Live good lives now: A path forward in the shadow of Trump II

Given the country’s disillusioning politics and galling inability to confront the climate crisis, cynicism and resignation seem inevitable. Why sacrifice the conveniences of gasoline and throwaway-product consumerism if other people aren’t willing? Why expend effort for change if we can’t be assured it will lead to positive outcomes—if darkness and futility are all we see ahead?

A regenerative ocean farmer in Long Island Sound has an answer for that: Live good lives now irrespective of what the future might be.

“All I want is to be on my boat and have that pride of working with the water and working with people in my community, shoulder to shoulder, to try to build a more beautiful and better place,” says Bren Smith, a former commercial fisherman who took to growing seaweeds and oysters after the fish populations were depleted and climate change chased the lobsters north.

 “And what I say to myself is It’s okay if it doesn’t work out, it was still a day worth living.”

Therein lies a counterintuitive pathway for those struggling to persevere under the shadow of a second Trump presidency: Don’t wait for the arrival of the brighter day or proof that we are getting there. Live today in the generative ways that are required if the species is to achieve that good future—and experience the joys of that kind of living now.

Stronger headwinds

Not to gloss over what happened on November 5. The election was a disastrous setback for citizens with worries about the deteriorating climate and hopes for a brighter, greener future. Social transformation does not depend on the federal government alone, of course. Technological advances and the needed awakenings in citizens’ hearts and minds can continue despite the return of the oil-loving, climate change-denying Trump to the White House. It’s not clear the new president will be able to dismantle all the renewable-energy components of Inflation Reduction Act. But it seems certain that the policy and rhetoric coming from Republican-controlled Washington are going to create strong headwinds.

I found a lot of meaning, albeit of the chilling variety, in the juxtaposition of stories I spotted on Google News the morning after the election. There, just beneath the news of Trump’s victory and the sudden stock-market surge, came the headline: “Rare November hurricane set to hit the U.S.”

After four years of “drill, baby, drill,” November hurricanes might not end up so rare. Nor wildfires in places you’d never expect, like New York and New Jersey. Precious time will be lost, and carbon counts will rise. The already-enormous challenge of heading off the worst climate disasters will loom even larger. And who knows how long before a forward-looking, responsible administration is back in the White House?

Time to give in and go with the oily flow?

‘Ecological redemption’

Just a few steps from my office at Yale Divinity School, I find a resounding “no.” On the site of what used to be a parking lot, the school is constructing a regenerative residence hall designed to meet the requirements of the Living Building Challenge. The solar installations will generate all the energy that’s needed for the 50-bed dormitory while creating a surplus for use around the rest of the campus. Stormwater runoff will be captured and recirculated. As will wastewater from toilets and showers, which after onsite treatment will be channeled back to irrigate the orchard and lush gardens planned for the site. All the building materials, from wood to concrete, are sustainably produced. The construction company is required to use equitable hiring practices.

The Living Village, as it’s called, is a manifestation of a future vision for buildings constructed in harmony with nature, buildings that “live” and “breathe” like flowers, giving back to the environment more than they take.

Fifteen miles up the Connecticut shoreline in Branford, Bren Smith and his collaborators are also bringing the future to life in the now. As they develop their promising new form of agriculture, they provide something of a crystal ball in which we can see one possible future for food production and care for the planet.

In the ocean waters of Long Island Sound, Smith and company are farming a mix of highly nutritious seaweeds and shellfish in a way that hits the “climate sweet spot,” as Smith puts it. No fresh water is needed. Nor is land, fertilizer, or feed. Their farming sequesters carbon and rebuilds reefs while creating jobs. In their network are innovative chefs creating the new dishes and recipes that make the fruits of the sea delicious.

Smith, author of the book Eat Like a Fish: My Adventure as a Fisherman Turned Ocean Farmer, aims to develop a network of 10,000 ocean farmers over the next 10 years. The former commercial fisherman describes his story like this: “After the cod stocks crashed in my home of Newfoundland, I was face-to-face with the reality that there would be no jobs on a dead planet. So I went on a journey of ecological redemption.”

Doing our part

I wish more people had Smith’s foresight. Election analyses repeat, over and over and over, that economic fears were a prime motivator for the tens of millions of people who voted for Trump. Far be it from me to tell people not to worry about their economic circumstances. What I would urge them to do is to worry better—to worry with an eye not just on today and tomorrow but five years out, 10 years out, 20 years out. A deteriorating climate is not conducive to economic security unless you’re in the survivalist business, literally or figuratively.

We can see where things are going—not with perfect clarity, but clearly enough—in the next few decades. And we can see how things will have to be if humanity is going to get itself rightly positioned on this planet, if there’s going to be something other than a nightmare unfolding by the latter parts of the century.

Ayana Elizabeth Johnson is a scientist, a climate champion, and the author of the new book What If We Get It Right?: Visions of Climate Futures. Don’t let the book title fool you. As she often stresses in her interviews and writings, Johnson is not optimistic about the future. She’s not even sure she is someone you could call hopeful.

But she does concede that positive change is possible, and she is convinced there is a lot that concerned citizens can do—can do now—in addition to remaining active in politics. We can align our spending with our values. If we are fortunate enough to have investments, we can move our money out of petroleum and other non-sustainable sectors and steer them toward companies doing just and sustainable business. We can donate. We can volunteer. We can be organic gardeners and support sustainable CSAs—and do myriad other things that are healthy and enjoyable in the moment as they push the world in the direction we want it to go.

“We can’t control the outcome,” Johnson says. “In some ways we shouldn’t worry about it. We should just do our part even if everything doesn’t work out the way that we would want it to and even if we don’t fully get it right.”

One thing we cannot do is stop trying, she insists. "Who are we to give up on life on this planet? That's a ridiculous thing to do, to give up on each other, to give up on making the world better than it would otherwise be.”

People like the regenerative ocean farmer and What If We Get It Right author lead me back to Kant, the 18th-century philosopher famous for his “categorical imperative,” but with a future-oriented twist: Live now in the way we hope all humanity will live in a healthy, sustainable future. Live now in the ways people must all live one day if humanity is to have a decent future.

And don’t let uncertainty about that future stop you from enjoying the fruits of a meaningful, beautiful life all along the way.