Chapter 2. Reality, Emergence, and Purpose
Most people probably don’t think a lot about reality. Scientists and philosophers think and write about it quite a lot, but most of us tend to accept things we can see, feel, hear, or experience directly as real, at least real to us. We also know some things exist that we have not seen or experienced personally, such as places we have never been. So, we create our reality from what we experience, sense, perceive, and believe to be real. Our perceptions of reality are dependent on us, the creators. Absolute reality is the ultimate, foundational reality, independent of any observer’s perception or subjective interpretation. Since we each experience reality differently, we know there is virtually no chance that what we individually perceive as real is absolute reality. But, if there were no absolute reality, the things we perceive as real would be nothing more than illusion, deception, or outright lies—and our lives would be meaningless.
Rethinking Reality
Merriam-Webster defined real as “not artificial, fraudulent, or illusory.” So, the first logical step in discovering how the world works and where we fit within it is to separate reality from illusion, fakery, and deception. But this is not as easy as it might seem. The Oxford English Dictionary defines reality as “the sum or aggregate of all that is real or existent within the universe.”[i] Obviously, we have not seen or experienced the whole of the universe, at least not directly. So, we believe some things we read about or people tell us about, and we doubt or outright reject others. We may label them artificial, illusory, deceptive, or outright lies.
Our worldviews reflect what we individually believe to be real about the world—our view of reality. There are as many different worldviews as individuals, but there is only one reality. So, how do we reconcile the multiple worldviews or individual belief systems with the single absolute reality of science, philosophy, and our common sense? The answer to this seemingly esoteric question is critical to our current way of life, the sustainability of our economy and society, and the future of humanity.
The controversies surrounding climate change provide a prime example of conflicting views of reality. The scientific consensus is that climate change is real, industrial economic development is a major contributor, and mitigating climate change should be a global priority. Yet many reasonable people believe climate change is a natural phenomenon that would have occurred regardless of human activity, and there is nothing humans should or can do to change or mitigate it. We just need to learn to live with it. Different perceptions of reality lead to different conclusions regarding how the world works, our place within it, and how we should live our lives.
Philosophers have pondered the meaning of reality throughout history, at least since the days of Plato and Aristotle.[ii] The branch of philosophy called metaphysics focuses on questions of reality, including such abstract ideas as being, knowing, substance, cause, and identity.[iii] The early philosophers generally agree that absolute reality exists but that our individual experiences and beliefs limit our perceptions of reality. Plato wrote that “reality is created by the mind, we can change our reality by changing our mind.”[iv] The 18th-century philosopher Emanuel Kant explained that we cannot observe absolute reality because we perceive reality in terms of space and time, which are constructs of the human mind that do not exist as absolute reality.[v] Aristotle agreed that our minds are our gateways to reality. Even though our minds can’t reveal the whole of reality, Aristotle believed the portion of reality disclosed by our senses is sufficient to make sense of the world around us.[vi]
The quote of Robert Pirsig in Chapter 1 reflects an Aristotelian view of reality: “[A]s these reasonings [of others] appear to fit the world of our sensations, we think we may infer that these reasonable beings have seen the same things as we; thus, it is that we know we haven’t been dreaming. It is this harmony, this quality if you will, that is the sole basis for the only reality we can ever know.”[vii] We can never be sure that what we individually perceive as reality is real. But, if what we believe is real is consistent with the reality of other “reasonable beings,” we can be pretty sure that we are not dreaming, imagining, or making things up. The collective minds of reasonable beings can disclose enough of reality for us to make sense of the world around us.
When concerns emerge over issues like climate change, there is a tendency to dismiss them as illusions or deceptions created for self-serving purposes. If such issues fail to be given credibility by a significant number of people judged as “reasonable” by society, they never become accepted as a public issue. If something is accepted as real by enough other reasonable beings, it becomes a legitimate public concern. Those who accept climate change as real see it as a global emergency. Others, however, may not accept it as real until they have experienced the negative impacts for themselves. It will be difficult, if not impossible, to mitigate climate change as long as those who have economic reasons to oppose its mitigation can maintain reasonable doubt in the minds of those who won’t believe climate change is real until they experience it personally.
Philosophers tend to agree that absolute reality can’t be proven through observation because each observation is a creation of the observer. Quantum physicists have reached a similar conclusion, at least regarding observations at the subatomic level of scientific inquiry. “The observer effect is the phenomenon in which the act of observation alters the behavior of the particles being observed. This effect is due to the wave-like nature of matter, which means that particles can exist in multiple states simultaneously.”[viii] Physicists refer to particles having a potential or probability of materializing or “becoming real” when observed in one of their multiple states. For example, light becomes real when observed as either a particle or a wave. Thus, the observer creates reality or brings it into existence. A different observer could have created a different reality.
Although not provable by science, this same basic type of phenomenon exists at all levels of existence. We each see the reality of the world around us a bit differently. Our past experiences color our perceptions of our current experiences in numerous ways, many of them unconsciously. Thus, we perceive and respond to the same reality differently. This worldview seems similar in some respects to the metaphysics of Alfred North Whitehead and other “process philosophers.” Whitehead viewed reality as a sequence of individual experiences that reflect the interconnectedness or unity of all the elements of the universe. Each occasion or instant of experience is affected by every other occasion of experience that precedes it in time and affects every other occasion of experience that follows it in time. Each experience consists of grasping, understanding, or “prehending” previous experience, anticipating future potentials or possibilities based on the past, and reacting according. Thus, reality is a process of experiencing.
