In the vast ocean of empathy, there lies a final frontier that challenges our understanding of ourselves and our place in the natural world. This is the story of our struggle to see ourselves as animals, and the consequences that follow.
Imagine a peaceful morning in Massachusetts Bay, where a North Atlantic right whale, accompanied by her young calf, gracefully navigates the shallow waters. Their synchronized movements, a beautiful dance of life, are a reminder of the innate connection between all mammals and their quest for sustenance and safety.
However, beneath the surface, a different logic prevails. The busy lanes of Boston's shipping traffic, guided by distant executives, operate on a human timeline. Despite efforts to reduce whale collisions, the relentless pace of commerce continues to dictate the rules, with large vessels routinely ignoring seasonal speed limits. This is a stark contrast to the natural rhythm of the whales, a rhythm that, if disrupted, could lead to their extinction.
This conflict highlights a deeper issue - a belief known as human exceptionalism. It is the notion that humans are not only distinct from other life forms but morally superior, entitled to dominate and control nature. This belief shapes our actions, from what we eat and how we raise it, to the habitats we destroy for development, and the emissions we release into the atmosphere.
But there are alternative worldviews, ancient and still living, that offer a different perspective. For the Māori of Aotearoa, the concept of whakapapa emphasizes the kinship between humans, rivers, mountains, and forests. In Lakota philosophy, the phrase "Mitákuye Oyás'iŋ" reminds us that all living beings are related, not just resources.
These beliefs challenge the idea of human exceptionalism and invite us to reconsider our place in the cosmos. It's a difficult task, especially in a world where extending compassion to other humans can be met with resistance. Yet, as psychologist Erik Erikson pointed out, our tendency to create a divide between "us" and "not us" often leads to mistreatment and a lack of empathy.
Charles Darwin, in his lesser-known work, argued that human emotions and their expressions are shared with other animals, a continuity that was later dismissed but has since regained recognition. Primatologist Frans de Waal further emphasized this, coining the term "anthropodenial" to describe our blindness to the similarities between humans and other animals.
Why is it so hard for us to acknowledge our animal nature? Perhaps because it challenges our self-concept and forces us to question our actions and beliefs. Are we truly the superior, moral species we believe ourselves to be? Or are we, as the only species destroying the planet we depend on, more akin to the greedy, territorial, and violent animals we claim to be above?
As a professor, I often teach Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," a story that highlights the dangers of tradition and the ease with which cruelty can become customary. It serves as a reminder that sometimes, the old ways of thinking must change, especially when they contribute to the mass extinction of life on Earth.
While exceptionalism argues for human superiority and rights, the counterargument is simple: uniqueness does not equate to moral superiority. If it did, many other life forms, like the bioluminescent lantern fish or the ancient honey mushroom, would hold a higher rank.
The question then arises: If we truly embraced the intelligence of the living world, how would we live differently? Could we build, farm, and move across the planet with kinship and respect for nature as our guiding principles?
Despite the challenges, there are signs of progress. The Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing in Los Angeles and the Parleys Canyon overpass in Utah demonstrate the success of strategic compassion, reducing wildlife-vehicle collisions and providing safe passage for animals. These projects show that a more compassionate and considerate approach is not only possible but also effective.
In the legal realm, the rights of nature are gaining recognition. Rivers in New Zealand and Colombia, and the Magpie River in Canada, now hold legal personhood, challenging the traditional hierarchy that favors human rights over nature's rights. These developments, often led by Indigenous communities, are a testament to the growing influence of a more-than-human ethic.
As we navigate these complex issues, it's important to remember that policy changes are often contested. However, we can still make thoughtful choices in our daily lives. Swapping lawns for native plants, supporting wildlife corridors, and adopting more plant-based diets are small steps that collectively make a difference. Each action, no matter how simple, contributes to a more compassionate and sustainable world.
The whales, the rivers, and the terns ask for space, recognition, and habitat. It is within our power to grant these requests and broaden the circle of consideration, not with perfection, but with sincerity. We may be running out of time, but we are not out of choices.
Illustrations by Jensine Eckwall
