The Modern Environmental Movement: How Did We Get Here

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The Modern Environmental Movement: How Did We Get Here

As I sat down to write this piece on the modern day environmental movement, I questioned myself as a makeshift historian. Tellings of history are riddled with bias. I did not want to perpetuate these same biased tellings and continue to privilege certain voices over others. So as you read, I do want to remind you that when we recall heroes, it’s important to remember that people who become heroes are able to do so because they were given a platform to stand on and speak out, either due to privilege or because someone with privilege deemed them a hero. This is not to say that their efforts were not significant to the course of history, but to serve as a reminder that the voices telling history are not without bias, and we must consider that to capture the full picture of what has really happened. We have to ask, who was allowed to be in a lab collecting data, and who was expected to stay at home, or work in a factory? Whose voices were elevated and whose voices were silenced? It’s hard to be the icon of a movement when you don’t have access to information, or when society sees you as inferior.

A movement is never easy to explain. It does not start because of one action or one event but is a nuanced collection of efforts that builds on itself over the years. To credit one person or one moment in time with the successes of the modern-day environmental movement would be to ignore the activism that may not have been written down or televised by the media. Because this is a blog post and not a novel, I’ve had to simplify things beyond my liking and focus solely on the movement within the United States. If you are really interested in going more in-depth into environmental movements, I suggest starting further back than I do. Explore books that use various lenses to examine the movement and do a deeper dive into the intersection of environmentalism with other “isms.”

For this brief history, though, let’s start in the mid-1800s, the birth of the Industrial Revolution. Now, I won’t force the Industrial Revolution into the clichéd good/bad binary, but instead, let’s acknowledge that the rapid industrialization of our country had a considerable impact on the environment. This impact was not acknowledged for far too long, some would say until it was too late. This is not to say that the 1800s were void of environmental activism. In fact, conservation groups during this time called for the protection of open spaces and the regulation of development. One outspoken activist, of course, was John Muir who founded Sierra Club in hopes of preserving land. Conservationists like Muir brought attention to the effects of urban development on our environment, which led to the creation of national parks, like Yellowstone, the first national park signed into law by Theodore Roosevelt in 1872. However, environmental protection progress was slow and industrial growth was fast.

As the population in the United States skyrocketed, so did industrialization. People saw the mass production of goods as the only way forward to meet the growing demands of the increasing population. The negative consequences of industrialization were not on the minds of those running the factories - money was. How could they be as profitable as possible? Get as many goods out there while spending as little as possible? The answer was clearly the mass manufacturing of goods in factories. This marks the point where we became a coal-dependent society. Coal was a vital resource needed to power steam engines which allowed for the mass production of goods, as well as their transportation via railroad and ship.

Now, let’s fast forward to the early 1900s. The landscape of the United States had shifted dramatically. Life, as it were, would not have been possible without the Industrial Revolution. Yet, while many were enjoying the luxuries of this new era, something else was happening. As a full blown-industrialized nation, with car prevalence on the rise, the effects of pollution become more apparent. Although there was some wavering between addressing this issue and putting it on the backburner because of public attention to the Great Depression and World War I and II, events continued to occur that made it impossible not to address pollution as a hazard to public health. Sulfur dioxide emissions killed 20 people and hospitalized 600 in 1948 and smog in big cities like New York and Los Angeles killed hundreds of people in the 1950s and 60s.

As a result of the growing threat of pollution to human life, the ball on environmental action starts to roll. In 1950, we see the first conference on air pollution by the Public Health Service. President Eisenhower speaks to the issue of pollution in his State of the Union address. In 1955, we see the passing of the first piece of legislation to address air pollution. For the first time in history, environmental issues are coming to the forefront of American discourse and the seriousness of the relationship between human action and environmental impact is starting to be understood in America.

It wasn’t until 1960, however, when the modern environmental movement really started to take shape. Rachel Carson releases her iconic book, “Silent Spring,” about pesticides, species endangerment, and the impacts of pollution, a pivotal moment many historians affirm as the beginning of the modern-day environmental movement. Carson’s book becomes one of the most popular books of its time, selling over half a million copies. Although the chemical industry decries the book as fiction, claiming that Carson’s findings about pesticides are fabricated - perhaps a foreshadowing of the role corporate profit will play in the ability of the environmental movement to achieve success - a scientific advisory committee verifies the facts.