In simpler terms, we have different perspectives on what is real and what can be real, and thus we respond to reality differently. Our world becomes real to us as we observe or experience it. Differences in our perceptions of everyday reality cannot be observed scientifically or expressed and quantified mathematically, and thus, our perceptions fall outside the realm of modern science. Scientists are still trying to reconcile the probabilistic reality of quantum mechanics with the absolute reality of general relativity.
The seed of my current understanding of reality was a little book on philosophy that I found at a used-book store in Anchorage, Alaska. My wife and I had been on a wildlife cruise to the glaciers. We had spent the night in a hotel and still had several hours to kill before our return flight to Seattle. Unfortunately, I lost the book somewhere during the trip, perhaps left it on the plane, and don’t remember the title or author. But that book changed my thinking about reality.
The thought came to me as I read the author’s explanation of Aristotle’s belief that the key to understanding the reality of anything is to understand its purpose. To understand what something really is, he thought we need to understand what it is designed for or meant to do. He believed everything in the universe has a purpose, and the potential of a thing to fulfill its purpose is the essence of its reality. He believed each person is born with capacities or abilities to serve a God-given purpose. Their successes and failures to fulfill this purpose or realize their highest potential are reflected by their life experiences.
The potential for something or someone to fulfill a purpose was my key to reconciling multiple individual realities with a single absolute reality. The potential of a thing—a person, place, object, particle, wave, thought, or idea—is its reality. As quantum physicists have learned, subatomic elements exist simultaneously in multiple states, meaning that the same reality has the potential to be observed or experienced differently by different individuals. As scientists, in general, are learning, observations in scientific experiments are inseparable from the scientists conducting the experiments. The same is true of our everyday experiences. When different people see things differently, it doesn’t mean that some are hallucinating, imagining, or making things up, particularly not if other reasonable people are seeing similar things. They may well be seeing, sensing, and believing different potentials of the same thing—different potentials of the same absolute reality.
The same reality not only has the potential to be perceived differently by different individuals but also has the potential to become something different in the future. For example, differences in perceptions about climate change relate not only to what exists today but also to what we humans have the potential to do about it in the future. It is not irrational to believe the intolerable rate of climate change is being caused by humans and that fundamental changes in human activity could mitigate or perhaps reverse global warming. The belief that we can’t do anything about climate change may be an illusion or an outright lie rather than a potential of absolute reality.
On the other hand, it may not be irrational to believe that climate change is a natural phenomenon that humans cannot and should not try to do anything about. There may be less evidence or fewer reasons to support this perception, but it may ring true to some rational people. Perhaps there has always been something in nature that plays the role humans are currently playing in bringing about changes in the climate of the Earth. Maybe the belief that we can do anything about it is an idealistic illusion rather than a realistic possibility. On the other hand, the belief that we can’t do anything about climate change may stem from a disinformation campaign designed to avoid regulations of greenhouse gas emissions.
Absolute reality is not a creation of the human mind or the result of corporate propaganda campaigns. Industrial economic development is either a major contributor to climate change or it is not. It can’t be both. Its effect, or lack of effect, is real. We humans either can or cannot do anything to mitigate or reverse climate change. Our abilities and inabilities are real, regardless of our perceptions. We shouldn’t believe that our view of reality is the only logical view and assume those who disagree with us are being irrational. We may both be wrong, even though we can’t both be right. But neither should we simply accept every perspective of reality as being equally valid, rational, or realistic. Some people just make things up for a variety of self-serving reasons. They exploit our inherent uncertainty about absolute reality.
Some people are delusional, others are intentionally deceptive, and some are pathological liars. However, people can see things differently, but still see the same things. For example, one person may see a dog as a vicious animal to be feared and restrained, while others may see the same dog as a loving companion that needs to be petted and loved. One may think the dog is large, and the other may think it is small. But they still see a dog rather than a cat, a horse, a tree, or a bumble bee. People logically perceive different potentials of the things they see, but they cannot change the absolute reality of the things they perceive.
One means of revealing purposeful bias and intentional deception is to examine the potential motivations. For example, who benefits from denying that economic extraction and exploitation are major causes of climate change and claims that we cannot do anything about it? Those who would benefit from continued extraction and exploitation. Who benefits from believing in and addressing the challenges of climate change? Most people concerned about climate change have nothing to gain other than a sense of doing what they feel is right. Admittedly, some people gain economically by promoting the issue, but their benefits pale in comparison with the multi-trillion-dollar profits of the fossil fuel industry.
We can’t be certain whether believing we mitigate or reverse climate change is wishful thinking or a realistic possibility. However, the consistency or harmony of perspectives among thoughtful, reasonable beings reveals enough of reality to support wise choices and actions. Scientific consensus is important, but so is our common sense of what is real and what is an illusion or deception. Some things, such as the melting polar ice caps, are obvious.
