We are nature. The separation between humanity and nature is a false one, that works against conservation efforts.
I like the idea of rewilding because it forces us to see ourselves as part of a large natural system - which is what we are - and helps grow appreciation for that system.
But until there is a way for recognition of that system to become more profitable than "othering" nature - polluting the environment, destroying parts of that system - or regulation prevents that othering, it can be depressingly isolating.
I see the appeal of this framing, but it seems wrong. We came from nature but we’re qualitatively different. No other species could spread across the world in the virtual blink of an eye. No other species could dig up and burn gigatons of coal or eradicate thousands of species just for convenience, food, or sheer indifference.
I don’t see it helping conservation efforts either. If we’re part of nature, if we’re fundamentally not so different, then that implies we don’t need to worry too much about what we do. Dumping toxic waste is like a deer crapping on the ground. It doesn’t worry about where the stuff goes or what will clean it up, so why should we?
The answer is that we’re not part of nature, we don’t have robust ecosystems taking care of all those details. We should care because we still need nature for many things, and beyond that we still want it. And so we must act to preserve it, because we certainly are capable of acting to destroy it.
The answer is that it's not binary, despite everyone's insistence on framing it as such. We are a part of nature, but we do have some degree of power and responsibility over it that other species don't. It's not absolute, it's murky and messy, defined by the magnitude of power and our estimates of it. I think this framing addresses both our relationship within our ecosystems, above our ecosystems, and in the distant future, beneath some larger cosmic ecosystem that may exist that we don't know about yet.
Humans both are a part of nature and are distinct from it at the same time. It is wrong to dissolve humanity into its natural constituents just as it is wrong to turn humanity into something totally Other or supernatural standing above nature. Both can be true.
This is a take on environmental communication I’ve heard more and more of recently. Out of curiosity, do you know of other literature or people trying to reframe the human/nature relationship?
Aurora Morales, in one of the essays in Medicine Stories, mentions how we need to stop referring to our biosphere as “environment”.
It is not something “out there” that surrounds us. It is the air we take in with every breath etc. we are one with it.
Poisoning or destroying it is the very act of poisoning and destroying ourselves.
She points out that perceiving the biosphere, the land, other living beings, and humans as resources - and especially resources tied to an economic system of infinite growth, causes us to destroy it all for the creation of illusory value.
We are dealing with normalized mental illness on planetary scale which causes humanity to actively destroy our biosphere.
David Abram's 1996 book The Spell of the Sensuous a good starting point.
This was also a central theme in a lot of the late John Moriarty's work (although approached more obliquely and holistically than Abram imo). That mantle has been picked up by Martin Shaw. Both discuss how we, as a species, have domesticated ourselves out of our natural and profound connection to the very ground of our being. See also philosopher and neuroscientist Iain McGilchrist's The Master and his Emmisary.
> do you know of other literature or people trying to reframe the human/nature relationship?
WHO draft treaties demote humans (including rights) to the same level as other animals and mandates global surveillance of interspecies zoonotic boundaries.
The TV series "Zoo", based on writing by James Patterson, includes 3 seasons of thought experiments.
You might appreciate Charles Eisenstein (or he might be too "hippie" for you). I posted one quote of his as a top-level comment, but here's another:
Clear-cutting aside, the decline of one after another species of trees all over the world is something of a mystery to scientists: in each case, there seems to be a different proximate culprit — a beetle, a fungus, etc. But why have they become susceptible? Acid rain leaching free aluminum from soil silicates? Ground-level ozone damaging leaves? Drought stress caused by deforestation elsewhere? Heat stress due to climate change? Understory damage due to deer overpopulation due to predator extermination? Exogenous insect species? Insect population surges due to the decline of certain bird species?
Or is it all of the above? Perhaps underneath all of these vectors of forest decline and climate instability is a more general principle that is inescapable. Everything I have mentioned stems from a kind of derangement in our own society. All come from the perception of separation from nature and from each other, upon which all our systems of money, technology, industry, and so forth are built. Each of these projects itself onto our own psyches as well. The ideology of control says that if we can only identify the “cause,” we can control climate change. Fine, but what if the cause is everything? Economy, politics, emissions, agriculture, medicine … all the way to religion, psychology, our basic stories through which we apprehend the world? We face then the futility of control and the necessity for transformation.
...
Thus I say that our revolution must go all the way to the bottom, all the way down to our basic understanding of self and world. We will not survive as a species through more of the same: better breeds of corn, better pesticides, the extension of control to the genetic and molecular level. We need to enter a fundamentally different story. That is why an activist will inevitably find herself working on the level of story. She will find that in addition to addressing immediate needs, even the most practical, hands-on actions are telling a story. They come from and contribute to a new Story of the World.
"But it wouldn't have been ecological. The geotects of Imperial Tectonics would not have known an ecosystem if they'd been living in the middle of one. But they did know that ecosystems were especially tiresome when they got fubared, so they protected the environment with the same implacable, plodding, green-visioned mentality that they applied to designing overpasses and culverts."
-- Neal Stephenson, The Diamond Age.
Kind of interesting timing given the mysterious sea fence that appeared recently [1].
Does that mean there's still some sort of hope...?