Along with the release of “Silent Spring,” in the 1960s we see several major events that further institute the rise of the modern environmental movement. In 1960, worldwide carbon dioxide pollution passes 300 parts per million, a loud and frightening wake-up call. In 1966, when the first endangered species list is released, the bald eagle is on the list - an eerie, symbolic message signifying the threat of endangerment to America, as much as to its national bird. In 1968, Paul Ehrlich writes “Population Bomb,” bringing attention to the fact that the world population has doubled in the past 50 years. Ehrlich makes a connection between this explosion in population and environmental issues. The focus of environmentalists expands, the first of many expansions; they are now not only concerned about conservation and pollution, but also about diminishing resources and our ability to sustain life for an unprecedented number of people.

The same year, the environmental movement gains its icon: an image of the Earth from space. Human beings seeing the planet they inhibit for the first time from outer space had a profound effect on how people thought about themselves, the Earth, and the relationship between the two. It put things into perspective, making us realize how insignificant we are, while capturing the beauty of this silent, floating orb we inhabit. Needless to say, many people were inspired to take a stand for the environment, as they began to understand what really was at stake if we chose not to act.

Back home, things began to feel apocalyptic. In 1969, 200,000 gallons of oil spill into the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Santa Barbara, and in Ohio, toxic chemicals lead to the Cuyahoga River catching fire. The flames reach over 5 stories high. The public cries out against both of these horrifying events and demands action from lawmakers. It is becoming clear that a movement is needed to protect our Earth from the slippery slope we hoped it would never go down. It’s important to note here that alongside all of these disasters, there is an increase in media coverage. More people are getting cable and the news is reaching a record amount of viewers. Media during this time transformed many movements because of the accessibility to images and information that kept the public informed and motivated. Negative human impact on the environment had existed for quite some time, but the coverage of events was too shocking to look away from and captured the public’s attention.

By 1970, people have energy. They are angry, they are upset, and they are inspired. Not only about the environment, but about so much in the world. The social justice movements of the 1960s and 70s created an atmosphere unlike any other decade in history. It seemed like the right time to legitimize what had been brewing: a movement to save our planet. In 1970, US Senator Gaylord Nelson, senses that environmental rights are now fully in the public consciousness and it’s a propitious moment to mobilize a particularly energized group of people: college students. He hires Denis Hayes to lead a teach-in about environmental issues on college campuses but Hayes takes this a step further. Instead of a teach-in, he recruits students to Washington D.C. to participate in a grassroots demonstration: a call-to-action to demand environmental protection. The demonstration goes far beyond anyone’s expectations. It mobilizes 20 million people all across the country, fighting for their planet and decrying the injustices that have been inflicted upon it. It became the largest demonstration in the history of the United States. That day, April 22nd, 1970, will become known as the first Earth Day.

The first Earth Day was a significant moment to the environmental movement and it resulted in many successes. DDT, a particularly harmful pesticide, was banned, America saw the passage of the Clean Water Act and the Clean Air Act, and the Environmental Protection Agency was created, the first government agency of its kind. After a partially successful campaign called the Dirty Dozen, a call to unseat 12 elected officials who voted in opposition to environmental protection legislation, it became clear that how someone votes on environmental laws can determine their ability to hold office - another first for the history books.

Although the 1970s saw countless environmental standards being created and upheld, the movement sadly began to dwindle around the 1980s. People mislabeled the amazing action that was taken in the decade prior as “sufficient” and attention to environmental matters died down. Then, Ronald Reagan took office. Unlike previous administrations, who had grown steadily more active in environmental issues, Reagan’s administration was the first to push an anti-environmental agenda. During his presidency, he takes off solar panels installed by President Carter on the White House and egregiously cuts the EPA’s budget. Funny enough, when injustice is blatant, people fight back even harder. Reagan’s rollbacks on environmental progress only revive the movement.

In addition to Reagan’s anti-environmentalism, several destructive world events take place in the 80s. The hole in the ozone layer is captured in a picture published by Nature magazine in 1985. The infamous and horrific Chernobyl nuclear plant disaster happens in 1986. And in 1989, Exxon Valdez spills 11 million gallons of oil into the ocean, covering 1,300 square miles - the largest oil spill in history. Once again, sadly, it is abhorrent injustices to our environment that give people the spark needed to reignite the environmental movement.

A promising occurrence in the 80s is the institutionalization of environmentalism, launching the movement’s success and survivability well into modern-day. Environmentalism became a part of academia, government, and organizations and it wasn’t going anywhere. As more people became educated about the issues, more people were inspired to act. Also, recognizing environmentalism as a study and a topic to be discussed in government, legitimized it, securing environmentalists a position of influence from which they could take action and create lasting change.

