When, in his famous soliloquy, Shakespeare’s Hamlet poses the question: ‘To be or not to be?’, his musings lead him to consider what it is to be human, to exist or not exist. Today, our collective actions: the destruction of our natural habitat, unrestricted technological growth, the waging of wars, are increasingly prompting us to ask ‘what would the world be like without humans?’ Indeed, speculative visions, storytelling and narratives concerning a future without humans may offer us a better understanding, not only of the distant future, but of the present and the possibility of reshaping our immediate future.

Cli-fi, Sci-fi and the near future

In his novel, Ministry of the Future, author Kim Stanley Robinson undertakes an exercise in what he refers to as ‘future modelling’. Looking at the near future, he builds on the ideas of Australian civil engineer and geo-hydrologist Delton Chen who proposed incentivising carbon reduction through the use of a digital global currency – the ‘carbon coin’.[1] Speculating around potential implementations has furthered conversations around addressing the climate crisis through financial instruments, and fostered the ongoing dialogue surrounding wealth distribution and accountability. Diving deep into research, drawing on sociologic, technologic, scientific and egalitarian theories enables Robinson to create an informed and well-thought-out future temporality. From within this framework, he is able to explore solutions that could realistically be adopted by society to tackle the complex set of global problems stemming from the climate crisis. Placing the reader at the heart of such dilemmas through compelling storylines and characters allows us to empathise and relate effectively, and Robinson has a remarkable ability to join the dots and understand the myriad of factors that interconnect humans with the environment.

A similar strategy lies at the heart of Problem Based Learning (PBL), a student centred pedagogy that places learners in the middle of multi-faceted ‘real world’ scenarios. Similar to Robinson’s future modelling, it enables the individual to make sense of, and respond to, the world in which they have been placed, potentially leading to the investigation of meaningful and relevant solutions to important problems.

Narratives are often used to help construct PBL scenarios as they bridge the ‘imagination gap’, which is essential to envisaging transformative environmental change. The International Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Approaches regularly uses this strategy in workshops to explore diverse perspectives on what a sustainable future might look like in relation to oceans, land, economy, ecosystems, technologies, and the rights of nature, with a focus on the role of people and local communities.[2]

Visualising futures without humans

Locating a narrative in the near future to better understand the human relevance can be very effective, but what happens if we examine this through the lens of extended time? What would life on Earth look like if we travelled millions of years into a post-anthropocentric future in which humans have completely ceased to exist?

As a teenager, I remember the profound impact of reading Chapter 11 of H. G. Wells’s The Time Machine. The main character jumps forward millions of years to an Earth inhabited by monstrous crab like creatures, giant butterflies and green slime. It positions the reader in a baron, unfamiliar and lonely world, completely devoid of human life.[3] Awake at night, I could not stop thinking about the hypothetical chain of events that could have led to this vision of the planet. This chapter was an inspiration for geologist and palaeontologist Dougal Dixon’s After Man: A Zoology of the Future. His picture book, set 50 million years from now, envisions what life on earth may look like after our demise. Dixon’s main focus is on speculative evolution and not the death of humanity. However, I found it impossible to read it without wondering what happened to us along the way.[4]

There are many econarratives that speculate on future ecologies in a world in which the role of humans is decentralised. They help us see things from alternative perspectives and focus on the almost endless connections between all living things, in line with James Lovelock’s Gaia Hypothesis, granting us a deeper understanding and appreciation for how our current actions impact our environment. But what allowed Dixon’s book to capture the public’s imagination so successfully was his use of imagery. The book is adorned with full-colour illustrations by a range of artists. Using pictures in this way brings his ideas to life, making it engaging and accessible to readers of all ages. No background scientific knowledge is required.

Similarly, the children’s book Dinosaurs and all that Rubbish by Micheal Foreman, foretells a future earth that is reclaimed by dinosaurs due to our inability to look after it.[5] The final pages depict the main antagonist asking a Diplodocus if he can have the Earth back, to which it replies:

“No. Not a part of it, but all of it. It is all yours, but it is also all mine. Remember that. This time the earth belongs to everyone, not parts of it to certain people but all of it for everyone, to be enjoyed and cared for.”

The book’s primary objective is to facilitate discussion with children regarding our collective responsibility to care for the planet. Implying that one day we may become extinct can open up discussion about ways we can mitigate against this. Children’s books have the ability to make complex concepts accessible through a variety of literary devices such as metaphor or allegory, creating easily digestible stories that work across many levels. They thereby have the power to shape the hearts and minds of generations to come.

As I struggled to make sense of post anthropocentric narratives devoid of human presence, a conversation with my father-in-law was able to help me understand why I had come to a dead end in my enquiries. He suggested that life without humans is essentially meaningless, as meaning is something that we have manufactured and constructed. In the event of the complete annihilation of humanity, there would be no one left to assign value or purpose.

Apocalyptic narratives that have been spun since the dawn of time have changed in light of our current circumstances. The philosopher Thomas Moynihan inquires into the history of how we have responded to the suggestion of total annihilation through the ages in his book X-Risk: How Humanity Discovered Its Own Extinction. It concludes that as ‘omnicide’ has become entirely plausible, we are beginning to react to, reflect upon and process the philosophical implications raised by this bleak and baron prospect.[6] If we fail to engage with these speculative narratives, we may well fail to take the necessary actions that may one day ensure our survival. If we ignore them, it may be more appropriate to stop pondering the meaning of our individual or collective existence altogether, and reflect on how we can justify our place in the universe after destroying the very habitat that sustains and nourishes us.

With the looming threat of mass extinction, there is a degree of urgency to unpick the relevance of humans and what we take our purpose to be as so-called ‘intelligent beings’. Storytelling and narrative that present credible temporalities, whether communicated through words, pictures or both can help us answer such questions. Stories are deeply entrenched in our collective history and have played an essential part in our survival. They pass down knowledge. They ignite our human ability to imagine the future, enabling us to better understand the present. They can influence those who will one day inherit the earth. By doing all these things, perhaps storytelling and narrative have the power and potential to spur us into taking the actions required to avert catastrophe and thus ensure the survival of our species. Perhaps it is time we pay them more attention.