Comparative capitalisms in the Anthropocene: a research agenda for green transition

Jeremy Green

Department of Politics and International Studies, University of Cambridge, Cambridge, UK

ABSTRACT

Climate change and broader Anthropogenic environmental risks pose existential threats to humanity. Human-driven environmental change has come to be understood through the concept of the ‘Anthropocene’. Anthropocene risks demonstrate that existing fossil-fuel intensive and growth-oriented capitalist development are unsustainable. The urgent need to transition towards greener forms of development is widely recognised. Comparative Political Economy (CPE) should be well placed to guide and evaluate green transition, yet it typifies a wider disconnect between political economy and environment. This article seeks to understand and transcend that disconnect. Developing a critical genealogy of CPE’s post-war emergence, the article examines CPE’s paradigmatic evolution and fitness for grappling with the Anthropocene. It argues that dominant theoretical paradigms (Varieties of Capitalism and Growth Models approaches) are grounded in a ‘nature/society’ dualism that treats national economic models as environmentally disembedded and causally independent from the Earth System. Economic growth is uncritically elevated as a dominant comparative metric, normative aspiration, and policy objective for capitalist development. These characteristics limit the capacity to engage with green transition. Embedding CPE within ecological considerations, the article selectively repurposes the field’s existing conceptual insights to develop hypotheses concerning comparative capitalisms and green transition in the Anthropocene.

KEYWORDS

Anthropocene, Comparative Political Economy, green transition, growth models, paradigms

Climate change poses existential threats to humanity. Our current trajectory risks a ‘Hothouse Earth’ scenario in which feedback loops within the Earth System trigger runaway warming and ecosystemic breakdown, heralding a planetary pathway inhospitable to human life. This scenario is possible even if the Paris Agreement target for keeping global warming to within 2 degrees Celsius is met (Steffen et al. 2018). Without large-scale efforts to rapidly decarbonise economies and promote environmentally sustainable practices, we face the possibility of civilisational collapse (Wallace-Wells 2019, Paterson 2020).

An expanding body of interdisciplinary scholarship comprehends this unique situation through the concept of the Anthropocene – a geological epoch in which human societies are primary drivers of climatic transformation (Steffen et al. 2011). More than a pseudonym for global warming, the Anthropocene represents a broader range of changing Earth System dynamics bearing the mark of human agency. Environmental consequences range from collapsing biodiversity prompted by industrial agriculture and rapid urbanisation, to the exhaustion of global fisheries and the reorientation of the Earth’s water, nitrogen, and phosphate cycles (Bonneuil & Fressoz 2016, p. 4).

Existing patterns of growth-oriented and fossil-fuel intensive human economic activity are unsustainable (Gough 2017, Raworth 2017). The need for a green transition towards a decarbonised and environmentally sustainable economy now has broad support. But the objects, actors, and goals of this transition remain ambiguous (Newell, Paterson & Craig 2020, p. 1). Comparative Political Economy (CPE) with its attentiveness to comparative institutional responses to common challenges and holistic theorisation of capitalism, should be well placed to guide and evaluate green transition. Yet CPE typifies the wider disconnect between political economy and ecological concerns, with climate change a troubling ‘blindspot’ (Paterson 2020). Even while environmental constraints on economic development become dangerously apparent, CPE remains silent on the ecological modalities of comparative capitalisms.

In this article, I critically interrogate CPE’s disciplinary foundations to assess its fitness for studying capitalism in the Anthropocene. Recognising the value of a comparative approach to green transition, I ask – how should we study comparative capitalisms in the Anthropocene? I argue that CPE’s theoretical foundations and research agenda limit its capacity to engage environmental issues. Ontologically and epistemologically, CPE is grounded in a ‘nature/society’ dualism that treats national economic models as environmentally disembedded and causally independent from the Earth System. Tracing the field’s post-war development, I show how this dualism is embodied by CPE’s elevation of economic growth as a dominant comparative metric, normative aspiration, and policy goal for capitalist development. The contemporary rise of the ‘Growth Models’ approach entrenches these disabling commitments at a time of heightened environmental crisis. These qualities render the field ill-equipped to grapple with the Anthropocene. Studying capitalism comparatively is, though, vitally important to guiding green transition. We need awareness of how institutional, sectoral, and holistic transformations within and between political economies can function in mutually beneficial and reinforcing ways. I propose that, despite the field’s unecological assumptions and uncritical entanglements with growth, existing analytical insights from comparative capitalism literature contain promising foundations and partial truths that can be environmentally embedded and productively reoriented to engage with green transition.1 This requires leveraging transdisciplinary insights, from ecological economics to Earth System governance, to retool CPE for the Anthropocene. It necessitates an approach to the comparative evaluation of political economies that prioritises issues of energy, emissions, and environmental impact.

I begin by tracing the ontological and epistemological significance of the Anthropocene for the social sciences. In the second section, I explore entanglements between CPE’s post-war emergence and the parallel rise of the economic growth paradigm, demonstrating how anthropogenic environmental threats challenge growth’s continued viability and desirability and question its status within dominant theoretical approaches. The third section evaluates the field’s paradigmatic shift from Varieties of Capitalism to the Growth Models approach, highlighting the field’s thematic narrowing and environmental silences, while revealing the continuity of growth-affirming and unecological assumptions. In the fourth section, I outline alternative hypotheses to guide CPE research into green transition. I conclude by calling for CPE to decentre growth analytically and normatively.

Anthropocene ontology and the nature/society dualism

The Anthropocene is premised on a transformative ontological claim – human societies and activities should be understood as highly interactive drivers of a ‘complex, adaptive Earth System’ (Steffen et al. 2018, p. 8526).2 This claim, supported by abundant empirical evidence linking socio-economic processes with environmental degradation, centres human agency within causal processes shaping the Earth System (Dryzek 2016, p. 940). How exactly human agency is imbricated within these processes is, nonetheless, sharply contested. Critics of the prevailing Anthropocene discourse have argued that it naturalises humanity’s destructive ecological imprint through a species-level analysis that elides sharply differentiated degrees of responsibility attached to sociologically and geographically distinctive social forces (Malm & Hornborg 2014, p. 63, Moore 20172018). Despite disagreements over exactly who bears responsibility for generating anthropogenic environmental risks, there is broad acceptance that destructive interdependencies between human societies and the Earth System disrupt modernist ontological and analytical binaries between ‘nature’ and ‘society’ (Malm & Hornborg 2014, p. 62–3, Bonneuil & Fressoz 2016, Moore 2017, Kelly 2019, p. 1).

Accepting the ontological premise of the Anthropocene means recognising that human institutions depend upon the regulative stability of ecosystemic and biogeophysical foundations. This has significant implications for the social sciences. Many social science disciplines emerged during a period of rapid European economic development in which humans appeared unconstrained by ecological limits (Moore 2017, p. 596). Sociology, for example, was profoundly shaped by the historical coincidence between its disciplinary emergence and accelerated economic development (Catton & Dunlap 1980, p. 24). This led to the construction of social theories premised, often unconsciously, on an idea of ‘human exemptionalism’ that represented human societies as, ‘exempt from ecological constraints’. Modern economic thought has been similarly anchored in a cornucopian postulate of infinitely exploitable natural resources and limitless ecological horizons, framed geographically through their representation as new frontiers to be harnessed for economic expansion (Jonsson 2014).3

Unecological suppositions within modern social sciences leave extant paradigms ill-equipped to respond to the Anthropocene. We need critical genealogies that interrogate paradigmatic foundations of contemporary approaches, opening new paths of enquiry. Scholars have called for the development of new ‘environmental humanities’ and a shift from social to ‘socio-ecological systems’, recognising social relations’ deep entanglement and co-constitutive relationship with biophysical processes (Bonneuil & Fressoz 2016, Moore 2017, p. 598, Dryzek 2016, p. 941). A disconnect remains between Anthropocene scholarship highlighting the nature/society separation underpinning modern social sciences, and the orientation of prevailing paradigms.

Within economics and political economy, dominant paradigms continue to treat economy and environment as causally dissociated. This is true of CPE. Threats posed by climate instability and ecological deterioration are increasingly apparent, and their political salience has risen dramatically, yet the field’s recent evolution has not kept pace. CPE has moved from a focus on ‘Varieties of Capitalism’ (VOC) to a concern with ‘Growth Models’. The Growth Models approach transcends the supply-side preoccupations of VOC, rebooting Keynesian-Kaleckian macroeconomics to identify institutional drivers of aggregate demand across distinctive national economies (Baccaro & Pontusson 2016). But it continues to treat ‘demand’, ‘growth’ and the ‘economy’ as neutral analytical categories, conceptually uncontroversial and independent from environmental contexts. Both VOC and GM approaches overlook the relevance of energy sources and sectors to comparative capitalism. This despite the existence of longstanding traditions of ecological economics that reckon with the perils of fossil-intensive growth within a finite global ecosystem (Georgescu-Roegen 1971, Daly 1974, Costanza et al. 2015). What explains this disconnect between Anthropocene environmental threats, the widely recognised need for green economic transition, and CPE’s narrowing around an unecological problematique of national pathways to economic growth? The following section explores the parallel rise of the economic growth paradigm and the post-war emergence of CPE. I argue that CPE’s rise was conditioned by the emergence of economic growth as a hegemonic developmental framing, becoming increasingly focussed on understanding national pathways to maximising economic growth. This leaves the field unable to critically interrogate the idea of growth itself, along with its deeper analytical foundations.

CPE and the problem of growth

Contemporary ‘ecopolitical’ discourses of green transition diverge over the viability of reconciling growth with environmental sustainability (Buch-Hansen & Carstensen 2021, p. 2). Dominant green growth discourses, supported by institutions such as the World Bank, stress capitalism’s compatibility with sustainability, suggesting that stronger environmental protections can enhance growth (Jacobs 2012, Meckling & Allan 2020, p. 436). De-growth and post-growth perspectives, conversely, argue that continued economic growth and environmental stability are most likely irreconcilable and the growth paradigm itself is an obstacle to an ecologically restorative political economy (Kallis, et al. 2018, Hickel 2020). Despite their breadth and disagreements, prevailing green transition discourses entail consideration of the environmental and energy dimensions of economic growth beyond that provided by dominant CPE approaches.4 These approaches treat growth as an objective, environmentally independent, and largely uncontested comparative metric. Questions of energy, emissions, and resource intensity hardly register. A brief genealogy of the field’s post-war development helps explain the schism between emerging discourses of green transition, historical traditions of ecological economics, and CPE.

The post-war emergence of CPE as a distinctive subfield coincided with the consolidation of economic growth as a hegemonic development goal. The growth paradigm can be understood as an institutionalised way of thinking that represents economic growth as ‘necessary, good, and imperative’ (Kallis et al. 2018, p. 294). Its history is deeply entangled with the rise of the ‘economy’ as an object of analysis. Early foundations date to the birth of political economy from the eighteenth century in France and Britain. As part of the broader fracturing of the natural and social sciences, liberal political economists conceived the economy as a distinctive and self-regulating sphere with independent governing principles (Kallis et al. 2018, 294, Tellmann 2018, p. 3).

It was during the 1930s and 1940s, though, that the modern notion of the economy as a geographically bounded, self-reproductive system crystallised. The formation of a new statistical construct to measure total national economic output, Gross Domestic Production (GDP), played a central role. Pioneering work on the measurement of national income, led by Simon Kuznets’s efforts in the US and the work of Colin Clark, Richard Stone and Keynes’s within the UK during the 1930s and 1940s, shaped the emergence of GDP as a new statistical imaginary that constructed the modern economy as a measurable and governable entity (Desrosières 1998, p. 172, Coyle 2015, p. 12–7, Schmelzer 2016, p. 81–92). These measurements did not account for the depletion of energy resources nor other environmental damage caused by economic expansion (Mitchell 2011, p. 124, 140, Schmelzer 2016, p. 100). By the 1950s economic growth, indicated by increasingly sophisticated techniques of national income accounting, had emerged as a policy goal. A transnational network of Western economic practitioners worked through international organisations to internationalise national income accounts and standardise the primacy of growth (Schmelzer 2016, p. 94).

Growth’s prevalence as a political-economic aspiration underlay the emergence of CPE after WWII. Disciplinary histories trace the post-war revitalisation of CPE to a common source – Andrew Shonfield’s 1965 magnus opus, Modern Capitalism. Shonfield’s comparative study of economic development in the UK, France, Germany and the US, became a touchstone for subsequent generations of scholarship (Hall & Soskice 2001, Clift 2014, p. 7, Baccaro & Pontusson 2016, p. 176, Menz 2017, p. 38). The book persuasively applied the comparative method. Shonfield anchored his investigation into a range of contemporary themes, from planning to full employment, within appreciation of the specific institutional foundations identifiable across capitalist states (Clift 2014, p. 7).

Intellectual histories of CPE usefully establish common points of origin. But these accounts tend to naturalise an important feature of Shonfield’s study – its preoccupation with the drivers, metrics, and possible futures of economic growth. Modern Capitalism is a book shaped by the dominance of growth. Shonfield set out to understand how the stagnation of the Depression-era had been overcome via the sustained economic growth of the post-war period. It was this context of the ‘high prosperity and rapid growth of post-war capitalism’ within the West that motivated Shonfield’s investigation (Shonfield 1965, p. 4–19). He argued that three key factors helped explain the period of unprecedented prosperity during the 1950s and 60s. Firstly, that economic growth ‘has been much steadier than in the past’. Secondly, production had expanded rapidly over the period. Finally, the benefits of the ‘new prosperity’ generated by the growth of economic output had been ‘very widely diffused’ (Shonfield 1965, p. 61–2). This explanatory framework bore all the hallmarks of the growth paradigm’s newfound hegemony. Shonfield sought to explain the overall prosperity of the West, understood as the fruits of economic growth, by arguing that growth had been more stable, rapid, and evenly distributed.

National economic statistics helped bring comparative representation of discreet economic units into being, heightening the empirical and conceptual possibilities of CPE. The interlocking origins of CPE and the growth paradigm had important normative implications too. Shonfield’s study carries the imprint of a liberal cornucopian optimism that conjures visions of unending progress and unlimited resource frontiers. He optimistically opines that ‘continuing prosperity and uninterrupted growth on the scale of recent years are possible in the future’, and suggests that, ‘the underlying conditions in the second half of the twentieth century are more favourable than at any time in the history of capitalism’ (Shonfield 1965, p. 63–4).

Shonfield’s work was critical to the emergence of CPE, reviving the comparative method and identifying core themes of post-war capitalism. Viewed from the vantage point of the Anthropocene, though, this growthist optimism rests on an ontological nature/society dualism that dangerously disguises ecological harms incumbent to capitalist development. The rise of the ‘Modern Capitalism’ that Shonfield celebrated was linked, causally and chronologically, to unprecedented intensification of environmental deterioration. Economic growth was central to this process (McNeill & Engelke 2016, p. 132–54, Dryzek & Pickering 2018, p. 13). Three quarters of human-induced carbon dioxide emissions into the atmosphere occurred post-1945. The number of motor vehicles increased from 40 million to 850 million. The volume of annual plastic production increased from 1 million tons in 1945 to almost 300 million by 2015. Production of nitrogen synthesisers, predominantly for use in agricultural fertilisers, increased from 4 million tons to over 85 million tons across the same period (McNeill & Engelke 2016, p. 4). Earth Scientists refer to this period as the ‘Great Acceleration’ – a concept that captures the ‘holistic, comprehensive and interlinked nature of the post-1950 changes simultaneously sweeping across the socio-economic and biophysical spheres of the Earth System, encompassing far more than climate change’ (Steffen et al. 2015, p. 82). From the 1950s, there is clear evidence of major shifts in the condition of the Earth System exceeding the normal range of variability of the Holocene, and driven by human socio-economic activity (Steffen et al. 2015, p. 93–4).

The Anthropocene prompts a critical re-evaluation of the drivers of growth and prosperity. It raises grave doubts over the viability of present and future economic growth if we are to respond to and contain multiple, intersecting, environmental threats. While orthodox economic thought elevated growth to an uncontested status, a shadow tradition of ecological thinking, stressing finitude, entropy, and waste, developed alongside (Boulding 1966, Georgescu-Roegen 1971, Daly 1974). Ecological economists have long acknowledged the biophysical dimensions of economic growth (Gowdy & Erickson 2005, p. 218). Economic processes involve the conversion of energy and natural resources into ‘goods, services and waste’ (Kallis et al. 2018, p. 292). This has important implications for addressing the leading edge of Anthropocene environmental instability – rapid global warming driven by greenhouse gas emissions. There are firm grounds for scepticism concerning the prospects of decoupling economic growth from resource use and, critically, carbon emissions. Even when efficiency gains are made, their impact in lowering costs within a market-based system tends to lead to ever higher consumption of finite resources and associated increases of environmentally damaging pollution (Kallis, et al. 2018, p. 292).

Green growth arguments have gained currency in policy discussions (Meckling & Allan 2020, p. 436).5 These arguments rest on optimistic outlooks for the possibility of ‘decoupling’ growth from both carbon emissions and wider resource use (Jackson 2017, p. 87). There is some evidence to support claims for ‘relative decoupling’, whereby the emissions or material intensity of economic output declines relative to the rate of economic growth, signalling an improvement in efficiency. But meeting the Paris Agreement target of 2 degrees warming, in the context of continued economic growth, requires ‘absolute decoupling’ with regard to carbon emissions – an absolute decline in emissions while economic output continues to rise. There is no historical evidence of absolute decoupling on this scale (Jackson 2017, p. 84–90). Hickel and Kallis’ literature survey (2019, p. 1) finds that absolute decoupling of growth from carbon emissions is, ‘highly unlikely to be achieved at a rate rapid enough to prevent global warming over 1.5C or 2C’ (Hickel and Kallis 2020, p. 1). Evidence suggests that although absolute decoupling of carbon emissions from economic output is possible (and underway in some countries) it is very unlikely to occur fast enough to meet the Paris Agreement targets within a context of continued economic growth. The problem, the authors conclude, is growth itself. Growth leads to increased demand for energy, making the transition to renewable energy harder and leading to increased emissions from changing land use and industrial processes (Hickel and Kallis 2020, p. 12). Whatever our view on the viability or otherwise of green growth, the nexus between energy and emissions concerns needs to be given much greater prominence in assessing comparative capitalisms.

Environmental anxieties surrounding economic growth are not new. From Malthusian predictions about population in the eighteenth century to the ‘Limits to Growth’ report in the 1970s, concerns about pressures on finite natural resources and fragile ecosystems have shadowed confident prognoses of economic progress (Jonsson 2014, p. 14, Dryzek 2016, p. 939). Scientific evidence and understanding surrounding the ecological impacts of economic growth is stronger than ever. Why, then, has CPE moved further away from a critical appraisal of the prospects for capitalism and growth over recent years? To understand this paradox, I argue, we need to understand disciplinary patterns of knowledge production within CPE.

From VOC to Growth Models

CPE has evolved in response to major transformations within the global economy (Clift 2014, p. 7, Baccaro and Pontusson 2016, p. 176). Accelerated economic globalisation in the 1990s inspired the emergence of Hall and Soskice’s (2001) influential ‘Varieties of Capitalism’ (VOC) framework, exploring possibilities for continued national economic diversity in a context of heightened international competition. After the 2007/8 financial crisis, a contending framework emerged. The ‘Growth Models’ (GM) perspective pioneered by Baccaro and Pontusson (20162020) addresses VOC’s limitations by highlighting neglected issues of inequality and distributional struggle. It has inspired a large volume of supportive scholarship (Perez & Matsaganis 2018, Amable et al. 2019, Bohle & Regan 2021, Rothstein 2021, Schedelik et al. 2021, Stockhammer 2021).

What are the core claims of these two approaches? I begin with VOC. Hall and Soskice introduced VOC in the early 2000s, during the high-water mark of globalisation. They rejected the premise that globalisation would drive comparative institutional convergence, seeking to demonstrate how distinctive forms of comparative advantage could be maintained. Hall and Soskice displaced CPE’s traditional focus on the state and positioned firms as the pivotal agents. Rational firms encounter specific ‘coordination problems’, with their capacity to deliver economic goods ultimately dependent on effective coordination with a diverse institutional actors, from employers’ associations to trade unions. Identifying five core spheres within which firms must overcome coordination problems, Hall and Soskice developed an influential twofold typology of ‘liberal market economies’ (LMEs) and ‘coordinated market economies’ (CMEs). Firms within each typology rely upon different mechanisms to secure effective coordination (Hall and Soskice 2001, p. 1–8).

Importantly, both types of economy could prosper under conditions of advanced globalisation, confounding expectations of cross-national convergence. This claim is underpinned by the notion of ‘institutional complementarities’ – whereby the presence of one institution increases the returns from/efficiency of another. Institutional complementarities lead to patterns of institutional clustering in response to the competitive pressures of international trade. Nations with specific forms of coordination in some spheres of the economy, ‘should tend to develop complementary practices in other spheres as well’ (Hall and Soskice 2001, p. 17). Complementarities generate self-reinforcing positive feedback loops incentivising further institutional alignment.

VOC dominated CPE from the early 2000s. Despite various critiques, VOC’s agenda-setting status endured. More recently, though, the paradigmatic centrality of VOC has been loosened. Scholarship has emerged utilising a new ‘Growth Models’ framework for comparative capitalism. The landmark contribution is Baccaro and Pontusson’s (2016) article, ‘Rethinking Comparative Political Economy’. They respond to a perceived fracturing of CPE scholarship during the post-crisis period – a division between those positing a common regressive developmental trajectory and others who claim that diversity endures. They seek to transcend this apparent division through greater sensitivity to both commonalities and differences between advanced capitalist economies (Baccaro & Pontusson 2016, p. 176)

Baccaro and Pontusson deploy a Post-Keynesian/Kaleckian macroeconomic perspective that emphasises the importance of different sources of aggregate demand, particularly exports and household consumption, as determinants of capitalist variation. Distinguishing between export-led and consumption-led models of growth, they associate each model with distinctive implications for inequality and distributive conflict. These growth models are both ‘more numerous’ and ‘more unstable’ than the VOC typologies. Emphasising the conditioning impetus of the post-Fordist period, they distinguish their view from the more deeply rooted institutional equilibria posited by VOC, hinting at greater (regulation school-inspired) sensitivity to transformations in capitalist production regimes (Baccaro & Pontusson 2016, p. 175-6, 186).

Exploring four cases, Germany, Sweden, Italy and the UK, they construct their model on observations of a cross-cutting post-Fordist decline of wage-led growth and an associated distributional shift in favour of capital and ‘high-income households’ (Baccaro & Pontusson 2016, p. 198). This presents a common puzzle for these economies – how can the ‘faltering wage driver’ of aggregate demand be replaced? How can economic growth be maintained in a context of secular wage decline? The divergent pathways of response to this common problem are the comparative crux for establishing patterns of continuity and variation across the cases. Germany, Sweden and the UK represent three different ‘solutions’ to the problem of how to generate post-Fordist growth, while Italy’s experiences of ‘sluggish growth’ and ‘overall stagnation’ cast it as a deviant failing case (Baccaro & Pontusson 2016, p. 176).

GM scholarship offers valuable correctives to VOC’s deficiencies. VOC’s technocratic and depoliticised representation of capitalism has been charged with ignoring crises and class struggles (Streeck 2010, Bruff 2011). GM literature counters VOC’s understatement of class and inequality through greater attentiveness to distributional dynamics. It also challenges the hallmark VOC distinction between LMEs and CMEs, which has been criticised for overlooking the unevenness of institutional development, neglecting the contingent and politically constructed nature of pressures for ‘convergence’ emerging from globalisation, and reifying ideal types into actually existing forms of capitalism (Brenner, Peck & Theodore 2010, p. 186–8, Hay 2004, p. 242–3, Hay 2020, p. 307). By contrast, GM scholarship highlights substantial degrees of variation within archetypal LMEs and CMEs across comparative variables such as inequality growth and household indebtedness (Baccaro & Pontusson 2016, p. 178–84).

The timing and content of this nascent theoretical shift from VOC to GM reflects both CPE’s sensitivity to changing structural conditions within global capitalism and the selectiveness of that sensitivity. The success of the GM perspective is attributable to VOC’s failure to depict actually existing capitalism. Post-2007/8, VOC’s depoliticised, supply-side vision of institutional dynamics no longer resonates with advanced capitalist economies characterised by rising inequality, divisive legitimation crises, and large-scale macroeconomic intervention. The GM approach substantively incorporates these themes. Simultaneously, though, it evades a critical question facing contemporary capitalism – how can advanced economies implement rapid and large-scale green political-economic transition in response to anthropogenic environmental instability? Despite the urgent need for decarbonisation, the GM approach continues VOC’s exclusion of energy, emissions, and environmental profiles from its typological representations. While opening to broader macroeconomic traditions, GM literature reproduces VOC’s neglect of ecological economics and green economic thought.

What explains this selective engagement with contemporary themes in global capitalism? Why are some traditions of economic thought leveraged while others are ignored? What determines issue hierarchies in the construction of theory? Social science paradigms shape future research patterns by identifying theoretically significant facts, creating a hierarchy of research questions, and determining appropriate forms of evidence (Geddes 2003, p. 7). Academic disciplines are highly networked communities guided by specific rules about ‘admissible’ work, norms about how research should be conducted and results presented, and frequently, ‘a clear sense of where disciplinary boundaries reside’ (Rosamond 2007, p. 235). These insights render CPE’s neglect of anthropogenic environmental threats intelligible. Despite notable differences between VOC and the GM perspective, foundational theoretical continuities hamper the field’s potential to engage green transition. Core background assumptions underpin CPE’s paradigmatic development. These assumptions delimit specific parameters about what constitutes a legitimate object of enquiry, permissible dimensions of comparative analysis, appropriate methods, and plausible assumptions regarding capitalism.

Two foundational continuities, defined in Figure 1 below as first order theoretical assumptions, situate both VOC and the Growth Models perspective within the growth-affirming lineage of CPE post-Shonfield. Firstly, at the ontological level, both perspectives maintain a nature/society dualism that represents capitalism as a bounded an internally self-reproductive system independent of environmental entanglements. Capitalism is understood to be exogenous to environmental considerations, with the analysis of how capitalist institutions change over time isolated from consideration of Earth System dynamics. These unecological assumptions are not confined to CPE. They form an often unconscious background to the majority of the social sciences (Catton & Dunlap 1980, p. 23). Holocene conditions of relative Earth System stability ensured that political and economic institutions could assume the continued stable presence of the ecological systems that support human society (Dryzek 2016, p. 938). Secondly, in a normative/analytical sense, GDP growth functions positively as a guiding aspiration and primary axis of comparative differentiation for evaluating capitalism.

Figure 1. Comparative capitalisms and the Anthropocence.

These assumptions shape the primary research questions and understanding of capitalist development. VOC asks which economic policies can enhance economic performance, focusing on increased institutional efficiency geared towards ‘higher rates of growth’ as an explicit objective (Hall & Soskice 2001, p. 2). GM literature relies on a normative/analytical binary between ‘successful’ and ‘failing’ growth strategies. Institutional characteristics of national economies are considered with regard to their propensity to threaten or unbalance economic growth (Baccaro & Benassi 2017, p. 85–6). Italy is considered as a deviant case due to its inability to secure high levels of growth (Baccaro & Pontusson 2016, p. 176). GDP is elevated as the dominant comparative metric and normative standard for evaluating economic development. Ecologically embedded indicators of capitalist development – central to ecological economics – are excluded. This prohibits recognition of potentially positive environmental and social impacts of displacing growth’s centrality.

Regarding second order foundations, the VOC approach identifies rational firms as primary agents. The economy is viewed as a sphere within which, ‘multiple actors develop competencies by devising better ways of coordinating their endeavours’ (Hall & Soskice 2001, p. 45). This neglects the environmental foundations of economic activity. From the firm to the macro-economic scale, specific assumptions about ‘efficiency’ and ‘complementarity’ are constructed outside of environmental considerations of energy intensity, waste, or emissions (Hall & Soskice 2001, p. 17, 32, Soskice 2007, p. 89, Iversen, Soskice & Hope 2016, p. 171). A Ricardian premise of efficient national economic responses to international trade competition, via comparative institutional advantage, naturalises unecological assumptions about economic efficiency by ignoring the environmental preconditions and consequences of trade and specialisation. In rare instances where the VOC framework has been mobilised to engage issues of climate change adaptation comparatively, its unecological foundations are left unquestioned (Mikler 2011, Mikler & Harrison 2012).

GM literature assumes a more macroeconomic vantage point and centres distributional struggles between social forces. The governing macroeconomic assumptions of CPE are shifted from a New Keynesian (VOC) to a Post-Keynesian (GM) axis. This move enhances recognition of aggregate demand’s impact on long-term productive potential, increases awareness of class power as a distributional determinant, and enables more optimistic views on the scope for, ‘growth-enhancing policy interventions’ (Baccaro & Pontusson 2020, p. 17–22). But it too treats core analytical categories such as consumption, demand, income and production as environmentally disembedded. It posits a set of logical macroeconomic interrelations independent of environmental context or consequences and fails to consider ecological constraints on aggregate demand management (Baccaro & Pontusson 2016, p. 182).