Another great improvement to the mainstream environmental movement that came out of the 80s was the emergence of the environmental justice movement. In 1982, after thousands of tons of toxic soil are dumped in an African American neighborhood in North Carolina, people begin to notice similar dumpings of toxic waste in communities of color. As public awareness increases, so does the research into the matter. In 1987, a study called, “Toxic Waste and Race” is published, exposing the harsh realities that marginalized communities truly do experience environmental issues to a greater extent and magnitude than others. In retaliation to the fact that the mainstream movement was focused mainly on white, middle-class, suburbian interests, the environmental justice movement sought to address the deep inequities in environmental issues.

By 1990, 76% of Americans say they are environmentalists - a remarkable paradigm shift from just a few decades prior. Then, the course of the movement shifts dramatically. Scientists warn the public about a new phenomenon: global warming. This soon becomes, and remains, the center focus of the environmental movement. Americans begin to realize that this issue is a universal one - we cannot act alone, we need to unite with other countries if we want to save the future of our planet. Fortunately, it is around this time that a revolutionary tool for environmental activists emerges: the World Wide Web. As more people gain access to the internet, it changes the game for the movement. People can read about scientific studies with a click and easily see moving and inspiring images of the Earth and its destruction. They can talk about unique challenges with someone from across the world, a new opportunity thanks to the internet. More voices are elevated in the movement and more people become aware of environmental issues.

Not all are jumping on board to save the planet, though. An important event, the Kyoto Conference takes place in 1997 as world leaders unite to address climate change. Bill Clinton signs the Kyoto Protocol, an agreement to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, but it gets blocked by the Senate, and later by George W. Bush. The Senate claims that the protocol places too much blame and burden on developed nations, while developing countries are let off the hook. Bush rejects the agreement because of its supposed negative economic effects. This alone was not a course-altering moment, but the consequent media coverage gives rise to a menacing partisan divide on climate change. The media plays up the partisan disagreement on the issue, adding fuel to the fire. Not only do people feel compelled to side with their party’s opinion on the argument, but the media also does something to feed the growing climate change deniers in our country: opinions reflecting science are given as much air time as opinions conflicting with science. Viewers in the United States are exposed to more anti-science rhetoric than any other country. An uphill battle lies ahead for the environmental movement.

In 2004, we see pictures of melting ice caps and anxiety is heightened. A polar bear is floating on a small piece of ice. Our hearts break. In 2006, Hurricane Katrina decimates the Gulf Coast and kills over 1,800 people. The general public hasn’t quite put together that severe weather is connected to climate change, but people will soon be forced to acknowledge that relationship as we are hit with one record-breaking natural disaster after another. In 2006, Al Gore releases his award-winning documentary, “An Inconvenient Truth,” laying out the facts of global warming and stressing the urgency we must all have on this issue. As the public becomes aware of the dangers of global warming and its potential destruction, the definition of environmentalism becomes so expansive that people are able to be a part of the movement in their own unique ways while still playing a significant role in addressing the issues. More climate-related science becomes available to the public and people are realizing that climate change poses a threat to so many parts of our ecosystem, so many aspects of our lives.

Since 2010, a great deal has been achieved. The Paris Climate Agreement makes history in 2016 as the world unites to fight climate change and talks of Green New Deal provide a rebuttal to the argument that environmentalists and economists have conflicting interests. The fact that environmentalism is a key issue on the discussion table for many world organizations and governments is cause for celebration. Many companies have changed their manufacturing strategies to conform to demands for sustainability. People have changed their lifestyles and habits and are more conscious of the waste they create. The general public has never been more aware of the impact humans have on their environment and people are holding themselves and others to a promisingly high standard. Social media has made it easier to organize, protest, and petition as well as to stay educated on the issues. Modern day environmentalism is far more encompassing and complex than ever before and innovation in the field poses possible solutions to the myriad of problems stemming from climate change. While reducing greenhouse gases remains the primary focus, food waste, deforestation, sustainability, and plastic pollution are all major issues environmentalists are calling attention to today.

But the evidence that the climate crisis has already changed the world as we know it is grim. Extreme weather, public health crises, and the loss of many plant and animal species are a reminder that we are not acting fast enough. The partisan divide that stemmed from the Kyoto Protocol has been growing ever since and has insidiously inhibited necessary progress on addressing even the most basic environmental issues. There is also now more reason not to pass environmental protection laws, as money permeates our systems and oil lobbyists convince lawmakers to protect corporate interests, rather than the environment and consequently, people. We find ourselves in a surprising position 50 years after the first Earth Day, with EPA heads who are climate change deniers and a growing number of people rejecting hard science. In 2016, the percentage of people in America who identified as environmentalists was a low 42%, down 34% since 1990.

