Facing the Dark Mountain

It is easy to be pessimistic, cynical and disillusioned. As we are constantly reminded by both the mouth of the media and measures of empirical evidence, the world is crashing down on our heads. Economies, ecosystems and everything in between are taking a turn for the worse. And whilst solutions are constantly spouted by those at the helm of human civilization, so far the track record of responses are pretty dire. 

A week ago, sat in a grassy field in the Cotswolds, I listened to a sermon delivered by Paul Kingsnorth, founding father of the Dark Mountain project, named after the apocalyptic poetry written by Robinson Jeffers in 1935 as a response to the rearmament for WW2:  “Disastrous rhythm, the heavy and mobile masses, the dance of the Dream-led masses down the dark mountain”.

Here, he outlined his call for contemporary art and literature to face up to the reality of our situation, and to promote Uncivilization, elaborated in their eloquent manifesto. I was not alone in admiring this movement, its aims to target the public consciousness, and strip away the value of growth, progress and human glory. But to embrace the demise of the very civilization which has made me and many of those I hold dear safe from hunger and ill health is a hard pill to swallow. Furthermore, by turning away to art as opposed to finding inspiration in humanity, the project risks becoming an exercise of unfruitful navel-gazing. 

I celebrate an artistic movement to strive to understand and deal with our situation, and I will continue to follow their ascent of the Dark Mountain from the vulnerable flood plains below. But to turn my back on human achievement, intellectual advancement and the discovery of solutions to our problems is something the scientist in me is incapable of.