When I was twenty-two years old, I worked during the summer of 1995 at an Illinois state park as a Seasonal Interpreter. During the last month of earning my undergraduate degree, the phone in my dorm room woke me from a deep sleep early one April morning after a late-night of playing cards and drinking beer. “What the hell are you doing, wake up!” laughed the state park ranger. I met Jeff several years prior at a local restaurant and bar that I worked at while attending community college. He took a liking to me and thought I was a hard worker and good with people because of how I interacted with employees and customers in the restaurant. Many late nights were spent after work drinking beer with Jeff in the bar, which often included my weekly Saturday night performance of a Billy Connolly stand-up comedy routine that I memorized. Based on this, Jeff illogically concluded that I was a perfect fit for the Seasonal Interpreter job that required taking campers on hiking trails and educating them about nature and the history of the park. “Are you sure about this, Jeff? I have a bachelor’s degree in sociology with a minor in anthropology.” “Well, you can use that can’t you?” he replied with another laugh. A month later, I was sitting in Jeff’s truck getting a behind-the-scenes tour of the state park where I spent much of my adolescence.
I was in over my head, and most of the full-time park employees resented the creation of the position, let alone that I was filling the position. While I had a philosophical appreciation for nature and environmental justice, I knew virtually nothing about plants, trees, birds, and the animals of the forest. I had to start somewhere, so I selected a good and conveniently located trail near the campgrounds, packed a backpack with nature books, and spent several weeks reading and exploring the trail on warm summer days below the shaded cool of the canopy of trees. I picked out several stops along the trail and did my best to research the trees and plants at those points. My first guided tour was not exactly stellar or well-attended, and I quickly realized that I needed professional help. I contacted my former biology teacher at the local community college and, mercifully, he agreed to give a guest tour. The day of his tour was a beautiful Saturday morning, and I and approximately twenty campers were treated to an educational hike that included deer running across our path, which delighted the urban campers. I now had a script to build on. I spent more time on the trail, looking through nature books, and learning how to listen and interpret nature.
I didn’t realize it, but my senses were adjusting. Sounds became distinct voices. Trees swayed, groaned, and danced in the wind. Birds sang and spoke to me. I gradually began to experience nature differently. Then one day, near the end of my stint as a Seasonal Interpreter, I was sitting at the trail head reading about plants and trees when off in the distance on the playground a young child picked up a plastic whiffle-ball bat and began pounding it against the side of a tree. The tree let out a cry. I’m not speaking figuratively. It was very brief, but I heard it. For a long time, I talked myself out of admitting that I heard anything. Twenty-six years later, I’m convinced that I didn’t imagine this. The only reason I was able to hear it is because I spent three months immersed in a natural environment, away from machines, concrete, glass, and steel. For one brief moment, the truth of what human existence really is and how deeply connected we are to the planet, nature, and nonhuman species was revealed.
Last week I spent several days on my porch in the sweltering, unseasonably hot weather. It seemed the appropriate setting to read a book about climate science, human disconnection and disregard for nature, and environmentalism. The air-conditioners hummed as tree shade and a light breeze offered some respite from the heat and humidity emanating from the metal and concrete surrounding me. I opened the book and began. “It’s customary when writing about nonhumans to use the relative pronoun that rather than who: ‘We cut down the tree that used to grow by the pond,’ not ‘We cut down the tree who used to grow by the pond.’ The authors of this book use who whenspeaking of nonhumans because we believe that how we speak of the world profoundly affects how we perceive and experience the world, which in turn profoundly affects how we act in the world. If we perceive the life around us as a collection of resources to exploit, then exploit them we will—and ultimately, we will destroy the world in our attempts to control it.”
