Perhaps a student of history and politics can be forgiven for making the mistake of thinking (in his weaker moments) that politics and economics are the foundation of modern life. I have been thinking a lot about a short piece I submitted this past week to an online opinion journal up here in Canada. It’s about how land stewardship can become a part of the social contract and I am awaiting word as to whether it will be accepted (my fingers are crossed).
I have spent a lot of my mental “capital” thinking about how land, land stewardship and a fine, nurturing regard for the Earth can be written into political language and even made a constitution. It’s a daunting task, especially for someone who comes by his political theorizing on his own and not from “proper” or practical training. But it also is an interesting exercise because it forces me to think like a political theorist while trying to hold onto my environmental sensibilities.
And what are those sensibilities?
A criticism of environmentalism is that it is “romantic.” But when you read about what romanticism actually is, I would argue that in many ways environmentalists are not the least bit romantic. “We” can’t afford to be because the threat of ecological destruction and environmental degradation is real, imposing and pressing on the world. In other words, “We” environmentalists have to be empirical, studious and eminently sober. We have little time for fancy.
Romanticism, you see, is a fancy. It is about flights of the imagination and it is sentimental and places human feeling and longing foremost in the mind. Now, I am a romantic because I am a sentimental person and I respond deeply to my own emotions. I am a reader of romantic poetry and fiction and I am enamoured of works of the imagination. But as an environmentalist I have to be a realist, plus royaliste que le rois. I believe this is the predicament of the environmentalist in our modern age and it is a predicament. So, what I do is I praise the dynamism and plurality of free markets. I abstract about property ownership and I try to think about how we can take a positive value like “stewardship” and write it into a workable definition of civil society. This is challenging because we live in a liberal society where property ownership is a protection against the aggression and avarice of others and we define freedom as freedom from coercion or even freedom from limitations. It is far too easy for environmentalists to think in terms of limiting human behaviour and telling people how they must behave because so much environmental degradation comes from wastefulness and resource abuse. But in a liberal society that is a one way ticket to irrelevancy. So, how do I convince people that if you want to be freer you’ve got to be more nurturing, perhaps even gentle?
It’s a task that requires imagination and originality and a dull doggedness. Somehow I’m supposed to (or I should) juggle inspiration with fact. I need to be imaginative but I have to remember and embrace the real, living experiences of the people I want to persuade. And in politics the best regime -in my mind- is the one that recognizes the plurality and diversity of human experiences. . . which suggests I should somehow tell them nothing and show them everything. Tall order.
To put a point on all this: I am finding that forms of thought and expression have everything to do with the content of what we are able to say. I find that by taking up political thought and the essay format I will not persuade by emotion. But this labour must be sustained by passion. And romantic sentimentality, the belief that my life is sustained, enhanced and improved by a world that is more diverse, more vibrant and full of myriad plants and animals and people who love the abundance of nature is my cause. I want to be the Lorax in the garb of John Locke.
Here goes. . .
Oh how I do yearn for the shared understanding that is supposed to come from moments of communion. I imagine all of us (humanity) standing on a cliff overlooking Lake Erie, let’s say, in late April or early May when the funnel of migratory birds comes north to nest in the boreal forest. And it is clear and sunny with a breeze. The lake is blue and the birds, in great streams of colour and song, come across the water and we all feel the rushing of their wings, the beating of their song and the sun light rays of the wind in one complete, measureless moment. We all have a shared experienced, let out a collective swoon and then we go home and say, yes, this is what life is about and what is worth protecting in the world. In one moment we have all felt like a community of human beings enjoying a shared understanding. We have seen beauty and agreed on its worth. We have recognized this beauty comes from non-human nature and we feel a deep respect for it and a primordial desire to protect it. We feel kinship with each other and with the entire world.
Romantic, yes? Philosophical? Yes.
Jeremy Nathan Marks