Absolute reality is unchanged by our ever-changing perceptions and experiences. Our life is only one of many potential streams of realization we could have experienced if we had made different choices. Our choices in life are many, but they are not unlimited, like the limited perceptions of a dog or a tree. In addition, our life experiences are affected by the experiences of all the other living and nonliving things of the Earth with which we are integrally connected. We must choose our life’s experiences from the potentials available to us, regardless of whether our path is one we had dreamed about or hoped for. We may not have the potential to live the life we want to live, but we will always have an opportunity to live the life we need to live.
The best metaphor I have come up with to illustrate the unchanging reality of deep sustainability is that of choosing a path through a maze. There are many potential paths through the maze from the entry to the exit, but the basic structure of the maze, its reality, is unchanging. Our experiences of reality are determined by the choices we make minute by minute, day by day, among the potential paths through the maze of life that are open to us. Our changing day-to-day experience within the maze does not suggest that the maze is changing, only that new areas within the maze are becoming accessible to us. The maze represents the unchanging, timeless patterns and structures of absolute reality that limit our ever-changing individual and collective experiences of reality.
Our choices are complicated further by the fact that we do not live our lives alone but in relationships with other beings, including the nonhuman beings of nature. As individuals move through the metaphoric maze, opening doors to their chosen paths, their actions lock or unlock other doors along the potential paths of others. The choices and actions of others during our lives open and close opportunities for us and support or deter our progress. However, only limited sections of the universal maze of reality are accessible to us individually, regardless of how many doors others may unlock for us. The mechanistic maze represents multiple potential experiences of the reality of the integrally interconnected universe awaiting revelation and realization. Our experiences are inseparable from those of the ever-changing world and the ever-expanding universe. However, the ever-changing world and universe emerge from the unchanging patterns and structures of absolute reality.
We each have a different potential destination or point of exit from the maze of life. Our unique set of potentials is reflected in our innate abilities, aptitudes, aspirations, and passions. We are uniquely suited to choose a path that will lead to our exit—a path of purpose, of authentic happiness. There may be more than one path that will take us to where we need to go, but our choices are not unlimited. The potential experiences of reality from which we may choose are predetermined or predestined, but we have the free will to choose our unique life experiences. We are also free to follow or abandon our intended path at any point during our journey. Regardless, the world becomes real to us minute by minute, day by day, year after year, as we choose from the potentials available to us. We must be willing to continually reassess and rethink how the world works, where we fit within it, and thus, how we should live our lives.
Emergent Experiences of Reality
It's not easy to reassess and rethink our current worldview, particularly when we have a lot invested in it. I know this from firsthand experience. I grew up on a small family farm that my dad, with only a fourth-grade education, was able to buy and pay for by farming. He borrowed the money to buy the farm after the previous owner went bankrupt during the Great Depression. Every extra penny we had while I was a kid went to pay off the loan on the farm. Things had improved on the farm by the time I started high school, but I grew up poor, and I knew it. After high school, I was able to attend the University of Missouri because the university didn’t charge tuition back then and admitted kids with reasonably good grades in high school. I worked in the university’s cafeteria system to pay for my dorm room and meal tickets. I was willing to work to pay my way through college because I didn’t want to be poor all my life.
Agricultural economics was a logical choice of academic major for me, although I had never heard of the subject until I enrolled in college. After finishing my undergraduate degree, I got a job with Wilson & Company, the third-largest meatpacking company in the U.S. at the time. I wanted to make money, not necessarily to be rich, but at least to afford a comfortable lifestyle. I worked hard and was willing to relocate from city to city to take advantage of opportunities for advancement. Within three years, I had worked my way up to the merchandising manager position for Wilson’s Detroit branch. I wasn’t unhappy with the money, but I was unhappy with the nature of my work. I decided to return to graduate school when I was offered an assistantship at the University of Missouri, where I eventually completed a Ph.D. in Agricultural Economics. Most college professors don’t get rich but can afford comfortable lifestyles.
With a Ph.D. in agricultural economics, I was prepared professionally and intellectually for the changes that were taking place in American agriculture. Mechanical and chemical technologies developed for warfare during World War II had been adapted to produce affordable farm tractors and cheap commercial fertilizers and pesticides. These new technologies allowed, and eventually forced, farmers to abandon the small-scale diversified crop and livestock operations that had characterized American agriculture. The focus of U.S. farm policy, including publicly funded research and education, shifted from supporting small, diversified family farms to promoting large, specialized, mechanized farming operations. “A farm must be a business, not a way of life, get big or get out, and farm fence row to fence row” became the mantra of American agriculture.
The emergence of new post-war agricultural technologies opened new potential pathways for change. Farms now had the potential to function like factories, at least more like industry than traditional agriculture. This perspective of reality made sense to me as an economist. The basic idea was that we could help farmers become more economically efficient and productive. Innovative farmers would be able to reduce their production costs and increase profits. Prosperous farmers would support prosperous rural communities. Successful farmers would also have money to invest in soil conservation and other practices to sustain the productivity of their farming operations. Perhaps most importantly, lower farm-level costs would result in lower retail food prices, which eventually would make good, nutritious food affordable for everyone. Industrial agriculture had the potential to be good for everyone.