What unfolds in the pages that follow are some inconvenient details of the environmental impact of the manufacturing of renewable energy and power infrastructure. The environmental impact of the mining required to build renewable energy infrastructure remains highly problematic. Manufacturing solar cells (silicon) and building wind turbines (copper) is not a pristine environmental process. While building renewable energy infrastructure is less environmentally destructive to the planet and nonhuman species than fossil fuel infrastructure, the mining and manufacturing process remains environmentally destructive. Whether people deny the impact of human-made climate change and pretend fossil fuels are infinite or they accept climate change and work to build less environmentally destructive sources of energy, none of it is sustainable. The environmental debate is now framed between those who deny reality in order to rationalize continuing on the path of fossil fuel extraction and those who are willing to accept climate science but who lie to themselves that manufacturing renewable energy infrastructure is somehow sustainable and capable of delivering enough energy and power to allow our way of life of consumerism, trade, agriculture, and travel to continue unabated. We simply refuse to accept that our way of life is at the heart of the human dilemma, and speaking this truth out loud is political suicide.
As demand grows for the dwindling and thus increasingly expensive fossil fuel infrastructure, social, political, economic, and environmental chaos has begun. As people and nations get more desperate, military action will become more likely. The United States, China, and Russia have the capacity to unleash massive armies and weapons of mass destruction and cyberwarfare in a race to monopolize access to remaining fossil fuels in an effort to control, dominate, and gain strategic advantage over other nations. As people and nations become more desperate to hold onto our way of life, they’ll become more susceptible to anti-democratic and authoritarian appeals by strongmen promising safety and security through military force to protect our way of life.
The seeds of this predicament were sown in the domestication of plants and animals approximately 10,000 years ago. Human efforts to control soil, water, plants, and animals began slowly. The surplus and steady supply of food allowed for population growth. Humans became sedentary, and we began to build permanent structures, towns, and cities. Humans cleverly employed language to symbolically construct a “reality” that disconnected humans from nonhuman species in order to rationalize and justify environmental destruction and build and preserve our way of life. Hierarchies of human supremacy grew stronger. Humans abandoned religions that worshiped the sun and all of nature as sacred in favor of worshipping the son. Patriarchal social relations replaced the egalitarianism, cooperation, and interconnection so integral to our hunting and gathering ancestors’ ability to survive with the lies of dominance, competition, and disconnection that accompany civilization and the falsehood of infinite economic growth. Cultures of control and dominance brought colonialism, militarism, enslavement, the creation of race and white supremacy, and resource extraction and exploitation to build and maintain the tools of domination. Humans disconnected from nature, from others, and ultimately from ourselves.
Modern humans existed on this planet for 190,000 years before building cultures of disconnection, domination, and control. Our way of life, for the past one-hundred years in particular, is profoundly out of balance and completely atypical of human existence on this planet. We’ve lost our capacity for perspective at a time when we most need to understand the uncomfortable and inconvenient truth. We cannot farm the way we are farming. More of us need to grow food and in ways less damaging to soil and water. We have to voluntarily deindustrialize. We cannot travel as much or the way we are traveling. We have to think more carefully about the construction and size of homes and limit the extent to which we heat and cool our living space. We cannot produce and consume the way we are producing and consuming. Instead of truth, we lie to ourselves that it’s possible to reconcile our way of life and the demands of industrial capitalism with the limitations of the planet and a population of eight billion people. Nature says otherwise. The process of planetary correction has begun and is picking up speed, and it will proceed with or without human cooperation, understanding, or humility.
When I was twenty-two years old, the tree WHO cried out revealed the truth to me and told me everything I needed to know. When trees grow close to one another, they learn from one another and help one another. Their roots become entangled, and trees learn to communicate with one another. In a sense, tree roots have memories and store history. Trees embody the wisdom of our hunting and gathering ancestors: egalitarianism, cooperation, and interconnection. Trees transfer energy and resources to other trees in need. Trees understand not just how to survive but how to live and support all species in the desire to live well, including maintaining an ecosystem that is hospitable to humans. Trees are resilient teachers, forgiving, nurturing, and loving, even in their death.
When I die, I am going to be cremated and my ashes will be planted with an Oak Tree, location to be determined. Perhaps one day humans might relearn how to hear the truth from trees and create a way of life built on harmony rather than hierarchy.
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. –Herman Hesse