Human-centric journalism is complicit in forming a violent world that views non-human beings as mere resources, instead of beings with agency and knowledge. This toolkit, comprising seven tools, offers an opening to reimagine our collective worldview towards an anarchy between humans, non-humans and all beings’ consciousness. This reframe is vital for collective healing, and journalists, as well as storytellers of other media, can be useful catalysts for this epistemological shift.
It is easy to scoff at the suggestion. Who would interview a tree? Why interview a tree? Per the journalism guidelines I have come across, to be inclusive means interviewing all stakeholders, who either save, cut down or plant trees. Trees have no say in their fate.
I imagine a tree shudders if I ever say this out loud. The line rings eerily similar to the once-beloved trope, ‘giving voice to the voiceless’, in the journalistic and development world.
The ‘voiceless’ are poor, hungry, displaced. They are studied, analysed, given training, money and aid. The ‘voiceless’ are featured on fundraising brochures, in monitoring and evaluation reports. They are talked about, yet rarely if not at all talked to. The ‘voiceless’ do not speak the mainstream language, and even when they do, an expert has to approve for their voice to matter.
Fortunately, many of the ‘voiceless’ today are no longer without a voice. Indigenous people everywhere have put up a good fight for a seat at the table. Parts of the development world, to an extent, backed off and retreated to a humbler position – being allies rather than representatives. The ‘voiceless’ no longer need anthropologists to validate their lived experience; their lived experience is valid.
Unfortunately, the non-human world, also commonly known as ‘nature’, remains painstakingly mute to the human ear. A fascist, a corporate journalist, and a labour unionist might have little in common, but they are likely to agree that trees can’t talk, nor have feelings. Most people can’t fathom how such communication might take place, let alone admit that trees, orangutans, and fungi have anything to say, or even teach us.
It is precisely because of this separation from the non-human world, the delusion that we are somehow superior, that some humans grant themselves the rights to overharvest and others the ego-boosting role of saving ‘nature’ from these abusers. It is rarely acknowledged that ‘nature’ has agency, wisdom, and the ability to teach us lessons.
This refusal to operate as equals is hurting both the abusers and the self-proclaimed liberators: insurers soon will find themselves unable to cover extreme weather-related damages, and conservationists are getting depressed and suicidal for not being able to save their beloved habitats.
The Anthropocene — anthropogenic climate change — is wreaking havoc on vulnerable populations of both humans and more-than-humans. This is, first of all, a crisis of human supremacy. Yet it is hardly framed as such. Furthermore, humans may be a considerable force shaping this era, but it would be naive to undermine other non-human entities’ immense and unfathomable power to regenerate and create life.
Indigenous populations who live off forests have long understood that the dichotomy between humans and ‘nature’ is a myth. Robin Wall Kimmerer, a Potawatomi botanist, using both her ancestors’ teachings and her research findings using Western methodologies, argues that humans are just one species that helps create habitats, who are no less susceptible to habitat changes than other beings. In this worldview, mountains, rivers, vertebrates, plants, and microorganisms have souls, agency, and knowledge. We are equals.
Denial of this power dynamic shapes our intentions and interactions with other beings. The willingness to observe and learn is key here. Overestimating our ability to shape habitats, we risk exhaustion and despair.
It takes imagination to understand our limited power and use that to create more habitable ecosystems. Courage is needed to relinquish the heroic narrative of saviours versus abusers. Humility is required for us to accept that our lifetime is a learning journey, and other beings are our teachers. Compassion is vital so that we can liberate ourselves from identity politics, purity tests, and start walking a common path.
Journalists have been aiding the perpetuation of this patronising, colonial, human-centric worldview, but they can also be part of this healing process.
For this first iteration of the present toolkit, I will be focusing on reframing one core discourse –– what I call “humanspeak” (i.e. key narratives dominating the current media landscape).
To do this, I will offer those of us working in the sphere of storytelling with several tools to (un)learn how to imagine and practice using our words to build a world based on a radical anarchy between humans, more-than-humans, and consciousness.
