How wild are we?

During lockdown a beautiful documentary film was released which I know many of us loved called ‘My Octopus Teacher’. In this documentary, naturalist and filmmaker Craig Foster spent nearly a year diving in a kelp forest off the coast of Cape Town, South Africa. Over this year he closely followed the life of a wild common octopus, observing her and interacting with her, and eventually forming a beautiful relationship with her. Alongside gorgeous underwater filming, Foster shared what he was able to learn about the lives of the many creatures he was exposed to by spending extended periods of time in their world, and the dilemmas and heartbreak he faced about interfering in their lives. It is so poignantly and sensitively filmed, and I would highly recommend watching it if you haven’t already. However, the thing which caught me most by surprise was that at the end of the film Foster reflected that ‘what she [the octopus] taught me was to feel that you’re part of this place, not a visitor. That’s a huge difference.’ I hadn’t heard this sentiment before, but I’ve come to realise that this ‘difference’ is actually at the heart of a lot of the problems the natural world is facing.

My undergraduate dissertation was about rewilding, and a large part of my research was in the history of rewilding as a conservation philosophy, and as part of that, our historical perceptions on what ‘wilderness’ actually is. This is a massive topic, but briefly, going back to Biblical roots, you of course have the Garden of Eden where humans walked in relationship with God and nature. Later we see the idea of ‘wilderness’ as a place uninhabited by humans, where people went to experience God’s presence, and learn and prepare for spiritual tasks. Many important Biblical characters such as Abraham and Moses spent time in the wilderness - it wasn't a place which humans inhabited continually, but was nonetheless a very important place for humans to spend time in once in a while. Over time the 'wilderness' became a place associated with moral confusion and despair by Enlightenment thinkers, and later by Victorians as a romanticised opportunity for exploration, discovery and 'manhood'. The concept of designated tracts of land being separated off for conservation purposes arose in 19th century America through the pioneering work of naturalists such as John Muir and the creation of the first big National Parks, Yosemite and Yellowstone. Whilst this is generally seen as a very good and important system for protecting fragile ecosystems from human damage, it is also problematic because, as environmental historian William Cronon writes, it ‘separates us from the very thing it teaches us to value.’ When the ‘wild’ becomes a place defined by the absence of humans, then it is clearly not a place where humans need to be, and thus the symbiotic relationship is broken – ‘wilderness’ is ironically devalued, and exploitation becomes somehow okay.  

While we’re in this circuitous situation landscape protection remains a very necessary measure. But pristine, human-free wilderness is not necessarily the only situation nature can thrive in. In the UK, some of the most important and biodiverse habitats have been created by humans working with nature over generations. For example, hedgerows, ancient woodland, hay (wildflower) meadows, chalk grassland, traditional orchards and ponds are all habitats created by human activity, but are now considered ‘priority habitats’ by the UK Biodiversity Action Plan. This is a great example of stewardship - clearly humans are not intrinsically at odds with nature, we just need to learn to be in a relationship with it again where we don’t take more than it can give, and where we give in return. It’s evidently a very complex problem to solve on a global scale as the human population and our demands on resources are growing exponentially, and we are obviously not going to go back to living in tree houses. However, as individuals we can start by working on the smaller scale of considering our own personal relationships with nature.

I love wild camping, but I always feel guilty for being there – that my human presence with my bright orange tent is an unwanted disturbance. That guilt is the product of generations of human exploitation of the landscape which have now become part of our identity. That’s why Craig Foster’s comment hit me so deeply – we shouldn’t have to feel guilty about spending time in nature if we’re doing it respectfully. I think he’s right, and it's nice to know that deep down to our roots we are intrinsically ‘wild’ and a part of nature. However, it’s a tricky thing to come to terms with as our interaction with the natural world carries so much baggage. Do we really want more human exploration into untouched places? It’s quite nice knowing that there are some places left which are still untarnished by our problems. And yet interacting with the natural world is so important for our own wellbeing, and the simple act of being in nature itself is not destructive. It’s just that those interactions need to be handled so sensitively while we’re still living in a broken world where the human impact on the environment is a sobering reality.

Watching Foster’s explorations into the fragile ocean habitat, his diving flippers and snorkel do look jarringly out of place and the exact opposite of ‘wild’. Much like I feel with my bright orange tent on the moors. However, they enabled him to experience and interact with the natural world in a way which he wouldn’t be able to otherwise. Is this reality going forward? We’re probably not going to go back to a nomadic lifestyle of foraging berries and wearing skins – and I don’t think God would want us to, as He’s given us the skills to create so many wonderful things. But how do we reconcile our modern innovations with our natural roots and re-learn what stewardship is? Maybe the Biblical definition of wilderness is the healthiest - a place we don’t inhabit, but go to every now and then to learn about ourselves, meet with God, and have a reality check before retreating back to civilisation?  

Part of the long term solution and journey to resolving the environmental crisis will be humans coming to terms with the destruction we’ve caused, learning to forgive ourselves (nature is very forgiving), and adopting this new identity. We see fleeting glimpses of this sometimes – watching bulldozed rainforests spring back to life on Green Planet, seeing Foster’s octopus wrapping a tentative tentacle around his hand, or you yourself may have experienced the unexpected exhilaration of a butterfly landing on your forehead. It’s an exciting journey for us to be on, a journey of healing, rediscovery, excitement about what could be, and understanding of what it really means to be wild.