Even our greatest movements in human history have not been without error. It’s important for us to consider the flaws when looking back on these moments, so that we can learn for the future and avoid repeating mistakes. It’s also important that we bring attention to why these flaws were present because it says a lot about us as a society in that specific context of time. Our achievements, as well as our pitfalls, reflect our morals and priorities as a society.  One glaring setback of the environmental movement has been its lack of inclusivity. As far back as the beginning, early conservationists pushing for the preservation of open spaces did not acknowledge that their goals conflicted with the rights of indigenous peoples. While the creation of national parks was a success for early environmentalists, it was a violation of the treaties which entitled Native Americans to unused land. This has seldom been acknowledged even today.

Even into the late 20th century, as people were still primarily concerned with the preservation of open spaces, there was little talk about addressing the issues faced by people living in urban settings. It is a privilege to be able to take time off and enjoy a hike or go to a national park, but what about the people whose sole working and living spaces within urban areas were plagued by pollution, toxic waste, and lack of vegetation? While those who lived in affluent, clean, and well-maintained spaces led the mainstream environmental movement, urban areas, inhabited mostly by people of color and working-class people, were excluded from the discussion. Even the monumental release of “Silent Spring,” which came to be known as a pivotal moment in the history of environmentalism, wasn’t exactly intersectional. Although Rachel Carson writes in great detail of the consequences that could come with the continued use of pesticides, she fails to mention the people whom this affects the most: Latinx farm workers exposed to pesticides directly and for long periods of time. Her focus remained on the effects of pesticides on suburban communities, occupied mostly by caucasian, middle-class people, a reflection of the myopic lens used by many environmentalists in the 1960s and 70s.

With the fissure in the mainstream movement that became the environmental justice movement, inclusivity was addressed in the 1980s. Environmental justice became part of mainstream environmental discourse, which still holds true today. People are now much more aware of the fact that environmental issues disproportionately affect working class communities and communities of color. Indigenous rights are also closely tied to environmental rights today, as many environmentalists stand alongside Native Americans in demonstrations to protect indigenous lands, such as Standing Rock. Now more than ever, people do consider how environmental issues are intertwined with many other social issues. Still, with just 16% of all staff positions in environmental organizations held by minorities, criticism continues to be made of the lack of diversity within the mainstream movement and its non-inclusive approach to environmentalism. We must continue to understand the unique struggle of marginalized people and diversify the environmental field if we want this movement to be truly inclusive and representative of all people affected by these issues.

No one can deny that we have come far. 100 years ago, the vast majority of people did even not consider the effect that humans had on their environment. Today, the opposite is true. Although we face unique challenges in the movement today, there is visible hope and evidence of positive change. Similarly to when the movement first began, young people like Greta Thunberg have taken charge on environmental issues, this time with an edge of graveness and urgency that wasn’t present before. They are bold, smarter than ever, and give us a glimpse into what the future could be like if we act now.

If there’s anything you’ve gotten from this brief history, I hope it’s that the environmental movement has not been linear. The goals, methods, and meaning of the movement have transformed and remolded many times over. The movement continues to change and adapt as time goes on, becoming more connected to other movements, while paradoxically fissuring into smaller, unique movements. As Sophie Yeo poetically puts it, any one movement “is just one branch in an enormous ecosystem of environmental movements.” At one point in time, any talk about environmentalism would be assumed to be a discussion on reducing pollution and preserving open spaces. Today, a mother opposing the dumping of toxic waste in her community in front of city council, a strong, Swedish girl sailing across the sea to bring attention to C02 emissions from airplanes, and a marine biologist examining coral bleaching are all considered important activists in the environmental movement and that is truly a beautiful thing. We are not exactly where we need to be, actually we’re far from it, but the progress that we’ve made does give me hope.

Looking back at the history of the environmental movement, one pattern can be discerned: the problems have always been there, but we need activists, journalists, documentarians, and every-day people to bring these issues to light. It was only when we saw that breathtaking image of Earth, when we watched those emotional documentaries, when we heard about the shocking rollbacks, that we were inspired to take action. We may see shifts in the movement due to technology advancement or diverted attention to other world news, but we have to continue to speak to the issues, document them, and bring them to the public’s attention if we want the movement to sustain itself. We all can, and need to be, environmentalists. A collective and determined effort is how this movement has kept momentum and how it will continue to make an impact in the future. 