Ultimately, the principal disagreement between the two perspectives is fairly minor. It centres on the prospects for macroeconomic intervention to positively enhance long-term wage growth and employment. VOC’s New Keynesian origins lead to a more pessimistic reading, while the GM perspective leverages Post-Keynesian/Kaleckian insights to generate more auspicious conclusions. In reaching these contrasting conclusions, both theories explicitly draw inspiration from strands of twentieth century macroeconomic theory. Mainstream economic theory, from neoclassical to Keynesian, has systematically excluded ecological costs of economic activity, conceptualising the economy as an extra-natural system divorced from ecological foundations (Mitchell 2011, p. 136–41). The rise of Keynesian economic thought, a common lineage for both approaches, is causally imbricated with the Great Acceleration. Keynesian assumptions about the capacity to boost demand and attain full employment through increasing economic output discount the ecological foundations of capitalism (Mann & Wainwright 2018, p. 243–4). Energy and emissions considerations do not feature as constraints on the prospects for growth. This common theoretical inheritance severely limits the capacity of contemporary CPE to think ecologically about political economy. Ecological economics and Earth Systems scholarship provide more fertile transdisciplinary resources for CPE to engage with green transition.

Problematising CPE’s environmental silences is not sufficient to develop a comparative research agenda for green transition. Nor should we entirely discount achievements of prevailing approaches, which have been highly productive for understanding comparative capitalisms. Instead, we should consider how existing analytical insights might be repurposed to equip CPE for the Anthropocene. This requires reviewing additional conceptual deficiencies characteristic of the field. Firstly, concerning institutional dynamics, scholars have challenged VOC’s narrow, rational-functionalist, understanding of institutions that reduces the motivations of institutional development to efficiency gains, squeezing out the role of political struggles, accidental/unintended outcomes, and cultural or ideational causes (Watson 2003, p. 232, Hay 2004, p. Streeck 2010, p. 27, Clift 2014, p. 101–13). VOC has further been criticised for relying on a ‘punctuated equilibrium’ model that understates incremental institutional development (Streeck & Thelen 2005). Secondly, VOC’s methodological nationalism produces a truncated sense of the spatio-temporal parameters of capitalist development that reifies national territorial boundaries, obscures the unevenness of economic development, and occludes the relevance of different scalar determinants of institutional transformation (Peck & Theodore 2007, p. 738–40, Brenner, Peck & Theodore 2010, p. 187–8). Shallow historical contextualisation neglects longer-term developmental dynamics, including sources of crisis and instability, as well as the formative impact of deep-rooted historical antecedents such as distinctive trajectories of industrialisation (Jessop 2014, p. 48, Coates 2014, p. 173). Thirdly, critics have questioned VOC’s rationalist firm-centred ontology and a related down-playing of the importance of state capacity. Assuming rational firms exaggerates functional, utility maximising motives, and disregards cultural and contingent determinations of institutional development (Hay 2005, p. 111). By examining the firm-centred micro-foundations of capitalism, VOC offers an underdeveloped sense of macro-political structures (Hancké et al. 2007, p. 14–6). Finally, VOC has downplayed the importance of sectoral differences, determinants, and comparisons within and across states (Hay 2005, p. 110, Crouch, Schröeder & Voelzkow 2009, p. 656–7).

Owing to the field’s paradigmatic convergence around an increasingly demarcated research agenda, some of these limitations shape the GM perspective too. Conceptually, GM’s spatio-temporal coordinates are comparably narrow. The approach shares VOC’s methodological nationalism, treating coherent macro-economic models within territorial states as privileged units of analysis. GM’s scalar deficiencies render it similarly inattentive to subnational unevenness (Clift & McDaniel 2021, p. 2). In terms of historicising capitalism, Baccaro and Pontusson (2016, p. 176, 2020, p. 24) posit the post-Fordist transition of the 1970s, and the resultant decline of wage-led growth, as a common stimulus prompting divergent comparative responses. But the heavy reliance on macro-economic theory, with its ahistorical ontological foundations, ensures little attention is paid to the historicity of institutions.

Yet GM scholarship also transcends conceptual weaknesses of VOC to provide firmer foundations for engaging green transition. Regarding institutional dynamics, Baccaro and Pontusson draw on the ‘power resource tradition’ to foreground how competing social blocs and electoral coalitions shape institutional outcomes. A Gramscian conception of political hegemony gives greater scope for ideational determinants of institutional change too (Baccaro & Pontusson 2019, p. 1–3). Enhanced attentiveness to sectoral components of growth models provides clues for how we might examine green transition comparatively. Departing from VOC’s firm-centric foundations, Baccaro and Pontusson construct a broader ontology grounded in distributional struggles between distinctive socio-economic coalitions and sectoral interests.6 This enables a stronger foundation for considering the variety of actors that might shape green transition.

Despite their environmental elisions, then, CPE perspectives contain partial foundations for a comparative approach towards green transition. Existing scholarship often focuses narrowly on carbon markets (Newell & Paterson 2010, Bryant 2019), or the agency of particular actors (Wright & Nyberg 2015), without assessing comparative institutional variation and continuity. Literature on socio-technical transitions shares CPE’s institutionalist ontology and emphasis on path dependency, but lacks a wider macro understanding of comparative political-economic dynamics (Unruh 2000, Lockwood et al. 2017).

A CPE approach enables comparative assessment of national economic profiles, institutions, and sectors to inform specific pathways for green transition. Policy interventions required for green transition vary with the institutional characteristics, sectoral composition, and supply/demand drivers within political economies. For example, export-led (Germany) and consumption-driven (UK) economic models will likely have distinctive modalities of environmental impact. Understanding trade and payments interdependencies between countries, linked to comparative specialisation, enhances possibilities for mutually reinforcing and coordinated green transitions. Identifying comparative drivers of environmental harms can differentiate between multi-scalar clusters of institutions that produce negative environmental effects, and those that generate ecologically restorative prosperity. Comparative modelling could facilitate policies that identify and promote ecological complementarities – whereby the existence of one green institution/sector increases the ecological benefits available from another – between institutions and sectors. For example, enhancing sustainable, local non-meat agricultural production and promoting vegetarian offerings within the hospitality sector.

As I show in the research hypotheses below, theoretical insights from existing perspectives can be leveraged directly, or productively inverted, to equip CPE to engage with green transition. These hypotheses attempt to illuminate a path beyond the nature/society dualism within CPE and, correspondingly, to decentre the analytical primacy of growth while maintaining valuable insights from CPE scholarship to examine ecologically embedded variables.

Studying comparative capitalism in the Anthropocene

Capitalism in the Anthropocene no longer operates within Holocene conditions of benign climatic stability. Socio-economic institutions must be conceptualised in relation to a broad set of ‘Anthropocene risks’ related to different forms of environmental instability. They emerge from human-driven (anthropogenic) processes, demonstrate interactive patterns of global socio-ecological connectivity, and display ‘complex, cross-scale relationships’ (Keys, et al. 2019, p. 668). Acknowledging these risks has important implications for CPE, which situates institutional analysis at the core of its intellectual agenda (Clift 2014, p. 16). It makes sense, therefore, to begin our hypotheses with a consideration of institutional dynamics.

Hypothesis 1: Pathologically path dependent institutions drive environmental instability and face greater pressures for transformation

CPE emphasises path dependent institutional development (Clift 2014, p. 101–6).7 Within VOC, feedback mechanisms arising from ‘institutional complementarities’ shape path dependent development towards typological termini (Hall & Soskice 2001, p. 1, 17, Soskice 2007, p. 89, Iversen, Soskice & Hope 2016, p. 164). GM scholarship shares a conviction in path dependency (exemplified by two prevailing post-Fordist growth models), but views institutional development as more politically contingent. Path dependency is central to the political economy of green transition but must be properly integrated with environmental dynamics.

Path dependent processes of self-reproduction allow powerful institutions, from fossil-fuel companies to state agencies, to reassert dominance and propagate environmentally damaging behaviours. Dominant institutions maintain growth’s hegemony despite destructive environmental consequences. Dryzek and Pickering (2018, p. 23) describe these processes as ‘pathological path dependency’ – disconnecting human institutions from Earth System dynamics by privileging economic imperatives over ecological awareness. Such processes do not reflect a benign logic of environmentally neutral and efficient capitalist development as envisaged by VOC. They are ecologically embedded and dangerously disrupt Earth System dynamics (Dryzek 2016, p. 937, Dryzek & Pickering 2018, p. 23). Recognising pathological path dependency disrupts the nature/society dualism by highlighting the ecological foundations of institutions. Pathological path dependency is a critical comparative variable with material and ideational determinants. The institutional embeddedness of the growth paradigm itself is a pathologically path dependent force and an object for comparative evaluation.8

As scholarship on ‘carbon lock-in’ demonstrates (Unruh 2000, Seto et al. 2016) dominant capitalist institutions, social practices, and technologies are embedded in and (re)productive of environmentally damaging logics. CPE can connect these insights to a holistic, critical, assessment of comparative capitalism. Pathologically path dependent institutions, firms, sectors and economic discourses, those that are most carbon-dependent and environmentally damaging, will face greater transformative pressures and more contested institutional trajectories. National capitalisms with stronger environmental political coalitions and lesser dependency on pathologically path dependent energy sources, sectors, and accumulation strategies will likely respond more quickly and effectively to Anthropocene challenges.

Hypothesis 2: The Anthropocene stretches spatio-temporal determinants of capitalist development

The Anthropocene transforms spatio-temporal parameters of capitalist development. Temporally, the Anthropocene stretches diachronic determinants of institutional change (Malm 2016, p. 26). Imperatives for institutional change are determined by responses to historically rooted Earth Systems shifts and an anticipatory approach grounded in longer-term assessments of future environmental trajectories. Once effects of global warming, natural resource depletion, and ecosystemic exhaustion impinge radically on the functioning of capitalist institutions it will be too late for ameliorative action (Jackson 2017, p. 16). Goals for institutional development are increasingly shaped by scientific consensus (exemplified by IPCC reports) grounded in a broader temporal framing than typical calculations of business leaders, investors, and politicians. Concretely, temporal elongation manifests as comparatively distinctive time-frames and strategies for decarbonisation and infrastructural transformation, exemplified by national plans for reaching ‘Net Zero’ carbon emissions.9 These tendencies will likely generate common but differentiated movements towards extensive future-oriented and state-directed developmental goals across national capitalisms.

Temporal reconfigurations are linked to variegated spatial dynamics. Anthropocene risks are shaped by global socio-ecological connections and multi-scalar relationships (Keys et al., p. 2019). Responding to these threats also has multi-scalar dimensions. Scholarship on technological transitions demonstrates the multiple levels of infrastructural and social change involved in decarbonisation (Geels 20022014). Politically, responses to Anthropocene risks are increasingly articulated through multiple, interdependent, governance scales evidenced by the emergence of ‘transnational climate change governance’ (Bulkeley et al. 2014). Globally, UN climate conferences increasingly shape national economic policies around green transition. At regional and national scales, discussions of Green New Deals emphasise supranational and state capacities in pursuit of decarbonisation and wider sustainability goals. These scales are also increasingly interwoven. A genuinely multi-scalar approach to CPE, rather than exclusive prioritisation of the national, is required to engage with the different levels of agency involved in the political economy of green transition.

Hypothesis 3: States (not firms) are the pivotal actors in the political economy of green transition

The emergence of VOC displaced the state’s centrality from CPE. GM scholarship has restored Keynesian convictions in effective state intervention (Baccaro & Pontusson 2016, p. 178). Both approaches understate state capacity as a comparative variable. Green transition relies heavily on the political power, coordinative capacity, and infrastructural reach of states (Johnstone & Newell 2018, p. 72–3).10 Although interactions among multiple actors are involved in green transition, from corporations to social movements and individual consumers, these actors will likely pivot around attempts to contest legal, regulatory, and fiscal conditions underpinned by sovereign state authority. The urgency, scale, and complexity of activity required to effectively decarbonise and reorient economies within the prescribed time-frames requires the authority and coordinating capacity of states. This is exemplified by different proposals for Green New Deals, all of which rely on the fiscal, monetary, and legal-regulatory capacities of states to enact rapid transition away from fossil-fuel intensive economic models. Globally, inter-state bargaining within climate negotiations increasingly establishes (aspirational) parameters for national economic development.

State capacity is a critical determinant of comparative pathways towards green transition. Pre-existing modalities of state intervention are likely to condition national responses to environmental challenges. For example, the tradition of ‘Treasury Control’ within the UK has thwarted green developmental initiatives and propagated the dominant financial accumulation regime (Craig 2020). States are also pivotal sites for the political contestation of environmental issues by distinctive social forces and to the embedding of environmental concerns within public, legal, and regulatory institutions. Historically distinctive models of state authority facilitate differential degrees and forms of engagement with environmental movements (Dryzek et al. 2003). Growth Models’ Gramscian-inspired rediscovery of links between economic models, political coalitions, and legitimation strategies opens paths towards a more politicised understanding of the state that recognises the importance of environmental politics.

Hypothesis 4: Sectoral compositions and characteristics shape modalities of environmental damage and condition trajectories of green transition

Sectoral characteristics of national capitalisms are critical to producing (and ameliorating) Anthropocene risks. In aggregate, national capitalisms have distinctive environmental impacts dependent upon their sectoral make-up and specialisation within the global division of labour. For example, export-oriented economies characterised by strong manufacturing sectors are likely to have different energy and resource requirements, as well as waste and emissions implications, than consumption-led and services dominated economies. Industrial economies tend to have higher raw materials usage and physical imports compared to the lower material footprints of service economies (EU 2016).

At the level of analytically modelling comparative economies, GM’s focus on the sectoral and geographical orientation (export-led vs consumption-led) of demand drivers should be integrated with comparative environmental indicators. Measurements more commonly employed by ecological economics, such as Domestic Materials Consumption and Total Resource Consumption, should be central to CPE. This would facilitate understanding of which sectors must be contracted, or usefully expanded, in pursuit of ecological stability. Sectors may have disproportionately large environmental impacts relative to their contribution to growth, making them more salient for comparative analysis.11 Encouraging ecological complementarities between sectors can promote environmentally beneficial development.

Some sectors matter more than others. The absence of energy considerations from the typologies developed by VOC and GM literature signifies CPE’s environmental neglect. Whether or not different national capitalisms are powered by coal, oil, nuclear or renewables is a crucial variable for understanding patterns of cross-national continuity and difference in the political economy of green transition. For example, Germany has committed to much less ambitious targets for coal phase-out than the UK, due to the greater power of coal unions and companies (along with supportive energy-intensive sectors benefiting from low energy prices), as well as greater employment in the coal sector (Brauers, Oei & Walk 2020). Petrostates and those dominated by the coal industry are particularly significant, producing disproportionate CO2 emissions relative to GDP.12 Recognising that economic size alone does not accord with the importance of a national economy for green transition deprivileges GDP’s ordering of national economies’ analytical importance.

Given the vast investment requirements of green transition and the power of finance, financial sector characteristics are critical. The reluctance of powerful asset managers to endorse environmental shareholder resolutions suggests that considerable political mobilisation is required to harness the commanding heights of finance for green transition (Buller & Braun 2021). Agricultural orientations are significant. Environmental harms and emissions produced by the ‘industrial grain-oilseed-livestock complex’ point to the significance of livestock farming and meat consumption in environmental degradation (Weis 2013, p. 66). In large meat producing countries such as Brazil and the US, curbing these sectors is critical. National strategies and timeframes for green transition will be shaped by the environmental modalities of leading sectors, the relative power of social forces that standing to lose/benefit from curbing environmentally damaging sectors, and the relationship between energy sectors and the wider economy.

Conclusion

The arrival of the Anthropocene profoundly unsettles the modern social sciences. Theories grounded in the nature/society dualism are unsuited to reckoning with proliferating environmental risks and destructive interdependencies between socio-economic institutions and Earth Systems dynamics. Across the social sciences, critical genealogies of incumbent paradigms and new interdisciplinary perspectives are required to equip scholars for our rapidly changing environmental context. CPE has both an important responsibility for engaging in this project and much to offer if it does. Given the causal complicity of fossil-fuel capitalism in the making of the Anthropocene, and the centrality of economic transformation to ameliorating its effects, those of us who take capitalism as our object of study have a special responsibility to engage these issues. In a more concretely institutional sense, scholars of CPE have much to offer as a framework for understanding, evaluating, and guiding comparative pathways of green transition.

In this article, I have begun a critical genealogy of CPE’s modern development with the intention of appraising and encouraging the field’s capacity to engage substantively with the challenge of green transition. Retracing the field’s historical development, I argued that CPE’s post-war emergence alongside the crystallisation of growth’s hegemony instilled scholarship with an assumption of the environmental neutrality of economic development and an uncritical disposition towards growth. Appraising the more recent emergence of VOC and Growth Models approaches, I examined CPE’s paradoxical narrowing around an uncritical orientation to growth maximisation despite mounting environmental threats and heightened awareness of the links between capitalism and climate. In the penultimate section, I developed provisional hypotheses intended to tentatively recalibrate CPE scholarship towards fuller engagement with environmental issues. These hypotheses need to be evaluated through comparative empirical assessments of diverse national plans and pathways towards green transition.

I have made the case that ‘climate issues’ are not simply another empirical domain to be incorporated into existing CPE approaches, but rather require reconsideration of our approach to studying comparative capitalisms. I finish by calling for CPE to rediscover the conjunctural sensitivity and responsiveness that is a hallmark of the field, rather than succumbing to forms of intellectual path dependency that limit its analytical horizons and practical applications. Recognising capitalism’s environmental embeddedness requires rethinking theoretical foundations and decentring CPE’s preoccupations with economic growth. What we might establish as a comparative analytical metric and normative goal in place of growth, or whether indeed we should seek a direct substitute for GDP’s role, remains an open question requiring further consideration by scholars of CPE.

Notes

1.

Karl Polanyi’s (1944) concept of embeddedness offers a promising ontological foundation for this effort.

2.

Earth Systems science understands the Earth as a holistic complex system that contains subsystems, such as the atmosphere and biosphere, that are ‘pervaded and connected by constant flows of matter and energy, in immense feedback loops’ (Bonneuil & Fressoz, 2016).

3.

Jonsson (2014, p. 2) also draws attention to a shadow history of economic thought that recognises ecological ‘limits’.

4.

A recent ‘state of the art’ CPE contribution to the journal Socio-Economic Review makes only one, footnoted, reference to climate or environmental issues in its synopsis of ‘New approaches to political economy’ (Amable et al, 2019).

5.

Green growth perspectives range from Green Keynesian emphases on green investment’s employment-enhancing potential to Schumpeterian convictions in a new clean energy revolution (Jacobs, 2012, Meckling & Allan, 2020).

6.

Much like VOC, though, there is still a functionalist sense that Growth Models call forth their own self-reproduction (Clift & McDaniel, 2021, p. 6).

7.

Path dependency refers to the declining reversibility of institutional trajectories over time. It is driven by ‘positive feedback’ – the self-reinforcing nature of specific institutional arrangements (Pierson, 2004, p. 18).

8.

Contributions of ideational or discursive political economy, identifying how goals and policy framings for comparative economic development are socially constructed, are particularly salient here (Clift, 2014, Hay, 2016, Schmidt, 2008).

9.

Linear notions of temporal development are also likely to be disrupted by the triggering of potential ‘tipping points’ prompting disruptive step changes in Earth Systems dynamics (Spratt & Dunlop, 2018, Steffen et al., 2018, Keys et al., 2019).

10.

The state’s importance to green transition has been recognised within long-standing debates over the characteristics of the ‘green state’ and the ‘environmental state’ (Paterson, 2016).

11.

Food and drink, for example, have large environmental impacts across the value chain (European Commission, 2019, p. 5).

12.

Saudi Arabia, Iran, Indonesia, and Russia all feature in the top ten carbon emitting countries due to their large oil, gas, and coal industries, despite not figuring in the ten largest economies in the world (climatetrade.com).

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Prospective technology assessment in the Anthropocene: A transition toward a culture of sustainability

Martin Möller and Rainer Grießhammer

https://doi.org/10.1177/20530196221095700

Abstract

In the Anthropocene, humankind has become a quasi-geological force. Both the rapid development as well as the depth of intervention of new technologies result in far-reaching and irreversible anthropogenic changes in the Earth’s natural system. However, early and development-accompanying evaluation of technologies are not yet common sense. Against this background, this review article aims to compile the current state of knowledge with regard to the early sustainability assessment of technologies and to classify this status quo with respect to the key challenges of the Anthropocene. To that end, the paper initially outlines major existing definitions and framings of the term of sustainability. Key milestones, concepts and instruments with regard to the development of sustainability assessment and technology assessment (TA) methodologies are also presented. Based on this overview, the energy sector is used as an example to discuss how mirroring ongoing transformation processes can contribute to the further development of the TA framework in order to ensure an agile, goal-oriented, and future-proof assessment system.

Introduction

For the first time in history, human development is characterized by a coupling of technological, social and geological processes. In this new geological epoch of the Anthropocene (Crutzen and Stoermer, 2000), humankind has become a quasi-geological force that profoundly and irreversibly alters the functioning of the Earth’s natural system (Potsdam Memorandum, 2007).

The main reasons for this extraordinarily high range of human activity are the exponential increase in the world’s population, production and consumption, as well as an increasing acceleration of industrial processes. New technologies are being developed that enable a particular high sectoral depth of intervention as well as a fast marketing of products and applications. As a result, they impose significant pressure on a wide range of sectors to change and adapt to the speed of innovation. Ultimately, society as a whole is urged to react to the impacts generated by the new technologies. A prominent example of a technology with such a high level of intervention is additive manufacturing. Also known as 3D printing, additive manufacturing is seen as a key technology for digitalization due to their production flexibility, the possibilities for function integration and product individualization. Beyond acceleration of innovation times, however, their use also allows for a reduction in component weight and thus a reduction in operating costs, which can promote resource-efficient manufacturing (Bierdel et al., 2019). However, additive manufacturing can create new consumption incentives due to faster product cycles and poses risks to new producers by shifting work and related hazardous substance risks to residential environments (Umweltbundesamt, 2018).

Both the rapid development as well as the depth of intervention of new technologies and materials result in anthropogenic changes in Earth system processes that can otherwise only be caused by meteorite impacts, continental drift and cyclical fluctuations in the Sun-Earth constellation. For example, the effects on the Earth’s nitrogen cycle are particularly serious. Through the ability to synthesize artificial nitrogen compounds by means of the Haber Bosch process, humans have managed to feed 48% of the global population. With increases in fertilizer usage, however, the nitrogen cycle has been pushed far beyond sustainability and nitrate pollution being responsible for increasing dead zones in coastal areas. Furthermore, due to the use of fossil fuels and intensive agriculture, CO2 concentrations in the atmosphere have reached a level last approached about 3 to 5 million years ago, a period when global average surface temperature is estimated to have been about 2°C–3.5°C higher than in the pre-industrial period (NAS and Royal Society, 2020).

The harmful effects of the technologies on the biosphere are fueled by the fact that technological developments are usually faster than political and technical countermeasures. Moreover, in many cases, technical countermeasures still focus on efficiency improvement strategies, less hazardous substitutions of substances as well as end-of-pipe cleaning technologies. While this approach has yielded some success in the past, it also entails the risk of rebound effects.

Against this background, there is an increasing need for comprehensive approaches to analysis and solutions. Hence, the following key questions arise how to deal with the challenges regarding the prospective assessment of technologies in the era of the Anthropocene:

Firstly, which applications of technologies are beneficial with respect to a sustainable development, and which ones we should rather abandon?

Secondly, which methodological approach can be used to assess and influence the development of new technologies right from the beginning and with sufficient certainty of direction?

Thirdly, who is responsible and competent to perform the evaluation on the sustainability performance of technologies and to make corresponding decisions concerning their future roadmap?

Ultimately, how can we transform technosphere and society to a culture of sustainability, in other words: “Can humanity adapt to itself?” (Toussaint et al., 2012)

In order to elaborate viable answers to these fundamental questions, this paper aims to review existing definitions of sustainability as well as approaches of sustainability assessment of technologies and associated tools within the era of the Anthropocene. Hence, it first addresses the issue of framing the term of sustainability in the era of the Anthropocene (section 2). Based on a brief overview in section 3 how sustainability assessment methodologies evolved in the past, major milestones and concepts with regard to the technology assessment (TA) framework are described in section 4, with particular focus on the concept of prospective TA. In section 5, we use the energy sector as an example to discuss how mirroring ongoing transformation processes in major areas of need can contribute to the further development of the TA framework. Finally, section 6 is dedicated to conclusions and outlook.

Sustainability in the Anthropocene

Sustainability is a delicate term. Its inflationary use in politics, science and society has rendered it increasingly arbitrary and often blurs the view of its core meaning. Sustainability as a concept was introduced more than 300 years ago by chief miner Hans-Carl von Carlowitz on the occasion of a serious raw material crisis: Wood, at that time the most important raw material for ore mining, had become noticeably scarce and without appropriate countermeasures, the operation of smelting furnaces and consequently silver production would not have been further possible within a foreseeable future. Driven by these economic requirements, von Carlowitz proposed a new principle of forest management, which envisaged taking only as much wood from the forests in a given period of time as could grow back again in the same period (Töpfer, 2013von Carlowitz, 1713).

In the discussions about the scarcity of natural resources in the 1970s (cf. Meadows et al., 1972), the concept of sustainability was taken up again and experienced a renaissance through its further development in terms of content. Environmental and social aspects of sustainability have been placed more and more in the foreground. Hence, sustainability has increasingly been understood as a major global transformation process (Grießhammer and Brohmann, 2015; see also section 5), which is reflected in particular in the term of a “sustainable development.” Another milestone in the framing of sustainability as a concept with normative relevance has been achieved in the World Commission on Environment and Development. In its report, the so-called “Brundtland Report,” the commission defines sustainable development as “development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs” (World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987: without page). With this definition, the aspects of intra– and intergenerational equity were introduced and particularly emphasized in the sustainability debate. Furthermore, the “Brundtland Report” frames sustainable development as a necessary transformation process of economy and society as it points out that:

“Sustainable development is not a fixed state of harmony, but rather a process of change in which the exploitation of resources, the direction of investments, the orientation of technological development, and institutional change are made consistent with future as well as present needs” (World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987: without page).

Since the 1990s, the debate on how intergenerational justice is to be achieved has been dominated by two diverging perceptions of the concept of sustainability, referred to as “strong sustainability” and “weak sustainability”:

Strong sustainability postulates to preserve the entire natural capital of the Earth. Human capital and natural capital are perceived to be complementary, but not interchangeable. This means that humans, as users of nature, may live only from the “interest” of the natural capital. Any consumption of non-renewable resources would therefore be ruled out, and renewable resources could only be used within their regeneration rate (Som et al., 2009).

Weak sustainability calls only for preserving of the Earth’s total anthropogenic and natural capital. Accordingly, humanity could reduce natural capital to any degree if it was substituted in return by anthropogenic capital with the same economic value (Solow, 1986).

At the UN Conference on Environment and Development at Rio de Janeiro in 1992, the concept of sustainable development was recognized as an internationally guiding principle. The underlying idea was that economic efficiency, social justice and the safeguarding of the natural basis of life are interests that are equally important for survival and complement each other. Although 27 fundamental principles for sustainable development are enshrined in the Rio Declaration on Environment and Development (United Nations, 1992), for more than 10 years no concrete sustainability goals and indicators existed that would have been suitable in particular for the sustainability assessment of products and technologies.

With the adoption of the 2030 Agenda and its Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) in 2015, the member states of the United Nations for the first time agreed upon a universal catalog of fixed time-specific targets. These 17 SDGs (see Figure 1) and the corresponding 169 targets can be considered as the interdisciplinary normative basis of sustainability research, covering all three dimensions of sustainable development, that is, environmental, economic, and social aspects (United Nations, 2015).

Figure 1. The 17 Sustainable Development Goals of the 2030 Agenda.Source: UNDP (2016).

The 2030 Agenda is universal in scope, which means that it commits all countries to contribute toward a comprehensive effort for global sustainability in all its dimensions while ensuring equity, peace and security. Furthermore, with its central, transformative promise “leave no one behind,” it is based on the principle to take on board even the weakest and most vulnerable. Hence, it seeks to eradicate poverty in all its forms as well as to combat discrimination and rising inequalities within and amongst countries (BMUV, 2022SDGF, 2016United Nations, 2021).

As a major specification of the 2030 Agenda, the concept of Planetary Boundaries focusses on the environmental dimension of sustainability. This approach put forward by Rockström et al. (2009) echoes the concept of “strong sustainability” (see above) and has been updated and extended by Steffen et al. (2015). At its core, it identifies nine global biophysical processes, whose significant changes can lead to conditions on Earth that are no longer considered a “safe operating space for humanity.” According to Steffen et al. (2015), several of the global biophysical processes are already beyond an uncertainty range with a high risk of dangerous changes on the planetary scale. These include the integrity of the biosphere (expressed as genetic diversity) and biogeochemical material flows, especially nitrogen and phosphorus. Others (e.g. climate change and land use change) are considered to be in an area of high uncertainty with an increasing risk of dangerous changes.