This scenario made sense to me, particularly given my personal and professional focus on economics. I still believe this was a realistic and logical perspective of reality at the time. It was an accurate assessment of one set of potentials available to farmers, and a logical and reasonable assessment of what farming could become. The U.S. Department of Agriculture chose to subsidize it, the agricultural colleges chose to support it, and many farmers chose to adopt it, so it's potential was not an illusion.
Looking back, the USDA and agriculture colleges could have focused on modifying the new technologies to support smaller, diversified family farms rather than modifying farms to fit the new technologies. But we didn’t. Educated and knowledgeable people had all seen the same thing and thus knew we were not dreaming. Over time, the potential to industrialize agriculture chosen by farmers, with urging from the “experts,” emerged as our collective experience of a new agricultural reality. Unfortunately, the emergent reality of industrial agriculture did not match the potential reality anticipated when decisions were made to pursue it.
By the late 1970s, I began to have doubts about our collective choices. Farmers who adopted the technologies were able and had an economic incentive to farm more land and produce more crops and livestock. This led to increased agricultural production and lower prices for agricultural products. However, industrial farmers needed more land, bigger equipment, and more commercial fertilizers and pesticides to benefit from a continuing stream of new technologies. Whenever periodic increases in production caused agricultural commodity prices to fall, farmers were caught in a cost-price squeeze between rising costs of inputs and falling prices for their products. They were often forced to borrow money at high interest rates to survive, using farmland overvalued by farmers trying to expand as collateral. Those who didn’t or couldn’t borrow enough money were forced out of business.
I first became uncomfortable with our claim that industrial agriculture would be better for farmers. I told my colleagues that we needed to be honest with farmers. While industrial agriculture had reduced retail food prices, at least relative to other prices, it had not been good for the farmers forced out of business. I finally realized that with the new technologies, the farmers’ willingness and ability to increase food production were increasing faster than consumers’ willingness and ability to buy food. This meant that as some farms succeeded by specializing, mechanizing, and getting larger, production would increase and commodity prices would fall until enough farmers went broke or quit to stabilize prices and profits. Each round of new technologies brought another round of farm failures. Farmers couldn’t afford to “love their neighbors” because, sooner or later, they would need to have their neighbor’s land. This was not the way we so-called experts had expected reality to emerge.
Increases in farm exports kept many farmers afloat financially during the cost-price squeeze of the 1970s. American farmers were going to feed the world. In the early 1980s, however, a change in national economic policy led to a domestic economic recession, which led to a global recession. Prices for agricultural products collapsed, leaving many farmers unable to make interest payments on their debts, let alone pay down the principal. Farmland prices fell sharply for the first time since the Great Depression. Many farmers, including many experts who had encouraged expansion, were forced into foreclosure or bankruptcy. More than a few farmers committed suicide at the thought of losing multigenerational family farms.
It wasn’t only the farmers who suffered. Rural communities that had supported and been supported by family farmers also were withering and dying—economically and socially. It takes people, not just production, to support communities. It takes people to shop on Main Street, send their kids to schools, attend churches, and support civic organizations and local governments. When family farmers lost their farms, rural communities lost their people and their purpose for being. Only later would I realize what industrial agriculture had done to the land and the natural environment. Farming fence row to fence row had resulted in rates of soil erosion not seen since the Dust Bowl days. Industrial agriculture had polluted the air and water with agrichemical and biological wastes. I eventually concluded, as I explained in the introduction, that industrial agriculture is not sustainable—economically, socially, or ecologically.
My point in telling this story is to drive home the fact that many past mistakes, that may seem obvious to us today, were made by intelligent, knowledgeable people with the best intentions. They expected the collective experience of reality to emerge over time in ways that would benefit those affected. They failed to recognize other potential consequences that were equally, if not more, likely to emerge from unanticipated changes in the environmental and social context in which specific changes take place. They failed to anticipate how individual responses to the emerging realities would change potentials not only for the decision-makers but also for all those affected directly and indirectly by their decisions. Most importantly, there is a tendency for people to continue to defend their mistakes rather than reassess and rethink the perspective of reality that led to their initial decisions.
It isn’t easy to admit when we have made a mistake. It is even more difficult to acknowledge that your entire professional career has been devoted to promoting a particular perspective of reality that you no longer believe is defensible. I was Head of the Department of Extension Agricultural Economics at the University of Georgia when I began to awaken to the realities of agricultural industrialization. I had headed the task force the Governor assembled to deal with the farm financial crisis, had served on various university advisory committees, had chaired the extension committee of the American Association of Agricultural Economics, had published several articles in academic journals, and had been elected President of the Southern Agricultural Economics Association. I had built a successful professional career on the perspective of reality that supported the economic industrialization of American Agriculture.
My previous professional career ended when I began to condemn the ravages of agricultural industrialization and speak out in defense of family farmers, rural communities, and the land. I was put on the Governor’s “blacklist” and I was longer asked to serve on university advisory committees. Some of my colleagues accused me of abandoning the Agricultural Economics profession. I no longer had any potential for advancement in university administration. I wasn’t going to be an Extension Director or Dean of a College of Agriculture. My potential reality changed abruptly.