For the way forward, we need only look back to some of the earliest environmentalists in America: indigenous peoples. For millennia, indigenous people and their environment lived in harmony, never leaving a mark on one another. We can learn from how they treat their land, respectfully, and with admiration. We can get back to a place where we respect our planet, and I believe that it starts with respecting all people on it.


Sources:  

  1. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/news/2016/02/160212-presidents-national-monuments-parks-history-photos/

  2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Environmental_racism#Background

  3. https://www.sierraclub.org/environmental-justice/history-environmental-justice

  4. https://smea.uw.edu/currents/the-evolution-of-environmental-movements-responding-to-impending-threats/

  5. https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/earth-days-modern-environmental-movement/

  6. https://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/science/12/10/history.environmental.movement/index.html

  7. http://michiganintheworld.history.lsa.umich.edu/environmentalism/exhibits/show/main_exhibit/origins

  8. https://www.history.com/topics/industrial-revolution/industrial-revolution

  9. American Environmentalism by Riley Dunlap and Angela

  10. https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20200420-earth-day-2020-how-an-environmental-movement-was-born

  11. https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2016/12/how-the-environmental-movement-can-recover-its-soul/509831/

  12. https://www.washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/as-earth-day-turns-50-green-movement-faces-fresh-challenges/2020/04/21/2321d67c-83ee-11ea-81a3-9690c9881111_story.html

  13. https://eponline.com/Articles/2020/04/22/Earth-Day-Celebrates-50-Years-a-Walk-Through-History.aspx?Page=1

  14. https://www.edf.org/blog/2018/10/31/stereotype-holding-back-environmental-movement

  15. https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/energy-environment/the-foot-soldiers-of-the-new-environmental-movement/2020/04/20/6bc98c72-41e4-11ea-aa6a-083d01b3ed18_story.html

  16. https://news.gallup.com/poll/107569/climatechange-views-republicandemocratic-gaps-expand.aspx

 

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Sustainability During an Unsustainable Quarantine

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Sustainability During an Unsustainable Quarantine

As we all sort through the emotional toll that quarantine has taken on our lives this spring, I want to shed light on something more tangible: plastic waste. I hate to add to the negativity of the current state of our world, but there is a serious plastic pollution issue at hand. Without bringing this issue to our attention, it will cease to be solved. 

Since the COVID-19 outbreak and the start of the global quarantine in March of 2020, the number of single-use plastics has increased trifold. In an era of fear, we have resorted to purchasing products that can be thrown out and have forgotten the harmful environmental effects of these commodities. Grocery stores have stopped accepting personal shopping bags and have reinstated the use of plastic and paper bags. Personal protective equipment - such as masks, gloves, and anti-bacterial wipes - are on backorder, and are used one time before being tossed out for the safety of our health. Items at stores are being wrapped and rewrapped in plastic, to ensure the cleanliness and asepsis of the materials. Sales have skyrocketed for toilet paper, hand sanitizer, bottled water, and other essential goods, all of which are encased in plastic.

Since the start of the COVID-19 quarantine, the price of oil has markedly dropped in conjunction with the collapse of the economy. Oil is used in the production of plastics, and with its drastic fall in price, more plastics have been made due to its cheap assembly and current practicality. Meanwhile, Trump has recalled nearly 100 environmental restrictions in an effort to jumpstart industry and other businesses during this economic downfall. This reversal on environmental rules has allowed many businesses to revive their interest in using plastic products, particularly as the price of manufacturing plastic has decreased. Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts have stopped filling customers reusable cups. Target has been under constant scrutiny for maintaining the use of plastic bags for their shoppers, but this scrutiny has been placed on the backburner during quarantine. And who knows when this quarantine will end, and when life will return to normal.

Even worse, the recycling business has suffered from the global economic crash. In a capitalistic society, our recycling facilities are run in a manner of profit: it has to be cheaper for the facilities to collect and recycle plastics than to throw them out. Many county and local governments have suspended curbside pickup recycling programs due to the rising cost of running the recycling facilities. I live in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and the recycling program for my house has been temporarily shut down. In order to recycle my plastic waste during this time, I have to drive 45 minutes to the local recycling center to drop it off. It shocks me that this process is a norm for many people across the U.S. It has served to stress to me the need to develop an improved and functional recycling system, particularly as more recyclables are being thrown out during the pandemic.