“Humanspeak”: Humans are destroying nature, and therefore are responsible for saving nature.
The reframe: The colonial, extractive worldview towards other beings destroys life, including ours. Both humans and non-humans have the power to shape habitats – even long after they are gone.
The current reigning paradigm, “sustainable development”, sees the world only in its material, tangible forms and puts humans’ interests first. The tenets of "sustainable development" offer a 'progressive shift' compared to the blatant and blindly extractive ones dominating previous decades, even centuries. From a creed of (white) humans entitled to take anything and infinitely, “sustainable development” situates us on a temporal scale and acknowledges that possibly what one uses up today produces a dent in future generations' banks. In simpler words, how to take less, so that we can keep taking, and for much longer.
This lens, however, says nothing about symbiotic relationships among us and other beings; about how to take, but also give responsibly.
Spiritual ecology recognises the myriads of symbiotic relationships that have existed millions of years before us and will continue to exist after us. It rejects the dualism between humans and ‘nature’, as well as humans’ superiority, and considers homosapiens as part of these symbioses, whether we want it or not.
Putting both humans and other beings on a temporal scale allows us to transcend materialism and explore other pathways to achieve more convivial habitat changes. As beings change their physical forms over time, their energy also transforms. Understanding that historical relics, such as fossils, carry energy from millions of years ago and are capable of transforming into formidable other forms of energy–– for example, heating up the planet and superstorms––allows one to be much more considerate about how they interact with non-humans.
Once we acknowledge the vast complexities of the universe, it is a daunting task to try to understand them. As a learner myself, I hereby offer several tools to aid our collective learning process, mindful that this toolkit is to be updated and expanded.
Tool #1: Power mapping.
Political ecologists examine habitat degradations (‘environmental issues’, in humanspeak), by tracing how power dynamics between different human groups, sometimes including themselves (positionality), led to habitat changes. We can apply this exercise using the spiritual ecology lens, with a caveat that this process is a simplification of the complexities that exist among beings and consciousness, to expand our limited understanding.
Instead of mapping the politics of human groups alone, one can situate the roles of non-human entities in the past, present, and future.
Ask yourself: Whose life depended, depends, and will depend on whom? Who used to be here, and who can appear in the future? For example, how come it is easy to cut down a forest without pagodas, yet not such an easy feat if it is a sacred grove vehemently protected by villagers? How come some animals are worshipped and therefore better cared for, like whales worshipped by fishermen, but others are slaughtered without much thought? On the other hand, how to account for the fact that on the site of a nuclear disaster, in the wake of ongoing unbearable toxicity for many beings, the very first thing appearing (and thriving) are mycelia and mushrooms?
Finally, as an observer but also a potential factor participating in the habitat, sometimes it is important to find your positionality. For instance, if you are ‘reporting’ on or studying a specific context, you will need to understand and answer how you, as a storyteller, help shape the habitat you are studying. Do you cause stress to other beings trying to do your story? Do you unintentionally reshape behaviours by asking questions? Do your steps or diet requirements affect the landscape, or the ethical way of harvest?
Tool #2: Inclusion.
After the dynamics are roughly mapped out, it is important to dive deeper into the elements. What are the non-human beings in your story? A river, a pond, a bushland, snakes, tigers, insects, soil –– name them. Read up on the literature on them if there is any. Identify the entities in the area you are studying. Are there any in particular that should deserve extra attention? What are their behaviours, preferences, and triggers?
Spend some time with the non-human entities to craft a profile of them, before the ‘interview’.
Tool #3: “The art of noticing”.
In her ethnography “Mushrooms at the End of the World,” anthropologist Anna Tsing argued that noticing is, in itself, a research methodology. It goes against the drive of mathematicians and economists to figure out a formula that can be adapted for any context, minimising the details. The details, Tsing contends, are where the wisdom lies.