Fortunately, as I explained in the introductory chapter, the sustainable agriculture movement was emerging at that time, and a whole new set of potentials became available to me. I have remained on that new path or purpose ever since. I have never regretted my decision to change course, but I have never stopped questioning whether I need to change my thinking to accommodate the new realities that emerge day by day, year after year. I am convinced that a different kind of agriculture, a more sustainable agriculture, would have emerged during the 1900s if Agricultural Economists, other scientists, and farmers had been willing to continually reassess whether their experiences of reality were consistent with their expectations, and if not, been willing to choose a different path to the future of agriculture.
Whenever I tell this story, I am invariably asked what caused me to reassess my way of thinking and gave me the courage to change it. Was it a single life-changing event or a gradual process? First, it didn’t happen all at once, but neither did it take very long, once I began to question what I believed and why I believed it. I have since asked myself why I was willing to question the industrial agriculture belief system when so many of my colleagues were not. The only answer I can come up with is that I never lost my sense of purpose.
To me, the industrialization of agriculture was a means to an end, not the end itself. I thought it had the potential to create opportunities for a better way of life for everyone involved, including those of future generations. The increases in productivity and economic efficiency were meant to serve the larger purpose of a better way of life. I think many of my former colleagues shared my belief in the potential of industrial agriculture. Over time, however, increasing productivity and economic efficiency replaced a better way of life as the purpose of their work. Meanwhile, the blind pursuit of economic efficiency became an obstacle to a better way to farm, a better way to live, and a better future for humanity. I never stopped assessing whether the unfolding reality of industrial agriculture was consistent with what I had seen as its purpose. When it became obvious to me that it wasn’t, I was forced to abandon it, and I chose another path to the future.
Our Path of Purpose
This brings me to the question of purpose. What did I want from my professional life that I wasn’t getting as an advocate of industrial agriculture? Why did I prioritize the well-being of farmers, rural residents, and society over agricultural productivity? Why has a commitment to ecological, social, and economic sustainability given purpose and meaning to my life that I had not found before? More importantly, what gives purpose and meaning to the whole life on Earth and the Earth itself?
A different metaphor may be useful in explaining this perspective of reality. Think of the deepest part of the ocean as the level that embodies the higher order, unity consciousness, or God. This level is far deeper than the reality of our individual experiences. The only connection of earthly beings with this level of reality is through the spirit or soul.[ix] This is the level of absolute reality where the purpose of the whole of the universe is defined and encoded. The deepest part of the ocean is calm and quiet, but as we move upward toward the surface, the water begins to ebb and flow and emerges on the surface in waves that are sometimes calm and sometimes violent. In this metaphor, the ever-changing waves on the surface represent our experiences of reality that emerge from the unchanging absolute reality below.
As individuals, we are like droplets of water from the ocean. We become individual beings with physical bodies, minds, and souls, much as water evaporates and separates from the surface and condenses into droplets as it rises in the atmosphere. We emerge with a unique set of potentials to fulfill our purpose within the larger purpose of humanity and the universe, much as a drop of water emerges from the sea to carry out the earthly purpose of water. If there were no purpose for drops of water, the ocean, or the Earth, the existence of the Earth would be meaningless. Moisture in the air may be carried for miles or thousands of miles before it condenses into clouds, and then the raindrops that fall to the Earth to nourish life and alter landscapes. Similarly, it may take us years to find our place in the world and to connect with the places and people with whom we are to fulfill our purpose.
Raindrops are dispersed across the Earth to perform a variety of different functions. Some drops quickly evaporate and return to form clouds and fall again as rain, sleet, or snow. Some drops may nourish life on the land while others help turn mountains into fertile soil. Some may replenish groundwater and surface water to nourish terrestrial plants and animals. Some may fill lakes and estuaries to nourish aquatic ecosystems. Others may sink deep into the earth to replenish aquifers to sustain future generations of life. Each drop has an essential function to perform and purpose to fulfill within the larger purpose of the Earth and the universe. We, like a drop of water, have a purpose to fulfill within the larger purpose of the Earth and the universe. Like drops of water, people have many different functions in fulfilling the purpose of human life on Earth.
Regardless of the journey, each drop of water eventually becomes part of a river, stream, or raindrop that returns to the ocean from which it came. Like a drop of water, our journey through life will eventually end. Unlike water, we have the agency or ability to contribute, positively or negatively, to the purpose of the Earth. Regardless, our physical bodies eventually will return to the Earth, our minds will no longer exist, and our souls will return to the level of consciousness, the higher order, or God from which it came. Like a drop of water, our life will not have changed absolute reality, however, we will have aided or obstructed the Earth and the universe in achieving their ultimate purpose as defined and encoded by absolute reality. I once wrote a song with the words: “Our life is part of the life of the Earth and our soul is part of the soul of the Earth.” Our soul was, is, and shall always remain a part of the soul of the Earth.
