that ultimately brings net emissions towards zero’ through ‘catastrophic depopulation, whether through hunger, disease or conflict’. With fewer people on the planet to use up the earth’s resources by burning fuel, cutting forests down or tearing minerals from the ground, the carbon footprint of humanity would plummet, and we would get closer to a ‘lush paradise of our fantasised past’. Frankopan concludes: ‘Perhaps we will find our way back there through peaceful means: a historian would not bet on it.’  

It’s somewhat of a cliche to say that those who forget history are doomed to repeat it and yet Frankopan’s book shows how if we don’t take the capacity of nature and the climate to transform us we are not just doomed to repeat ourselves, but, well, doomed. Published in the same month that the IPCC has issued its final warning on 1.5 degrees, The Earth Transformed presents both a fascinating and essential lens to view history through in such a time as this. 

The Earth Transformed: An Untold History by Peter Frankopan is published by Bloomsbury.  

Article
Culture
Purpose
Work
4 min read

The secret to finding your perfect job is to ignore the influencers

There’s too much vocational shame on LinkedIn

Thomas is a writer exploring the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

A mock ad for the perfect job.
Apply now.

“If you’re looking for a job, here’s something that I think will change your life”.  

This is not the first time my social media has targeted me with an advert selling a better job, a higher paying role, a more fulfilling career, a more purposeful company. This is a new iteration of a long train of ‘Cinderella’ job advertisements I’ve received, promising that I will find the slipper if I just give away a bit more of my contentment and attention. If you’ve clicked on this article, I imagine you might be in the same boat. 

The hustle influencers tell me that I could find a job with higher earnings and greater financial freedom. They say that I should be an entrepreneur, that working in a standard job is like existing as a subordinate in a dystopian novel. They ask me, “Why are you not a millionaire yet?” They can teach me if I just sign up to their free course.  

The effective altruism influencers tell me that I need to find a job with purpose. I must change the world with every minute of my working day, or my work at best, isn’t worth doing, and, at worst, is actively harmful. I need to be an effective altruist, not just with my money, but with my vocation. They can teach me if I just attend their conference. 

I’m sure there is plenty of good in both of these camps.  

Entrepreneurship takes our creative human instincts and crafts them into endeavours that can drive economies, create jobs, and aid human flourishing. It releases actual potential in ways that 9-5 roles are often unable to do.  

Purposeful work enables us to spend our 80,000 hours at work solving problems that matter. It can ignite our passion for work and facilitate the best minds focusing on the most complex issues. 

However, as these career marketers point young people towards the professional promised land, they inadvertently create a malaise of discontent at work. Out of this, I frequently find myself questioning whether I’m doing the right job. When people ask me about my work, I’ll respond hesitantly, unable to hide this small sense of vocational shame I carry. I actually quite like my job. But no, I’m not an entrepreneur. And no, I haven’t found the most purposeful work I could find. 

Every so often, this discontentment reaches boiling point, and I spend hours scrolling through LinkedIn, researching Masters, or thinking about small businesses I could start. Unsurprisingly, this compounds the discontentment as the Cinderella job I’m looking for remains tantalisingly elusive.  

Social media has exacerbated this problem. Influencers trade on attention, and young people’s professional discontentment generates plenty of that commodity to trade in. Worse than that, it’s a market with easily generatable new leads – I’ve found that all it takes are a few 30-second videos about “the career you wish you had”. Surely this is part of the reason why “91% of millennials say they expect to change jobs every three years, and the average tenure for workers between the ages of 25 and 34 is 2.8 years”, according to Zippia, a careers site.

I sometimes need reminding that I just need to look; to look at the friendships I have with my colleagues; to look at the interesting problems I get to work on. 

This discontentment is not a new feeling, and I’ve appreciated the following parable from the Jesuit priest Anthony De Mello as I’ve wrestled with discontentment about work. It’s called "The Little Fish." 

"Excuse me," said an ocean fish. "You are older than I, so can you tell me where to find this thing they call the ocean?" 

"The ocean," said the older fish, "is the thing you are in now." 

"Oh, this? But this is water. What I'm seeking is the ocean," said the disappointed fish as he swam away to search elsewhere. 

"Stop searching, little fish," says De Mello. “There isn't anything to look for. All you have to do is look." 

Like the ocean fish, I sometimes need reminding that I just need to look; to look at the friendships I have with my colleagues; to look at the interesting problems I get to work on; to look at the privilege of having a job in the first place; to look at the beauty in the small things, like a good cup of tea to start the work day.  

There are certainly times when searching for a career change is the right thing, but De Mello reminds me that in always searching for the next thing, I could easily miss ocean of opportunities right in front of me.

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