SPEAKER: I'm a nature freak.
Some might label me a tree hugger or a greenie or even (UNKNOWN).
The truth is, I love more than just humans.
Can we still talk?
If we do, we might learn we share this in common.
I've been studying culture and how we communicate about
the environment and other species for two decades.
What I've learned is most people in industrialized,
westernized cultures tend to not talk about
their care for the more than human world.
And those rare times they do,
they're often labeled and dismissed as a nature not.
In my research, I've observed this dynamic across
multiple countries and diverse contexts.
One context I study is tourism around wild whales and dolphins.
Animals referred to as charismatic megafauna
precisely because people are drawn to them.
Our connection is so strong that some people's efforts to protect whales
include placing their own bodies between them and harpoons.
In fact, it was these acts of protection about
a half century ago and around the same time,
our first glimpse of the whole planet
Earth from outer space that birthed
the contemporary global environmental protection movement.
But before we talk about why we still
won't talk about our love for whales,
I want to share a story about worms.
Some years ago, at a university in the US Pacific Northwest.
It had been raining heavily and a student
and I were talking about our walks home.
After heavy rains in this part of the world millions of
earthworms squeeze up through cracks in city sidewalks.
It's thought the worms are taking advantage of the wet surfaces
to move across distances otherwise unnavigable.
As they stretch their bodies in shiny lines across
the concrete most passers by a step on them
without notice or care but the class we just
finished was about environment and society.
My student brought up the worms saying that on these rainy days,
she took forever to get home.
As she'd stop and kneel every time she saw a worm to gently remove them
one by one from harm's way.
Whenever someone walked by, she added,
she just pretended she was tying her shoe.
The student stood out as someone who was brave
and upfront and expressing her truth,
otherwise she was a queer firefighter.
She confronted prejudices and broke through occupational
gender and sexuality norms every day.
So it was especially striking that during those warm saving moments,
she found norms of human centeredness comparatively insurmountable.
So she consciously master feelings for another species,
hiding her actions away every time another person came by.
From city sidewalks to places, we seek out connections with wildlife.
My research has found most people overwhelmingly discipline themselves
and each other to be human centered or anthropocentric.
Think about the last time you hugged a tree or stop to smell flowers.
If you did and other people were around,
you may have felt a little self-conscious.
But expressing her inner nature freaks is deeply
important for thriving in the 21st century.
I'm going to explain what's standing in the way.
Once we understand how this happens in our daily lives,
we can do something about it.
Let's start with who we are.
We're all pretty aware of our social and cultural identities are race,
ethnicity, class, genders, sexualities and so on.
However, most of us tend to pay little to no
attention to our ecological identities.
If we're brought up in industrialized,
urbanized westernized cultures were raised
to think we are separate from nature.
Growing up with a worldview that humans are not nature,
we learn to think the environment is out there somewhere,
a background for the human drama, a bank of resources,
a system of services.
It's there to serve us.
We're its master.
We forget where earthly that all the way as we behave,
have relational and ecological impacts, whether good or bad,
from composting to overconsuming, from creating circular
economies to stoking unrestrained extraction.
There's common sense that humans are separate from and better,
then nature informs the way as we think, talk and act.
And there's human centrism has massive effects
from climate crisis to mass extinction.
A protest sign familiar in recent years reads
We need system change, not climate change.
Many of us understand we must reimagine our political economic systems
if we are to tend to the ecological crises
these various systems created.
However, it may be harder to understand how it's also.
Our dominant cultural systems are very notions
of who we are that must simultaneously change.
It's been some centuries that enlightenment and formed cultures
have separated humans from our earthly constitutions (UNKNOWN).
This disassociation is built into educational
and religious institutions,
as well as structures of government, law, property and business.
And these systems of separation have been globalized through
colonization and aggressive drive for ever more profit.
So what are these systems have to do with
my student hiding her saving of worms.
While these institutions shape our lives and planet,
so do our everyday interactions.
Through most of our interactions,
we tend to reinforce norms of human centrism.
Undoing these norms is culturally and ecologically transformative,
but it takes courage.
My research traces how human centrism is kept intact
through daily communication from ridiculing,
labeling and silencing others who express more than human
care and connection to doing the very same to ourselves.
Where I do much of my research is in the highest
concentration of whale tourism in the world,
with international tourists coming specifically to see endangered
orcas who hunt salmon along the North American Pacific coast.
Yet in this place where people travel far and pay hundreds
of dollars to have a chance to see wild orcas,
they often make fun of each other when they're a bit too exuberant.
For instance, those moments when people (UNKNOWN)
and (UNKNOWN) expressing excitement
when seeing orcas for the first time,
locals jokingly call this the orca gasm.