Of course we can. You're perhaps thinking of ownership as being something more than a social construction, but that's all it is.
"Own" just means that we agree with other people that we have certain rights over some property - land, or whatever. That ownership is enforced to varying degrees by society. That's it.
Yep. The same fallacy would get you “we can’t own a candy bar because its component atoms originated in distant stars billions of years ago and will outlive our solar system”. Sorry, no, that’s my Kit Kat.
Sure we can. We made fences, guns, and governments to do exactly that. But it turns out these coordination and defensive devices sort of blow up in our hands. And come a huge hurricane, storm, flood, or fire, nature just laughs are our land surveys and continues unabated.
My problem with the term “ecological balance” is that it doesn’t exist. It’s a mythical term that seems invented by Disney. Nature is brutal. Populations will get wiped out, species will disappear.
That’s exactly why having a lot of species is important. But it’s hardly balanced.
It does seem that there are periods and places where things are in equilibrium, or stable. At some point, something typically comes along and disturbs that balance. This can be seen in the fossil record, where you have lots of species going extinct during fairly short periods of time, while there are other times when not much happens.
What people are concerned about is that we, as humans, are the thing that is disturbing the balance at the moment.
Things are not stable between the mass extinctions - the mass extinction events are just extreme events of high relevance.
The thing is that Earth is constantly shifting in unpredictable ways. There was an interesting paper recently published working to reconstruct the temperature record of the last 500 million years. [1]
The paper concluded that global mean temperatures varied (over time) in a range from 11c to 36c. We're currently around 15. And temperature is but one of countless variables, most all of which are constantly changing.
This makes longterm equilibriums basically impossible because each time things change, it disrupts the existing balance and there will be new winners and new losers.
With the world's population now exceeding 8 billion, we need to be thoughtful about the best way to rewild ourselves. We can live in dense cities with concrete high-rises but animals can't. Many animals at the top of the food chain need significant ranges for themselves. So the challenge is finding a way that we can minimize our footprint while also providing more opportunities for legitimate connection with nature. Put another way, a bimodal life - with time split between a concrete high-rises and natural areas is probably more ideal for the overall system than a push for everyone to live in slightly more rural areas.
The world is far bigger than most realize. Split completely equally there's enough room for more than 200,000 square feet per person. [1] Thats about 4 football fields of area for every single man, woman, and child alive today.
Factor in that some people enjoy living in urban areas, most won't leave in any case, and so on - and we're realistically talking about tens to hundreds of football fields per person. It's a big world out there.
This is so sadly true. I remember reading an article by philosopher and environmentalist Arne Naes where he remarked how surprisingly rare a joy in nature was, even if circles of environmental activists.
Our species is doing some aggregious things to the planet at the moment, like the article implies, I think in part, that's possible because of a kind of blindness we now have to the world around us.
(More detail: egregious is from Latin ex grex, to stand out from the flock. Aggregate is from Latin ad grex, to bring into the flock. Aggressive is ad grad, towards a new grade or level or behavior. So aggregious has this idea of all of humanity leaving our flock en masse as we hurt ourselves and the planet, unified in elevated action but misbehaving and alienated.)
I am reminded of a passage from Charles Eisenstein's "Climate, A New Story":
Explorers and naturalists of previous centuries give staggering testimony to the incredible natural wealth of North America and other places before colonization. Here are some images from another book, Steve Nicholls’s Paradise Found:
> Atlantic salmon runs so abundant no one is able to sleep for their noise. Islands “as full of birds as a meadow is full of grass.” Whales so numerous they were a hazard to shipping, their spouts filling the entire sea with foam. Oysters more than a foot wide. An island covered by so many egrets that the bushes appeared pure white. Swans so plentiful the shores appear to be dressed in white drapery. Colonies of Eskimo curlews so thick it looked like the land was smoking. White pines two hundred feet high. Spruce trees twenty feet in circumference. Black oaks thirty feet in girth. Hollowed-out sycamores able to shelter thirty men in a storm. Cod weighing two hundred pounds (today they weigh perhaps ten). Cod fisheries where “the number of the cod seems equal that of the grains of sand.” A man who reported “more than six hundred fish could be taken with a single cast of the net, and one fish was so big that twelve colonists could dine on it and still have some left.”
I used the word “incredible” advisedly when I introduced these images. Incredible means something like “impossible to believe”; indeed, incredulity is a common response when we are confronted with evidence that things were once vastly different than they are now. MacKinnon illustrates this phenomenon, known in psychology as “change blindness,” with an anecdote about fish photographs from the Florida Keys. Old photographs from the 1940s show delighted fishermen displaying their prize catches—marlins as long as a man is tall. When present-day fishermen see those pictures, they flat-out refuse to believe they are authentic.
"walking barefoot in the grass, planting native species in our backyards, or simply pausing to observe the life teeming around us" - from the fine article
I like the idea of rewilding because it forces us to see ourselves as part of a large natural system - which is what we are - and helps grow appreciation for that system.
But until there is a way for recognition of that system to become more profitable than "othering" nature - polluting the environment, destroying parts of that system - or regulation prevents that othering, it can be depressingly isolating.
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