There is one big difference between a drop of water and a human being. As far as we know, the inanimate things of the Earth, like raindrops, do not have the free will to choose their path of purpose. Inanimate things appear to respond to forces of nature that take them wherever they need to go. We are less certain about the decision-making ability of non-human animals, plants, and insects. We know other living things can respond to certain stimuli and natural changes in their physical environment, but we are not certain what motivates their responses. Regardless, we humans can make purposeful choices. We have the capacity for intentionality and agency. We can develop intentions based on our past experiences and subjective assessments of current situations, and we can make decisions and carry through with actions that affect our future.
With the ability to choose comes the responsibility to choose wisely—make choices consistent with our purpose for being. How do we know what choices we should make? The simple answer is, “I don’t know.” I don’t think anyone knows or can know for sure. First, I know there is a purpose for my life. Otherwise, what I did or didn’t do wouldn’t matter. There would be no reason to get out of bed in the morning, but no reason not to. My life would be meaningless and senseless—not worth living. It wouldn’t matter whether I lived or died. Second, I am convinced that my purpose is interconnected with the purpose of other people and the other living and nonliving things on Earth and of the universe. What I choose to do or don’t do matters not only to me but also to others, to the Earth, and to the universe. And third, the only direct connection I have with my purpose is spiritual, not physical or mental. I may feel I have some particular purpose in life because I have certain physical and mental capabilities. But my sense of how I should use those capabilities, my sense of purpose, comes from deep within, from the heart and soul.
I refer to the spirit or soul as the “small voice within” that tells us what is good and bad or right and wrong—what we should and shouldn’t do. We will never know for sure, but we can get a sense of what we ought to do or ought not to do if we quiet our bodies and minds and listen to the quiet spiritual voices of our souls. Fortunately, we have other sources of guidance through culture and religion to help keep us on our paths of rightness and goodness. However, we should never accept cultural checklists of rights and wrongs or religious goods and bads as a substitute for the guidance of our spirit. Our path of purpose is uniquely ours, may be different from others, and may change with the emergence of our unique experience of reality.
Back to the question, why was I willing to reassess my worldview and choose a different path of purpose? First, I think it has something to do with the core values I was raised with. My dad always told us that a good reputation would be the most valuable thing we could ever have. He said we would have to earn our reputation through honesty, fairness, dependability, and hard work. My dad could borrow money to buy the family farm only because he had worked hard and earned a good reputation. My mother always told us to never forget that we are as good as anybody, but not better than anybody. She said she wanted us to “amount to something.” Amounting to something didn’t mean you had made a lot of money or were famous or powerful. It meant that you made a positive difference in the world.
Even though I was indoctrinated in the economic theology that greed is good—that pursuit of individual self-interests serves the common good—I never forgot the values my parents taught me. I left my first position out of college with Wilson & Co. because I wasn’t comfortable selling things to people they didn’t need. I became uncomfortable with being an agricultural economist when I realized the kind of farming we were promoting wasn’t good for farmers, people in rural communities, or the land. I didn’t feel we were being honest or truthful about the emerging reality we were helping to create. People depended on us, on their university, to guide them in a positive direction. I wanted to earn a reputation for honesty, fairness, dependability, and hard work. I wanted to amount to something.
But most importantly, I never really felt right or good about what I had done with the education I had worked so hard to earn. I didn’t feel right about my position in private industry, and I didn’t feel good about my work as an agricultural economist. I had been successful professionally in both cases, but never felt I was doing what I was put here on Earth to do. Other people seemed to respect me, or my work, but I never felt that what I was doing “amounted to much” in the larger scheme of things. I thought I was doing the right thing at times, but there were other times when I knew I wasn’t. It wasn’t just about the values I had been raised with. It was a small voice within telling me I was not on my path of purpose.
When I began defending family farms and rural communities against the threats of industrial agriculture, the small voice within changed. I felt good about what I was doing for the first time in my professional career. I was risking my reputation as an agricultural economist, but I was being honest and truthful and building a reputation my dad would be proud of. I was helping those people who had been abandoned by their public institutions—people who were struggling to survive economically and emotionally. We, so-called experts in public institutions, had a legal and moral responsibility to help the people being unfairly labeled as poor managers and the “people left behind” in rural communities.
The people clung to their family farms and stayed in farming communities because they felt they belonged there. They were pursuing their purposes in places they loved with people they loved that were unwilling to abandon either. I couldn’t understand why some farmers were committing suicide when faced with losing the family farm until I realized that, to them, losing the farm was losing their purpose for living. We needed to help those farmers rediscover their purpose rather than condemn them as irrational and irresponsible. My small voice within told me that I had found my calling, my purpose in life, as an advocate for sustainability, and that small voice has continued to reaffirm that feeling day after day, year after year.
This is the worldview of deep sustainability. This is also my view of how the world works and my place within it. Our individual experience of reality emerges from our choices among the potentials of absolute reality that are before us. Our spiritual sense of rightness and goodness guides us toward a life of purpose. This is the deep sustainability perspective of reality. This obviously is not the dominant perspective of reality today, at least not in the so-called developed nations of the World. However, the philosophy of deep sustainability is similar to that of Aristotle and Plato, as well as several modern-day philosophers, such as Whitehead and advocates of quantum philosophy.[x] The worldview of deep sustainability is gaining acceptance among knowledgeable people who understand that today’s ecological, social, and economic problems are inseparable, as expressed by the late Pope Francis in his encyclical on climate change.[xi]
We know we are not dreaming because other thoughtful, knowledgeable people see the same basic things that we see. Still, we can’t prove that the perspectives of deep sustainability are real and the conventional and shallow perspectives of sustainability are illusions or wishful thinking. All three perspectives might be different potentials of the same absolute reality. So, how do we make wise choices among the three?