In 2016, Rockström and Sukhdev presented a new way of framing the SDGs of the 2030 Agenda. According to the concept of “strong sustainability” they argued that economies and societies should be perceived as embedded parts of the biosphere (Stockholm Resilience Center, 2016). This perspective is illustrated by the so-called “Wedding Cake” model (see Figure 2) and challenges the predominant understanding expressed by the “Three Pillars” model of sustainability (cf. Barbier, 1987) that environmental, economic and social development can be regarded as separate parts. Hence, the “Wedding Cake” model of sustainability can be understood as a combination of the 2030 Agenda and the concept of Planetary Boundaries since it calls for a transition toward a world logic where the economy serves society so that both economy and society can evolve within the “safe operating space” of the planet.

Figure 2. The “Wedding Cake” model of sustainability.Source: Azote for Stockholm Resilience Centre, Stockholm University.

The link between SDGs and Planetary Boundaries is of paramount importance in the age of the Anthropocene. Even though the SDGs have been lauded for amplifying the global development agenda by including environmental, social and economic concerns, the 2030 Agenda remains committed to a growth-oriented development that potentially conflicts with keeping human development within the Planetary Boundaries as defined by Rockström et al. (2009). A striking example of the growth-oriented concept can be found in SDG target 8.1, which requires to “sustain per capita economic growth in accordance with national circumstances and, in particular, at least 7% gross domestic product growth per annum in the least developed countries” (United Nations, 2015). Against this background, substantial changes toward more sufficient consumption patterns that help to remain within the Earth’s environmental carrying capacity need to be established and promoted by setting corresponding political framework conditions (Fischer and Grießhammer, 2013).

Evolvement of sustainability assessment methodologies

The scientific methodology for assessing the sustainability of technologies, material or products is far less developed than the debate on sustainable development and sustainable consumption would suggest. However, initial approaches in this respect were developed by the Öko-Institut as early as 1987 (Öko-Institut, 1987). The concept of the Produktlinienanalyse (English “product line analysis”), representing a pioneering step in the development of methods for life cycle-based analyses, made it possible to record the environmental, economic, and social impacts of products along the whole product line.

Nevertheless, at the end of the 1990ies, the product-related Life Cycle Analysis (LCA) became established and standardized on the international level, representing a methodology which assesses only the environmental impacts of a product over its entire life-cycle. The decisive standards of LCA are ISO 14040 (2006) and ISO 14044 (2006), which have become widely applied. These international standards essentially describe the process of conducting LCAs, examining the impact of a product from “cradle to grave.” Particular attention is paid in ISO 14040 and ISO 14044 to the scoping of a LCA study, with concrete requirements on the choice of the system boundaries, the functional unit (i.e. the quantified performance of the investigated product system for use as a reference unit) and the data quality requirements. In addition, the performance of a critical review by an independent third party is envisaged as a quality assurance step.

Sustainability assessments, however, did not advance until the 2000s, with the detailed method descriptions PROSA (Product Sustainability Assessment) by the Öko-Institut (Grießhammer et al., 2007) and SEE-Balance (Socio-Eco-Efficiency Analysis) by the chemical company BASF (Kicherer, 2005Saling, 2016). Even for the sub-methods of Life Cycle Costing (Swarr et al., 2011) and Social Life Cycle Assessment (Grießhammer et al., 2006UNEP-SETAC Life Cycle Initiative, 2009), method descriptions were presented comparatively late. There are also proposals to combine the three sub-methods of Life Cycle Assessment, Life Cycle Costing and Social Life Cycle Assessment to form the Life Cycle Sustainability Assessment (LCSA) (Feifel et al., 2010Finkbeiner, 2011). However, in contrast to PROSA, the aim is not to analyze and evaluate needs and the realized product benefits, even though meeting basic needs through products is one of the central demands of Agenda 21. Whereas initially the sustainability of only relatively simple products such as food, textiles, or detergents had been assessed, in recent years the sustainability performance of complex products such as notebooks (Manhart and Grießhammer, 2006) and telecommunications services (Prakash et al., 2016) as well as emerging technologies and materials (Möller et al., 2012) has also been analyzed.

For many years, the comparatively open or specific selection of indicators for conducting sustainability assessment case studies was justified by the lack of a relevant normative framework as well as a generally accepted set of indicators. With the adoption of the United Nations’ 2030 Agenda in 2015, this has fundamentally changed (cf. section 2). In addition to its 17 SDGs and 169 targets, the 2030 Agenda provides a globally accepted system of indicators for measuring the SDGs. However, only a few dozen of the 169 targets explicitly refer to products and companies. In a recently completed research project (Eberle et al., 2021) funded by the German Federal Ministry on Education and Research a method was developed which provided for a reasoned restriction to those indicators to the achievement of which products, services and companies can actually contribute. By means of the method, it is possible for the first time to measure the contribution to the achievement of the SDGs at the level of products and services and thus to establish a link between LCA and SLCA results and the 2030 Agenda (Eberle and Wenzig, 2020). To complete the assessment, an in-depth analysis of societal benefits according to Möller et al. (2021a) can be supplemented, which is also based on the 2030 Agenda. In this way, additional benefit aspects of the products and services considered beyond their core benefits can be identified with a view to the SDGs.

As our experience from practice has shown, for the sustainability assessment of any object of investigation, the respective functionality is of utmost importance and must therefore be considered and defined in detail. In this context, a careful definition of the functional unit as defined in ISO 14040 and ISO 14044 is considered to be essential. In addition, a detailed analysis of the various benefit aspects of the studied object is recommended. Against this background, there is no technology, material or product that is sustainable per se. Only the way a technology, material or product is handled and used over its whole life-cycle may be more or less sustainable. Therefore, their sustainability performance always has to be analyzed and evaluated in the context of the intended application and with regard to a possible contribution to a sustainable development. Absolute statements such as “sustainable plastics,” often combined with the addition “due to recyclability,” must therefore be rated very critically. Recyclability, which is often regarded as synonymous with sustainability in the marketing of materials, depends on available recycling infrastructure, which typically only exists in the materials sector where it is economically viable.

Another important lesson learned from several decades of sustainability assessment is that assessment systems have changed and evolved significantly in the past. As sustainability assessment has been driven by emerging environmental risks, further developments in the normative framework and societal developments, the assessment methodology had to evolve as well. Notable examples of additions to the assessment methodology with respect to the environmental dimension of sustainability are the issues of greenhouse effect and ozone depletion in the 1980s and the microplastic problem in the recent past. It can be assumed that the aforementioned drivers will continue to influence sustainability assessment in the future. For a future-proof sustainability assessment methodology, it is therefore essential that newly emerging risks can be identified at an early stage. This calls for a flexible and adaptive assessment framework as well as an interdisciplinary exchange, especially between natural and social sciences (Möller et al., 2021b).

Evolvement of technology assessment

Roughly in the second half of the 20th century, undesirable side effects of progress in science and technology increasingly manifested themselves in the form of risks and concrete damaging events and thus found their way into the collective consciousness of society. The almost ubiquitous emergence of persistent pollutants like the pesticide DDT (Dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane) in the environment and the risks of nuclear power can be regarded as particularly controversial examples in this respect (Carson, 1962Grunwald, 2019). Accordingly, the appearance of these phenomena is considered to mark the beginning of the Anthropocene era. As a result, a consensus previously largely in place, which equated scientific and technological progress with social progress, was increasingly questioned. Against this background, researchers were more and more confronted with the challenge of reflecting not only on the possible consequences of science-based technologies, but also on the epistemological foundations of their own actions (Kollek and Döring, 2012).

Consequently, the concept of TA became established in the 1960s, particularly in the United States, with early studies focusing on the issue of environmental pollution, but also issues like the supersonic transport, and ethics of genetic screening (Banta, 2009). One of the basic motivations of TA is to deal with possible short- and long-term consequences of scientific and technological progress (e.g. societal, economic, ethical, and legal impacts) as early and comprehensively as possible, in order to enable formative interventions (Grunwald, 20102019). The ultimate goal of early TA studies was to provide policy makers as primary target group with information on policy alternatives (Banta, 2009).

One of the key challenges for TA relates to the question of how to respond to emerging technologies, that is novel technologies that are still at an early stage of their development. Especially in the case of basic research-oriented R&D work, the new developments are characterized by low technology readiness levels (cf. Mankins, 1995), that is the R&D results are still relatively far away from entering the market in the form of tangible products. The relatively low maturity of the technologies results in a very limited availability of quantitative data on subsequent product specifications and potential environmental impacts. On the other hand, addressing sustainability aspects at such an early stage in the innovation process basically offers an excellent window of opportunity to avoid possible weaknesses with regard to sustainable development and to identify existing strengths. This situation is often referred as the Collingridge Dilemma (Collingridge, 1980): In the infancy of an emerging technology, the potential to influence its properties is particularly high, but the knowledge about its sustainability impacts is comparatively low. Later on, the understanding on the consequences of an emerging technology is expected to increase, yet the possibilities for shaping its design may already be significantly reduced by already existing path dependencies (see Figure 3).

Figure 3. Dependencies between the maturity of a technology, the knowledge about environmental, health safety and social (EHS/S) impacts as well as the ability to prevent corresponding risks.Source: Köhler and Som (2014).

Against this background, an ideal period for the assessment and eco-design of emerging technologies would be during the innovation stages of “applied technology development” or “product design.” In these stages, the ability to prevent sustainability risks is still relatively high (cf. curve with solid line in Figure 3) and, at the same time, the quantity and quality of data required for a sustainability assessment are increasing significantly. However, a sustainability assessment in the stage of “basic science and material research” is well before this ideal period.

Basically, the dilemma outlined by Collingridge presupposes a fundamental separation between cognition and action as well as between science and technology. With the emergence of the concept of “technosciences,” however, this hypothesis has been increasingly challenged since about the mid-1980s by postulating a constitutive relationship between science and technology (Haraway, 1997Hottois, 1984Latour, 1987). Hence, the characteristic feature of technosciences is a far-reaching convergence of science and technology on all levels of action and effect, of materiality and culture (Kastenhofer, 2010).

The concept of technosciences has been adopted by anthropologists, philosophers and sociologists in science and technology studies as well as in the field of philosophy of science (e.g. Hacking, 1983Nordmann, 2006Pickering, 1992). Other TA concepts attach less emphasis to the intertwining of science, technology and society, but rather aim to start TA as early as possible. These include the “constructive Technology Assessment” developed by Schot and Rip (1997), which does not focus primarily on the possible consequences of a technology but aims to assist in shaping its design, development and implementation process. In this context, it was also proposed that a “real-time assessment” should accompany technology development from the outset and integrate social science issues as well as policy and governance aspects at a very early stage (Guston and Sarewitz, 2002).

Nevertheless, the concept of technosciences generated important impulses to scrutinize and reconsider some of the central assumptions underlying many existing TA concepts. In this context, Liebert and Schmidt (2010) point out that the goals and purposes of innovation processes, which are often clearly articulated and recognizable in the context of technosciences, offer the possibility of unlocking knowledge about the respective technology development. Hence, they challenge the assumption of general knowledge deficits as stipulated by the Collingridge Dilemma. Furthermore, they argue that technosciences are usually developed and applied by many different actors. In this respect, the fiction of a control of technology (especially by political actors) as advocated in early TA concepts will increasingly shift to a paradigm of collaborative design.

Consequently, TA should be framed as a “Prospective Technology Assessment” (ProTA) and initiate phases of science- and technology-related reflection as early as possible:

“ProTA aims to shape technologies by shaping the goals, intentions and attitudes from the perspective of the anticipated consequences and realistic potentials” (Liebert and Schmidt, 2010: 114).

According to Liebert and Schmidt (2010), ProTA requires a normative framework that can be derived from the history of philosophical reflection. Concerning the underlying ethical criteria, two antagonistic principles are outlined: The “heuristics of fear” (Jonas, 1979) and the “principle of hope” (Bloch, 1959), which in combination serve as a mindset for shaping emerging technologies as well as technoscience as a whole and that entails four different types of orientation: human, social, environmental as well as future orientation.

Furthermore, ProTA is also strongly perceived as a participatory approach. In contrast to an observation from an external perspective (as practiced in earlier TA concepts), ProTA should become part of a of self-reflection and self-criticism among scientists and engineers within the R&D stage itself that also includes the perspective of societal and political actors (Fisher et al., 2006Liebert and Schmidt, 2010).

Discussion

As the evolutionary history of TA has shown, an early assessment of technologies and their impacts on environment and society is possible in principle. Despite of the epistemic limitations caused by the Collingridge Dilemma, the concept of ProTA provides a participatory and incremental self-reflection process that facilitates data acquisition even during the early stages of R&D and thus enables the shaping of technologies throughout the innovation process. One of the most important features of ProTA is a well-defined normative framework. Yet Liebert and Schmidt developed the associated criteria several years before the establishment of the 2030 Agenda. With its 17 SDGs and the 169 SDG targets, however, substantial opportunities have been created to concretize the normative framework of TA, especially with respect to a sustainable development. Hence, by referencing to the 2030 Agenda, a comprehensive sustainability assessment of technologies has become possible (Eberle et al., 2021Möller et al., 2021a). Even more than that, with the 2030 Agenda representing a globally accepted framework that all United Nation member states have committed themselves, sustainability assessment of technologies has become an obligation.

In order to ensure goal-oriented and future-proof assessments, TA methodology needs to be able to recognize changes regarding its assessment criteria at an early stage, as already pointed out in section 3. For early detection, the investigation of existing and predicted transformation processes plays an important role in this context.

Transformations can lead to structural paradigmatic changes at all levels of society, for example in culture, value attitudes, technologies, production, consumption, infrastructures and politics. The corresponding processes take place co-evolutionarily, simultaneously or with a time lag in different areas or sectors, and can significantly influence, strengthen or weaken each other. The decisive factor for a transformation is that those processes become more and more condensed over time and, in the sense of a paradigm shift, lead to fundamental irreversible changes in the prevailing system. Transformations can be unplanned or intentional, they can take several decades and proceed at very different speeds (Grießhammer and Brohmann, 2015).

In contrast to the non-targeted transformations of the past (such as the first and second industrial revolution), it is now presumed that intentional transformations (e.g. the “Energiewende,” i.e. the transition of the energy system in Germany) can be significantly influenced and accelerated in a desired direction, but nevertheless not controlled in detail. This assumption is based on the recently available knowledge and experience of complex control, governance and strategy approaches (Grießhammer and Brohmann, 2015). The fundamental possibility of influencing or even controlling transitions is expressed by the term “transition management” (Kemp and Loorbach, 2006).

For understanding transition management, a multi-level perspective is fundamental. Accordingly, three different levels exist in each system under consideration, referred to as niches, regime, and landscape, with interactions between these levels (see Figure 4).

Figure 4. Multi-level perspective of transition management (Grießhammer and Brohmann, 2015; modified based on Geels, 2002).

At the level of the prevailing regime, Grießhammer and Brohmann (2015) distinguish eight fields of action or sub-systems of society in which transformative innovations and initiatives can influence each other or proceed in a co-evolutionary manner. These eight fields of action are defined as follows:

Values and models: normative orientations such as values, socially or legally formulated goals, guiding principles or ideas for society as a whole or for individual areas of need (e.g. “Limits to Growth” according to Meadows et al., 1972);

Behaviors and lifestyles: individual and society-wide shared (consumption) actions, everyday practices and habits, which can often deviate significantly from values and consciousness (e.g. dietary habits);

Social and temporal structures: social and culturally determining structures (such as different gender roles or demographic shifts) as well as temporal factors (such as the duration of the transformation, windows of opportunities or diffusion processes of innovations);

Physical infrastructures: permanent material structures that influence or even dominate the action spaces for groups of actors (e.g. road network);

Markets and financial systems: market structures (e.g. degree of concentration, globalization) and market processes such as supply, demand and prices of goods and services;

Technologies, products, and services: individual products and services as well as overarching technologies that can act as a key driver of transformations;

Research, education, and knowledge: science, research and development in practice as well as their institutional constitution, appropriate educational measures at various levels as well as knowledge stocks required for transformations;

Policies and institutions: control instruments such as commandments and prohibitions, financial incentives or informational instruments, as well as the associated institutional and organizational framework (e.g. state bodies, competencies, separation of powers, course of the democratic process and legal framework).

The analysis of the determining factors of a transformation process and their possible impact on the method of sustainability assessment of technologies shall be exemplified by the transformation in the energy sector representing an area of need where general principles for the sustainability assessment of technologies have already been formulated (cf. Grunwald and Rösch, 2011). The following table summarizes the findings from this exercise and provides an overview of the determining factors for the fields of action in the energy sector. In this respect, it has to be noted that the scope of the investigation refers to the specific situation in Germany.

Many of the identified determining factors for the fields of action are transformation processes themselves. Digitalization, for example, is coupling the energy transition with the ongoing industrial revolution in information and communication technologies. Furthermore, the transition of the energy sector influences the energy supply for the transport system as well as for the building stock, and vice versa. The parallel transformations can influence, support, or hinder each other. For example, electromobility generates a higher demand for renewable electricity; on the other hand, the batteries installed in cars provide a storage option for electricity. In this context, it is also important to consider the various and partly rivaling innovations emerging from niches (cf. Figure 4). These include e-cars, for example, but also fuel cell cars and e-bikes as a fundamental alternative. The same is applicable for phenomena at the level of the greater landscape: The efforts of an increasing number of companies to achieve climate neutrality play an eminently important role here, as the demand for renewably generated energy will continue to grow significantly. However, the current consequences and long-term effects of the Corona pandemic could lead to significant energy savings through a reduction in air travel, at least in the short to medium term.

The concept of ProTA is currently implemented in the Cluster of Excellence “Living, Adaptive and Energy-autonomous Materials Systems” (livMatS) funded by the German Research Foundation. The vision of this cluster is to develop novel, bioinspired materials systems, which adapt autonomously to their environment and harvest clean energy from it. The research and development work in livMatS aims to provide innovative solutions for various applications, particularly in the field of energy technologies. Sustainability, psychological acceptance and ethical approval form essential claims of the work done in livMatS. Therefore, prospective reflection of the sustainability aspects as well as research into consumer acceptance and social relevance of the developed material systems form an integral part of livMatS work right from the very beginning (livMatS, 2022).

The prospective TA of the technologies and materials to be developed in the livMatS cluster is designed as a tiered approach called TAPAS (Tiered Approach for Prospective Assessment of Benefits and Challenges). The ultimate goal is the design of a new development-integrated sustainability assessment framework that starts with interactive early tools on a qualitative basis (e.g. questionnaires and prospective chemicals assessment) and also covers quantitative case studies. Development-integrated assessment entails that the methodology both encourages and enables the innovators themselves to carry out assessments on sustainability, ethics and consumer issues as part of the innovation process (Möller et al., 2021c).

With regard to the livMatS materials, the ongoing transformation in the energy sector has considerable influence on the potential application fields: In their efforts to become climate-neutral, companies will make much greater efforts to harness previously unused (waste) energy. Energy harvesting in industrial processes as well as in the mobility sector and in buildings will consequently gain considerably in importance and may become common practice. For example, due to progress in digitalization, there will be more and more sensors at peripheral locations requiring power supply. Moreover, prosumers may also find it attractive in the future to feed harvested energy of their own solar systems into the grid, especially at times of high energy prices.

For the methodology of the prospective sustainability assessment, however, no fundamentally new issues can be identified on the basis of the available findings, which could not be captured by the existing toolbox. This can be justified with a closer look to the relevant technological approaches (digitalization, hydrogen technology, energy harvesting) presented in Table 1, as their respective designs do not reveal any radically new materials and process configurations. This assessment, however, needs to be subject to continuous review as the new material systems mature. Furthermore, it should be noted that for sustainability assessments in living labs and citizen science projects, instruments are required that provide meaningful and consistent results even when used by laypersons. In this context, a tiered approach as described in section 4 is also expected to be beneficial.Table 1. Determining factors for the fields of action in the energy sector.

Fields of actionDetermining factors in the energy sector in Germany
Values and models“Energiewende” (English: “energy transition”) mission statement with a focus on renewable energies (Krause et al., 1980)
Rejection of nuclear energy by a vast majority of the German population (Statista, 2021)
Fridays for Future activities and demonstrations push debate about climate change and renewable energy back to the forefront of the political agenda (Marquardt, 2020)
Behaviors and lifestylesProsumer movement leads to a constantly increasing number of consumers who simultaneously consume electricity and supply it to the grid, for example via an own photovoltaic system (Agora Energiewende, 2017BMWi, 2016)
Social and temporal structuresFukushima nuclear disaster in 2011 as a major window of opportunity for the nuclear phase-out (Bernardi et al., 2018)
Increase in the share of smaller households with a specifically higher electricity demand (Umweltbundesamt, 2020)
Flexible and time-dependent pricing structures (e.g. variable electricity prices) and process conversions in industry and commerce (operating energy-intensive processes during the day instead of previously at night) foster load management (Agora Energiewende, 2017)
Physical infrastructuresDigitalization enables the networking of electricity generators and consumers, for example, through smart meter gateways, that is, intelligent metering systems consisting of a communication unit and a digital electricity meter (Agora Energiewende, 2017BMWi, 20162017)
Coupling of the electricity sector with the building, mobility and various industrial sectors, turning (renewably generated) electricity into the most important energy source (Agora Energiewende, 2017BMWi, 2017)
Markets and financial systemsDecentralization of power generation (formerly a few large fossil-based power plants to currently several million small and large renewable energy plants) creates new market players and enables new business models (Agora Energiewende, 2017)
Strong cost degression in electricity generation from renewable sources (e.g. by 90% regarding photovoltaics) enables an energy system based on solar and wind power (Agora Energiewende, 2017)
Technologies, products and servicesNew energy storage systems (especially “green” hydrogen technology) for intermediate storage of electricity from renewable sources (Matthes et al., 2020)
Efficiency increase in the use of electricity both at industrial plants and in household appliances (Agora Energiewende, 2017)
Energy harvesting technologies enable the use of previously dissipated photonic energy, thermal energy or kinetic energy (Fraunhofer, 2018)
Research, education and knowledgeLiving labs and citizen science projects explore sustainable energy technologies (e.g. hydrogen technology) under real conditions and on an industrial scale (BMWi, 2020)
Policies and institutionsLiberalization of the electricity market since the 1990ies enables a flexible and efficient response to volatile power generation from renewable energy sources (DENA, 2021)
 Substantial financial incentives for renewable energy generation through the Renewable Energy Sources Act since 2000 (EEG, 2021)
 Nuclear phase-out (by 2022) and coal phase-out (by 2038), that is political decision by the German federal government to stop operating nuclear power plants (Bundesregierung, 20112021)

Source: Own compilation.

Conclusions and outlook

In light of the findings and the results of the previous sections, the four fundamental questions from the introduction will be revisited and answered as far as possible.

With regard to the first question, it could be demonstrated that universal and absolute statements on the sustainability of technologies are just as misleading as they are for materials or products. Possible contributions to a sustainable development can only be discovered in a case-by-case analysis of the entire product-line and in the context of the functionality and benefits of the object under investigation.

Secondly, an early and prospective assessment of sustainability of technologies requires a flexible and tiered approach. In this respect, we reference the TAPAS framework that aims to establish a new tiered development-integrated assessment methodology within the livMatS Cluster of Excellence. To enable assessments at an early stage and with sufficient certainty of direction, TAPAS starts with interactive early tools (e.g. questionnaires and prospective chemicals assessment) which are incrementally underpinned with quantitative case studies in an iterative process. In order to ensure an agile, goal-oriented and future-proof evaluation system, TAPAS also includes a careful reflection of ongoing transformation processes in application sectors (e.g. the energy sector) that are relevant to the technology. The prospective mirroring of the determinants of transformation processes of related areas of need as described in section 5 aims to provide a further feature for the continuous refinement of the TA framework, especially with regard to ProTA.

As of third, the assessment of the sustainability performance of technologies should include much greater involvement of those actors who are particularly good at overseeing and influencing the innovation process—the innovators themselves. To ensure sufficient feedback with society, science has to open up to the public and the participation of society in the sense of transdisciplinary research. In this respect, initial assessments of the technology developers need to be discussed in real laboratories, that is, open-innovation environments that focus on cooperation between science and the public in an experimental environment. Hence, suggestions from society should in return become part of the innovation process (Möller et al., 2021b).

Ultimately, in order to give humankind a chance to adapt to itself (Toussaint et al., 2012), technology and society need to co-evolve. Global agreements on normative goals such as the Sustainable Development Goals of the 2030 Agenda form a good starting point in this respect. For a culture of sustainability, however, policy should promote cooperation between actors for societally desirable transformation processes to a much greater extent. Equally important is a “greening” of ongoing transformations that are not induced by environmental policy (Grießhammer and Brohmann, 2015). The need to foster cooperation can be illustrated by the example of the energy transition: Driving forces for the “Energiewende” can already be found in all stakeholder groups, that is in civil society and governmental actors, but also in science and companies. Unfortunately, however, these players in many cases still act independently of each other. Instead, earlier and greater involvement of business and industry in ongoing transformation processes, support for new business models, and greater international cooperation would be needed.

Funding

The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG, German Research Foundation) under Germany’s Excellence Strategy – EXC-2193/1 – 390951807.

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Hedwig Fraunhofer

Abstract

Crises alter our perception of time. For medical personnel faced with treating unprecedented numbers of critically ill patients under conditions of personal threat, COVID-19 has most recently accelerated the subjective perception of time. For millions of others, social isolation has decelerated our lives. For all of us, at least in the short term, the future has become more uncertain. Theoretical physicists tell us, however, that under any conditions, the human perception of the flowing of time is only a result of our blurred, limited, macroscopic vision. As the quantum physicist Carlo Rovelli writes, therefore, “[t]o understand ourselves is to reflect on time” (2018: 179). Potentially caused by humans’ failed interactions with wild animals, the contemporary global pandemic, as well as previous outbreaks such as SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome-related coronavirus) or the bird flu, has led to calls to reevaluate humans’ relationships with nonhuman life, with the natural environment that includes us, in the epoch that may soon be named for our very failure – the Anthropocene. In an era in which our usual, day-to-day certainties and desire for human control have been upended, not only by the current medical crisis but also by the continuing existential threat to terrestrial life that is climate change, a rethinking of the category of the human, a new conceptualization of the entangled (human and nonhuman) material relationships on our planet and beyond, requires reflecting on time. This article engages in such reflection through a conversation with the philosophical writings of Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari.

Keywords: timeAnthropoceneposthumanmaterialityquantumDeleuzeDarkcontagion

In The Great Derangement: Climate Change and the Unthinkable, the Indian writer Amitav Ghosh wonders if “science fiction is better equipped to address the Anthropocene than mainstream literary fiction.” In the end, however, Ghosh comes to the conclusion that

cli-fi is made up mostly of disaster stories set in the future, and that … is exactly the rub. The future is but one aspect of the Anthropocene: this era also includes the recent past, and most significantly, the present … the Anthropocene resists science fiction: it is precisely not an imagined ‘other’ world apart from us (2016: 72).

For Ghosh, climate change, along with the threat of mass extinctions that humans pose to multiple forms of life, is a problem set in the present and on this planet, not in an imagined future or in space. The first German Netflix series, Dark (2017–2020) enacts a staple of science fiction, namely time travel, putting it in intra-action with such physical or theoretical phenomena as black holes, wormholes, quantum leaps from one energy level to another, light, and lunar and solar cycles. In dialogue with our contemporary scientific understanding of quantum physics and spacetime as well as with the uncanniness of the horror genre, Dark enacts one of the global threats marking the Anthropocene, a threat widely discussed in Germany in recent years: the very real dangers of nuclear energy that link past, present and future on our planet.

Asked recently why time travel is so in vogue in popular culture these days, Jantje Friese, one of the creators of Dark, responded: “we live in uncertain times, we fear what is coming in the future and we have a nostalgic thing about the past, about going back to how it used to be …, to better times” (Robinson and Ashurst 2020). As in the current global pandemic, in which time has found a new rhythm, in Dark an endless succession of catatonic episodes or flashes sweep away subjective interiorities in a strong common affect. As ‘we’ shelter in place, in a physical interiority, this exteriority – the velocity of this exteriority – nevertheless dominates everything.1

1 Space-Time: Science and Philosophy

A year before the pandemic threat caused by the new coronavirus, on April 10, 2019, the news exploded with a different sensation, of not only global, but cosmic, dimension. Astronomers had captured an image of what Dennis Overbye, in that day’s New York Times, called “the unobservable”: a black hole. By definition, black holes are matter that “has collapsed upon itself and has disappeared from our view” (Rovelli 2016: 45) and thus from any sense of human control. Black holes are created when too much matter accumulates in one place and the force of gravity becomes so overwhelming that no matter or radiation in its proximity can escape its pull. Matter, time and space are profoundly altered near black holes.2 A black hole is thus a “major disruptor of cosmic order” (Overbye 2019). Such a major disruption of cosmic order marks the events enacted in Dark. Black holes are also an example of what the philosopher Timothy Morton calls “hyperobjects,” i.e. “things that are massively distributed in space and time relative to humans” (Morton 2013: 1). As Michael Cronin notes, hyperobjects change our perception of time: “The future … is no longer in the future. It informs the here and now” (2017: 3). We are confronted “now” with an uncontrollable object, an existential threat somehow hurtling towards us.