I believe that part of our solution to the recycling issue and the rising numbers of single-use plastics is consumer culture. While it is challenging to decrease our purchase of single-use plastic products, it is not impossible. In a time where the world around us is chaotic and we cannot control when coronavirus and its subsequent quarantine will end, we can find control in the products that we choose to buy. Look for sustainable logos and items that contain less plastic. Examine the areas in your life that seem to harbor the most waste and look for better solutions. My mom loves to drink bubble water, yet this love for sparkling H2O has led her to continually buy plastic bottles from the grocery store. During this quarantine, she has learned to accept plain water for its taste, and pondered the idea of purchasing a bubbling water machine. While I believe her purchase of the sparkling water machine is superfluous - if anything, it adds to our whole consumer culture/plastic waste issue - the machine prevents her from both acquiring single-use plastic bottles and from resorting to ingesting unhealthy sodas. These trade-offs are important, so look for the areas in your life that could be improved with a simple modification! Perhaps a sparkling water machine will be the change you need as well.   

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An Epistemology of Everything: The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben & The Overstory by Richard Powers

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An Epistemology of Everything: The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben & The Overstory by Richard Powers

The material of the doomed stars and the material of my doomed body are actually the same material… Those stars exploded and spewed their atoms into space. From where they coalesced to make planets. From which single-celled organisms formed in the primeval seas. From which… It is astonishing but true that if I could attach a small tag to each of the atoms of my body and travel with them backward time, I would find that those atoms originated in particular stars in the sky. Those exact atoms.
— Alan Lightman, Searching for Stars on an Island in Maine

The Tour-de-force demonstration of scale and relativity, Powers of Ten, runs like this:  a view of a lakeside picnic on the shore of Chicago in October at a one by one meter frame. Every ten seconds, the lens expands outwards by a power of ten. From ten to zero to ten to the first, the picnic-goers begin to blur. Another ten seconds and they conflate with the grass—ten to the second power, or 100 meters out. We see boats docked in lake Michigan to the east and hulking Soldier Field to the west. Double the exponent. Ten to the fourth and the entirety of the Great Lake takes shape; the view serrated by streaking clouds. As ten to the sixth turns ten to the seventh, our Pale Blue Dot emerges unto a black canvas. Soon the earth is lost in the sea of space, another faceless flicker. We move past orbital paths of Venus and Mars, and at ten to the eleventh, the solar system claims but half of our frame—for a moment. Then it is but one vertex in crowd of geometric constellations, those forms mythologized from the view from earth since time immemorial.

Ten to the twenty-first power. The Milky Way, concentric and spiraling—hurricane in a black sea—joins our satellite galaxies in a cosmic cloud. We continue. Meteors, space dust. A field of black. We pause, turn, and begin again inwards. Back to Chicago and into the matter. At ten to the negative six we descend through the porous cell wall and find the primordial living script: double helixes of DNA. Ten to the negative ten confronts a world of storming electrons. Ten to the negative fourteen: the ground floor of our atomic understanding; a single proton with mysterious quarks oscillating wildly.

In the depths as at the furthest reaches of our knowing: symmetry.

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Peter Wohlleben is a forester. He has been called the world’s most famous forester. In 2015, the German’s unforeseen bestseller, The Hidden Life of Trees, was published in English. In it, he draws upon decades of experience working in the Eifel Mountain forests in Germany. The book is the zenith of his rebellion from seeing the forest through the profit-centric lens of state forestry management—where a tree is a number and a forest a plantation—to an ecological ethos. 

In the forest Wohlleben managed he saw that trees grew stronger when allowed to exist in natural communities. Instead of felling monoculture timber stands, he opened up the forest on more transcendental terms: offering the old-growth forest as a cemetery where people could pay to bury their dead. He gave tours of the forest, and made selective cuttings with low-impact harvesting methods, such as using horses and hand tools to extract trees.

The Hidden Life of Trees proceeds like a tour through Wohlleben’s well-tread plot, divulging insights to the profound nature of trees. The distinction, here, fundamental to the book’s massive success, is the strikingly anthropomorphic terms in which Wohllben tells the story of the trees. The chapter Friendships explains how individual trees cannot establish their own microclimates; it takes a forest to build the realms that fully suit tree growth, and therefore, every tree is a valuable community member; trees will send nutrients to those who need help in subterranean networks of root and mycorrhizal fungi. In Tree School, spruce trees are forced to adapt to the harsh lessons of apathetic nature; the spruce with split wood must not only attempt to seal its wound, but, moreover, learn to better ration the water it pulls from the ground. Other chapters include Social Security, The Forest as Water Pump, Hibernation, Immigrants, Set Free, and, of course, Love. It is a book that allows itself to be cherished by the science-oriented, the tree people, and the uninitiated alike. The language, and its purchase to translate the narrative of plants lucidly to a comprehensible human scale, is a triumph. 