Choosing Among Alternative Realities
The conventional perspective of sustainability assumes we humans can create any reality we want or need, given sufficient time and motivation. The Earth’s ecological limits are viewed as temporary obstacles to be overcome by an endless stream of new technologies. The things of the Earth can be mechanically, genetically, or digitally manipulated or duplicated to support continual economic growth and human betterment. As existing resources are depleted, they will become more valuable, providing sufficient economic motivation for the new technologies needed to repair, restore, or replace their economic productive capacity indefinitely into the future. The conventional worldview of sustainability recognizes no limits or bounds to the ability of humanity to create any reality it deems necessary.
The conventional world view is individualistic. The sustainability of humanity ultimately depends on the survival of the fittest, those capable of making the decisions and developing the technologies that overcome the obstacles and remove the constraints of nature. Families, communities, and societies are nothing more than collections of individuals who happen to live in the same places or share common interests. There is no sense of responsibility to care for each other or share with those in need, unless it contributes to the individual’s well-being.
Those who hold the worldview of shallow or instrumental sustainability view recognize the ecological limits to growth. Infinite growth is impossible on a finite planet. They see humanity as ultimately dependent on the Earth as a complex and fragile natural ecosystem. They trust emerging technologies to allow humans to use the Earth’s resources more efficiently and effectively, but not to remove nature’s limits to growth. The sustainability of human life on Earth ultimately depends on the ability of humans to learn to live within nature’s finite ecological capacity.
Those with the worldview of shallow sustainability recognize families, communities, and societies as more than collections of individuals. They feel some responsibility for each other as well as the other living and nonliving things on the Earth. Their concern for sustainability stems from a sense of responsibility for others, but primarily those of future generations. Their concern for the future of humanity takes priority over any sense of moral or ethical responsibility as caretakers of the Earth. They focus on meeting the needs of the future while showing little understanding or compassion for the multitudes of poor and hungry whose needs are not being met today. They tend to weigh the ecological and social benefits of individual decisions and public policies against the economic costs rather than their moral or ethical responsibilities.
The worldview of deep sustainability views the whole of the Earth, including humanity, as a complex, integrally interdependent living organism. The ecological potential and limits of sustainability are inseparable from the social and economic potentials and limits. We humans are ultimately dependent on Earth and the other living and nonliving things on Earth in the same sense that the health of one part of our body depends on the health of our body as a whole. Like other species, we can tip the ecological balance of nature in our favor, but if we tip it too far, we will destroy the living system of which we are but a part. If the Earth thrives, we thrive with it. If the Earth dies, we die with it.
Our relationships with each other and with the Earth are spiritual as well as social and physical. We have a moral responsibility to meet the needs of all in the present, to care for the sick, hungry, homeless, and others unable to care for themselves. We also have a moral responsibility to care for the other living and nonliving things of the Earth, not simply to leave equal opportunities for future generations of humans, but to fulfill our responsibilities to the Earth. The sustainability of life on Earth depends on humans and humanity making decisions and taking actions to fulfill their purpose as members and caretakers of the Earth’s integral community.
If all three worldviews are logically defensible perspectives of reality, how should we choose which to pursue? Regardless of our choices, none of the significant perspectives of reality suggest that humanity can repeal the basic laws of physics, specifically, the laws of thermodynamics. The second law of thermodynamics, the law of entropy, states that each time energy or anything else is used to do something useful, i.e., perform work, some of its usefulness is lost. No matter how efficiently we use the Earth’s resources or the sophistication of our technologies, even an economy that maximizes efficiency in using non-renewable resources will eventually lose its ability to produce anything of economic value or use to humanity. This aspect of reality will be the focus of the next chapter.
We can choose among alternative perspectives by evaluating the potential consequences of right or wrong choices. Rights and wrongs, in this case, are defined in terms of positive or negative contributions to our higher purpose for being. What if we are wrong? And what if we are right?
If we bet the future of humanity on the conventional view of reality and it is wrong, humanity will be headed for an ecological and social collapse. The new technological fixes for environmental and social problems will continue to create more problems than they solve. The climate will become unbearable, the environment will become toxic, the productivity of resources will be depleted, and global society will degenerate into chaos and conflict.
If we choose the conventional worldview and it turns out to be right, what will we have gained? We will have maximized economic growth and development. Those with wealth will continue to become wealthier because they will have the wealth needed to invest in and benefit from the new technologies, and their money will continue to make more money for them. However, the professional and working classes of society will become unnecessary, as they are replaced by increasingly sophisticated technologies, such as artificial intelligence. More people will have an opportunity to work less, but no one will be willing to employ them. Other species, including plants and animals for food, will become less necessary, and species extinction will no longer be a public concern.