Giving expression to our ensuing sense of apprehension, Overbye (2019) described the black hole observed as “an eternal trap,” “a smoke ring framing a one-way portal to eternity,” or “the doughnut of doom.” Tinging scientific optimism with awe, such verbal images link physics and metaphysics, nature and the supernatural. A similar link also contributed to the recent success of Dark. Infusing from the start a transcendental dimension that gives this cinematic fiction about the quantum entanglements of the physical universe its affective power, Dark, at the very beginning of the first episode, sets the tone of the series by characterizing black holes as the “Höllenschlund des Universums” (“the hellish pit of the universe”).3 It is exactly this supernatural but also deeply human dimension, involving questions of good and evil, that provides Dark with its specific affect of fear.

While Dark establishes a conversation between science and philosophy, the present article aims as well to move beyond a one-sided analysis that sees representation/meaning/the human, on the one hand, and more-than-human materiality, on the other hand, as two incompatible sides of a dualistic opposition. Taking the popular Netflix series as a starting point and illustration, the article specifically focuses on Gilles Deleuze’s and Félix Guattari’s philosophy as a key to temporality in the Anthropocene. Deleuze’s and Guattari’s process philosophy and quantum physics share many insights; Dark, as well, draws on this conversation.

The TV series starts with a quotation from Einstein: “the distinction made between past, present, and future is nothing more than a persistent, stubborn illusion” (S1: E1, also quoted by Rovelli, 2016: 60). In contrast to Newtonian physics, the theory of general relativity taught us that space and time are not inert boxes, that they are, instead, dynamic (Rovelli 2016: 42). As the British cosmologist Stephen Hawking explains, “the theory of relativity forces us to change fundamentally our ideas of space and time. We must accept that time is not completely separate from and independent of space but is combined with it to form an object called space-time” (2005: 33).

According to Overbye, Einstein’s general theory of relativity “led to a new conception of the cosmos, in which space-time could quiver, bend, rip, expand, swirl like a mix-master and even disappear forever into the maw of a black hole” (2019). While the theory of black holes emerged from his equations, Einstein himself remained reluctant to accept their existence, remaining a life-long sceptic of this aspect of the quantum revolution (Barad 2007: 104). Einstein’s general theory of relativity – the theory of gravity, space and time – does not account for the uncertainty principle4 and is thus itself not a quantum theory (Hawking 2005: 122). According to the general theory of relativity, one cannot travel in time. The world enacted in Dark, however, is a universe based on quantum entanglement. In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari distinguish between two kinds of science. They speak of an “eccentric science,” a “nomad science” that is different from the sciences “in the royal, imperial, or legal sense.” It is a science of flows, flux, and a different kind of consistency: “The model in question is one of becoming and heterogeneity, as opposed to the stable, the eternal, the identical, the constant” (1987: 361, 362). It is this kind of science, quantum physics, that asserts itself in Dark – a science of phenomena or events rather than a science of stable properties or stable substances.

Both in the cosmos and in Dark, spacetime is not a pre-existing, Newtonian, stable container; it is iteratively produced in the dynamic making and remaking of boundaries and exclusions. Dark meets the physicist-philosopher Karen Barad’s description of “intra-actions” as “the dynamics through which temporality and spatiality are produced and iteratively reconfigured in the materialization of phenomena and the (re)making of material-discursive boundaries and their constitutive exclusions” (2007: 179). In Dark, topological questions of boundaries, connectivity, interiority and exteriority abound. For the understanding of time, the issue is not merely that time and space are relative in Einstein’s sense, but rather that intra-active relations iteratively reconfigure space and time. This material reconfiguration is part of the fearful suspense and mystery of Dark, posing questions of acute contemporary relevance – questions about identity, denial, agency, responsibility and accountability – in an ongoing reconfiguration of the real and the possible, the visible and the invisible.

2 Haecceities: Rain, Hail, Wind and Pestilential Air

Both Deleuze and Guattari, as well as Dark, are interested in the creative potentialities of black holes.5 The former speak of black holes as “keys that open or close an assemblage, a territory” (1987: 334). In Dark, black holes allow time travel and thus form the catalysts for an assemblage of years and space. Questioning the Western epistemological tradition’s binary distinction between material and semiotic components,6 between (nonhuman) nature and (human) culture, as well as conventional notions of causality, Dark enacts an ongoing flow of agency and a making of spacetime that cyclically links and iteratively reconfigures four different time periods or related “events” (from 1953 to 2052), each 33 years apart. Each of the years featured in Dark is a milieu in Deleuze’s and Guattari’s sense, “a block of space-time constituted by the periodic repetition of the component.” For Deleuze and Guattari, “one milieu serves as the basis for another,” a process that they refer to as “transcoding” or “transduction” (1987: 313).7

The topology of connected years in Dark: the howling winds and the rain, the forest and caves of Winden, along with nuclear radiation, are more than mere metaphors, more than merely supplementary, decorative backgrounds that situate human subjects. Instead, the multiple nonhuman and human actants in Dark are haecceities or events in Deleuze’s and Guattari’s sense. (The term haecceitas is borrowed from medieval philosophy; it concerns, among other things, the question of what we call ‘identity’.) Their description warrants quoting at length:

There is a mode of individuation very different from that of a person, subject, thing, or substance. We reserve the name haecceity for it. A season, a winter, a summer, an hour, a date have a perfect individuality lacking nothing, even though this individuality is different from that of a thing or a subject. They are haecceities in the sense that they consist entirely of relations of movement and rest between molecules or particles, capacities to affect and be affected. When demonology expounds upon the diabolical art of local movements and transports of affect, it also notes the importance of rain, hail, wind, pestilential air, or air polluted by noxious particles, favorable conditions for these transports. Tales must contain haecceities that are not simply emplacements, but concrete individuations that have a status of their own and direct the metamorphosis of things and subjects (1987: 261, emphasis in original).

One could well take this passage from A Thousand Plateaus, in which Deleuze and Guattari propose a posthuman and post-substantialist conceptualization of individuation, as a description of Dark. Haecceities enter into conjunction with each other in assemblages on what Deleuze and Guattari call the plane of consistency or composition. This plane “holds together” heterogenous elements (establishing consistency between disparate elements that were previously co-present or succeeded each other – 1987: 323, 330); it frees “variations of speeds and slownesses between movements in composition” (1987: 267). Dark is such an enactment of variations of speeds and slownesses between heterogeneous elements. According to Deleuze and Guattari, “[an] haecceity has neither beginning nor end, origin nor destination; it is always in the middle … It is a rhizome” (1987: 263). In Dark as well, time is rhizomatic. While the narrative starts in 2019, it soon intra-acts with other years, in an ambulant8 model that constitutes and expands space and time, a zigzagging in which the direction of the narrative varies endlessly. With its “gaps, detours, subterranean passages, stems, openings, traits, holes, etc.,” the cave system in Winden meets Deleuze’s and Guattari’s description of a rhizome (1987: 415).

3 The Unpredictability of Smooth Spaces: from Radioactivity to COVID-19

“Everything is connected” (“Alles is miteinander verbunden”) is the leitmotif of Dark. But is Dark unequivocally a multilinear system in Deleuze’s and Guattari’s sense, where “everything happens at once,” where “the line breaks free of the point of origin,” where “the transversal breaks free of the diagonal as a localizable connection between two points” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 297)? On the one hand, given its references to Greek tragedy and its emphasis on inevitability or its allusions to Christian predestination, Dark provides a “striated” space where movement-matter is organized on a linear, chronological timeline, “produc[ing] an order and succession of distinct forms” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 478). Deleuze and Guattari quote the French composer Pierre Boulez, who “says that in a smooth space-time one occupies without counting, whereas in a striated space-time one counts in order to occupy” (1987: 477). The intertwined, but “fixed” years in Dark help occupy, territorialize, a striated space-time, a “long-distance vision.” The 33-year cycles arguably establish what Deleuze and Guattari call an “invariance of distance through an interchange of inertial points of reference” that is typical of striation. These points of reference or years are inertial because they – the past, present or future – ultimately cannot be changed. In striated spaces, these points are “interlink[ed] by immersion in an ambient milieu,” here the city of Winden and its caves. In addition to this central location, the protagonist, Jonas, provides the central perspective required by a striated space (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 494).

The anxiety that pervades Dark, however, indicates that the flows and variation of matter persist in the series, that they have not been completely warded off by the “constancy and eternity” of a striated space (Deleuze 1987: 496). In fact, during the first two seasons of Dark, the central characters in Dark arguably all struggle in their own ways against smooth spaces/change. In addition to elements of striation, however, Dark also enacts a “smooth” or nomad space, a space of non-subjectified, depersonalized affects, events and haecceities “occupied by intensities, wind and noise, forces, and sonorous and tactile qualities,” a patchwork where we follow the flow of cosmic energy-matter through “local linkages between parts” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 496), in a movement or process that is “alive as a continuous variation,” constantly changing direction, becoming “perpetual, without aim or destination, without departure or arrival” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987:497–8). In Dark, the local linkage between parts is provided by the underground Gate that allows time travel. The series’ affect is co-created and reinforced by the production of disturbing sounds reminiscent of the French playwright Antonin Artaud’s synesthetic theatre of cruelty. Not only is Dark a series about (nuclear) energy; it also enacts a related, affective energy or contagion, one could say as its method, bridging the gap between perception/experience/expression and representation.

Recalling Artaudian atmospherics as well as the convergence in Romantic literature of cosmic elements (the weather) and events affecting humans, it is raining heavily and constantly in the fictional German town of Winden, where Dark is set. The series’ title, of course, also pre-announces the material-discursive (physical and metaphorical) importance of light and darkness and of their impact on the series’ tonality. In the summer of 1986, a half-year after Chernobyl, an accident at the nuclear facility in Winden, while covered up by its directors, sets off the gravitational wave impulses9 that cause a black hole/wormhole, setting in action the central plot of Dark. This gravitational effect on nearby objects or on light passing by explains why flashlights will not function dependably in the proximity of the caves of Winden, which include areas of the local nuclear plant where radioactive waste was stored. The “violent jet of energy” and the “intense pressures and magnetic fields” (Overbye 2019) unleashed on all sides by matter’s falling into black holes could also explain the winds’ howling through the forests and caves of Winden to much atmospheric effect. The nuclear warning signs visible everywhere in the forest around Winden co-produce the ominous tonality of the series.10

In Dark, space-time is both striated and smooth, a Deleuzoguattarian body without organs,11 “always swinging between the surfaces that stratify it and the plane that sets it free” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 161). In the body without organs, Deleuze and Guattari write, “life tears itself free from the organic by a permutating, stationary whirlwind” (1987: 499). The winds that spring up when the Gate in the caves beneath Winden is opened, the passage or flow of matter between years, is what creates a smooth space12 in Dark. Does the series then “sufficiently change the general conditions of space and time perception,” to the extent that characters and viewers “can succeed in passing through the holes in the world and following … lines of flight” (French fuite, fleeing) in Deleuze’s and Guattari’s sense (1987: 286)?13 Does Dark meet the scientific requirements of quantum physics as well as those of Deleuzoguattarian philosophy?

Deleuze and Guattari remind us that “the air, the sea, or even the earth” are smooth spaces, open spaces with vortices, movements that have nothing measured or cadenced, where variation can arise at any moment (1987: 363–4). The radioactive spaces of Dark and the air carrying a deadly virus in the current global pandemic are smooth spaces in this sense. The unpredictability of the vortical movement – a vortex that marks both Dark and our world in the times of COVID-19 – contributes to its affective impact. While Deleuze and Guattari are interested in the creative, expressive possibilities of smooth spaces, they remind us that, as is evident in our current predicament, “smooth spaces are not in themselves liberatory … Never believe that a smooth space will suffice to save us” (1987: 500). As Deleuze and Guattari point out, lines of flight (escape, leaking, vanishing into the distance – rather than flying), “always risk abandoning their creative potentialities and turning into a line of death, being turned into a line of destruction pure and simple (fascism)” (Deleuze 1987: 506).14 The threat of fascism and destruction is also present in Dark.15 What we were witnessing in the U.S. in 2020 and early 2021 – in the combination of an acute medical crisis and ineffective, tendentially totalitarian political leadership – was a smooth space potentially turning into a line of destruction pure and simple.

4 The Eternal Return: Deleuzian Contagion

Dark presents spatiotemporality as a circle, explicitly in reference to Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence of the same, in which the present and the future seem to be able to mutually influence each other. The series’ characters are able to move forward and back on a processual network of interconnected years. In Einstein’s theory as well, “[t]he single quantity ‘time’ melts into a spiderweb of times … The world [is] a network of events affecting each other” (Rovelli 2018: 16). The German-Austrian logician Kurt Gődel as well realized that “advancing always toward the future, one can return to the same point in spacetime … In this way, a continuous trajectory toward the future returns to the originating event” (Rovelli 2018: 53).

Dark is centrally structured around a 33-year cycle, the lunar-solar cycle in which “everything repeats” (“dass sich alles wiederholt”) (S1: E5). A lunar year has approximately 354 days. A solar year has 365 days. Over the course of 33 years, there will thus be a difference of one year between solar and lunar calendars. In purely lunar calendars like the Islamic calendar, the lack of intercalation causes the lunar months to cycle through all the seasons of the Gregorian year over the course of a 33 lunar-year cycle (Lee 2018). After 33 years, the seasonal change then starts to repeat again. At this point, as Charlotte explains in Dark’s S1: E8, all stars are again in the same position.

In Nietzsche and Philosophy, however, Deleuze argues that Nietzsche in fact denies (in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, 1883) that “the eternal return is a circle which makes the same return” (Deleuze 1983: ix–xii, 4, 15, 151). In Difference and Repetition, Deleuze writes: “The ultimate element of repetition is the disparate [dispars], which stands opposed to the identity of representation” (1994: 57). Rather than identity or sameness, Deleuze argues, Nietzsche’s return embraces the disparate. In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari furthermore reference Nietzsche’s idea of the eternal return as “a little ditty, a refrain, but which captures the mute and unthinkable forces of the Cosmos” (1987:343). Dark is driven by disparate cosmic forces, forces that include time and space.

Spatiotemporality, or what Deleuze and Guattari call “speed(s),” becomes the major actant in Dark, a force that sweeps up the human characters and everything else. Deleuze associates Nietzsche’s work with the time modality aeon. In contrast to chronos (“the time of measure that situates things and persons, develops a form, and determines a subject”), this impersonal mode of temporality is also enacted in Dark:

the indefinite time of the event, the floating line that knows only speeds and continually divides that which transpires into an already-there that is at the same time not-yet-here, a simultaneous too-late and too-early, a something that is both going to happen and has just happened (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 262).

The plane enacted in Dark is a desubjectified, depersonalized plane of “nonvoluntary transmutation,” “[a] strange machine that is simultaneously a machine of war … and contagion-proliferation-involution [involution as dissolution of form – opposed to evolution]” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 269, 270). Contagion, in other words, is more than a thematic element or representation in Dark; it is a material process of agency, a “style” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 318–9) that enters into conjunction with a nonlinear mode of temporality, with “speeds and slownesses, movement and rest” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 270) on the plane of consistency of variation.

The two planes that Deleuze and Guattari discuss, the immanent plane of consistency and the “stratified” plane of organization or development/ transcendence, are in constant interaction; in spite of Deleuze’s and Guattari’s preference for the former, both planes are necessary:

so much caution is needed to prevent the plane of consistency from becoming a pure plane of abolition or death, to prevent the involution from turning into a regression to the undifferentiated. Is it not necessary to retain a minimum of strata, a minimum of forms and functions,16 a minimal subject from which to extract materials, affects, and assemblages? (1987: 270)

Not held in check by striation, the plane of consistency can regress into undifferentiation and death. Is the antagonist Adam’s goal in Dark – his goal of halting human suffering and time – an excess of striation, or is it located on a plane of abolition or death, a regression to the undifferentiated? Would this regression stop the process of desire that is Deleuze’s and Guattari’s “becoming”?17 Or is it Adam’s goal to simply uproot feelings from the interiority of a subject, to leave nothing but a “pure exteriority” (Deleuze 1987: 356), a depersonalized affect? Although the viewer identifies with the characters’ (and in particular the protagonist Jonas’) fears, Adam’s goal is a depersonalization of emotions and the complete stoppage of time to the point of every character’s death (S2: E8). In Dark, Adam wants to do away with human desire and end the flow of time and pain. Deleuze, on the other hand, it is important to note, associates the biblical Adam with quantum flows, deterritorialization, decoding and lines of flight (1987: 223).

In contrast to the materials, affects and assemblages that flow in Dark on a plane of consistency of variation, the “subjects, forms, resemblances between subjects” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 272) are on the plane of organization or development. Dark refers to the inevitability that typifies Greek tragedy and that also marks the proximity of a black hole. Once matter is inside the black hole’s horizon, moving into the hole becomes inevitable. In contrast to the temporal modality that is aeon, chronos, a temporality that seems anything but random, is also present in Dark’s highly developed, often symmetrical formal structure, in its geometrical proportionalities and analogies. The structural repetitions in the series are a human imposition of order/striation onto the cosmic forces of chaos.

Replacing traditional notions of causality with “the richness and complexity of causal relations in physics” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 431), Dark also cuts between years in a non-linear, associative manner. Quantum mechanics is based on the uncertainty principle, which stipulates that “events cannot be predicted with complete accuracy: there is always a degree of uncertainty” (Hawking 2005: 134–5). The interplay between inevitability and uncertainty is central to Dark.

The physicist Rovelli states: “The difference between past and future, between cause and effect, between memory and hope, between regret and intention … in the elementary laws that describe the mechanisms of the world, there is no such difference” (2018: 21). Trained in quantum physics, Barad similarly writes: “The past matters and so does the future, but the past is never left behind, never finished once and for all, and the future is not what will come to be in an unfolding of the present moment; rather the past and the future are enfolded participants in matter’s iterative becoming” (2007: 181). In Dark, there is no linear causality moving only in one direction. Past, present, and future are enfolded in a common iterative becoming.18

5 Anthropocentrism and Beyond

Human characters are central to Dark, foremost among them the protagonist, Jonas Kahnwald; but Dark is also driven by nonhuman “characters” or actants, including most prominently spacetime itself and time travel through wormholes. First theorized in 1916, wormholes or Einstein-Rosen bridges are hypothetical/calculable shortcuts across the universe directly through curved spacetime.19 One of the drawings on a character’s, the Stranger’s, walls in his hotel room shows a wormhole. But we also learn in the series that Einstein and Rosen have “overlooked something” (S1: E8). As the series’ scientist, Tannhaus, tells us, they have overlooked the co-extensiveness of past, present and future (S1: E8). Enacting the theme of symmetry, the Introduction to Dark consists entirely of visual symmetries, and the series centrally enacts plot and character symmetries. Characters look alike; they lead double lives; motifs and images recur.

As a human illusion, time as we know it, however, is “inherent to subjectivity” (Rovelli 2018: 186–7). Limited human perception and memory – our anticipation, our weak attempts at changing the course of time or at keeping change at bay – are the source of our suffering (Rovelli 2018: 190–1). Not only can our limited human vision not accurately perceive that there is no inherent difference between past, present and future; in the physical world, space and time are not things: “ours is a world of events rather than of things” (Rovelli 2018: 195). By necessity, a philosophy of phenomena and events replaces the physics and philosophy of static substances. While the spiderweb of interconnected years and time travel are the result of a nuclear accident in Dark, an objective indeterminacy and indistinguishability of past, present and future seem in fact part of the fundamental functioning of the universe.

Dark also enacts the close physical link between energy and spacetime and the second law of thermodynamics. According to the second law of thermodynamics, when energy changes from one form to another form, or when matter moves freely, entropy (disorder) in a closed system increases. The history of the cosmos is characterized by an increase in entropy. Rovelli explains this “halting and leaping cosmic growth of entropy” by using the image of opening a door. The slow, cosmic growth of entropy only occurs “when something opens a door upon a process that finally allows entropy to increase. The growth of entropy itself happens to open new doors through which entropy can increase further” (2018: 163–4). Rovelli includes nuclear fission – the central problem of Dark – in this cosmic history: “The ignition of nuclear fission opens the door that allows the further increase in entropy: Hydrogen burning into helium” (2018: 164). These “doors,” whether Rovelli’s or the fictive door (the Gate in the Winden caves) that allows time travel in Dark, establish a relationality, a network of processes, that create change and disorder. The characters in Dark try in various ways to reverse this entropy and to (re)create order.

The only difference between the past and the future thus has to do with the lower entropy of the past. Events only leave traces, that is, stop moving, in a process that is in fact irreversible: the degradation of heat into energy (Rovelli 2018: 167). Since this process is irreversible, the past can then ultimately not be changed. In Dark, Ulrich cannot prevent his son’s fate, and Jonas cannot change the future (by helping Mikkel return) without erasing his own future. The fact that, after the end of Season 1, fans of Dark were eagerly awaiting the second season (which started on June 21, 2019) to flesh out what would exactly happen in 2052, kept certain conceptualizations of futurity, continuity and direction alive. The German Trailer for Season 2 ended with: “Die Apocalypse muss kommen” (“The apocalypse must come,” cf. also S2: E1). As we have seen, however, perspectival perceptions or impositions of temporal (linear) order have more to do with humans’ physical limitations and limited interaction with the world (Rovelli 2018: 196) than they do with the processes and forces of the universe.

Another key discovery accomplished by the quantum revolution, a discovery that connects to our contemporary situation in the Anthropocene and in the midst of the current pandemic, is indeterminacy. It is not possible to predict exactly where any event – including spacetime, as event – will take place. Like a contagious virus, in other words, spacetime has no precise position and fluctuates between different probable configurations. As a result, Rovelli states, “an event may be both before and after another one” (Rovelli 2018: 88). In Dark, the Stranger unintentionally creates the wormhole that is then already present in previous years; the building of the time machine, as well, is a paradox undoing any sequentiality between original and copy. Instead of being pre-given, an event becomes concrete, is realized only in relation to the other events with which it is intra-acting. In quantum mechanics, a focus on processes and temporary events and forces thus replaces a physics and philosophy based on pre-given substances and determined attributes (Rovelli 2018: 87–91).20 Does Dark ultimately enact this most radical discovery of quantum physics? The question that all the characters in Dark try to answer is: Is reality malleable or does it coalesce from the past according to unchangeable laws?

Representing time as entangled in an agential material environment that reverberates with many insights of Deleuzian, new materialist philosophy, Dark presents not only humans but also nonhuman materiality as agential forces. Like the novel coronavirus, the physical phenomena enacted in Dark are nonhuman actants in a material universe. The central nonhuman threat (in Dark, nuclear contagion) is, like climate change, correctly identified as having been ultimately caused by humans, however, as the material price humans pay for their Faustian pacts.

During its first two seasons, Dark does run the risk of not going beyond an anthropocentric problematic. Although it represent humans’ self- or subject-based attempts to change fate as ultimately fruitless, the very suspense of the series is nevertheless based on the hope that they will be able to do so after all (and defeat a supernaturally-tinged “evil”). Although everything is connected and continuous in Dark, the portrayal of Jonas Kahnwald as an heroic human character (with Christ-like traits) ultimately remains within the identity/ subject confines of anthropocentrism. It seems that what the new materialist, posthumanist philosopher Rosi Braidotti calls “an ethics of eco-philosophical empathy and affectivity which cuts across species, space and time” (2006: 156) ultimately still eludes Dark.

Nevertheless, Dark offers us much to think about. What we witness in Dark is indeed close to what Braidottti describes as “the recurrence of difference in successive waves of repeated, successive and excessive becomings, in which ‘I’ participates and gets formatted, whereas Zoe acts as the motor” (2006: 157). Like zoe, the impersonal life force, spacetime is not just a setting, but indeed an actor, a motor in Dark. The series’ main question remains, however: “Was ist der Mensch? Woher kommt er?” (S1: E9) (“What is man? Where does he come from?”) What are the characters’ true identities and what is the role of humans? Do humans retain freedom of choice, or are we utterly subject to the inevitable circularity of time? Rather than simply echoing this false dichotomy (a dualism in fact resolved, together with all other dualisms, in the third season of Dark), the present article poses a different question: Is the philosophy that structures Dark an epistemology based on human subjectivity or a process ontology in which forms are not produced by subjects and where phenomena in play “find their individuation in the assemblage of which they are a part, independent of the form of their concept and the subjectivity of their person” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 264)? Deleuze himself warns us that “no flow, no becoming-molecular escapes from a molar formation without molar components accompanying it, forming passages or perceptible landmarks for the imperceptible processes” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 303). The formal striations described and the years and characters that structure Dark are arguably such necessary, molar, territorialized landmarks. “But,” Deleuze and Guattari write, “these territorialized functions and forces can suddenly take on an autonomy that makes them swing over into other assemblages, compose other deterritorialized assemblages” (1987: 325). The imperceptible processes or molecular becomings that pass between coordinates or assemblages – effecting deterritorialization, change and continuous variation in a smooth space – are the impersonal, more-than-human driving force of Dark.

While Season 1 presents the inherent link between time and space (“The question is not where but when”), the ending of Season 2 opens up to the potential existence of different worlds. A woman who looks like Martha (the woman Jonas loves, tragically) returns after Martha’s death and says to Jonas (who asks her from which time she is): “Die Frage ist nicht aus welcher Zeit, sondern aus welcher Welt” (“The question is not from which time, but from which world”) (S2: E8). Season 3, released in June 2020, then takes us to a more-than-human, posthuman world, to a multiverse in the sense of quantum mechanics’ Many Worlds model, which theorizes the existence of parallel realities.

In the final, third season of Dark, different time scales, characters, worlds, good and evil, become entangled to the point of becoming indistinguishable. The “origin” lies beyond the two worlds known previously, in a third dimension that goes beyond dualistic divisions. A Deleuzian, posthuman process ontology inspired by quantum physics replaces the anthropocentrism of Cartesian epistemology. Adam says to his younger self, Jonas: “Was wir wissen ist ein Tropfen. Was wir nicht wissen ein Ozean” (“What we know is a drop. What we don’t know is an ocean”) (S3: E8). Human knowledge and human time scales are not at the center, but are only a minute part of a much vaster and diverse, more-than-human cosmos.

References

1Cf. Deleuze 1987: 356.

2“[T]he spacetime of the quantum collapse of a black hole passes through a phase in which time fluctuates violently, there is a quantum superimposition of different times, and then, later, a return to a determined state after the explosion” (Rovelli 2018: 127).

3All translations are my own.

4For an explanation of the uncertainty principle, see Hawking’s: “The principle, formulated by Heisenberg, that it is not possible to be exactly sure of both the position and the velocity of a particle; the more accurately one is known, the less accurately the other can be known” (2005: 153).

5In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari assert that “it may be necessary for the release of innovative processes that they first fall into a catastrophic black hole: stases of inhibition are associated with the release of crossroads behaviors” (1987: 334).

6Cf. Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 334, 337.

7“… not only does the living thing continually pass from one milieu to another, but the milieus pass into one another; they are essentially communicating. The milieus are open to chaos, which threatens them with exhaustion or intrusion. Rhythm is the milieu’s answer to chaos. What chaos and rhythm have in common is the in-between – between two milieus, rhythm-chaos or chaosmos … There is rhythm whenever there is a transcoded passage from one milieu to another, a communication of milieus, coordination between heterogeneous space-times … rhythm is critical: … it ties together critical moments, or ties itself together in passing from one milieu to another. It does not operate in a homogeneous space-time, but by heterogeneous blocks. It changes direction” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 313).

8Cf. Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 372.

9“Gravitationswellenimpulse,” according to the scientist Tannhaus in S1: E8.

10The resemblance between the tripartite structure of the nuclear energy symbol and the triquetra symbol (from the Emerald Table) that is central to the series also shows the clear link between physics and mythology in Dark.

11Cf. Deleuze and Guattari: “the BwO is all of that: necessarily a Place, necessarily a Plane, necessarily a Collectivity (assembling elements, things, plants, animals, tools, people, powers, and fragments of all of these; for it is not ‘my’ body without organs, instead the ‘me’ (moi) is on it, or what remains of me, unalterable and changing in form, crossing thresholds” (1987: 161).

12Cf. Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 505.

13Ironically, while Deleuze and Guattari associate black holes with stasis, black holes make nomadic movement or time travel possible in Dark.

14Cf. also Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 510.

15In a reference that might remind a German audience of the country’s national-socialist past, Noah says that his bunker “creates order” (“schafft Ordnung;” S1: E9). In this “ark,” in 1986, Noah conducts scientific experiments with time travel, killing children in the process. Noah says to Bartosz, whom he is trying to recruit for his efforts, that the end justifies the means (“Sieg erfordert Opfer.” “Victory requires sacrifice.” S1: E10) – a statement with obvious, historical connotations for a post-1945 German audience.

16Cf. Deleuze and Guattari: “causalities, hierarchies, and framings” (1987: 335).

17“Starting from the form one has, the subject one is, … or the functions one fulfills, becoming is to extract particles between which one establishes the relations of movement and rest, speed and slowness that are closest to what one is becoming, and through which one becomes. This is the sense in which becoming is the process of desire” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987: 272, emphasis in original).