Wohlleben’s manual for understanding tree life is based on his years of first-hand observation as well as the best available science. In the scientific community, there is a degree of understandable reticence to such anthropomorphic description, even as it accurately depicts the behavior of the systems. In 1973, The Secret Life of Plants by Peter Tompkkis and Christopher Bird was released, subsequently claiming a spot on The New York Times’ Bestsellers list. The book promoted experiments gesturing towards certain musical genres promoting plant growth (imagine Mozart for Maidenhair, etc.). The problem was that the experiments examined were largely faulty—not accounting for lurking variables nor meeting scientific standards for replication. The book’s assertions were discredited. (Still, the belief today that some genres encourage plant growth has proved hard to shake from the public consciousness.) The scientific community had to double down on objective language, on the distance between the subject and the viewer in order to bolster credibility on truly scientific work moving forward. This preservationist strategy in tandem with the U.S. Forest Service’s interest in maximizing tree stand profits led to a prevailing laissez-faire interpretation of biotic communities by the time Suzan Simmard, presently a professor of ecology at the University of British Columbia, proved against the mainstream management ideology of the era, that forests operate as singular organisms through a mechanism of mycorrhizal fungal networks—the “Woody Wide Web”; that central hub trees, or “Mother trees” siphon nutrients to saplings; that cooperation is as alive in nature as competition.  

Simmard wrote the epilogue for The Hidden Life of Trees. Thanks to the scientific groundwork laid by her and others, Wohllenben is justified in preaching what is not only evident through experimentation, but is intuitive, the observational and indeed, the spiritual conviction pre-colonial cultures of the West and elsewhere have held since they began: a pathos of connection, coexistence, and cooperation with life in plenty. 

Wohlleben writes, in his introduction: “When I began my professional career as a forester I knew about as much about the hidden life of trees as a butcher knows about the emotional life of animals. His next book, published in 2016 was The Inner Life of Animals: Love, Grief, and CompassionSurprising Observations from a Hidden World. And in 2017, Wohlleben reached the logical conclusion of his thinking, with the publication of The Secret Wisdom of Nature: Trees, Animals, and the Extraordinary Balance of All Living Things

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Richard Powers is a novelist. As a writer, he is a generalist: the multiplicity of themes in his work include science and nature, music and identity, technology and belonging, and often, his novels, as the sinewy tendrils of consciousness are want to grab, wrestle with all at once.

The Overstory is maximalist. It is sweeping in scope, truer to the temporality of redwood than human, capable of jumping generations in a paragraph, lives in sentences. (And though the reader must have a high tolerance for sylvan metaphor, the prose is also touched with erudition and beauty.) The polymorphic narrative follows disparate threads. Related by the underlying hum of nature, the threads, at times, converge, winding, knotting, and carrying ahead together anew.

It is a paean—to ecology and the intricate web of life, to the long arc of Deep Time, to moments of the forever in the ephemeral. But it is not a song in the tune of Muir’s My First Summer in the Sierra Nevada—all rapture, sunlight and joy. The book confronts life’s hardest parts like a record on repeat. To wit, failure, hopelessness, and death. But just as the novel encourages us to see the wooded and biotic world as extensions of ourselves, it motions that, we too, are capable of the resiliency and strength demonstrated by the venerable chestnut planted in Iowa plain or the majesty of the eternal coast redwood. The characters face anguish, loss, and keep going. Indeed, individuals are strong, and the will to live profound. Powers would like us to know that, no different from a forest, humanity is best when it comes together. 

The characters Powers evokes are archetypes, degrees of fictionalizations of specific figures. He turns an alumnus of the Stanford Prison Experiments into a born-again, tree-planting altruist. He deals with Eco-terrorists. And Simmard herself is fictionalized as scientist Patricia Westerford (thankfully, the corporeal Simmard’s reputation has fared far better than Westerford’s in the narrative). These characters, though, are neither the strength nor crux of the work. The story the book hopes to tell is one that exceeds the human scale. It is a story told with alacrity, where the humans are measurements by which the grandeur and complexity of earth’s experiments—the consciousness, the beating hearts, the apathetic forces, the slow-burning orogenies and promethean natural cataclysms of rain and earth and flood and fire—can be viewed in all reverence. It has been said that the trees themselves are the main characters in The Overstory. The book lacks the ambiguities so innate to real life. It is a righteous book with a clear moral barometer. And that is a risk in fiction—eschewing the apathies and contradictions that constitute a twenty-first-century verisimilitude. The Overstory won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 2019. 

