deep ecology

Deep ecology as a school of environmental thought is the pure antithesis to human exceptionalism.

It argues that ignorance of the current crises of unprecedented biodiversity loss, anthropogenic climate change, and degradation of ecosystems is not the root cause of our inability to meaningfully tackle them.

The problem is apathy.

Love for the natural world has become a marker of naïvety, something you're supposed to grow out of. It's bad form to talk about your favourite animal at the dinner party, the office, the family gathering. You might be branded a bleeding heart if you admit to any deep sadness regarding the fact that wild animals now make up a pitiful 4% of the terrestrial mammal biomass [1].

Actions taken in aid of those we love are never a burden. To realise the societal changes that must take place for the sake of our planet and its inhabitants we must act out of love. If we fail to recognise the capacity of the average person to do so, our collective future becomes one of either environmental collapse or ecofascism.

Thinking Like a Mountain by John Seed, Joanna Macy, Pat Fleming, and Arne Ness was my introduction to deep ecology. Time and time again I come back to a poem from this book, and if I could I would ask you to read it too.

The Bestiary by Joanna Macy

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Short-tailed albatross

     Whooping crane

          Gray wolf

              Woodland caribou

                       Hawksbill sea turtle

                                 Rhinoceros

The lists of endangered species grow longer every year. With too many names to hold in our minds, how do we honor the passing of life? What funerals or farewells are appropriate?

Reed warbler

     Swallow-tail butterfly

              Bighorn sheep

                       Indian python

                                 Howler monkey

                                          Sperm whale

                                                   Blue whale

Dive me deep, brother whale, in this time we have left. Deep in our mother ocean where once I swam, gilled and finned. The salt from those early seas still runs in my tears. Tears aren’t enough anymore. Give me a song, a song for a sadness too vast for my heart, for a rage too wild for my throat.

Giant sable antelope

  Wyoming toad

     Polar bear

              Grizzly bear

                       Brown bear

                                 Bactrian camel

                                          Nile crocodile

                                                   Chinese alligator

Ooze me, alligator, in the mud whence I came. Belly me slow in the rich primordial soup, cradle of our molecules. Let me wallow again, before we drain your swamp, and pave it over. 

Gray bat

     Ocelot

              Pocket mouse

                       Sockeye salmon

                                 Hawaiian goose

                                     Audouin’s seagull

Quick, lift off. Sweep me high over the coast and out, farther out. Don’t land here. Oil spills coat the beach, rocks, sea. I cannot spread my wings glued with tar. Fly me from what we have done, fly me far.

Golden parakeet

     West African ostrich

              Florida panther

                       Galapagos penguin

                                 Imperial pheasant

                                          Mexican prairie dog

Hide me in a hedgerow, badger. Can’t you find one?  Dig me a tunnel through leaf mold and roots, under the trees that once defined our fields. My heart is bulldozed and plowed over. Burrow me a labyrinth deeper than longing.

Thick-billed parrot

      Blue pike

          Snow leopard

                       Molokai thrush

                                 California condor

                                          Lotus blue butterfly

Crawl me out of here, caterpillar. Spin me a cocoon. Wind me to sleep in a shroud of silk, where in patience my bones will dissolve. I’ll wait as long as all creation if only it will come again– and I take wing.

Atlantic Ridley turtle

     Coho salmon     

              Helmuted hornbill

                       Marine otter

                                 Humpback whale

                                          Steller sea lion

                                              Monk seal

Swim me out beyond the ice floes, mama. Where are you?  Boots squeeze my ribs, clubs drum my fur, the white world goes black with the taste of my blood.

Gibbon

     Sand gazelle

              Cheetah

                       Chinchilla

                                 Asian elephant

                                          African elephant

Sway me slowly through the jungle. There still must be jungle somewhere. My heart drips with green secrets. Hose me down by the waterhole; there is buckshot in my hide. Tell me old stories while you can remember.

Desert tortoise

     Crested ibis

              Hook-billed kite

                       Mountain zebra

                                 Tibetan antelope

                                          Andrew’s frigatebird

In the time when his world, like ours, was ending, Noah had a list of the animals, too. We picture him standing by the gangplank, calling their names, checking them off on his scroll. Now we also are checking them off.

Ivory-billed woodpecker

     Indus river dolphin

              West Indian manatee

                        Wood stork

We reenact Noah’s ancient drama, but in reverse, like a film running backwards, the animals exiting.

Ferret

     Gorilla

              Tiger

                        Wolf

Your tracks are growing fainter. Wait. Wait. This is a hard time. Don’t leave us alone in a world we have wrecked.