Translator: Milenka Okuka Reviewer: Mile Živković
My name is Ian McCallum and I come from the wilderness.
My background is in medicine and psychiatry.
I've come to realize that the identity
which we search for ourselves as individuals
is impossible to define outside of our relationships.
Not only human to human,
but to the landscapes, the oceans, the rivers, and the seas,
and the animals in our lives.
Who and what would we be without them?
I dedicate this presentation to them.
"The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odor of jasmine.
'In exchange for the odor of my jasmine, I would like the odor of your roses.'
'I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead.'
'Well then, I will take the yellow leaves and the withered petals
and the waters from your fountain.'
And the wind left. And my soul wept. And I said to myself:
'What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?'"
In this hard-hitting poem by Antonio Machado
we know exactly who he is speaking to.
Let's put this poem into perspective.
Orbiting the moon,
this iconic photograph was taken by the American astronaut James Lovell,
on December 24, 1968.
Six and a half months later, the first human footprints
would be indelibly registered on the lunar surface.
On board at Apollo 8 mission was Lovell
with fellow astronauts, William Anders and flight commander Frank Borman.
William Anders was the first to witness the event.
"Oh, my God!", he said.
"Look at that, the Earth rising.
Wow. Isn't that pretty!"
James Lovell, we are told, responded a little differently.
In silence, and after capturing this photograph,
he held out his arm, extending his thumb,
deliberately blocking out the image of the Earth.
He then said something extraordinary,
"Behind my thumb is all the known life, in the known universe, behind my thumb."
What a beautiful first line of a poem!
And yet we know things are not pretty on that blue oasis.
What on earth is happening to our garden!
The answer is staring us in the face, if only we would realize it.
We have forgotten where we have come from.
Psychologically disconnected from our wild origins
and from the elements,
we have become an isolated, impatient, and lonely species.
What we cannot embrace or understand, we either belittle, or we fear.
And that which we fear, we inevitably destroy.
Ecologically illiterate, our footprint has been heavy on this planet.
In the fifty years since this picture was taken,
the human population has doubled.
Fifty percent of the world's forests, wetlands and Peak Beds have vanished.
Over 40,000 square kilometers of Arctic sea ice has disappeared.
Global temperatures are rising, due to human activities, every year.
2015 is destined to be the hottest year on record.
There have been oscillations in temperature and ice distribution,
but nothing to compare with the rate at which it's happening today.
And as for the animals, I'm afraid the story is no different.
In the past 50 years,
half of the total world population of wild animals exists.
Our iconic African elephant is dying
at the rate of one animal every five hours for its ivory.
The critically endangered rhinoceros is dying one animal every eight hours
for its horn.
What kind of madness is this?
Deep down we know that we have to live differently.
Or could it be that we don't want to know?
If this is the case,
if we no longer shudder at the warning calls of science,
then the only voice left that we can turn to,
that can awaken us, belongs to the poets.
Tongues that can speak with outrage, anger, beauty, care, passion
in the same breath.
Ah, poetry, after all, is a language of protest,
it is a language of hope.
Wordsworth was the one who said, "Upon all poets is laid the duty of hope."
I'm afraid hope is not going to be enough.
I will suggest that upon all poets is laid not only the duty of hope,
but the duty of cultivating our language, bold in its imagination.
That says no to the madness of what we are doing to the Earth,
and to ourselves.
Yes, to all that speak for its healing.
This is what this presentation is about.
There is a poet in every single one of us.
And by this I do not mean a talent
restricted to the writing of rhyme and verse,
on the contrary, it is a voice, a poetic instinct,
a deep voice, once awakened, rhymes naturally with the Earth
and with the Sun, with the rain, and the wind, and the sea.
It is the untamable voice of your soul, an essence that knows,
without ever been thought or advised
that you and I are living museums
of the entire history of life on this planet.
That knows that we are connected and that we belong.
It is a poet in you that asks questions like,
what are we leaving for our children and for future generations?
That asks questions like, who is looking at who?
Who will be a voice for the voiceless, for the hunted, and for the small.
It is that wild voice in us which asks questions like,
"Have we forgotten that wilderness is not a place,
but a pattern of soul where every bird and beast and tree
is a soul maker?
Have we forgotten that wilderness is not a place
but a moving feast of stars, footprints, scales and beginnings?
Since when did we become afraid of the night
and that only the bright stars count?
Or that our moon is not a moon unless it is full?