But, nature’s law of entropy will not be repealed, and nature always bats last. If the conventional worldview is right, the Earth’s natural and human resources will still eventually be depleted. The Earth will no longer be able to support human life, perhaps any life. Right or wrong, the conventional worldview is not sustainable.
If we choose the reality of shallow sustainability and we are wrong, the process of degradation and depletion may be slowed, but the negative ecological and social outcomes will still be inevitable. We will experience the same basic consequences as the conventional worldview. The negative ecological and social impacts will be more gradual, allowing more time to reverse course; otherwise, the ultimate outcomes will be inevitable. The climate eventually will become unbearable, the environment unlivable, natural and human resources depleted, and global society will degenerate into chaos and conflict.
If we choose the reality of shallow sustainability and it is correct, we will realize many of the positive benefits of the conventional worldview, but within limits. There will be limits to how much the global economy can grow and to our ability to protect natural ecosystems from pollution and depletion. There may be more opportunities for social equity and justice than with the conventional view of reality, and a greater possibility that workers can work less while making a better economic living. However, the shallow worldview still gives economic growth priority over the quality of our relationships with each other and with the other living and nonliving things of the Earth. Continued progress in human well-being will be limited to our collective ability to produce more things of economic value with fewer natural resources.
Finally, if we choose the deep perspectives of reality and sustainability and we are wrong, we still will have gained many, if not all, of the benefits of being right. The only significant sacrifices will be some levels of global economic growth and technological progress, neither of which can be sustained indefinitely. The deep perspective of an abundant reality would have unnecessarily limited population and consumption to levels well below the ecological carrying capacity of the Earth. In addition, a central tenet of deep reality is the need for continual reassessment, adjustment, or abandonment, if necessary. If the reality of deep sustainability is eventually deemed unnecessarily restrictive, humanity will not be entrapped by a failed way of thinking, unwilling or unable to change.
And, what will we have gained if we accept the reality of deep sustainability, and it is correct? We will move toward a global society committed to caring for each other and the other living and nonliving things of the Earth. We will have more equitable and just local, national, and global societies. By focusing on protecting natural ecosystems and regenerating natural resources, we will have avoided the economic costs of mitigating environmental damage and finding substitutes for depleted natural resources. Having ensured that everyone on Earth can meet their basic needs without exploiting others, we could zero out current military budgets for national defense systems.
But, most importantly, once our basic economic needs are met, there will be no limit to our ability to further increase our quality of life by focusing on the social and spiritual dimensions of our quality of life. Humanity is unlikely ever to achieve social or moral perfection. However, by relying on healthy living ecosystems to regenerate the “usefulness” of nature, human progress can continue essentially forever, or at least as long as the sun provides a daily inflow of new energy. With deep sustainability, the betterment of society and nature becomes an objective or purpose rather than a limit or constraint. We humans realize the benefits of being an integral part of nature. Human population and consumption eventually adjust to levels that sustain the most desirable ecological, social, and economic quality of life.
We humans are unique beings, and we each have a bit different perspective on the potential of reality. Others may come up with scenarios of the consequences of conventional, shallow, and deep reality quite different from mine. Different reasonable and knowledgeable people have different perspectives on reality. My point is, regardless of the alternative scenarios, we can make logical and reasonable collective choices among alternative perspectives by evaluating the potential consequences of the different choices. What would likely happen if each choice were right versus what would happen if each choice were wrong? This won’t guarantee correct choices, but it is better than simply assuming we are right and those who disagree with us are wrong. If the conventional view of reality and sustainability had been put to this test, it is highly unlikely that we would be dealing with the ecological, social, and economic challenges of today.
Endnotes
[i] Wikipedia, “Reality,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reality .
[ii] Wikipedia, “Philosophical Realism,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philosophical_realism .
[iii] Merriam Webster, “Metaphysics,”” https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/metaphysics .
[iv] AZ Quotes, “Plato Quotes about Reality,” https://www.azquotes.com/author/37843-Plato/tag/reality .
[v] Wikipedia, “Transcendental Idealism,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transcendental_idealism
[vi] Pavel Gregoric and Jakob Leth Fink, “Introduction Sense Perception in Aristotle and the Aristotelian Tradition,” In Forms of Representation in the Aristotelian Tradition. Brill, March 2022, Volume One, Pages 15-39,
https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004506077_003 .
[vii] Robert Persig. 1974. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Bantam Books, Doubleday/Dell Publishing, New York, NY. (p. 241).
[viii] Venkatesh Vaidyanathan, 10 May 2019, “What Is The Observer Effect In Quantum Mechanics?” Science ABC, https://www.scienceabc.com/pure-sciences/observer-effect-quantum-mechanics.html .
[ix] Jing Lin, August 2021, “Cultivating Unity Consciousness,” Contribution to GTI Forum Can Human Solidarity Globalize? https://greattransition.org/gti-forum/global-solidarity-lin#
[x] Wikipedia contributors, "Quantum Philosophy," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Quantum_Philosophy&oldid=1280546358 (accessed May 17, 2025).
[xi] Pope Francis. 2015. Laudato Si\': On Care for Our Common Home [Encyclical], according to an entry in Inhabiting the Anthropocene.