18Cf. Deleuze and Guattari: “all history is really the history of perception, and what we make history with is the matter of a becoming, not the subject matter of a story. Becoming is like the machine: present in a different way in every assemblage, passing from one to the other, opening one onto the other, outside any fixed or determined sequence” (1987: 347).

19In 1935, Einstein and the physicist Nathan Rosen used the general theory of relativity to elaborate on the idea (Redd 2017). Dark refers to Einstein-Rosen bridges by name (S1: E8).

20Cf. Rovelli 2018: 50ff. and 2016: 17–8.

Conceptual framework for balancing society and nature in net-zero energy transitions

Gemma Delafield, Caspar Donnison, Philippa Roddis, Theodoros Arvanitopoulos, Alexandros Sfyridis, Sebastian Dunnett, Thomas Ball,  Kathryn G. Logan 

Abstract

Transitioning to a low carbon energy future is essential to meet the Paris Agreement targets and Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). To understand how societies can undertake this transition, energy models have been developed to explore future energy scenarios. These models often focus on the techno-economic aspects of the transition and overlook the long-term implications on both society and the natural environment. Without a holistic approach, it is impossible to evaluate the trade-offs, as well as the co-benefits, between decarbonisation and other policy goals. This paper presents the Energy Scenario Evaluation (ESE) framework which can be used to assess the impact of energy scenarios on society and the natural environment. This conceptual framework utilises interdisciplinary qualitative and quantitative methods to determine whether an energy scenario is likely to lead to a publicly acceptable and sustainable energy transition. Using the SDGs, this paper illustrates how energy transitions are interconnected with human development and the importance of incorporating environmental and socio-economic data into energy models to design energy scenarios which meet other policy priorities. We discuss a variety of research methods which can be used to evaluate spatial, environmental, and social impacts of energy transitions. By showcasing where these impacts will be experienced, the ESE framework can be used to facilitate engagement and decision-making between policymakers and local communities, those who will be directly affected by energy transitions. Outputs of the ESE framework can therefore perform an important role in shaping feasible and energy transitions which meet the Paris Agreement targets and SDGs.

1. Introduction

In 2015, the Paris Agreement and the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development set transformative implications for global development and sustainability (Gomez-Echeverri, 2018Castor et al., 2020). The Paris Agreement aims to keep global temperature rise this century below 2 °C above pre-industrial levels and to pursue efforts to limit this temperature increase to 1.5 °C (UNFCCC, 2015). A target of 1.5 °C will only be achieved if significant reductions of greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions are made, which implies a worldwide transition to net-zero by the mid-century (Rogelj et al., 2015). Simultaneously the 2030 Agenda introduced 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), with 169 sub-targets relating to global challenges including: climate change, environmental degradation, biodiversity loss, justice, poverty and inequality (Banister, 2019Cadez et al., 2018Küfeoğlu and Khah Kok Hong, 2020Yildiz, 2019). Together these frameworks provide a blueprint towards a sustainable, low-carbon and more equitable world.

Both the Paris Agreement and SDGs acknowledge the criticality of developing sustainable energy systems to address the environmental, economic and societal challenges of climate change (Phillis et al., 2020). Energy systems are intrinsically linked to the natural environment and human wellbeing: it is therefore imperative that decarbonisation is not tackled in isolation (Fuso Nerini et al., 2018). For example, if siloed thinking prevails, we could witness the adoption of energy scenarios that achieve net-zero targets but lead to the loss of threatened plant and animal species, or which generate or widen existing inequalities in society (Holland et al., 2019Sovacool et al., 2015). To avoid the unintended consequences of siloed policymaking, it is imperative that decision-makers adopt a more holistic approach to energy transitions in the coming decades.

In this paper, we present the Energy Scenario Evaluation (ESE) framework which has been developed to assist policymakers and researchers in evaluating the sustainability and public acceptability of energy scenarios. The framework uses a mixed method approach to evaluate energy scenarios based upon criteria which have been developed from the SDGs. We aim to demonstrate how an interdisciplinary approach can be used to support policymakers developing energy scenarios that consider a wider set of sustainability criteria. The framework can help stakeholders identify the opportunities and challenges in future energy scenarios, from a wide range of perspectives. In addition, the framework can be used to explore future avenues for incorporating environmental and socio-economic data into energy models to support the creation of energy scenarios which are reflective of a broad range of impacts.

No other framework exists which combines multiple quantitative and qualitative methods to evaluate energy scenarios against public acceptance and sustainability criteria. Such a framework is needed to explore the wider context of energy scenarios, which are produced by energy models that typically focus on techno-economic factors (Jebaraj and Iniyan, 2006Strachan et al., 2009). Energy models have been influenced by a limited number of SDGs such as: economic growth (SDG 8), industrialisation (SDG 9), climate action (SDG 13), and foreign investment (SDG 17) (e.g. Daly and Fais, 2014). Other environmental, social and political considerations of energy systems are often overlooked (Schuitema and Sintov, 2017Thormeyer et al., 2020). Only a limited number of studies have explored the trade-offs and opportunities that exist between the SDGs and decarbonising energy systems (e.g. Fuso Nerini et al., 2018). The majority of existing energy models have not been designed to engage with the high temporal and spatial nature of renewable energy generation (Pfenninger et al., 2014). As a result, energy scenarios do not consider spatially dependent factors such as land use requirements and environmental impact (Dockerty et al., 2014Bolton and Foxon, 2015Holland et al., 2018Thormeyer et al., 2020). In recent years, a limited number of studies have explored the role of high temporal and spatial resolution in energy modelling (e.g. Price et al., 2018Zeyringer et al., 2018Tröndle et al., 2020). It is clear however that coupling technological and socio-economic perspectives is necessary to identify technically feasible, financially viable, and socially equitable transition scenarios (Patrizio et al., 2020Hooper et al., 2018). Low-carbon energy transitions need to consider the trade-offs and complex interactions highlighted by the energy quadrilemma; the need to balance cost, the environment, energy security and job opportunities (Olabi, 2016).

1.1. What is a sustainable, publicly acceptable energy transition?

Energy scenarios are created to explore how countries may navigate the transition to a low-carbon energy system. For the purpose of this paper we define ‘energy transition’ as a fundamental and systematic change to the existing energy system (Parag and Janda, 2014Sovacool, 2016). An energy transition generally involves a transformation within the energy system, usually to a particular fuel source (i.e. from wood to coal), technology (i.e. internal combustion engines to electric) or prime mover (i.e. a device that converts energy into useful services) (Hirsh and Jones, 2014Miller et al., 2015Sovacool, 2016). Energy transitions are expected to have a considerable impact on the current energy system, with impacts and changes to the planning and operating paradigm, market structure and regulatory frameworks (Berjawi et al., 2021). The progress of this transition depends on multiple parameters and variables, including key stakeholders (including civil society groups, the media, local communities, political parties, and policymakers) and the circumstances that open up new paths and opportunities for change (Geels et al., 2017Kern and Rogge, 2016Sovacool, 2016). Globally, we are currently witnessing the next energy transition with the rapid expansion of renewable energy sources (IRENA, 2021), this transition will require a holistic and interdisciplinary approach to ensure this energy transition does not negatively impact society or the environment (Crnčec et al., 2021Mitrova and Melnikov, 2019).

Decarbonising our carbon intensive global energy system is of critical importance: it is currently considered unsustainable based on a wide range of social, economic, and environmental criteria (Riahi et al., 2011Grubler, 2012). To cover the wide range of impacts that an energy transition can have, we define sustainability in the broadest terms, those which are reflected in the 17 SDGs. We define a sustainable energy scenario as one that meets ‘the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their needs’ (World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987). We assume this is one which meets both economic, environmental and social objectives. As discussed by Moldan et al. (2012), although indicators can be used to determine whether sustainability targets are being met, it is difficult to define exactly what a sustainable future looks like. It is less whether an absolute value has been met, rather the notion that we are heading in the right direction (Moldan et al., 2012). This perspective is incorporated into the ESE framework to consider the complexity of what sustainability actually means.

When determining the feasibility of an energy scenario, policymakers should pay close attention to public attitudes around the transition to net-zero. A successful energy transition requires engagement with the public: the public often see things missed by experts, add legitimacy to the transition process, and have a democratic right to be involved in decision-making (Fiorino, 1990Szulecki, 2018). Public acceptance of an energy transition operates at different scales, with support at the broad socio-political level not necessarily translating to acceptance for a particular project at the community level, where factors including trust and justice are relevant (Wüstenhagen et al., 2007). For example, although support for wind farms in many countries is high at the national level, public acceptance at a local level is mixed (Rand and Hoen, 2017). Policymakers therefore need to be able to communicate appropriate information when they are engaging with the public.

Public support for an energy technology or project is not static but rather can grow or fall over time; the ‘social licence to operate’ (SLO) refers to the ongoing community and stakeholder acceptance of a particular technology or project (Prno, 2013). Key components of establishing a SLO include forming relationships with stakeholders, communicating impacts of the project with the local community, and addressing sustainability concerns (Prno, 2013). The ESE framework provides the opportunity to address these core elements of the SLO: whereby public attitudes and preferences can be integrated into the design of energy scenarios, and spatially resolved environmental and social outputs can be used to provide information to local communities, facilitating holistic decision-making. This approach should prevent the implementation of energy technology in ‘top-down’ or ‘place-blind’ ways, both of which are likely to provoke public opposition and failure to achieve a SLO (Goldthau, 2018Buck, 2018Burke and Stephens, 2018). Several recent studies have highlighted the importance of engaging with local communities and stakeholders during energy transitions to mitigate the risk of not achieving public backing or a SLO (Moffat et al., 2016Baumber, 2018Hurst et al., 2020Sovacool et al., 2019Roddis et al., 2018). The SDGs were designed not only for policymakers but also for engagement with the public, and to promote sustainability (United Nations, 2019). Energy system transitions which are designed to meet the SDGs, and where this connection is explicitly made, therefore presents the opportunity for clearer communication with the public, which could support public acceptance of energy system changes. Additionally, meeting the broad criteria of sustainability encapsulated by the SDGs will demonstrate sustainability in environmental, economic, and social terms. This too could be important for public acceptability, given public concern that there may be trade-offs between environmental sustainability and economic sustainability (Bain et al., 2019).

The SLO concept is related to and interconnected with that of energy justice. Energy justice is a conceptual framework which explores how the costs and benefits of an energy transitions are distributed amongst society and how stakeholders are engaged in the decision-making process (Boardman, 2013Bullard, 2005Heffron et al., 2015Heffron and McCauley, 2014Jenkins et al., 2016Jenkins et al., 2021Lee and Byrne, 2019Liddell and Morris, 2010Pastor et al., 2001Sovacool and Dworkin, 2015Walker, 2009Walker and Day, 2012). The ESE framework touches upon these elements of energy justice but does not, and cannot, fully cover the theory of energy justice. Instead, we argue that the ESE framework should be used alongside processes which are centred upon energy justice and can delve into the complex layers of the framework, such as the work of climate assemblies (Climate Assembly UK, 2020).

1.2. Evaluating energy transitions using mixed methods

Despite the increased use of qualitative research methods in exploring energy transitions, there remains a lack of studies which integrate these methods with the quantitative approaches traditionally used in energy systems models (Royston and Foulds, 2021). Current policymaking is still heavily influenced by the output of quantitative energy models, often overlooking the value of qualitative methods. This is despite the limitations of focusing purely on quantitative or qualitative methods having been well documented, with a mixed methods approach widely advocated to help expand our understanding of the phenomenon being studied (Lieber and Weisner, 2010Pluye and Hong, 2014Almalki, 2016). For example, economic and natural science modelling are unable to fully consider the complexities associated with public acceptability of integrating low-carbon energy infrastructure across different spatial scales. The ESE framework that we propose provides a range of mixed methods to holistically assess energy system transitions, identifying how they can achieve sustainability as set out across the SDGs, as well as public acceptance of these transitions. This approach will allow researchers and policymakers to identify and explore the trade-offs and co-benefits that exist within energy scenarios to transition the economy to net-zero emissions. The SDGs are used conceptually as a means to evaluate energy scenarios and communicate their potential impacts to both decision-makers and the general public.

This article is structured as follows: Section 2 provides the rationale of the ESE framework and is split into four sub sections. Section 2.1 provides an overview of the framework, Section 2.2 defines the evaluation criteria and Section 2.3 details how the framework can be used to evaluate energy scenarios. Section 2.4 explains how the outputs of the framework could be soft-linked to energy models to improve their consideration of environmental and social factors. Section 3 discusses the key strengths (Section 3.1) and challenges of using a mixed methods approach within the ESE framework (Section 3.2). Section 4 details the key conclusions of the paper and the need for the ESE framework for policymakers and decisionmakers.

2. The Energy Scenario Evaluation (ESE) framework

2.1. Overview of framework

The ESE framework has been developed to assist policymakers evaluate whether energy scenarios can be considered as likely to be sustainable and publicly acceptable based on a range of evaluation criteria informed by the SDGs. The framework aims to (i) identify the ways in which existing energy scenarios impact society and the natural environment; (ii) use quantitative and qualitative tools to measure and assess these impacts; (iii) show how environmental and socio-economic data can be integrated into energy models to generate energy scenarios; and (iv) support decision-makers to identify and shape energy scenarios that achieve public acceptance and sustainability as conceived through the SDGs.

The ESE framework provides a holistic appraisal of energy scenarios designed to meet climate change targets. By incorporating a variety of interdisciplinary methods, our framework provides an insight into how energy scenarios impact both society and the natural environment. The framework provides both an ex-post and ex-ante perspective on the development of energy scenarios (Fig. 1). Firstly, an ex-post perspective is used to explore whether an existing energy scenario would likely lead to a publicly acceptable and sustainable energy transition using a wide spectrum of evaluation criteria. An ex-ante approach is then used to identify how public acceptance and sustainability could be embedded within the energy systems models that generate the energy scenarios. This could, for example, include soft-linking the outputs of other interdisciplinary methods into energy systems models (Fig. 1). Various research methods could be applied within the ESE framework to evaluate energy scenarios; within Appendix Table A.1 we suggest various research approaches that could be particularly helpful.

Fig. 1
2.2. Evaluation criteria

The evaluation criteria proposed by the ESE framework spans multiple disciplines from the social sciences (e.g. geography, sociology, and economics) to the natural sciences (e.g. biology, ecology, and chemistry) and engineering. Fig. 2 shows how the criteria are directly linked to the SDGs, illustrating how energy transitions are interconnected to human development.1 As highlighted by previous studies however, there are multiple direct and indirect linkages between all 17 of the SDGs (Dawes, 2020Zhang et al., 2016Zhao et al., 2021). For example, Cernev and Fenner (2020) discussed that through the development of resilient infrastructure (SDG 9), enhancements can be made to water (SDG 6) and energy (SDG 7), leading to improvements in wellbeing (SDG 3), education (SDG 4), gender equality (SDG 5), sustainable cities (SDG 11), as well as improving economic growth (SDG 8). Therefore, it is important to have an awareness of the interactions and feedback between the SDGs as they can impact other SDGs either directly or indirectly (Zhang et al., 2016). Public acceptance is assumed to be based on an amalgamation of all of the evaluation criteria used in this study; with no one criteria able to define what it means to be publicly acceptable.

Fig. 2

Mapping the evaluation criteria helps to identify the opportunities and challenges present in energy transitions (Fuso Nerini et al., 2018). The methods proposed within this framework provide an insight into the geospatial issues associated with energy transitions. The deployment of new renewable energy technologies will result in land use change which will have implications for the sustainable management, conservation and protection of marine, coastal, freshwater and terrestrial ecosystems (SDG 6, 13–15). By exploring geospatial issues, the framework can improve policymakers’ understanding of how energy scenarios could impact biodiversity, food production, human health and wellbeing (SDG 2, 3, 15).

In addition to land use change, it is also important to consider the wider impacts of the energy transition on the economy. Using the energy transition to promote sustained, inclusive and sustainable economic growth (SDG 8) will influence other sectors including transport and industry. For example, if individuals transition away from relying on personal vehicles to using public transport, air quality could be improved and sustainable infrastructure developments supported, both of which can improve individual health and well-being (SDG 3, 11, 12). On the other hand, energy transitions may promote sustainable industrialisation and foster innovation through encouraging difficult to decarbonise economic sectors to adopt low carbon processes (SDG 9, 12).

2.3. Ex-post evaluation

To understand the public acceptance and sustainability implications of an energy scenario, the ESE framework sets out five questions key to the net-zero energy system transition, and the evaluation criteria and interdisciplinary methods which can be used to answer them. Fig. 3 shows how the five key questions are interconnected and the evaluation criteria used to answer each one. Appendix Table A.1 details all the methods suggested in this section. The five questions to evaluate an energy scenario are as follows:

  • 1.Where will new energy infrastructure be located?
  • 2.How will the natural environment be impacted?
  • 3.How will other energy-use sectors be affected?
  • 4.How will employment be impacted?
  • 5.Is the scenario likely to achieve public acceptance?
Fig. 3

The first question this framework addresses is the spatial distribution of new energy infrastructure. An energy scenario’s impact on the natural environment and society will be strongly dependent on the spatial context of its infrastructure (Calvert et al., 2013Howard et al., 2013). Multiple methods can be used to determine where energy infrastructure might be located including: spatial optimisation, predictive classification models, and inferential logistic regression (Delafield, unpublished; Donnison et al., 2020Dunnett et al., 2020). Comparing the outputs of different methods allows policymakers to explore the sensitivity of different methodological assumptions. Some proposed methods which determine where new energy infrastructure might be located also consider the second question: how will the natural environment be impacted? Various methods exist to assess the impact of energy infrastructure, and its associated land use change, on food production and a myriad of ecosystem services including: mitigation of flooding, recreation benefits, carbon sequestration, GHG emissions, visual impact and biodiversity benefits (Appendix Table A.1). Additional methods can be applied to explore specific environmental impacts in depth, for example viewshed analysis could be used to determine the visual impact of an energy scenario at a local level (Carver and Markieta, 2012Calvert et al., 2013Wen et al., 2018).

To further explore the sustainability implications of an energy scenario, it is important to consider how other sectors will be impacted. The energy supply sector and resultant installation of new energy infrastructure is not the only way an energy scenario impacts the environment, changes to sectors including transport and industry can do so too. For example, changes to the transport sector will affect both GHG emissions as well as air quality. Methods that include high spatial resolution are needed to explore how an energy scenario’s ratio of battery electric vehicles to conventionally fuelled vehicles will impact local air quality and consequently human health (Woodcock et al., 2009). Appendix Table A.1 details a data mining method which estimates the spatial distribution of traffic flows and subsequent air pollution at street (Sfyridis and Agnolucci, 2020Sfyridis and Agnolucci, 2021). At a national level, the GHG implications of changes to transport and industrial processes will have been estimated during the creation of the energy scenario. As these sectors have been classified as hard to decarbonise, this framework highlights the importance of exploring the accuracy of the emission reductions included in an energy scenario (Agnolucci and Arvanitopoulos, 2019). Appendix Table A.1 details the operating emissions and panel regression analysis methods which can be used to do this (Agnolucci and Arvanitopoulos, 2019Logan et al., 2020aLogan et al., 2020bLogan et al., 2020cLogan et al., 2021).

Another aspect of how energy scenarios can impact the environment, which is usually overlooked in national policies, relates to international impacts. The manufacturing, maintenance and development phases of energy infrastructure are often not fully accounted for in decision-making. This framework puts forward the application of life cycle analysis (LCA) to consider the full range of impacts caused by each stage, from raw material extraction, manufacturing to decommissioning (Chester and Horvath, 2009Helms et al., 2010Hawkins et al., 2012Lovett et al., 2015). This would interlink with on the ground assessments such as Environmental Impact Assessments (EIA) and Strategic Environmental Assessments (SEA) which seek to identify likely significant impacts on the environment from projects such as energy developments (Morrison-Saunders and Arts, 2004).

The impact of an energy transition on employment will also be important to both meeting SDG goals and supporting SLO of transitional energy technologies (Prno, 2013). A key societal impact of the transition to net-zero is the creation of new employment opportunities in various sectors, both through direct and indirect employment effects (Arvanitopoulos and Agnolucci, 2020IRENA, 2011Meyer and Sommer, 2014Cameron and Zwaan, 2015). Using econometric models, such as the one detailed in Appendix Table A.1, the framework can provide quantifiable evidence into how employment will be impacted by an energy scenario (Arvanitopoulos and Agnolucci, 2020).

In addition to employment, public attitudes and SLO of an energy technology will be shaped by engagement with local communities in the decision-making process, the cost of the transition, and how the benefits and costs of the transition are distributed amongst society (Rand and Hoen, 2017). Several studies highlight that energy transitions based on civic ownership of decentralised energy systems could have important implications for the energy democracy of that transition (Becker and Naumann, 2017Szulecki, 2018). Public support for an energy scenario will also be influenced by the cost of the energy transition, as the cost of electricity and fuel will impact the number of people facing fuel poverty, as well as perceived international social and environmental impacts (Bouzarovski and Simcock, 2017McCauley et al., 2019). How these impacts are distributed is also likely to influence the SLO of the energy transition (Prno, 2013). The ESE framework offers a range of methodological approaches to determining public acceptance of energy transitions. Decision-makers can measure the socio-political acceptance of an energy scenario using national scale surveys such as the UK Government’s Public Attitudes Tracker (Roddis et al., 2019). At the community scale, other means of measuring public attitudes will be needed, with public acceptance ‘in the abstract’ not necessarily translating to community acceptance ‘on the ground’ (Buck, 2018). For example, visual impact of wind turbines, closely connected to public attitudes, depends on factors such as how many people can see the turbines, the size of the turbines, the ‘naturalness’ of the surrounding landscape, and personal preferences (Devine‐Wright, 2005). This highlights the importance of a range of factors in public attitudes, and the role of spatial modelling as well as public attitude surveys methodologies.

There are a number of distinct forms of public engagement, referred to as ‘ecologies of participation’ by Chilvers et al. (2018), and mainstream approaches of societal engagement are often limited in their breadth. It is important to consider the interconnected nature of different collective participatory practices and how the public’s attitudes are multi-layered and subject to change over time. As a result of these insights, the ESE framework recommends the use of multiple methods to explore public attitudes and stresses that the outputs from this framework are used as a starting point for discussions with the general public through stakeholder engagement, rather than relying solely on top-down decision-making. The outputs could feed into a ‘balance sheet’ approach which has been recommended previously to collate, interrogate and present evidence in a pragmatic way (Turner, 2016). Multiple studies emphasise the importance of multi-scalar governance for energy transitions, in which there is scope for national energy scenarios to be translated into action at local and regional levels which are sensitive to context-specific circumstances (Turner, 2016Essletzbichler, 2012). The complexities of combining the outputs from multiple methods like this to be used in decision-making is explored in Section 3.2.

2.4. Ex-ante evaluation

By reflecting upon the outputs from the ex-post evaluation, this framework aims to identify ways in which the creation of energy scenarios could be improved. By soft-linking some of the methods in the framework with energy systems models, a wider range of impacts could be considered when creating energy scenarios. A soft-linking approach capitalises on the strengths of both methods by combining them using an iterative approach, this is preferential to a hard-linking approach which would require the full integration of both models (Krook-Riekkola et al., 2017). The soft-linking approach recommended could have repercussions on the variety of energy mixes proposed by the energy systems models.

Two soft-links are proposed for consideration by this framework. Firstly, hard restrictions on the amount of land that is available for different technologies could be included in energy systems models. The amount of land available could be calculated based upon what is deemed to be socially acceptable (e.g. excluding developments on National Parks or high-grade agricultural land). This would be particularly relevant for bioenergy as there are concerns that the level of land-use required to grow bioenergy crops suggested in some energy scenarios goes beyond what could be socially acceptable (Konadu et al., 2015). Secondly, the distribution of costs for energy technologies indicated by the spatial optimisation methods could be included in the energy systems models. Currently energy system models set costs based upon “today’s” cost and the expected trend in costs over time (Ellenbeck and Lilliestam, 2019). These cost assumptions contain a high level of uncertainty for multiple reasons. First, uncertainty is caused by not knowing how manufacturing costs will decrease over time due to technological advancements and economies of scale (Santos et al., 2016). Second, there is uncertainty around how the cost of energy development projects could be influenced by competition for land. So far developments have largely occurred on ‘low-hanging fruit’ locations, those which are low cost and where conflicts are minimal. However, as more infrastructure is deployed and competition for land increases, most notably in densely populated countries like the UK, energy technologies may have to be deployed to less cost-efficient land (Calvert and Mabee, 2015Coelho et al., 2012). By including insights from spatial optimisation models regarding how the cost may increase as less optimal locations have to be chosen, this second uncertainty could be reduced. In addition, the costs currently included in energy models only consider market costs (e.g. construction and grid connection costs), they overlook the wider environmental impacts that energy transitions could have including air quality, visual amenity, and soil carbon sequestration implications. A range of ecosystem service costs could therefore be incorporated into energy models to provide an insight into how the scale of renewable energy expansion could impact the natural environment. There are challenges associated with incorporating this type of data into energy models however, such concerns are discussed in Section 3.2.

3. Discussion

The ESE framework provides a holistic assessment of environmental and social impacts of energy scenarios across different spatial scales. As the framework is rooted to the SDGs (Fig. 2), it ensures that the evaluation of energy scenarios does not narrowly focus upon decarbonisation objectives, but instead provides a systematic method to identify and explore the trade-offs and co-benefits between energy goals and the SDG 2030 Agenda (Fuso Nerini et al., 2018). Far-reaching economy-wide change will be required to achieve net-zero transitions and this will be socially disruptive (Miller et al., 2013). A holistic approach to appraising and developing low carbon energy scenarios will be critical to ensuring that these transitions are sustainable and publicly acceptable. In providing this approach, our framework answers the call for the coupling of social and environmental priorities within energy modelling (Hooper et al., 2018). This framework highlights how sustainability and public acceptance should be seen as central, not simply complementary, to achieving net-zero emissions targets by mid-century.

3.1. Strengths of the ESE framework

The ESE framework is advantageous to policymakers because it can be used immediately in net-zero policymaking, alongside existing energy models, and does not require the construction of new models. Net-zero targets require decisive action in this decade and the ESE framework can be used to evaluate energy scenarios alongside the requirements of other policy goals. The methods recommended by this framework, including location-based assessments of the impact of renewable energy expansion, also allow policymakers to explore how trade-offs vary spatially: by using a mixture of methods, impacts at the local, national and global scale can be identified and explored. Using a similar framework which focussed on a subset of SDGs (SDGs 8–10), Patrizio et al. (2020) showed that the impact of energy policy can vary between country, with net-zero transitions leading to economic and employment loss in some countries and growth elsewhere. This sort of analysis can highlight where there may be resistance to energy transitions, and where policy support may be required. The ESE framework can also highlight how methods could be soft-linked to energy system models to broaden the set of impacts considered when creating energy scenarios. For example, the non-market costs of siting energy infrastructure, as estimated by environmental economic models, could be included into energy systems models.

Using a combination of quantitative and qualitative methods the ESE framework allows for a more thorough understanding of the level of public acceptance, taking account of spatial and temporal variations in public attitudes. This part of the framework can be used to support policymakers as they test appropriately for public acceptance at broad national levels, and at the community level, as well as establishing and maintaining a SLO for particular energy technologies and projects, which could help inform decision-making at the national, regional and local levels. ‘Community’ acceptance describes people’s responses to infrastructure at the local level and is not always consistent with the results from national scale surveys (Wüstenhagen et al., 2007Buck, 2018). Public acceptance at a local level can be influenced by factors such as employment and environmental impact (Healy and Barry, 2017). Roddis et al. (2019), for example, found that support for onshore wind was greater in areas where high levels of people were employed in relation to that technology. Social acceptance can be influenced by a wide range of factors including the perceived visual, noise and biodiversity impacts of the energy infrastructure as well as process-related issues such as the transparency and fairness of the decision-making process (Ellis and Ferraro, 2016). Rand and Hoen (2017) provide an extensive review of wind energy acceptance research highlighting how studies should not view opposition as something to overcome, instead suggesting that individual’s concerns should be listened to and not dismissed. They argue that societal acceptance has long been overlooked and it is imperative that socioeconomic impacts, sound and visual annoyance, distributional justice and fairness in the decision-making process are carefully considered. Although economic and natural science modelling can provide some insight into aspects which influence public acceptance like visual impact (e.g. how many people can see a wind farm, willingness to pay to increase the distance between wind turbines and human settlements), they are unable to fully consider the complexities associated with public acceptability of energy transitions across different spatial scales (e.g. the perceived ‘naturalness’ of the landscape, place attachment) (Devine‐Wright, 2005Rand and Hoen, 2017).