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These works share a pantheistic sensibility, using the devices of anthropomorphism and narrative to exceed transubstantiation and argue for a treatise of totality: e.g., trees are neither more like us than we are like them; rather, the relationship is reflective. Scale and relativity are central to both works and, the authors intone, equally so to our daily orientation within the blue-green apparatus. And both works succeed in their ability to communicate complex science effectively at mass scales: with accessible, evocative narratives that do not forgo emotion in the pursuit of causal logic and clear science—and that do not negate the inherent material relationship between everything on earth. 

Urban forestry is as much about people as trees. Across fraught urban landscapes, saplings are significant investments requiring human guidance and care in the absence of mother trees and the buttressing properties of natural forest communities. A primacy on the human informs every part of Our City Forest: in planting events which are community-building events; in outreach presentations given everywhere from elementary schools to homeowner association meetings; in lawnbusts creating ecologically guided projects at subsidized costs; in tree care days where volunteers learn how to maintain the bourgeoning city canopy; and at the nursery, where volunteers jump into the processes of growing the urban forest. Like the projects of Wohlleben and Powers, the work of Our City Forest starts with the people. Through accessible volunteer experiences that are as educational as they are engaging (and ultimately, gratifying), we too hope to sway hearts and minds towards stewardship, towards ecological reverence and responsibility. 

The Hidden Life of Trees and The Overstory might afford comfort through perspective in challenging times. When a bristlecone pine in California’s White Mountain range is believed to be at least 4,700 years old—growing since the invention of writing in Sumer and Egypt and thus following the sun since the beginning of history itself, as conventionally conceived—humanity’s greatest crises are all but ensured to, eventually, pass. (These are also authors who would likely point towards the corporative tendencies of plant species to illustrate that human communities are best positioned to succeed when the most vulnerable individuals are cared for, and every part of the whole is working in a utilitarian concert.) In accordance to the long view and Deep Time, Wohlleben has said: “Not even all that plastic in the ocean will destroy nature—it will sink into the sediment eventually—but in the next decade ocean fish with micro-plastics in them that can cause cancer will be an important issue for us.” In The Overstory, the trees themselves say, “In words before words,” “This will never end.” At the conclusion of an early tragedy in the book, a tree is immediately in the frame, a figure of stoicism and Sisyphean repose: “When he looks up, it’s into the branches of the sentinel tree… All its profligate twigs click in the breeze as if this moment, too, so insignificant, so transitory, will be written into its rings and prayed over by branches that wave their semaphores against the bluest of Midwestern winter skies.” 

I read The Overstory on its initial hardcover run in spring 2018. A handsome binding, dark as peat. The sassafras, tulip poplar, river birch, maple, oak, southern magnolia and dogwood returned. It was North Carolina. I was a senior at the university. After monolithic days of differential equations, I put the book in my backpack, swung my mountain bike onto the pavement rivers, and rode. Past the brick coffee shops hidden behind dense verdant forest; past the sounds of pans and kettles and domesticalia emanating from the wooden houses under heavy branches. I rode to a park, locked my bike to the rack, and strode onto a path into a woods of long-abandoned rail tracks and granite outcroppings. I walked along a brook where the piedmont red clay turned to sand. I took off my shoes and read with my back against a hardwood. I looked up, across the babbling brook, at the tall swaying southern pines. Longleaf, loblolly. Softwoods. By my side, a stump carved by the gods to perfectly holster a—water bottle. In the woods, in spring, I had one of the great reading experiences of my life. I held still. Soon it would be dark. Soon I would complete my equations, graduate, and spend the summer measuring trees and flying down the steep grades in Pittsburgh. I walked around and looked at Carnegie’s buildings. I watched the sun splinter over the old city from a hill in Schenley Park. I put my things in my car and drove to California. 

Powers of Ten. At one hundred million light-years from Chicago (a humble ten meters to the twenty-fourth power), past the Virgo galaxy and staring at a sheet of darkness, glints of light subdued and distant, our narrator notes: “This lonely scene, with galaxies like dust, is what most of space looks like. This emptiness is normal. The richness of our own neighborhood is the exception.” 

Terra suis generis, indeed.

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