Another common ‘humanspeak’ maintains that plants, rivers, and animals don’t speak, so their voices don’t count. Both Tsing and Kimmerer, having spent considerable time in the woods, prairies, and marshlands, insist that if one just lingers, looks and feels closely enough, other beings will share their wisdom. Take Kimmerer’s discussion of the Honorable Harvest principle – a Potawatomi teaching of ethical taking. How does one know when the berries give them consent to harvest? One looks at the colours, the smells, the sights of the seasons, the overall health of the region’s berries, and one makes the calculated decision to take only what one can and needs.
Human spoken and written languages are only the hegemonic modes of communication in the human world. Outside this world, other beings communicate with sight, sound, taste, smell, neurological signals, wavelengths, and means we have yet to discover. Scientist Monica Gagliano, author of Thus Spoke the Plant, found that plants can learn, remember, and communicate with other plants. Her groundbreaking experiments (that cost her ‘scientific’ and academic reputation) were important grounds for Gagliano to urge readers to recognise plants as sentient beings. Similarly to Kimmerer, Gagliano also offers an example of how Western scientific methods, spiritual wisdom, and personal findings can work together and allow us to trace a much more complex, nuanced, and real story of our entangled relationships to the living world.
Interviewing a tree does not mean trying to speak to it in English or Vietnamese. That won’t yield much result. It means a willingness to study ways in which plants, animals, and insects can reveal their knowledge to us. It means patience and humility sufficient to fight the inner impulse to get a vox pop or a quick quote. It takes dedication of time, genuine appreciation, and curiosity for wisdom beyond humans’ consciousness.
Tool #4: Listen to your heart.
If all senses fail and there isn’t time for wisdom to reveal, there is almost always the spiritual connection. Conservationists are burnt out, Mongabay editor-in-chief Rhett Butler argues, because of a constant mental block to deny this bond with other beings, for fear of sounding too cheesy. Stoicism does not guarantee ethical reportage. In many human cases, such as the genocide of Palestinians, stoicism in the name of objectivity means exonerating the abusers.
Admit you love the lake, and the lake calms you. Chances are many readers have already made peace with such bonds.
Tool #5: Rights and responsibilities.
A human-centric narrative prioritises humans’ right to certain elements, such as clean food and clean water, in order to ensure their wellbeing. A human-decentering narrative agrees on the essentials, but cautions that rights come with responsibility. Rather than a right, water, for example, is a gift from other beings––the rocks that purify it, the stream and forest that deliver it. Thinking in gifts removes the entitlements and insinuates a responsibility to reciprocate by protecting that water source.
A good member of the symbiosis understands clearly where the gift exchanges happen. As communicators, journalists must be careful they don’t reinforce the sense of entitlement already ingrained in many of us, if we strive to become better members of the symbioses.
Tool #6: Name the abuse.
Once responsibilities are clearly laid out, it is much easier to spot the abuse and violations of reciprocity. Use language that amplifies the lack of consent and abuse, instead of enabling it. Make an intentional effort to indicate that the beings harmed have agency. For example, “chickens suffer intoxication of antibiotics at a rate three times higher than the global average,” is better than, “chickens were dosed with antibiotics at a rate three times higher than the global average,” and is better than “farmers inject chickens with antibiotics at a rate three times higher than the global average”.
Sometimes the task of naming the abuse and the abuser will feel daunting, as the layers of abuse seem endless, such as the case with industrial farming. It is still important to pinpoint the violence, no matter how cumbersome. To start reimagining, we need to be able to understand what went wrong.
Tool #7: Develop your own grief rituals.
Covering habitat degradation can be emotionally difficult. Like human beings, non-humans can continue to communicate even after their passing. Just as humans deserve a funeral when they die, the loss of a forest, the intoxication of a river, or the disappearance of species also deserve proper grief. Do whatever eases your soul – journal, light a candle, write a poem, sing a song, talk to a friend, paint a mural – anything that marks the existence of that being, lest it be forgotten.
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This toolkit only offers openings into an alternative to tell stories embracing a radical anarchy between humans, more-than-humans, and consciousness. The author is fully aware of its limitations and is wholeheartedly open to constructive criticisms, as well as invitations for co-creation and continual development of ideas. Feel free to reach out to me at trangbui257@gmail.com
From an awkward tree hugger with love.