The ESE framework embeds the concepts of the SLO, highlighting the importance of engagement with communities, providing information on impacts of the project, addressing sustainability concerns, and building trust (Prno, 2013). Traditional energy modelling which optimises based on emissions and financial cost is not capable of addressing the requirements of achieving a SLO. Without considering these principles of the SLO, renewable energy projects are likely to face public backlash (Goldthau, 2018). The ESE framework can be used to bring stakeholders into the decision-making process, encouraging societal buy-in by ensuring all voices are listened to (Abram et al., 2020). The framework can provide spatially-explicit information for engagement with local decision-makers and communities to feed into stakeholder engagement activities. The framework promotes the use of qualitative research which can integrate citizen views, attitudes, and values when considering energy transitions. Qualitative research can provide further insights into energy transition discussions, addressing some of the gaps and limitations of quantitative research. Policy is more likely to achieve a SLO when citizens are brought into the decision-making process, shown during the recent climate assemblies in France and the UK (Capstick et al., 2020). These aspects of the framework answer the calls from the 2030 Agenda for greater justice in energy decision-making (Fuso Nerini et al., 2018) and from the Paris Agreement for a just transition to a low-carbon economy (UNFCCC, 2015).

An example of how the ESE framework could be utilised by policymakers is its potential application to the assessment of negative emission technologies (NETs) which are increasingly likely to be required to meet Paris Agreement targets (Rogelj et al., 2018). Whilst technical discussions of bioenergy carbon capture and storage (BECCS) are taking place in policy circles major social barriers to the technologies remain (Fuss et al., 2020Morrow et al., 2020) and stronger governance structures are called for to promote the SLO (O’Beirne et al., 2020). Trade-offs, as well as co-benefits, between the SDGs and NETs will be context and scale-dependent (Smith et al., 2019). The methodology put forward by our framework can provide holistic and spatially-explicit assessment of the impact of NETs, and employ qualitative research methods to address the existing limited public understanding of the technologies (Cox et al., 2020). Greater understanding of the location-specific impacts of NETs such as BECCS could facilitate public debate and the identification of most suitable locations, increasing the likelihood of achieving a SLO (Buck, 2018).

The ESE framework highlights the challenges and complexities of bringing environmental and societal considerations into energy and decarbonisation policies. Previous models have focused narrowly on evaluating energy scenarios principally upon two metrics: minimising GHG emissions and cost. Whereas identifying environmental and social impacts requires the inclusion of a range of methodologies and the use of a number of different criteria, which leads to disagreement over how best to evaluate these impacts simultaneously. Arguably, the most recent advances in the integration of environmental and social impacts into policymaking have been achieved through the ecosystem service framework, often using monetary valuation, allowing optimisation and clear outputs of policy scenarios (e.g Bateman et al., 2013). We argue that this approach will need to be complemented with more qualitative methodologies which account for winners and losers of particular scenarios if energy scenarios are likely to be sustainable, publicly acceptable and achieve SLO (Peng et al., 2021). Additionally, the ‘balance sheet’ approach recommended by the UK’s National Ecosystem Service Assessment may be a suitable complement to our framework (Turner, 2016Turner et al., 2014). By using mixed methods, the ESE framework is able to combine the strengths of quantitative and qualitative methods to deepen our understanding of how the energy transition will impact both society and nature (Hussein, 2009Pluye and Hong, 2014Lieber and Weisner, 2010). The ESE framework uses a critical interpretive synthesis approach, as defined by Pluye and Hong (2004), to extract concepts from both quantitative and qualitative studies, critically examine these concepts to identify similarities and differences. Although the process of using mixed methods is challenging, it allows researchers to recognise the multiple realities of looking at the same problem (Hussein, 2009).

3.2. Challenges associated with using mixed methods

Some studies have raised concerns with mixed methodologies of quantitative and qualitative research methods. There is a perception that mixing paradigms is problematic because the nuance and detail highlighted by the qualitative data may be lost when insights are drawn more generally (Lieber and Weisner, 2010Onwuegbuzie and Leech, 2005Eyisi, 2016). This is one of the reasons why the concept of energy justice has not been embedded directly within the ESE framework. The complexities of assessing energy scenarios in terms of energy justice remains challenging when the paradigm is fundamentally different to the positivist lens used in the ecosystem service approach (Roddis et al., 2018). In this paper, we argue that viewing the ESE framework in parallel to methods which explore energy justice, such as climate assemblies, would be more appropriate. One framework is unable to encapsulate all of the complexities involved in the energy justice paradigm, we would argue that it is possible that no singular framework should try.

A further challenge presented by using mixed research methods is the multiple outcomes that can be observed: corroboration (i.e. the same result), elaboration (i.e. qualitative data analysis exemplifies how the quantitative findings apply in particular cases), complementarity (i.e. results differ but together generate insights) and contradiction (i.e. conflicting results) (Brannen, 2005). When the outcomes of the methods are contradictory, this presents problems when trying to ensure meaningful results are created which can be clearly communicated to a variety of stakeholders (Lieber and Weisner, 2010). Using an interdisciplinary approach to shed light on a complex problem from multiple perspectives is challenging but this does not mean it should not be attempted (Beaumont, 2020). For example, the ESE framework suggests soft-linking the outputs of environmental economic models with energy system models to expand how the natural environment is considered in energy scenario creation. This presents a challenge however, as only certain environmental impacts can be quantified and monetised, and this monetisation provides only a partial value of the impacts (Pearce et al., 2013Dasgupta, 2021). It would therefore be essential that these insights were only viewed as part of the picture, alongside the insights provided by other methods.

We believe that the ESE framework offers the advantage of bringing together the outputs from multiple methods to allow researchers and policymakers to have discussions across traditional disciplinary boundaries to elaborate on findings, discover contradictions and explore the problem from different perspectives. As other studies have highlighted already, mixed methods can increase the credibility of scientific knowledge and perform an important role in informing policy (Hussein, 2009Pluye and Hong, 2014). The question of whether an energy scenario is likely to achieve public acceptance and sustainability is one that cannot be explored using one method or one paradigm, it is a question which needs different perspectives and understandings. We agree with the use of a ‘jigsaw of evidence’ (O’Sullivan and Howden-Chapman, 2017): bringing together multiple findings to create valuable policy relevant information.

4. Conclusions

A whole-systems approach is essential to assess how the transition to a low carbon energy system may impact the economy, environment, and society. A wide range of methodological approaches are required to ensure all aspects of the transition are covered, however, historically the differences in a mixed methods approach across disciplines has made this whole-system approach difficult to achieve. The need for interdisciplinary and transdisciplinary approaches has been recognised as vital to tackling the world’s current global environmental challenges, with the decarbonisation of energy systems one such challenge (Sovacool et al., 2015). The ESE framework outlined in this paper reflects the broad range of approaches that can be taken to evaluate energy scenarios in terms of their sustainability and public acceptability. In assessing how different methods can be used to complement each other, this paper has explored practical ways in which decision-makers can use multiple methods to evaluate transformative changes to an energy system.

As countries across the world transition to low carbon economies, new energy infrastructure will need to be constructed, and a strategy employing multiple research methods will be needed to achieve the objectives of the SDGs including: GHG reductions, low financial cost, environmental protection, job creation and public acceptance. This paper shows how multiple methods can be used together to improve integrated approaches for assessing energy scenarios considering impacts at different spatial scales. Overall, we propose the ESE framework can be used to support decision-makers evaluating the financial, environmental, political and social feasibility of energy scenarios, thereby contributing to the pursuit of realistic, deliverable and sustainable decarbonisation goals.

Appendix

See Appendix Table A.1.

Table A.1. Overview of suggested methods and how they apply to the framework.

MethodDescriptionFramework application*
Spatial optimisationThe ADVENT-NEV (Delafield et al., unpublished) and BECCS optimisation models (Donnison et al., 2020) use spatial optimisation techniques to identify the least cost locations for new solar farms, wind farms, bioenergy power stations and/or BECCS. These models optimise both market (e.g. construction and opportunity costs) and non-market costs (e.g. visual impact and carbon sequestration) to determine the financially or socially optimal spatial distribution of energy infrastructure.Image 1 Image 2
Random forestThe random forest potential (RFP) probability surfaces developed by (Dunnett et al., unpublished) identify where new solar and wind farms are most likely to be located in the future based upon existing locations of energy infrastructure and environmental impacts including biodiversity. The model was developed using existing locations of wind turbines and solar panels identified with OpenStreetMap in Dunnett et al. (2020).Image 1 Image 2
Inferential logistic regressionLogistic regression can be inferentially used to show where infrastructure is more or less likely to be accepted based upon historical planning acceptance (Roddis et al., 2018). Trends in planning acceptance is an indicator of how communities feel about energy developments and therefore can be analysed to consider how acceptable energy scenarios might be in terms of deployment ‘on the ground’.Image 1 Image 4
Regional box modelA regional box model is being developed to assess the location and quantity of land available for BECCS globally (Ball et al., unpublished). The model considers how the availability and suitability of land for BECCS is driven by a range of factors, including food system efficiency, dietary trends and sustainable governance. The model can determine the global sustainability implications of importing biomass from specific countries by combining metrics for environmental governance and political stability.Image 2
Viewshed analysisThe visual impact of an energy scenario can be assessed using viewshed analysis: a Geographic Information System technique which calculates the area (i.e. viewshed) where an object is visible, taking into account the height of the object and the intervening terrain (Carver and Markieta, 2012Wen et al., 2018). Viewshed analysis can be applied at local or national scales to estimate the visual impact of different low carbon energy scenarios.Image 2
Data mining and machine learning algorithmsBy estimating traffic flows for any given point on the road network, air pollution across the UK at a street level can follow. Sfyridis and Agnolucci (2020) have developed a model to estimate traffic volumes on a street segment level using a hybrid clustering-regression approach, while the follow up research by Sfyridis and Agnolucci (2021) determines the spatial distribution of GHGs and air pollutants using a probabilistic classification-regression model. The model estimates air pollution using assumptions from the COPERT model (Ntziachristos et al., 2009). Traffic flows are estimated using: traffic count points from the UK’s Department for Transport, the K-prototypes clustering algorithm, and random forests, OLS and support vector regression.Image 2
Panel regression analysisAgnolucci and Arvanitopoulos (2019) have developed a method to assess how emissions from the manufacturing sector have changed over time using panel regression analysis. This information can be used to check whether the elasticities estimated by Agnolucci and Arvanitopoulos (2019) and Agnolucci et al. (2017) can be used to calibrate the economic models that generate energy scenarios.Image 2 Image 3
OPerating Emissions ModelThe operating emissions model (OPEM) is a deterministic model developed to project operating emissions through a series of different conventionally fuelled vehicles and electric vehicles integration scenarios. Input data for this model can incorporate different energy scenarios. The OPEM is a simple model and easy to manipulate and comparable and is easier to use when comparing countries (Logan et al., 2020a, 2020b, 2020c, 2021).Image 2 Image 3
Life cycle analysis (LCA)LCA can provide an insight into the environmental implications of a shift to low-carbon electricity supply by considering the manufacturing and material life of energy technologies (Hertwich et al., 2015). Stamford and Azapagic (2014) provides an example of applying LCA to a UK energy scenario.Image 2
Vector Auto- regressive ModelAn empirical methodology, based on econometric methodology such as Vector Autoregressive Model (VAR), can be used to quantify the potential employment impact from the deployment of renewable energy technologies (Arvanitopoulos and Agnolucci, 2020). This method can, therefore, be used to estimate the expected number of jobs generated (or lost) related to a specific energy scenario.Image 5
Regression analysis of public attitudesA regression model using data from the UK Government’s Energy and Climate Change Public Attitudes Tracker (PAT) was developed to understand the drivers of positive and negative attitudes towards energy technologies (Roddis et al., 2019). The results of this regression model and other similar analyses of public attitudes could be used to gain insight into how different UK low carbon energy scenarios may be regarded by the public on a national scale.Image 4
Balance sheet approachThe Balance Sheet Approach (BSA) can be used to build an evidence base to support decision-making. The framework provides an approach to collect, analyse and present data which considers the distributional impacts of the costs and benefits of an intervention (Turner, 2016Turner et al., 2014).Image 4 Image 2 Image 5

* 

Image 1

 depicts methods which relate to where energy infrastructure will be located, 

Image 2

 relates to natural environment impacts, 

Image 3

 sectoral impacts, 

Image 4

 public opinion and 

Image 5

 employment.

References

The Anthropocene Divide: Obscuring Understanding of Social-Environmental Change

Andrew M. Bauer

 and 

Erle C. Ellis

Andrew M. Bauer is Assistant Professor in the Department of Anthropology at Stanford University (450 Serra Mall, Stanford, California 94305, USA [ambauer@stanford.edu]). Erle C. Ellis is Professor in the Department of Geography and Environmental Systems at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County (1000 Hilltop Circle, Baltimore, Maryland 21250, USA).

Abstract

Much scientific debate has focused on the timing and stratigraphic signatures for the Anthropocene. Here we review the Anthropocene in its original usage and as it has been imported by anthropology in light of evidence for long-term human-environment relationships. Strident debate about the Anthropocene’s chronological boundaries arises because its periodization forces an arbitrary break in what is a long-enduring process of human alterations of environments. More importantly, we argue that dividing geologic time based on a “step change” in the global significance of social-environmental processes contravenes the socially differentiated and diachronous character of human-environment relations. The consequences of human actions are not the coordinated synchronous product of a global humanity but rather result from heterogeneous activities rooted in situated sociopolitical contexts that are entangled with environmental transformations at multiple scales. Thus, the Anthropocene periodization, what we term the “Anthropocene divide,” obscures rather than clarifies understandings of human-environmental relationships.

Since the Anthropocene’s formulation by atmospheric chemist Paul Crutzen and ecologist Eugene Stoermer (2000) to recognize a new period of geologic time marking human transformations of Earth’s environmental systems, the designation has been taken up vociferously across the academy. From Earth scientists to literary critics, scholars now debate the usefulness of distinguishing an Anthropocene from the Holocene, the currently recognized geological epoch spanning the past 11,600 years since Earth’s last glaciation (e.g., Autin and Holbrook 2012; Braje 2016; Finney and Edwards 2016; Lewis and Maslin 2015; Waters et al. 2016a; Zalasiewicz et al. 2015). The implications of this designation have also been discussed as a framing concept for environmental governance (e.g., Biermann et al. 2016; Moore 2016; Purdy 2015; Ribot 2014) and as a way of disrupting the long-held distinction between natural history and human history (cf. Chakrabarty 2009; Malm and Hornborg 2014; Mikhail 2016). The Anthropocene is thus a potentially revolutionary concept—not just because it has become synonymous with the unprecedented global environmental impacts of humans but also because it implies an end to basic frameworks of science, society, and scholarship that have long guided Western intellectual thought (e.g., Latour 2004). As the philosopher of science Bruno Latour (2014) has noted, it subverts traditional conceptions of an external objective world devoid of humans, given that human “action is visible everywhere—in the construction of knowledge as well as in the production of the phenomena … sciences are called to register” (6, italics in the original). Such statements underscore the need to evaluate how we understand human social action in the context of an Earth transformed by humans, especially in relation to anthropological concerns for historical relationships among humans, other organisms, and the material processes and associated discourses that give shape to environments.

While the Anthropocene has rightly called attention to a suite of grave global environmental consequences related to human activities, the various emphases among scholars now using the designation have also reoriented the concept in multiple directions, many of which work at cross-purposes from each other. For instance, while some argue that the concept dissolves the great binary between society and nature—“the end of the division between people and nature” in the words of environmental historian Jedediah Purdy (2015:3; see also McKibben 1989)—others emphasize its binary foundations, stressing, for example, that humans are now “overwhelming the great forces of nature” (e.g., Steffen, Crutzen, and McNeill 2007). The Anthropocene has become a differential lens through which disciplines across the academy are reviewing, debating, and reinventing their conceptions of humanity and nature.

Below we address the Anthropocene concept from a perspective more directly related to its original framing—asking foremost how the concept and geological time period might both constrain and enable scholarly understandings of human-environment relationships. To do so, we review the term’s broader usage in light of archaeological and ecological evidence on long-term relationships among humans and the environments they both inhabit and produce.

Strident debate about where to place the Anthropocene’s chronological boundaries arises—with the mid-twentieth or late eighteenth century being the most commonly advocated among others (cf. Crutzen 2002; Lewis and Maslin 2015; Ruddiman 2013; Smith and Zeder 2013; Waters et al. 2016a; Zalasiewicz et al. 2015)—because the Anthropocene’s periodization forces scholars to apply an arbitrary break in what is a lengthy process of human modifications to both local and planetary environmental conditions. There should be no doubt that the magnitude of human influence on Earth’s environmental systems has intensified alarmingly since the Industrial Revolution and particularly since the 1950s (e.g., Steffen, Crutzen, and McNeill 2007; Waters et al. 2016a). Nevertheless, an Anthropocene periodization that begins at these points fundamentally obfuscates qualitative similarities and historical linkages with the dynamics of human-environmental relationships in previous periods (e.g., Boivin et al. 2016; Braje 2015; Braje and Erlandson 2013; Erlandson and Braje 2013; Kirch 2005; Moore 2015; Ruddiman et al. 2015; Smith and Zeder 2013). To understand the role of human activities in transforming Earth, it is essential that these not be conceived as a binary distinction—before versus after—but rather as a continuously changing process, which necessarily calls attention to a variety of differentiated actors and historical, cultural, political, and ecological contexts. The challenge of the Anthropocene proposal is not simply its formal division of geologic time but also the need to call attention to the entanglements through which social relationships, inequalities, and environmental histories are continually unfolding and producing novel Earth trajectories.

The Anthropocene(s)

To contribute usefully to the Anthropocene conversation, it is critical to differentiate what the designation has come to mean among the various academic fields that have taken it up. The Anthropocene’s multiple referents (e.g., as marker of anthropogenic stratigraphic materials, as period in which Earth’s climatic and environmental workings have been shaped by humans, as the end of the division between society and nature) have allowed it to be adopted with a variety of different emphases among scholars of the natural sciences, humanities, and social sciences. Ironically, many of these framings work at cross-purposes from one another, a point we stress in arguing that the Anthropocene divide obscures understandings of the long-term dynamics of human-environment relationships.

For many scholars of the humanities and social sciences, the Anthropocene stands in for a dark period of human-environment relationships associated with modernity and the outgrowth of the Eurocentric belief in the divide between nature and humanity that now “catastrophically affects the destinies of all—plant, animal, and human—through global warming and mass extinctions” (Carrithers, Bracken, and Emery 2011:663). Environmental historian Ian Miller (2013), for example, has specifically argued that the Anthropocene be considered coeval with the development of “ecological modernity.” Yet, by highlighting humans’ current roles in shaping planetary conditions, the Anthropocene has largely come to signify a period in which this great divide is now obsolete. In environmental imaginaries and historiographies, it is a period that is “after nature” (Purdy 2015:3). Thus, for many anthropologists it represents the dissolution of the long-standing modernist binary that has structured understandings of human social life in distinction from a separate natural world. The Anthropocene has also engaged anthropologists in critically evaluating how the natural sciences represent humans as a single entity—that is, the species (cf. Bauer and Bhan 2016; Carrithers, Bracken, and Emery 2011; Gibson and Venkateswar 2015). The emphasis on the human species as a “geophysical force” has allowed some scholars to raise foundational epistemological and ontological questions about the nature of history, historical subjects, and the world humans inhabit. For instance, by signaling a period of human-caused global environmental change, the Anthropocene has spurred a philosophical recognition of phenomena and objects (e.g., climate) that are beyond, or at least challenge, human perception and experience (e.g., Morton 2013). In this way, the Anthropocene has disrupted historiography in this new period and how the ontological relationships between subjects and objects, the constitution of social actors, and the mediation of perception and historical imagination are theorized (cf. Chakrabarty 2009; Latour 2014; Mikhail 2016; Morton 2013; see Bauer and Bhan 2018).

Among the natural sciences, the Anthropocene has come to more strictly reference a period during which humans now dominate the “great forces of nature” (Steffen, Crutzen, and McNeill 2007) or rather, as the environmental scientists William Ruddiman and colleagues (2015) have characterized it, when humans have “replaced nature as the dominant environmental force on Earth.” Earth system science (ESS) views Earth as a system of interacting “spheres”—the atmosphere, lithosphere, hydrosphere, and biosphere—and uses Earth system models to describe the long-term dynamics of Earth’s interacting physical, chemical, and biological processes (Schellnhuber 1999; Steffen, Crutzen, and McNeill 2007). By connecting human history with ESS, this work helped build a foundation for assessing the most critical scientific claim of the Anthropocene narrative: that human activities have substantially changed the functioning of the Earth system. While evidence of human alteration of local environments has long been widespread, the claim that humans are altering the functioning of Earth as a whole has now been confirmed by a wide array of observations, perhaps most prominently by long-term trends in atmospheric carbon dioxide and their coupling with human combustion of fossil fuels and other alterations of the global “biogeochemical” cycling of carbon that are causing global changes in climate. These global changes are now potentially forcing the Earth system to undergo an irreversible step change or regime shift (tipping point) from a Holocene-like climate state to an Anthropocene climate state (Steffen, Crutzen, and McNeill 2007; Steffen et al. 2016; Waters et al. 2016a).

In these frameworks the Anthropocene is seen to demarcate a shift from humans as merely agents of local ecological changes to agents of geophysical history that are capable of affecting all planetary life by modifying the Earth system (cf. Chakrabarty 2009; Hamilton 2015; Morton 2013:7; Steffen, Crutzen, and McNeill 2007). Unsurprisingly, the Earth systems scholarship from which the term largely emanates has also focused on the Anthropocene’s utility in confirming humans’ planetary impacts within the stratigraphic systematics of the Geologic Time Scale maintained by the International Commission on Stratigraphy—that is, how humans’ global physical environmental impacts produce an unambiguous and permanent signature in Earth’s lithological and sedimentary records (e.g., Steffen et al. 2016; Vince 2011; Waters et al. 2016a; Zalasiewicz et al. 2015). On these lines, scientific debate focuses on where to place the Anthropocene’s stratigraphic boundary, or “golden spike.” The mid-twentieth or late eighteenth centuries are the most commonly advocated among a slew of other suggestions, including the “Orbis spike” of 1610, the mid-Holocene rise of agricultural land clearing, using the term to apply to the entirety of the Holocene, and even the megafaunal extinctions of the late Pleistocene (e.g., Braje and Erlandson 2013; Crutzen 2002; Erlandson and Braje 2013; Hamilton 2015; Lewis and Maslin 2015; Smith and Zeder 2013; Waters et al. 2016a; Zalasiewiz et al. 2015).

It is important to stress that proposals for formalizing the Anthropocene as a new epoch are based on three different forms of evidence that are not all applicable to the analytical framing of the Anthropocene by humanities and social science scholars noted above. Formal geological time periods are delimited through the identification of Global Boundary Stratotype Sections and Points (GSSPs or “golden spikes”) or the identification of Global Standard Stratigraphic Ages (GSSAs; Zalasiewicz et al. 2015). While both GSSPs and GSSAs are commonly used to mark geologic time transitions, GSSPs require the identification of a physical marker in a specific stratigraphic sequence of rocks, sediments, ice, or other layered materials, while GSSAs are simply chronologic times selected to mark significant changes in the Earth system. For example, Zalasiewicz et al. (2015) proposed to use radionuclide deposits from atomic bomb testing as a potential Anthropocene GSSP and recommended the precise timing of the first atomic bomb test be used as an Anthropocene GSSA. ESS presents a third form of evidence by identifying major shifts in Earth system functioning as an Anthropocene state transition (Steffen et al. 2016). While the first two approaches (GSSP and GSSA) are concerned with identifying anthropogenic strata or significant historical events, the last is concerned with environmental processes.

It should already be clear that these different designations should not be conflated. While a stratigraphic designation (GSSP) might serve as a practical reference for geological systematics to order sediments, the other (ESS) is a reference to the historical behavior of the relationships among Earth’s various interacting “spheres”—the atmosphere, lithosphere, hydrosphere, and biosphere—that have been similarly categorized for heuristic and analytical purposes. In that sense, only this last mode of designation is primarily concerned with understanding long-term relationships among human inhabitants and the workings of the Earth system. It is also the only Anthropocene designation that speaks directly to the concerns of humanities and social science scholars for the period’s dissolution of natural history and human history or for assessing the species as a “geophysical actor.” Indeed, ESS is foundationally concerned with how human activities both are embedded within and help to constitute the Earth system (e.g., Schellnhuber 1999). By way of contrast, stratigraphers concerned with GSSP designations might usefully categorize a new geological period by the presence of plastics and Styrofoam in sediments, just as an archaeologist of South India might identify the Iron Age by the presence of Black and Red Ware ceramics (e.g., Thapar 1957); yet neither stratigraphic designation necessarily implies an ontological shift in human-environment relationships. Moreover, the GSSP need for stratigraphic identifiers to mark globally synchronous Earth changes, rather than diachronous changes that typify historically specific environmental changes, prohibits the application of GSSPs to characterize more gradual and accumulative human alterations across Earth’s surface (Edgeworth et al. 2015; Ruddiman et al. 2015; Turner et al. 1990).

Periodization criteria for Anthropocene formalization in the Geologic Time Scale are thus clearly problematic for understanding long-term human environment relationships. Yet, it is worth stressing that the most literal translation of its etymology in scientific nomenclature references the “recent age” (cene) of “humans” (anthropos). Indeed, the Anthropocene concept appears first and foremost as a temporal designation—a period during which scholars recognize humans’ emergence as a “great force of nature,” the end of the division between society and nature, or the global presence of stratigraphic material evidence produced by the anthropos. Considering that the Anthropocene is at root a chronological designation about human activities and their relationships to the global environment, one might expect that anthropology would have had input into its formulation.

An Archaeology of the Anthropocene

It is remarkable that the scholarly discipline most focused on long-term changes in human-environmental relationships has been one of the most peripheral to discussions on the Anthropocene. As archaeologist Keith Kintigh and colleagues (2014) have recently noted, archaeology has hardly contributed to the formulation of the Anthropocene concept. Many of the early canonical pieces that defined the Anthropocene cite little or no archaeology (e.g., Crutzen 2002; Crutzen and Stoermer 2000). Indeed, its principal advocates over the last 15 years were largely natural scientists who stressed humans’ unique species-level effects on the Earth system over the last few centuries, largely dismissing the archaeological record of prehistoric periods as insignificant. While some of these foundational papers included historical scholarship in support of their claims of the uniqueness of environmental systems following the Industrial Revolution, they did not substantially rely on archaeological evidence. In fact, the pioneering work of Ruddiman and colleagues is the exception that seemingly proves the rule in this characterization: Ruddiman (2003) seriously considered the archaeological record to argue that prehistoric human agricultural activities greatly affected the climatic history of Earth by at least the middle Holocene but was generally dismissed early on by some of the more strident advocates of the Anthropocene (e.g., Ruddiman 2007; Ruddiman et al. 2016; Steffen, Crutzen, and McNeill 2007). This is not to suggest that early proponents of the Anthropocene did not have some general understanding of an archaeological record for long-term environmental change; clearly they did (e.g., Steffen, Crutzen, and McNeill 2007). However, the Anthropocene’s emphasis on humanity’s large-scale planetary effects allowed many scholars to easily overlook the archaeological and ecological evidence for pervasive long-term, human-related environmental changes that were tied to specific places or regions. As more recent scholarship on the Anthropocene has begun to incorporate regional archaeological records for human-related environmental histories, proponents of the Anthropocene have been forced to confront the difficulties of clearly demarcating it temporally (cf. Boivin et al. 2016; Braje and Erlandson 2013; Butzer 2015; Crumley et al. 2015; Edgeworth et al. 2015; Erlandson and Braje 2013; Rosen et al. 2015; Ruddiman et al. 2015). Indeed, the archaeologist Karl Butzer (2015) has suggested that the Anthropocene should be considered an “evolving paradigm.” Yet an emphasis on global-scale changes has continued to allow many scholars to explicitly argue that anthropologists, archaeologists, paleoecologists, and others building on place-based and regional environmental evidence have little to contribute to Anthropocene scholarship (e.g., Hamilton 2015). This position is untenable.

If the Anthropocene is an “evolving paradigm,” it is because its formulation depends on several underlying ontological challenges that require an anthropological and ecological intervention. To begin with, much of the Anthropocene literature reproduces the very dichotomy of nature and society that many scholars suggest it dissolves, separating one recent period during which the two realms could be usefully held apart from another more recent period in which they cannot. Such scholarship inherently perpetuates the natural-cultural distinction and also ignores historical and cultural diversity of human-environment conceptualizations; if, for instance, the Anthropocene represents a period in which people no longer acknowledge a clear divide between nature and society, as some argue, then many people were living in it well before Western scientists designated the period (e.g., Bradley 2000; Escobar 1999; see Bauer and Bhan 2018 for discussion). Moreover, in singling out the agency of humans as a “geophysical force,” the Anthropocene narrative also “silences” (sensu Trouillot 1995) a wide variety of social distinctions and landscape histories that are critical to contemporary understandings and experiences of socio-environmental conditions. In attributing climate change to humanity as an homogenous actor or species, it obscures underlying social differences and “asymmetries related to both the production and experience of environmental circumstances” and associated vulnerabilities (Bauer and Bhan 2016:66; Malm and Hornborg 2014; Ribot 2014; Sayre 2012). This is the case even as the most common proposals for marking the Anthropocene highlight decidedly Eurocentric drivers of Earth and human history, such as the invention of the steam engine (see discussion in Crossland 2014; Morrison 2015).