In addition, when tourists speak of their care for whales,
they often wait until they're alone to tell me.
And even then label themselves as silly or
as fanatics or as addicted to whales.
Even volunteers I interview who dedicate their
hours to monitoring endangered orcas,
avoid talking about their feelings of profound
connection to whales in front of each other,
saying they don't want to sound woowoo or weird.
This disciplining is not limited to visitors,
but extends to scientists, tourism industry and activists who cross
the anthropocentric line by being a little too into orcas.
A common term used to label such enthusiasts is Dorcas.
Disciplining ourselves and others isn't reserved
to connections with whales and worms.
Enforcing human centeredness applies to wild flora,
fauna and, of course, to the environment itself.
A PhD student studying human relations with wild plants said,
this is going to sound a little crazy.
But after learning more about these plants,
I feel different when I'm walking in the hills, I no longer feel alone.
I know this sounds kind of out there,
but now I feel like I'm with friends.
We now expressing connection or kinship with nature
and westernized societies sounds out there.
That's because we know subconsciously there's a clear
cultural line drawn between humans and nature.
And we know when we've crossed that line.
Scientists drawn to biology or ecology by their love
for other animals or ecosystems know they need to
abide by research writing norms that refer to non-human
animals as it instead of he or she or them.
Environmental activists know to emphasize the language of developers
and government and discuss nature and instrumental terms.
We all know nature freaks or people who are out there don't
get heard and certainly don't get taken seriously.
But this human centrism perpetuated through cultural
and institutional systems is killing us.
And bringing much of life on Earth down with us,
whether we acknowledge we're connected to that life or not.
As a social force, our interactions are also a force for transformation,
for changing what's normal,
what's possible for enlivening us and our
convivial relations with our planet.
The opposite of Anthropol.
Centrism is eco centrism.
OK, we're going to be boundary crossing for a moment,
forget temporarily the ridicule and the labels that hold us back.
Egocentrism is a belief that humans are not the center of life,
but instead are one species among multitudes that form
the network of relationships of mutual planetary existence.
Egocentrism draws attention then to how
we relate within this living network,
to the importance of being aware, humble and responsible ecological can.
Egocentrism may sound familiar, it's a way of knowing,
talking and acting that's helped humans thrive
along with related ecosystems for millennia,
and sacred forms of eco centrism have survived colonialism with
an enduring indigenous systems of knowledge around the world.
In Western cultures, egocentrism survived in pockets
at the heart of the romantic movement,
reacting against early industrialization and urbanization
and as a driver of past and present environmental activism.
But how can more people be egocentric
and westernized and industrialized cultures and settings?
How do we overcome the ridicule,
labeling and silencing that upholds human centrism?
I'm going to share three successful techniques
I've observed in my research.
Number one, break the bonds.
Call foul.
Flip the script doggedly refuse to be disciplined
by refusing to stick within the bounds,
you stay on your toes and you're always ready to consciously
take part in negotiating what's acceptable,
what is a norm and in the process to relocate culture.
We are seeing this happen.
For instance, we've gone from decades of vegetarians being labeled weird
or questionable to it now becoming common sense, even aspirational.
World city Michelin starred restaurants are making headlines,
changing to 100% plant based menus and star
athletes promote their all vegan diets.
Number two, change with others.
It's easier to break through boundaries and embrace other ways
of being when you do it with others, it's also more fun.
Acting egocentric together, even just for a short time,
can inform entirely different ways of being.
For example, if you feel self-conscious, picking up rubbish on your own.
Join a community cleanup event to cheer you on.
If your efforts to green your workplace are frustrated gather
a committee of companions to normalize the change.
If you falter when trying to talk climate crisis,
volunteer with a group like Climate for Change
to bolster your courage and effect.
Number three, be vulnerable.
Years after my student told me she pretended to tie her shoe
instead of letting others see she was helping worms.
I was walking with another student across another campus.
It was a hot day with blasting Sun on the concrete path.
I noticed a thin, wriggling worm folding onto itself,
trying to find shelter.
I knelt and gently placed the worm on
a patch of shaded soil standing above me,
I heard my students say in a cynical tone that
seemed to surprise us both saving a life, huh?
As Earthworm found a way back into the safety of the soil,
the chastening force of the students comment settled onto u.
To sustain life we need to be responsive
to the vulnerability of species,
peoples ecosystems and atmospheres,
and we need to be in touch with our own vulnerability.
So when it comes to breaking bonds of human centrism,
think of your words as wire cutters.
Don't hold back, be part of the change and accelerate the change.
Now is the time to let your nature freak flag fly.