By whose command were the animals
through groping fingers, one for each hand,
reduced to the big and little five?
Have we forgotten that every creature is within us
carried by tides of Earthly blood and that we named them?
Have we forgotten that wilderness is not a place,
but a season and that we are in its final hour?"
Look! Listen!
There is so much of us in them, and of them in us.
Genetically bound to all living things,
do you know that every mammal,
whether you are a polecat, or a polar bear,
whether you're a lion, or a leopard
has more than 90 percent of the human genome?
Our nearest primate relative, the chimpanzee, has 99% of our genome.
Those of us with blood groups A and O, technically speaking,
can take a blood transfusion from a chimpanzee with impunity.
Birds have 88 percent of our genome, crocodiles have 85%.
Insects have an excess of 40 percent.
The trees and the plants of our world have between 10 and 15 percent
of the human genome.
We are the human animal and we come from the wilderness.
What a privilege! What a responsibility!
In search of a renewed sense of sanity, I have turned to the animals
and in this instance to the elephants.
In 2012, following ancient elephant migratory routes and clusters,
my great and close friend, Ian Michler and I
undertook a 5,000 km journey through six southern African countries.
The objectives of our adventure were many but for me the most important was this -
if we cannot look after or understand an animal this big,
how on earth are we going to look after the little things?
And so with the support of a solid backup team,
we walked, and we cycled, and we kayaked across Southern Africa.
It did not take us long to realize that our journey had just as much to do
with concerns over the future ways of life of indigenous peoples,
as it did with the faith of our wild animals.
And when it was over, I came away with a greater understanding
of the meaning of the word keystone.
Keystone species,
creatures that are essential
for maintaining the integrity of ecosystems.
A keystone is a wedge-shaped stone in an arch.
Remove that stone and the entire arch collapses.
It is a powerful metaphor.
Elephants are keystone species, so are bees, so are termites,
so are beetles.
It is in this light therefore,
that we need to look at shit differently.
Take an elephant dung for example.
During the dry season the moisture in elephant dung
becomes a very important water source for countless species,
of insects, of butterflies and moths.
The undigested seeds and grasses is a food source for baboons,
for hornbulls, guinea fowl, for francolin, and the list goes on.
Wherever an elephant walks is invariably a guarantee
that it is the pathway to water used by other animals.
And lest we forget that while elephants certainly have impact on trees,
they are ultimately among the greatest tree planters in Africa.
I have a question for you -
are human beings a keystone species?
The answer is a categorical no.
If you and I were to disappear today, nothing on Earth would miss us.
Nothing.
Perhaps your domestic dog for a while, before hopefully becoming feral.
Don't even worry about your cat.
(Laughter)
And yes, yes, there are various species that might need to make an adjustment,
like shrimps.
Vast population of shrimps in the world occurs off the cost of India,
where they expectantly feed off human feces,
which are washed down the rivers.
Nothing will miss us.
Now, I don't know about you,
but I feel sad about this rather tragic diagnosis,
or should I say prognosis.
So, here is the question,
if we are not a keystone species, what about keystone individuals?
Do you have it in you to be a keystone individual?
To dream big.
To make a difference to the lives of others,
to the Earth, and to the animals.
To be willing to be disturbed,
to find your voice and to raise it,
so that others may raise theirs for the voiceless and for the silenced.
To stand firm in the knowledge that there are some things
which are simply not for sale.
Keystone individuals, they are in this audience, I know.
And I'm grateful to you,
but please know, please know,
there are many out there in the world already doing the work.
Keystone individuals who know that we co-exist
in a fragile web of life.
Who know that behind their thumbs
is all the known life in the known universe.
Who know that our tiny blue oasis, in a tiny corner of our Milky Way Galaxy
is a miracle.
It is a gift. It is a garden.
Champions of the soul, these are the individuals
whose lives and whose conversations are filled with the fragrance of jasmine,
of roses, and the promise of healing.
"Listen, one day your soul will call to you with a holy rage.
'Rise up!' it will say, 'Stand up inside your own skin.
Unmask your unlived life... feast on your animal heart.
Unfasten your fist...
let loose the medicines from your own hand.
Show me the lines...
I will show you the spoor of the ancestors.
Show me the creases…
I will show you the way to water.
Show me the folds…
I will show you the furrows for your healing.
You choose, the line of life has four paths –
one with a mirror, one with a mask, one with a fist, and one with a heart.
One day, your soul will call to you with a holy rage."
Thank you.
(Applause)