Humans, of course, do not modify global environmental systems by acting as an undifferentiated and homogeneous web, network, or species. They do so as socially, culturally, ecologically, and geographically situated and differentiated actors that have long been documented by archaeologists, cultural anthropologists, ecologists, and geographers (e.g., Bauer 2015a; Bauer and Bhan 20162018; Crumley 1994; Ellis 2015; Witmore 2014). Moreover, there can be little debate that humans who facilitated the production of greenhouse gases and global warming that originally inspired the Anthropocene designation have done so unequally and in different ways in different times. Crutzen (2002:23) himself recognized this early on: “these effects have largely been caused by only 25% of the world population.” This remains equally true today, with recent US per capita carbon dioxide emissions a full order of magnitude greater than those of India, for example (17 vs. 1.7 metric tons; World Bank 2015). Moreover, human-related climate change likely has early roots in land clearance and fire use in the early Holocene and perhaps even in the mass extinctions of megafauna across continents through the actions of late Pleistocene hunter-gatherers (cf. Braje and Erlandson 2013; Doughty 2013; Ruddiman et al. 20152016). Though a recent Anthropocene periodization might call needed attention to humans as agents of contemporary climate change, it does so while potentially obscuring historical processes and social differences related to the production of environmental changes at local, regional, and global scales over multiple time horizons.

Anthropocene narratives also risk downplaying the many nonhuman materials, things, and organisms that people are entangled with and that also contribute to climate and other global environmental changes through a variety of relationships. As the historian Dipesh Chakrabarty (2009) reminds us, humans have always been “biological” agents who shaped their environments, both collectively and as individuals. What sets the Anthropocene apart from previous periods for many scholars is that humans are now historiographically geophysical or “geological” agents. Yet, the distinction between humans as “biological” agents of ecology versus humans as “geological” agents of climate that arguably warrants the designation Anthropocene needs critical discussion, as it imagines a realm of geophysics somehow disconnected and separate from the biological world in the past. Ironically, the functional interconnections among humans—and all living organisms—and “the spheres” is a fundamental precept of ESS (Schellnhuber 1999).

Differences between humans as agents of “biology” and “geology” are not clearly differences in kind. There should be no doubt that people utilizing contemporary fossil-fuel technologies are transforming Earth’s climate, marking them as geophysical actors when considered within the broader assemblage of material relationships that affect greenhouse gases. Yet this should not preclude other people, dependent largely on human labor in clearing land and releasing carbon, for example, from being considered “geological” actors, relegating them to mere “biological” or ecological roles. It is not difficult to see such a position slipping into the problematic historiographical divide between “modern” and “primitive” people, differentiating people that are now capable of transcending the confines of nature to alter their environmental circumstances from those of previous times (Bauer and Bhan 2016). Moreover, such a distinction between biological and geological agents ignores basic ESS, in which the dynamics of diverse bacteria, plants, and other species are coupled with and alter the composition and functioning of Earth’s atmosphere, lithosphere, and climate systems (Ruddiman et al. 2016; Schellnhuber 1999). To identify any one of these as a geophysical agent to the exclusion of others is to ignore the numerous interactions among Earth’s organisms that constitute the biosphere and their coproduction of atmospheric conditions and climate. Thus, to address when any organism, human or nonhuman, affects geophysical conditions is to also address how they are enmeshed historically within the material relationships of ecologies and geographies that contribute to atmospheric conditions. Humans—and other species—began altering greenhouse gas concentrations in the atmosphere long before the invention of the steam engine (e.g., Ruddiman et al. 2016).

The Historical Ecology of Geophysical History

ESS is founded on the principle that interactions among the atmosphere, lithosphere, hydrosphere, and biosphere together with the external forcings of solar irradiance form a complex system that contributes to the processes of climate change, the global biogeochemical cycling of many elements, and other dynamics of the Earth system (Schellnuber 1999). Actively growing trees, for example, sequester carbon dioxide from the atmosphere that on release through combustion or decomposition contribute to greenhouse gas concentrations and therefore alter climate and the growth of other trees through feedback interactions (Archer and Rahmstorf 2010; Barford et al. 2001; Flannery 2005; Vavrus, Ruddiman, and Kutzbach 2008). On geologic timescales, the oxygenation of the atmosphere during the Proterozoic eon (ca. 2.5 bya) by cyanobacterial photosynthesis profoundly and permanently altered Earth’s atmosphere and climate over hundreds of millions of years—a geophysical and geochemical state shift produced by biological relationships and an example of niche construction; atmospheric oxygenation produced the ozone layer, shielding Earth’s surface from harmful ultraviolet radiation, making Earth’s land habitable to multicellular organisms for the first time (Erwin 2008). This process also reduced concentrations of methane and triggered a period of global glaciation (cf. Frei et al. 2009; Kopp et al. 2005). These examples demonstrate that biological agents inherently also function as geophysical and geochemical agents in the Earth system, as the term biogeochemical implies.

Early members of the genus Homo arguably developed abilities to alter the atmosphere with the use of fire hundreds of thousands of years ago when set within the context of biogeochemical assemblages (cf. Albert 2015; Roebroeks and Villa 2011). Moreover, human activities were likely related to mass extinctions of a range of land animals with a cascade of profound consequences for ecosystem functioning across Australia around 50,000 years ago and later elsewhere in the world (cf. Barnosky 2008; Boivin et al. 2016; Braje and Erlandson 2013; Grayson 2001; Kirch 2005; Miller et al. 2005; Rule et al. 2012). In the Holocene, intensified forms of land use associated with agriculture, animal husbandry, and human population and settlement growth reshaped animal populations, vegetation communities, and the ecological and geomorphic trajectories across large regions of the globe (e.g., Alizadeh et al. 2004; Bauer 2014; Boivin et al. 2016; Casana 2008; Conolly et al. 2012; Ellis 2011; Ellis et al. 2013; Erlandson and Braje 2013; Fuller et al. 2011; Morrison 2009; Rosen et al. 2015; Wilkinson 2003). These data alone have supported multiple suggestions that the Holocene has “long been the Anthropocene” (Morrison 2013:23; see also Braje 2016; Certini and Scalenghe 2015; Erlandson and Braje 2013; Smith and Zeder 2013). While archaeological research has focused on humans’ roles in local and regional ecological and geographical histories, as opposed to a global role as geophysical agents in a coupled “human-Earth” system, a few examples from the archaeological literature amply demonstrate the significance of assemblages of humans and nonhumans in creating climatic and other environmental conditions at global scales, problematizing claims of a newly emergent “geophysical” effect associated only with industrialization.

Prehistoric expansion of rice agriculture, irrigation, and pastoralism likely caused a reversal in atmospheric levels of methane, a greenhouse gas that decreased in the first half of the Holocene but then increased after ca. 5000 years ago (cf. Fuller et al. 2011; Ruddiman and Thomson 2001; Ruddiman et al. 20082016; Vavrus, Ruddiman, and Kutzbach 2008). Fuller et al. (2011) have argued that archaeologically estimated increases in rice cultivation and livestock pastoralism in South and East Asia correlate with rises of atmospheric methane documented in Greenland ice cores. This correspondence has allowed a growing cadre of climate scientists to convincingly argue that “the anthropogenic greenhouse era began thousands of years ago,” as per Ruddiman’s increasingly well-supported “Early Anthropogenic” hypothesis (Ruddiman 2003).

Yet crucial to our broader point, both prehistoric and contemporary environmental transformations and their effects cannot be attributed equally to all members of these societies. Neolithic and Iron Age inhabitants of South India, for instance, differentially participated in agropastoral activities that produced methane and large-scale geomorphological transformations, such as soil erosion, and these differences were related to the development of status distinctions and social inequalities (e.g., Bauer 20142015a2015b; Sinopoli 2013). Moreover, early irrigated rice cultivation across large areas of South and East Asia was likely a highly politicized practice; there is strong evidence that not all inhabitants had access to irrigation facilities for growing rice and that irrigated and dry-farmed cultigens had differences in productivity, value, and symbolic uses in many precolonial contexts (e.g., Bauer and Morrison 2008; Ellis and Wang 1997; Huang 1990; Morrison 2009). Thus, even in these preindustrial periods, the historical ecology of geophysical history was also a political ecology, a point that is critical to recognize if we are to understand and engage actively with the long-term entanglements between cultural practices, social relationships, and the material workings of Earth. To understand the historical degree to which human activities have altered Earth systems thus requires that the full assemblage of processes and actors be considered and, equally important, the differences among them.

Discussion: The Anthropocene Divide and the Social Environment

Different designations of the Anthropocene direct scholarly attention toward different things—a stratigraphic marker (GSSP), a global historical event indicating a new “age” (GSSA), and the historical behavior of relationships among Earth’s various “spheres” of interaction (ESS). Only the latter, the Anthropocene formulation of Earth system scientists, is primarily concerned with understanding long-term relationships among humans and the workings of Earth’s climate and other systems. In that sense, it is also the only Anthropocene designation that speaks directly to the concerns of humanities and social science scholars for the period’s dissolution of natural history and human history or for assessing the species as a geophysical actor. Yet, as we demonstrated above, humans have been participants in Earth’s biogeochemical processes for thousands of years, and their influence on geophysical and climatic conditions likely significantly predates the most common chronological proposals for the Anthropocene. In short, there is not, and could never be, a clear date at which humans became “geophysical.” To be biological is also to be geophysical. Thus, the degree to which humans have influenced climate must necessarily be considered as a dynamic long-term process, a process that we have argued above and elsewhere is also deeply enmeshed in a political ecology—that is to say, how social affiliations, differences, and inequalities are also produced and reconstituted.

For these reasons, proposals for an Anthropocene periodization—for a geological divide between the “recent age” of humans and that which preceded it—significantly constrain historical understandings of human-environment relationships, including the recent processes and histories that have shaped contemporary contexts and the increase in human effects on global warming over the last few centuries. Thus, we are in agreement with other scholars who have recently sought to supplant the designation Anthropocene with other terms that critically represent the sociohistorical processes that are related to contemporary global warming. Jason Moore (2015), for example, has suggested an alternative “Capitalocene” to highlight relations of power in the production of social and environmental conditions over the last five centuries that underlie contemporary carbon dioxide emissions under capitalism. The “Plantationocene” has also been proposed to stress the “transformation of diverse kinds of human-tended farms, pastures, and forests into extractive and enclosed plantations, relying on slave labor and other forms of exploited, alienated, and usually spatially transported labor” that might also critically frame the current connections between human history and global warming (see discussion in Haraway 2015).

Critiques of the Anthropocene that call attention to how the designation silences underlying social relationships and inequalities could also be applied to many treatments of “anthropogenic” environments that fail to differentiate social actors (Sayre 2012), including those of archaeologists, historians, and ecologists who argue for a pre-Industrial origin of the period as well as Earth system scientists who view humanity as a homogeneous geophysical force following industrialization. To reiterate an earlier example, cattle pastoralism and irrigated rice agriculture associated with mid- to late Holocene land use in South India had well-attested political effects (e.g., Bauer 2015a2015b; Bauer and Morrison 2008; Morrison 19952009). In short, prehistoric environmental transformations within Asia that altered atmospheric conditions (e.g., Ellis and Wang 1997; Fuller et al. 2011; Huang 1990; Ruddiman et al. 20152016) were tightly linked to the production of social relationships and institutionalized forms of inequality and in that sense were similar to those of contemporary capitalism.

These archaeological and historical cases demonstrate the need to comprehend the politics and social processes of environmental production in the past as well as the present if we are to understand the development of global warming and other changes in the Earth system that articulate with social conditions (see also Ribot [2014] on the “sociocene”). For instance, many large irrigation reservoirs that were constructed in southern India within highly politicized contexts during the period of Vijayanagara imperial rule (ca. 1330–1565) continue to hold water, irrigate crops, and contribute to atmospheric methane today (cf. Bauer and Morrison 2008; Morrison 19952009). These features illustrate the diachronous character of human-related landscapes and their multiple temporalities in contributing to socio-environmental conditions at various scales (see also Bauer and Bhan 2018; Crumley 1994; Morrison 2009). Reframing the Anthropocene as the Capitalocene or the Plantationocene (e.g., Haraway 2015; Moore 2015) places much-needed focus on the social relations of production and consumption that have produced alarming increases in the magnitude of humans’ effects on the Earth system. Both terms also cogently supplant the Anthropocene by focusing on historical sociopolitical processes through which humans have come to dramatically alter Earth, emphasizing social conditions that preceded the invention of the steam engine or the atomic bomb. Even so, we should not forget the fact that humans contributed to geophysical conditions well before the emergence of capitalism.

Land use and its accompanying social relations have long been related to environmental histories and their concurrent contribution to planetary changes. By no means does this minimize the role of capitalist forms of production in understanding the current phenomenon of intensified global warming. Nor does it produce an evolutionary scheme that suggests that an Anthropocene was an “inevitable outcome of human becoming” (Witmore 2014:129; see also Crossland 2014). To the contrary, it is an explicit call to historicize socio-material conditions that have resulted in environmental transformations at multiple scales and to resist progressive evolutionary narratives that imply a distinction in the externality of humans in relation to nature—the “civilized” and the “savage” sensu Morgan (1964 [1878]).

Despite the explicit emphasis that many Anthropocene advocates place on disrupting the concept and ideology of nature, many Anthropocene narratives silently reproduce it by distinguishing a recent time when the Earth system was external to or unaffected by humans from a more recent period in which it is not. In our view, a critical role of archaeology and other historically oriented disciplines is not to push back the start of the Anthropocene; rather, it is to call attention to the historicity of nature, so that we might more fully expose and discuss assumptions about what socio-environmental conditions are desirable, for whom, and how those might be achieved or disturbed. Calling attention to this history unsettles a teleological sense of “the species” as a singular geophysical “force.” It also suggests reconsideration of “business as usual” environmentalist approaches that historically have been structured by the nature-society divide (e.g., Latour 2004) and that, ironically, maintain the ideological basis for global warming deniers to frame climate change as a strictly “natural” process rather than a social-environmental one. To be clear, profound and pervasive planetary changes cannot be attributed equally to the entirety of the anthropos, and it is essential that social relationships and material conditions be investigated among the different institutions, cultural practices, and material processes that produce them; yet, the development of capitalism cannot be the entirety of our account, even as we agree that it is critical to call attention to its importance in underlying alarming and ongoing environmental transformations (see also Bauer and Bhan 2018).

Conclusion

To reinforce the notion of a historical binary, of an “Anthropocene divide,” by precisely dividing the history of Earth into a time in which human social engagement with the production of environments is globally consequential from a time in which it is not flows strongly against contemporary understandings of both human-environment relations and the coupling of human activities with Earth systems from prehistory to present. It is time to put aside concerns for locating an Anthropocene divide. It is our concern that the Anthropocene narratives produced by the stratigraphic formalization of a new geological epoch will form a barrier to developing recognition of the history and diversity of social and environmental entanglements, as well as their contribution to the (re)production of undesirable conditions as the effects of global warming are differentially experienced. If the Anthropocene divide is to be dissolved, as we argue it should be, anthropology must provide theory, critique, and empirical accounts of the historical entanglements of social relationships, cultural practices, and material conditions that recursively shape socio-environmental outcomes embedded within the Earth system. To accomplish this, anthropology cannot walk alone but must work to teach, guide, and collaborate with other scholarly disciplines concerned with humanity and its role in shaping Earth’s past, present, and future.Acknowledgments

Conversations and collaborations with many friends and colleagues have shaped the thoughts and words expressed in this essay. Special thanks are owed to Mona Bhan, with whom we have long discussed many of the topics treated above. Mark Aldenderfer and two anonymous reviewers also provided careful feedback for improving the manuscript, and we are grateful for their guidance.

References Cited

Responses

Comments

Todd J. Braje

Department of Anthropology, San Diego State University, 5500 Campanile Drive, San Diego, California 92182-6040, USA (tbraje@mail.sdsu.edu). 20 VII 17

Although I generally agree with Bauer and Ellis and their supposition that the designation of an Anthropocene epoch obscures rather than clarifies our understanding of social-environmental change, I believe that the fundamental importance of recognizing an age of humans is lost in their argument. I am in favor of debate about the Anthropocene, as it produces dialogue across disciplines and with the public about how humans have helped create the global environmental crisis and why we need to do something about it.

Bauer and Ellis mirror the position of the Anthropocene Working Group (AWG) that the “anthropocene” and the “Anthropocene” (lowercase vs. uppercase) are very different concepts (Zalasiewicz et al. 2017:219). The AWG is concerned with the uppercase Anthropocene as potentially a formally designated unit of the Geological Time Scale. Their Anthropocene is a chronostratigraphic unit that must have a fixed point in time (with some error bar range, as is common with other chronostratigraphic boundaries), tied to hard rock stratigraphy or a golden spike. General discussions and debates centered on other “anthropocenes” (according to the AWG) are viewed through the disciplinary lenses of their authors (Zalasiewicz et al. 2017:219). These place different emphases on the motives, material evidence, human activities, Earth system processes, and so on, and the AWG argues that they are separate concepts. The anthropocene in regard to Earth system science (ESS), the identification of anthropogenic strata, historical events that propelled changes in Earth system functions, and environmental processes are, according to Bauer and Ellis, “the only Anthropocene designation that speaks directly to the concerns of humanities and social science scholars.” This position is presumably why Ellis can advocate for an Anthropocene focused on the social, political, and historical contingencies of human-environmental ecodynamics and argue that we should “put aside concerns for locating an Anthropocene divide” while at the same time coauthoring several high-impact manuscripts with AWG members supporting a recent Anthropocene boundary marker (e.g., Waters et al. 2016a; Zalasiewicz et al. 20152017). Bauer and Ellis argue that we need to put aside concerns for locating an Anthropocene boundary marker and propose that archaeologists and other social scientists should adopt the Capitalocene or the Plantationocene, focusing on the “historicity of nature.”

The mountain of Anthropocene publications over the last several years, in my opinion, has been both positive and negative. It has fostered conversations across academic disciplines about how different scientists think about natural versus anthropogenic, human-environmental ecodynamics, and the future of our planet. It has sparked interest and high-profile articles in numerous media outlets. The Anthropocene has become a powerful environmental education tool at a time when climate change and climate science are highly politicized, especially in the United States. The Anthropocene encompasses not only anthropogenic climate change but also exploding human populations, pollution, accumulations of plastics in our oceans, accelerating extinction rates, and much more, and perhaps offers talking points that may permeate the defenses of climate change deniers. Unfortunately, conversations about the Anthropocene in the scientific community seem to be turning to academic siloing, following arguments similar to those presented by Bauer and Ellis that the different Anthropocenes should be carved up and controlled by specific disciplines or that we need different terminology to describe, at the broadest level, the same problem—humanity’s impact on Earth (Zalasiewicz et al. 2017). What is lost is Crutzen’s underlying message (in my opinion the only one that really matters) in proposing an Anthropocene nearly 20 years ago, drawing attention to the accelerating modern environmental crisis and guiding “society toward environmentally sustainable management” (Crutzen 2002:23; Crutzen and Stoermer 2000). The Anthropocene, for the public at least, has become a rallying cry to raise awareness about the growing human footprint on Earth. We risk losing this as we quibble over boundary markers, anthropocenes, and the usefulness of the Anthropocene versus the Capitalocene or the Plantationocene. Must we fiddle while Rome burns?

As a historical scientist, I, for one, am comfortable with ambiguity. I realize that I will never be able to completely reconstruct the incredible complexity of the ancient human experience from the shell middens I excavate and analyze. It is past time that the larger scientific community becomes comfortable with, or at least accepts, some level of similar ambiguity with the Anthropocene. I agree with Bauer and Ellis that ESS and the historical processes that helped create the Anthropocene are of fundamental importance, but so is its adoption in our scientific lexicon and our communication with the public. Why replace the Anthropocene with another term or terms and lose all the momentum built toward educating the public and stimulating interdisciplinary dialogues? As I have proposed previously, a merged Holocene/Anthropocene epoch would force us to think about the long-term impacts of humans, which have been variable across time and space, and offer a clear message to scientists and the public about humanity’s role in our growing environmental crisis (Braje 2016). A Holocene/Anthropocene would offer no starting point for humanity’s significant influence on Earth systems but would recognize the long-term, variable processes at work. This turns the conversation from the effects to the causes of the Anthropocene, calls attention to the “historicity of nature,” and concentrates attention on the conceptual merits of the Anthropocene. The Holocene/Anthropocene would function similarly to other previously designated geological epochs (Zalasiewicz et al. 2011:837), as a way to frame interdisciplinary, scientific inquiry of coupled human-natural systems in a practical and meaningful way (Smith and Zeder 2013:12).

Stanley C. Finney

International Union of Geological Sciences and Department of Geological Sciences, California State University, Long Beach, California 90840, USA (stan.finney@csulb.edu). 24 VII 17

“The Anthropocene Divide” by A. M. Bauer and E. C. Ellis provides very cogent reasons for not formally defining a beginning to an “Anthropocene epoch” yet fails in its explanation of the formal basis for a new interval in the Geologic Time Scale. As with most presentations on the Anthropocene, it ignores the true nature, purpose, and history of the chronostratigraphic units (system, series, stage) approved by the International Commission on Stratigraphy (ICS) and ratified by the International Union of Geological Sciences, which serve as the material basis for the geochronologic units (period, epoch, age) of the Geologic Time Scale. The primary argument of “The Anthropocene Divide” is that the human impact on the Earth system has spread episodically over the Earth through space and time and that to demark the now global impact with the term Anthropocene ignores a long history of intensification and dispersal of human impact. The primary purpose was not to describe the nature of chronostratigraphic units. Nevertheless, the authors do, and they do so in a manner promoted in the publications of members of the Anthropocene Working Group of the ICS Subcommission on Quaternary Stratigraphy, for example, that of Zalasiewicz et al. (2015). Finney and Edwards (20162017) challenged the misrepresentation that only a lower stratigraphic boundary must be proposed, approved, and ratified for the Anthropocene epoch to be formally recognized. Yet, what ICS establishes are chronostratigraphic units, which are intervals of stratified rock. A boundary between successive units is materially defined as a stratigraphic horizon in a single stratigraphic section, what is called a Global Stratotype Section and Point. It serves as the global reference on which the boundary is correlated to other stratigraphic sections worldwide. But the key concept is that the boundary is used only to set stratigraphic limits to the chronostratigraphic unit. ICS, the commission on stratigraphy, defines stratigraphic units, specifically, global chronostratigraphic units that are the material basis for the units of the Geologic Time Scale. Numerous recent publications propose stratigraphic markers for the beginning of the Anthropocene, but none provides documentation of the proposed units itself, which would be the Anthropocene series. Waters et al. (2016b) do illustrate the Anthropocene in a lake core, but it consists of only 2 cm of unconsolidated organic matter. It is unfortunate that Bauer and Ellis chose to ignore the nature of the units approved by ICS and instead continue with the serious misrepresentation. Bauer and Ellis cite Waters et al. (2016a) and Zalasiewicz et al. (2015) as providing evidence that “humans’ global physical environmental impacts produce an unambiguous and permanent signature in Earth’s lithological and sedimentary records.” They seem to not realize that stratigraphic documentation, from stratigraphic logs with sample levels and analysis, is not presented in those publications whatsoever, except for the 2 cm of unconsolidated organic matter in a lake core.

Also most pertinent to any discussion of formalization of an Anthropocene epoch is consideration of the usefulness of the term, particularly its stratigraphic application. Since the beginning of recorded human history, many geologic events are recorded in and referred to by years in the Gregorian calendar, and timing and history of all human impact is expressed with the Gregorian calendar. This applies to the lava flows in Hawaii, where individual flows are referred to specific dates (Poland et al. 2016). In geology textbooks, notable volcanic eruptions and earthquakes are listed in tables by the year in which they occurred. The lahar that devastated Armero, Colombia, deposited a thick, extensive blanket of sediment filled with human debris. It is referred to as the Lahar of November 13, 1987. It overlies another extensive lahar deposit that is referred to as the 1845 Lahar. Referring to the Anthropocene and Holocene lahars would be of no value. Throughout southern Europe, human artifacts discovered in soils and on the surface are referred to as Roman. Referring to them as Holocene would be of no value. It is of concern that many who publish on the Anthropocene as a new unit of the Geologic Time Scale fail to understand the basis of the units of the Geologic Time Scale. It is of further concern that they do not realize that the human calendar has replaced the Geologic Time Scale when giving the ages of geologic events and human events (impact) that have long been recorded by humans as they occurred.

Although Bauer and Ellis state that the Anthropocene “designation has been taken up vociferously across the academy,” they fail to recognize that it has not been so within the geoscience and stratigraphic communities. Presentations on the Anthropocene are rare at national and international geoscience meetings, other than by repeated presentations by a few members of the Anthropocene Working Group.

Bauer and Ellis state that “the claim that humans are altering the functioning of Earth as a whole has now been confirmed,” yet they ignore the fact that major changes to the Earth system have been controlled by internal tectonic and magmatic processes and extraterrestrial processes over which humans have no impact and no control and that, in turn, can catastrophically change the Earth system.

Unfortunately with discussions of the Anthropocene, those who are not geological scientists and particularly those who are not stratigraphers too often misrepresent the nature of the Geologic Time Scale, appear ignorant on the nature of stratigraphy, and do not fully understand the Earth system. Further, they seem not to recognize that today we use the human time scale, not the Geologic Time Scale, when dealing with human impact on the Earth system as well as expressing the age and timing of geologic events. Thus, there is no geological/stratigraphic need for an Anthropocene series. And if not formalized as a unit of the Geologic Time Scale, “Anthropocene” can have whatever meaning one wants it to have.

The Importance of Reference Frame

Jed O. Kaplan

Max Planck Institute for the Science of Human History, 07745 Jena, Germany (kaplan@shh.mpg.de). 11 VII 17

The Anthropocene was not originally introduced as a stratigraphic concept (Crutzen and Stoermer 2000) but rather as a philosophical idea meant to highlight the magnitude of human action in the Earth system. Recently, a group of scientists led by stratigraphers has been considering whether or not it would be valuable to formalize a stratigraphic definition of the Anthropocene, and if so, when and how to define its formal beginning—this is a requirement of all geologic epochs. Such an uppercase “A” Anthropocene would be recognized only after a process of definition, consultation, and ratification of a body largely comprised of Earth scientists.

As colleagues and I argued earlier (Ruddiman et al. 2015) however, the uppercase Anthropocene is an unnecessary concept. The Geologic Time Scale was a triumph of nineteenth-century scientific endeavor but has been rendered largely obsolete by the advent of radiometric dating. Radiocarbon and other techniques allow us to precisely estimate when certain events took place and can in large part trace the diachronous evolution of human-environment interactions around the world since our emergence as a species. We argued then, and continue to argue, for a lowercase “a” anthropocene, a recognition that we live on a planet largely transformed by the actions of our species, even to the point where our actions have become as important as changes in the Earth’s orbit around the sun or plate tectonics in influencing the state of the Earth system. We are also well aware of the problem of a stratigraphic definition of the age of humans, precisely for the reasons cited in this paper: human influence on the Earth system is a process with a long and variable history that emerged with the dispersal and migrations of humans across the planet, had different expressions in different places and times, and was by no means a unidirectional process but rather one that is marked by accelerations, decelerations, and even reversals in the sign of human influences over time on landscapes, plants, animals, and even the chemical composition of the atmosphere.

Given this long and diverse history of the anthropocene, one of the major issues currently limiting our understanding of the processes is the lack of reference frame. The “great acceleration” of anthropogenic activity (Steffen et al. 2011) clearly distinguishes the late twentieth century from earlier periods in Earth and human history, but the period immediately prior to this era or even a few centuries beforehand was also indisputably distinct from the “world without us.” Identifying a world without us surely requires examining the period before the beginning of the Holocene, but as we look into the past Ice Age, the Earth system in its glacial state was so different from the contemporary era that it is extremely difficult to use, say, 50,000 BP as a point of comparison. The global, rapid, and massive climate and environmental changes that occurred during the Pleistocene-Holocene transition are one of the reasons why it is very difficult to disentangle anthropogenic from other factors in explaining the extinction of the Pleistocene megafauna. To identify a period with climate analogous to that of the last several millennia but without substantial human influence, we would need to consider the last interglacial era, around about 125,000 BP, although even at this time anatomically modern humans were present throughout Africa. Perhaps the penultimate interglacial, 200,000 years ago at the dawn of human evolution, would be an appropriate time to consider the “natural” state of the Earth system. Unfortunately, extremely few terrestrial paleoenvironmental archives such as lake sediments—it is on land where we expect to see human influence—have records that extend so far back in time. We are therefore faced with the problem of lack of direct evidence for the evolution of human influence on the Earth system over time.

By the end of the glacial period, at the beginning of the Holocene 11,700 years ago (Walker et al. 2009), humans had spread to occupy even the extremes of all of the continents except Antarctica. On the other hand, many oceanic islands, large and small, were occupied by people only later in the Holocene. While imperfect in many ways, we may use reconstructions and observations of human influence on islands as an analogy for what may have happened on the continents earlier in Earth history (e.g., Boivin et al. 2016; Rolett 2008). Another way to understand how, when, and where humans influenced the Earth system is to employ process models of coupled human-environment interactions; in a hypothesis testing mode, it is possible to contrast model simulations of “the world we had” with the “world without us” (e.g., Kaplan et al. 2016). While it might ultimately be difficult to unequivocally prove that human agency was the cause of changes to landscapes, flora, and fauna, modeling experiments illustrate what could have happened and provide a valuable impetus for further, targeted paleoenvironmental and archaeological investigations.

As Bauer and Ellis point out in this article, the social sciences and humanities are largely concerned with the process (Earth system science) definition of the anthropocene. Many Earth system scientists themselves, however, continue to perpetuate the myth of a planet largely free of human influence in the latest preindustrial Holocene, and this perspective has had a large influence on the discussion surrounding a formal stratigraphic definition of the anthropocene. On the other hand, it is obvious to many archaeologists and historians that the state of the Earth system one or two centuries ago was clearly modified through anthropogenic activities. There is, therefore, an urgent need for social scientists to be engaged in the discussion around the anthropocene and to bring their evidence more clearly in front of the global change community. For many practitioners, this requires a leap of faith; few archaeologists or historians are comfortable with drawing general conclusions beyond their locality or period of expertise. But their synthetic viewpoint is invaluable and, combined with process modeling, will provide a powerful illustration of the state of the Earth system and improve our ability to put things into perspective, that is, to provide a reference frame for the anthropocene.

Ontologies of Occlusion in the Anthropocene

Jesse Ribot

Departments of Geography, Anthropology, and Natural Resources and Environmental Studies, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, Urbana, Illinois 61801, USA (ribot@illinois.edu). 26 VII 17

In this superb article, Bauer and Ellis explain how the “species” framing of “Anthropocene” occludes socially stratified causes and effects of climate change. Thus, it is logical that this framing also hides differentiated responsibilities for both cause and care. However, they later merge nature and culture in a manner that can also erase the very possibility of moral judgment and thus responsibility and response. They argue that “Anthropocene narratives … risk downplaying the many nonhuman materials, things, and organisms that people are entangled with and that also contribute to climate and other global environmental changes through a variety of relationships.” Indeed, climate-oriented explanations of weather-related damages are known to occlude the multiple causes of the vulnerabilities that place people at risk (Ribot 2014). Hazards (climate or otherwise) without vulnerability do not cause damage—they work together. With any given hazard, some people are damaged while others are not; that difference is vulnerability, not climate.

But the authors also evoke a different, Latourian-style occlusion—although their nature-culture discussions belie a more nuanced stance. Like Latour, they emphasize the need to attend to (ostensibly ignored) nonhuman things that shape outcomes, despite the fact that attention to these things is already present in any rigorous analysis of causality. Indeed, who ever said that the material world and material objects do not have effects? Was this ever in question? Thus, this object-oriented “turn” (ironically labeled “new materialism”) occludes the long history of analyses of social and material causes of climate crises. All thorough analysts—from Sen (1981) to Watts (1983) onward—bring in human and nonhuman factors.

Unfortunately, Latour goes further. He calls these nonhuman things “agents”—attributing this most-human quality to them. This introduces another occlusion, an occlusion of the role of agency in responsibility; by equating humans with objects, equating agency to any mere force, and thus flattening the relation between human and nonhuman influence—a flat ontology merging subject and object.

Objects can, of course, contain human agency. But they have no agency. Humans contribute to making the world. They influence it. They shape it. They are shaped by it. That relationship still does not give agency—a uniquely human attribute—to things. Things have force. Forces have effects. Effects have consequences. Consequences can, when humans are involved, have meaning. Human agency, like dead labor, is in things and shapes outcomes. This does not (without distinctly human fetishism) give things agency. Nevertheless, the forces that drive and shape things take on particular meaning when we can trace their origin back to humans. It is not agency of the objects that carry it. It is human agency that articulates through them. It is human agency that establishes blame, liability, and responsibility (see Calabresi 1975; Harte and Honoré 1959).

To attribute responsibility, a major reason that imagining an “Anthropocene” (of socially differentiated cause and effect) is worthwhile, we need to maintain the distinction between object and subject, nature and culture. For effective response (my goal), we need to know three things: (1) the human actions and nonhuman forces damaging the environment we depend on (whether or not we generate that environment or influence its nonhuman forces), (2) how we can reduce effects (regardless of their human or nonhuman origins) that undermine our environment, and (3) where to locate responsibility—what society judges can and should be done and who should do it. This responsibility—like blame or liability—cannot be located in the nonhuman forces. The force-agency distinction matters if response is to follow.

Since “should” shapes human action and thus outcomes, it must be within the scientific study of causality within any social system. Yet Latour (2014) tells us there is no history or theory (his irreducibility principle) nor therefore morality (due to his flat nonhierarchical ontology); this framing will miss those things that depend on “should”—social judgment that creates a hierarchy of value. Latour’s radical empiricism blinds us to all of the acts that did not happen (and are thus not visible) but that society judges as necessary or moral. These must be historicized and theorized to discern. In short, the normative is central to any scientific analysis of the multiple causes of disasters—such as the causes of vulnerabilities that turn climate events into crises (Ribot 2014).

“Shoulds” are necessary for the framing of any research that involves humans and that asks “why” something happened. This is because human (in)action is based on judgment. The inaction is visible only through knowledge of judgment—whereas action is manifest. Within a social world there is no asking why without asking about what is socially expected. Hierarchy (of human values), not flatness, guides action. We cannot know what was “not” done unless we know what could and “should” have been done.

This brings us full circle. “Should” is morality. It is located in the unique human characteristic called agency. It is in the will, predicated on the ability to think (à la Arendt 2003). If we view agency as everywhere, including objects, then everything, and therefore no one, is responsible. Tracing cause to an object’s force is fine. Yet, we must continue the search for agency, which is human, to establish the relations of responsibility and the possibility of response.

The Earth moves but is not moved. The Earth is a force without agency. Along with nonhuman forces, it carries in its movement the forces introduced by the agency of humans. That agency is part of causality. It leads us back to responsibility and basis for action—although responsibility can also come from mere knowledge of potential damages (knowledge, the apple, a good starting point for the Anthropocene?). The agency in the Earth is not of or from the Earth. It is ours, purely ours—no matter how it manifests and whether we can control it. True, “the traces of our action are visible everywhere” (Latour 2014:9). But it remains our agency since it is the antecedent that establishes responsibility for the movement that troubles us. We should be moved. We should consider what we do and how it affects others—the golden rule applies (see Arendt 2003).

Further, our being “subjected” to Earth’s vagaries does not give earth subjectivity (à la Latour 2014:9). The Earth remains object, shaped by our agency, but as much object as a table or chair. Placing it on the same plane with me, a subject, is tantamount to war—it is the objectification of humans. This flat ontological object-subject conflation is a frame of war that enables those of us who are subjects and have subjectivity to be reduced to the nongrievable equivalent of an object (Butler 2009). It is the equivalence, the erasure of difference, that reduces us. It is distinctly unethical. Humans are not equivalents of objects. Being is hierarchical—we live in a round world.

Once we distinguish humans from objects and recognize them as the locus of agency, then responsibility can be attributed and response can begin. I see no utility in asking whether humans are nature, since human nature, the ability to think and judge, is nature and is what distinguishes us from the remainder of the nature of which we are a part.

The Geological and Earth System Reality of the Anthropocene

Jan Zalasiewicz

Colin Waters

Martin J. Head

Will Steffen

J. P. Syvitski

Davor Vidas

Colin Summerhayes

Mark Williams

Department of Geology, University of Leicester, University Road, Leicester LE1, United Kingdom (jaz1@leicester.ac.uk; Zalasiewicz, Waters, and Williams)/Department of Earth Sciences, Brock University, 1812 Sir Isaac Brock Way, St. Catharines, Ontario L2S 3A1, Canada (Head)/Australian National University, Canberra, ACT 0200, Australia (Steffen)/University of Colorado Boulder, Boulder, Colorado 80309-0545, USA (Syvitski)/Marine Affairs and Law of the Sea Programme, Fridtjof Nansen Institute, Norway (Vidas)/Scott Polar Research Institute, University of Cambridge, Lensfield Road, Cambridge CB2 1ER, United Kingdom (Summerhayes). 26 VII 17

“A word means what I choose it to mean, no more and no less.” This pronouncement by Humpty Dumpty in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass might be recalled in considering Bauer and Ellis’s contention that the “Anthropocene” as a sharply delineated geological term does not serve anthropology well and therefore should be more generally rejected. Their contention and accompanying assertions, though, are widely open to question.

Bauer and Ellis begin by saying that any such sharp delineation (“periodization”) is invalid because the relationship of humans to the Earth reflects a complex continuum (paradoxically, they do not reject the Holocene and Late Pleistocene even though these cut across the same continuum). We emphasize here that scientists working in the framework of geology and Earth system science (ESS) see all Earth history as comprising complex, continuous, and pervasively diachronous change and yet they regard the “periodization” given by formal geological time units as essential to their work. This is because these precise, synchronous, internationally agreed boundaries lead to unambiguous communication and enhance interpretation and understanding. They intermesh effectively with a wide and varied array of other time-related units (litho-, bio-, cyclo-, magnetostratigraphic, etc.) to build a detailed picture of Earth history. Earth system scientists find such “periodization” exceptionally useful because it provides a consistent way to discern and communicate significant changes in the structure and functioning of the Earth system from a very large amount of useful data, including data from archaeology and anthropology.

The Anthropocene concept and term indeed originated with Paul Crutzen (Crutzen 2002; Crutzen and Stoermer 2000) explicitly as a geological epoch/series to succeed the Holocene and was soon widely adopted by the ESS community. As interest in this concept grew, the term was also noticed by stratigraphers, with initial evaluation suggesting that it “had merit” as a potential formal geological time unit and should be investigated further, an extensive technical process initiated in 2009 by the Anthropocene Working Group (AWG) of the Subcommission on Quaternary Stratigraphy, part of the International Commission on Stratigraphy (ICS). In this context, the Anthropocene is being examined as a potential unit in the parallel chronostratigraphic/geochronologic “dual hierarchy” (i.e., as both a potential series and epoch) of the International Geological Time Scale.

This “dual” timescale is specific to geology but is just one of many means by which humans measure or subdivide time and is distinctive in simultaneously comprising synchronously bounded material units of strata (e.g., series) and their equivalent “pure” time units (e.g., epochs; Zalasiewicz et al. 2013). It is used to subdivide Earth history (not human history), which continues to the present and in recent times encompasses both human- and nonhuman-formed phenomena. We know of no equivalent timescale in anthropology, archaeology, history, or other cognate disciplines. It may of course be used in these or other disciplines when considered appropriate (see, e.g., Vidas, Zalasiewicz, and Williams 2016 regarding its relevance for international law), as with Bauer and Ellis’s use of Late Pleistocene and Holocene.

Key to the geological viability of the term is the distinctiveness of the stratal record, not least because this is the only means by which recent events can be related to the whole of Earth history. This record shows Holocene relative stability persisting even as substantial human civilizations rose and fell, leaving rich archaeological traces of their interaction with the environment. Plausibly, anthropogenic activities might have drip-fed greenhouse gases into the atmosphere for millennia to maintain CO2 levels and therefore Holocene climate stability (Ganopolski, Winkelmann, and Schellnhuber 2016; Ruddiman 2013). “Anthropogenic,” though, is not synonymous with “Anthropocene,” for which the key distinction is decisive and essentially synchronous impact at a geological scale.

Diverse stratigraphic markers indicate that strata from the mid-twentieth century onward can be clearly and widely distinguished from earlier strata (Waters et al. 2016a). These indicators belie Bauer and Ellis’s complaints (i) that the archaeological record has been ignored in the process, as they are commonly archaeological in nature (e.g., plastics, concrete, persistent organic pollutants, fly ash, artificial radionuclides), and (ii) that the currently suggested start of the Anthropocene represents “an arbitrary break.” The accompanying perturbation to sedimentation has been large and global, producing pervasive stratigraphic records. For instance, humans have placed large dams on the main stems of ∼2,500 rivers globally in less than a century, reducing sediment delivery to the coast such that coastal successions on every continent except Antarctica now record this near-synchronous event. Overall, since 1950, humans have been moving more sediment annually than wind, glaciers, and rivers combined. Earlier records of humans engaged in terracing, emplacing small check dams, or deforesting areas of Europe represent an important, indeed fundamental precursor to this phenomenon, but one that was patchy, diachronous over several millennia, and largely confined to land. These early records, for all their historical importance, cannot satisfactorily define a global and synchronous (chronostratigraphic) boundary that is geologically effective.

The stratigraphic record is congruent with the recognition of a major, ongoing perturbation of the Earth system (Steffen et al. 2016; Zalasiewicz, Waters, and Head 2017), including unprecedented change to the carbon, phosphorus, and nitrogen cycles and the biosphere, both marine and terrestrial. Energy consumption by humans since 1950 exceeds, by some 1.6 times, that of all of human history before 1950. One metric, the Anthropocene factor (Gaffney and Steffen 2017), over the last 65 years is orders of magnitude larger than for the entire Holocene interval prior to 1950. Such force multipliers show that humans have geologically very recently acquired the energy levels, the population, and the resource (engineering) application to significantly and globally change the Earth system: abundant evidence of this transformation now exists in the stratigraphic record (Waters et al. 2016a; see fig. 1).

Figure 1.
Figure 1. Geological identity of the Anthropocene: trends in key Earth system and stratigraphic indicators from the late Pleistocene to the present time. Note the largely gradual change (at this scale) across the Pleistocene/Holocene boundary, the general stability through the Holocene, the marked inflections, and the incoming of novel indicators that clearly demarcate a changed trajectory that we identify with the Anthropocene, most sharply defined from the mid-twentieth century. Adapted from Waters et al. (2016a) and sources therein. POPs = persistent organic pollutants.View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint

Whether ultimately formalized or not, this is a major change in our planet’s history, considerably sharper than most other boundary intervals of the Geological Time Scale and capable of being precisely defined stratigraphically. It is a phenomenon also sharply distinct from the first evidence of, or early trends in, anthropogenic traces on land. It would be obfuscatory to conceal this change under the cover of “a complex continuum.”

This stratigraphic record represents a precise, clear, and valid definition of “Anthropocene”—but it is not an exclusive one, and it may not be relevant to all fields of human-dimension scholarship. The interpretation of the Anthropocene as presented by Bauer and Ellis bears scant relation to the one we have described above. Rather, it resembles the Anthropocene proposal of Ellis et al. (2016; although they do not mention this proposal nor responses to it [e.g., Zalasiewicz, Waters, and Head 2017]); this former proposal by Ellis et al. was similarly nonviable as a Geological Time Scale unit and similarly obscured the post-mid-twentieth-century changes. Ellis et al. (2016) had argued that the Anthropocene should not be rejected but rather removed from the ICS mandate and recast in social science terms.

In the English language, many words bear multiple, distinct meanings (“nature,” for instance). Naturally, this risks confusion, but nevertheless we would not presume to “supplant” other interpretations of the Anthropocene. The remit of the AWG is understandably to frame the Anthropocene in a geological context.

If such terms as Capitalocene and Plantationocene are thought useful by social-science communities to describe human influence on Earth, then perhaps this will resolve the “many Anthropocenes” in current use. These terms do not, however, “supplant” the “geological” Anthropocene, as they represent different concepts, from different contextual backgrounds, with social science interest on the socioeconomic drivers of change rather than on resultant Earth system behavior and its petrified and strata-bound consequences. Social science investigations are not irrelevant to understanding Anthropocene stratigraphic and Earth system change; to the contrary, the dynamics of human/technology interactions are clearly crucial to this question. Similarly, the Ordovician-Silurian boundary may be satisfactorily and pragmatically defined in strata even as the Earth system dynamics that drove this period-scale change remain unresolved, intensely debated—and hugely important.

The main thrust of Bauer and Ellis’s paper is captured by their claim that the stratigraphic and ESS definitions of the Anthropocene are based on “distinguishing a recent time when the Earth system was external to or unaffected by humans from a more recent period in which it is not.” This is obviously not true. The ESS definition is based on the evidence that the planet is on a strong trajectory out of the Holocene (and indeed out of the glacial-interglacial cycling of the late Quaternary) and that human activities are the primary driver of this trajectory (Steffen et al. 2016). This does not imply that there was inconsequential human influence on the Earth system before the Anthropocene. Of course there was, as the Bauer and Ellis paper shows in some detail. However, it was only since the mid-twentieth century that Earth system scientists can say with some confidence that a trajectory out of the Holocene clearly began. For them, placing a Holocene-Anthropocene boundary there seems natural and incontrovertible given the evidence. This parallels the stratigraphic perspective, where the putative Anthropocene series, although clearly characterized by a range of novel proxy signals (e.g., Waters et al. 2016a), negates Bauer and Ellis’s argument that the Anthropocene somehow represents a black-white divide between no human influence and massive human influence. The Holocene already accommodates the rich evidence of human environmental imprint (Gibbard and Walker 2014).

Bauer and Ellis fail to acknowledge the complex-system nature of our ocean-dominated planet and this importance for the Earth system definition of the Anthropocene. Complex systems have many definitions, but two features are common to all of them: (i) emergent properties at the level of the system as a whole that cannot be aggregated up from subsystems or individual components of the whole system and (ii) attractors or reasonably well-defined states that are characteristic of the system as whole. The Anthropocene is on a rapid trajectory away from the Holocene/interglacial attractor (or more appropriately, away from the glacial-interglacial limit cycle of the late Quaternary) but is not yet an attractor in its own right. Bauer and Ellis detail the rich background to human development and influence on the Earth system but do not acknowledge our planet’s shift as a complex system that began around the mid-twentieth century. The long anthropological story of human development occurred within the Pleistocene glacial-interglacial limit cycle (the Holocene being the latest interglacial) of the Earth system. In short, Bauer and Ellis confuse human influence on the Earth system with a change in state of the Earth system as a whole. This confusion has long surrounded the Anthropocene concept and is not unique to their paper.

We emphasize that all these various approaches are nonexclusive and complementary, and we are puzzled as to why Bauer and Ellis should regard them as some kind of battlefield, with the Anthropocene as a singular trophy to be fought over and won or lost. Anthropologists and archaeologists, who search for and map out the early evidence of human activities and their patterns, offer much to the stratigraphic/ESS study of the Anthropocene (and, we trust, vice versa). Without the evolving dynamics of human-Earth relations over the long term, the Anthropocene as we consider it here would not have happened. We note the genuine, wide-ranging, and generous interdisciplinarity that the Anthropocene has stimulated; this has been among the most positive features of this phenomenon. We dearly hope to see it continue and strengthen but note that interdisciplinarity does not mean an absence of disciplinary coherence.

Missing the Mark: On the Matter of Narrative and Social Difference

Reply

Andrew M. Bauer

Erle C. Ellis

We are grateful to the commentators for engaging our essay and contributing to this forum. Their diverse perspectives emphasize the many distinct ways that the Anthropocene is being imported across the academy. Some see its utility as a political label, others stress its utility as a neutral geological period, and still others question its usefulness as either. While there is much agreement among the positions offered and the views we expressed in our essay, there are also significant points of misunderstanding or avoidance of our principal critiques of the Anthropocene periodization that deserve clarification in the interest of fostering productive interdisciplinary discussion.

The commentary of Zalasiewicz and colleagues of the Anthropocene Working Group was ostensibly the most critical of our position. Yet they also miscast our argument, evaded the more significant critiques that we foregrounded, and failed to acknowledge that the main Anthropocene narrative to which we and others are responding was in fact generated by Earth system scientists who promote the designation. To be clear, our essay does not challenge whether the Earth system is undergoing a state shift related to recent human activities or whether the magnitude of human impact has significantly increased. Rather, our essay problematizes the way in which geological systematics and the scientific narratives produced by Earth system scientists in accounting for this state shift frame historical processes and how that framing has been taken up by scholars.

Zalasiewicz et al. argue that we confuse “anthropogenic” for the “Anthropocene” (despite our explicit discussion of a tipping point and a recent state shift) and that we fail to recognize Earth as a “complex system.” Here they seemingly misunderstand our usage of the term “assemblage.” Similar to how natural scientists define “complex systems,” social scientists conceptualize assemblages as complexes of heterogeneous elements that, through their historical configurations and dynamic interactions, produce emergent outcomes—in other words, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts (cf. Bennett 2010; DeLanda 2006; Thomas 2015). We are aware that human activities do not simply add up to systemic change (cf. Turner et al. 1990), and we are not denying that geological or historiographic periods have disciplinary utility—indeed, archaeologists make heavy use of periodizations, albeit primarily at regional scales (e.g., South Indian Iron Age). As Finney noted, our essay does not challenge the validity or usefulness of an Anthropocene chronostratigraphic unit to geological systematics, though as both Finney and Kaplan diligently point out, its utility remains far from certain (see also Ruddiman et al. 2015).

The thrust of our argument is that the Anthropocene divide, the separation of a pre-Anthropocene from the Anthropocene, neither represents a shift in human agency from being merely “ecological” to becoming fully “geophysical,” as many have argued (see below), nor helps us to understand the historical, cultural, and political processes through which humans contribute to and transform Earth’s functioning as a system. Zalasiewicz et al. reiterate the geological need for a globally isochronous marker for anthropogenic global change; our point is that such a marker would not capture the socially differentiated and diachronous character of historical human-environmental entanglements that have contributed to a state shift in the Earth system. While one might question the degree to which any periodization could reflect such historical processes—as Kaplan’s commentary lucidly addresses in considering the anachronism of the Geological Time Scale more generally—our concern is explicitly with how the Anthropocene periodization obscures connections between pre-Anthropocene/Anthropocene human-environmental relationships while also foreclosing socially differentiated understandings of human-environmental interactions with its emphasis on the species. Zalasiewicz et al. mistake our interests in the geophysical impacts of human activities in prehistoric periods and the previous call of Ellis et al. (2016) for broadening interdisciplinary discussion with an attempt to win the “Anthropocene as a singular trophy” and sidestep our actual concerns for how human-environmental relationships are understood and narrated, given the critical recognition that narratives, scientific or otherwise, have ideological and political consequences.

When Zalasiewicz et al. sardonically dismiss the variable “meanings” of the Anthropocene to claim that a geological Anthropocene references the period in which the Earth has undergone its most recent state shift and little more with respect to historical processes or different kinds of human agency, they are reinforcing disciplinary divides and blatantly ignoring that many of the Anthropocene’s principal advocates, including Earth system scientists responsible for promoting the term, have explicitly provided narratives of human history to accompany the geological designation. Steffen, Crutzen, and McNeill (2007), for instance, state that the Anthropocene is “the current epoch in which humans … have become a global geophysical force” and that their “objective” is to examine the “evolution of humans and our societies from hunter-gatherers to a global geophysical force” (614). Such historical claims imply that humans did not have (global) geophysical effects prior to the Anthropocene. Thus, as humanities scholars have taken up the Anthropocene as a period when humans transitioned from being ecological actors to being “geological” actors, or the “inception of humanity as a geophysical force” (cf. Chakrabarty 2009; Morton 2013:7), they are not “confusing” the writings of Earth system scientists on the Anthropocene; rather, they are carefully considering the implications for their respective disciplines, such as Chakrabarty’s (2012) lucid recognition of “disjunctive” forms through which historical agency might be understood.

A primary concern of our essay is how the Anthropocene periodization has been taken up in such terms (e.g., geophysical vs. biological) and the ways in which it may, as Kaplan cogently remarks, “perpetuate the myth of a planet largely free of human influence in the latest preindustrial Holocene,” a myth that has heavily influenced “discussion surrounding a formal stratigraphic definition of the anthropocene.” In contrast to the suggestions of others, we stressed that the Anthropocene periodization cannot be taken as the beginning of humans’ “geophysical” impacts, as Zalasiewicz et al. also acknowledged. Moreover, explanations for the recent state shift in the Earth system must address prior intervals, especially if we accept that many human-related landscape transformations of thousands of years ago, such as the creation of methane producing irrigated landscapes and widespread deforestation, continue to affect the functioning of Earth’s biosphere and climate system today.

We welcome calls for complementarity and collaborations with archaeologists. However, interdisciplinary collaborations on relationships between human activities and Earth’s systemic functioning should not only mean sharing data or borrowing models but also learning from the critical perspectives that others bring—and this is especially relevant to narratives of the Anthropocene periodization. As archaeologists and historians know well, historical narratives are powerful in what they affirm and silence, ideologically (re)produce, and constrain and allow in discursive practice. Archaeologists, for instance, have been actively concerned with how their claims risk naturalizing or perpetuating presentist ideological constructs, such as those of nation or individual, or framing some humans as passive objects of history and others as its active makers (e.g., Leone, Potter, and Shackel 1987; Meskell 1998; Trigger 1980). As Earth scientists begin to write human history with archaeologists (or without them), we hope that they will be similarly open to such critical introspection.

In this regard, we disagree with Braje’s comments that our critique of the Anthropocene is tantamount to “fiddl[ing] while Rome burns.” While Braje “generally agree[s]” with our assessment of the Anthropocene’s obscuring tendencies, he nevertheless embraces the Anthropocene for its political work and appears less concerned with its occlusions (aside from arguing that it be extended to all of the Holocene). Although the contemporary politics of climate change were not the primary concerns of our essay, we nonetheless suggested how an uncritical acceptance of the Anthropocene periodization might actually work against a more inclusive environmental politics to mitigate the deleterious environmental effects of human activities. To start with: it potentially naturalizes a recent state shift as a teleological outcome of human evolution; it silences social differences and responsibilities with its emphasis on the species; it risks denying forms of historical agency outside of recent Euro-American innovation; and it effectively reproduces a society versus nature ideology that paradoxically enables “deniers” to maintain the position that climate change is purely “natural.”

We have noted several of these concerns before (e.g., Bauer 2015b; Ellis et al. 2016), and one of us has expanded on the Anthropocene narrative’s complex implications for environmental politics in considerably greater detail through other collaborations and mediums (see Bauer and Bhan 2018 for discussion). Here we will simply stress that to cast our critique as superfluous “quibbling” is to overlook an important point: that a critical framing of the historical process might enable ways of shaping both social relationships and environmental outcomes other than what is made possible by an emphasis on the emergence of the species as a singular “geophysical force” that recently came to “dominate” those of nature. This is why we have stressed the need for a political ecology (e.g., Biersack and Greenberg 2006; Robbins 2012) and are sympathetic to calls for a Capitalocene and other sociopolitical orientations, even while acknowledging that a critical history of capitalism cannot be the entirety of our account or the only alternative (see Bauer and Bhan 2018). Braje seems less bothered by the political implications of the silences (sensu Trouillot 1995) in the received Anthropocene narrative. We disagree with him regarding their importance (see also Bonneuil and Fressoz 2017).

Ribot agrees with us that the Anthropocene’s generalizing tendencies, in focusing on “the species,” mask important questions about social differences and responsibilities. Yet he equates our framing of the functioning Earth system as a dynamic assemblage to a “Latourian-style” merging of nature and culture that may erase the possibility for “moral judgment and thus responsibility and response.” Ribot’s concerns that posthumanist approaches that “distribute” agency (sensu Bennett 2010) foreclose important questions of ethics and intentionality dovetail with the positions of many others (cf. Martin 2014; Van Dyke 2015). We share these concerns and stress that our calls for a political ecology and emphasis on inequalities in the production of socio-environmental conditions are hardly a charge for “flattened” agency or responsibility. However, not forgetting the range of materials and other-than-human organisms that also give shape to Earth and through which human actions are entangled and realized is important for recognizing how humans partly shape social and environmental conditions simultaneously. There are many good reasons for rejecting the hubris of Anthropocene narratives that suggest humans now “dominate” nature, as Finney also effectively points out. In response to Ribot’s principled concerns, recognizing the social effects of things or that the production of climate is ontologically distributed does not mean that everything is an equal actor or the same kind of actor or even that the same “thing” will have the same effects in different contexts (e.g., Bauer and Kosiba 2016; Kipnis 2015). Hence, it does not exclude important questions of ethics, intentionality, or responsibility in regard to climate change; rather, it calls them to the fore in political discussion (see Bauer and Bhan 2018).

As these commentaries exemplify, there are many reasons why interdisciplinary discussions on the concept and utility of the Anthropocene should continue. As most of us agree, there is need to understand the historical entanglements of social conditions, materials, nonhuman life, and Earth system functioning. Moreover, there is still much to clarify as scholars are progressively drawn into conversations that go beyond the comfortable confines of their home disciplines, given that human-related climate change and mass extinctions are increasingly recognized as some of the greatest political concerns of our time. We the authors (Bauer and Ellis) have different disciplinary training and research objectives and are not in full agreement about the usefulness of the Anthropocene (or an anthropocene) designation to our respective fields or social concerns. However, that has not stopped us from finding common ground and learning from the critical perspectives that we can offer each other.

Narratives matter. “That which is said to have happened” recursively affects that which happens (Trouillot 1995:2). And this is just as true for narratives written by anthropologists, archaeologists, ecologists, and historians as it is for those written by geologists and Earth system scientists.