Momento Mori

Momento Mori

A Philosophical Perspective

The end of the human race will be that it will eventually die of civilization.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I would have preferred to entitle this paper �Momento Mori: A Synthesized Proposal for a Working Paradigm,� but to offer such a proposal would demonstrate an abhorrent negligence of historical data. The last great paradigm shift was that from a geocentric view of the universe to a heliocentric view and it did not transpire without grave consequence to the men who dared to articulate empirical evidence that was contrary to the wisdom of the 17th century Roman Catholic Church. I believe that sufficient scientific knowledge exists today to incite another broad-sweeping paradigm shift; however, the tenets of Christian ideology, having had time to penetrate nearly every facet of modern Western civilization, will not soon, if ever, be uprooted by observable facts. Indeed, in America, it is science that has suffered deracination at the hands of the merciless Christian gardener, busily sowing seeds of salvation and ripping up anything that doesn�t look familiar. Within this landscape, a new, working paradigm is less than unlikely to seize the consciousness of modern society.

I would have liked to paint a pretty paradigm: social justice here, economic equality there, all the varied shades of virtue, some urban renewal and clear blue skies. It would have been as substantial as the Easter Bunny and sincere as a politician. As I have an acute distaste for Easter Bunnies and politicians, I decided to forego the �proposal for a working paradigm� and instead, grapple with the ugly truth. I traded my paints in for a philosophical perspective and am now left to articulate what I really think about the precepts of environmental philosophy and what, if anything, it might be good for.

I believe Biocentrism, as purported by today�s leading environmental ethicists, reveals a valiant effort to legitimize any efforts to restrain ourselves from committing wholesale devastation of our only home. Nonetheless, I find the well intentioned canon to have depreciating flaws. First of all, there is the problem of applying human constructs to the natural world. How can we claim that nature has �intrinsic value� if the concept of value is merely the product of human deliberation? In this sense, how can we claim that even humans, as a part of the natural world, have intrinsic value? Who, or what, values us as a biological phenomenon? Moreover, if we are to use Biocentrism as a moral imperative, requisite to species preservation, how are we to allot its benefits? We would be mistaken to grant one organism the freedom to procreate on the basis of how we perceive the nature of that organism because there is no ethic which exists in the natural competition for survival separately from human imposition. This essentially Darwinian perplexity, the human construct problem, is best summed up in the words of our beloved bard, as Shakespeare writes, �There is nothing either good or bad, only thinking makes it so.�

The notions of telos and rights are also derived from the aspirations of our singular species. Does the organic molecule, or a giraffe, come into being to fulfill a purpose?   The answer depends on what the criterion of demarcation are for the ascription of what constitutes purposeful existence. At this point we circle back to the human construct problem because, so far as we know, only humans are concerned with the idea of a purposeful existence. The attribution of rights is even more central to the conundrum because not only are rights conceived of by humans but, as they are subjectively comprehended by us, we cannot even agree on who, or what deserves what kind of rights.   Here we arrive at the conclusion that the very quintessence of the biocentric view cannot escape its own undoing.

Secondly, it seems to me that the development of a biocentric contribution to philosophical thought is an indication of our own erroneous thinking. To ask the question, �Does nature have intrinsic value?� presupposes that it might not. The question, I believe, is the result of a peculiar, and largely Western, perception of reality. I believe we are able to form this question because of our unique concept of the soul, as introduced by Pythagoras and expounded upon by later Greek philosophers, as well as our prevailing mechanistic worldview. These two deep-seated elements of our modern paradigm sustain a perception of disconnect; a perception that prescribes nature an existence that is both physically and emotionally separate from humanity. Hence, we are permitted to ask if nature has intrinsic value as if we were not questioning whether or not we, ourselves, have intrinsic value.

I feel that the biocentric discourse would seem very strange to the Brazilian Yanomami who does not envisage his own soul as a discrete entity, occupying a definite space within the human body, but rather, as an integrated component of, and even dependent upon, the living forest that surrounds him. If our customary perception of nature, and its place in the world, were not so dissimilar from that of the Yanomami, there would be no question of whether or not nature has intrinsic value.

I think it is important to illustrate the reason I ascertain that the error in thinking is on the part of Western contemporaries and not the Yanomami, or any other tribal people who demonstrate a comparable worldview. Many, (not all, of course) Indigenous peoples exist today in a similar manner as their ancestors existed two to three thousand years ago.   They subscribe to religious ideologies, political systems, and methods of sustenance acquisition, that were established thousands of years ago and also allow for a harmonious coexistence with their environment. As with any people, their society develops institutions which reflect its member�s perceptions of the world around them. As many tribal societies exhibit well-functioning institutions, based on their unique perception, that do not lead to the degradation of their habitat, I would thus assign the error to the society whose institutions do lead environmental degradation.

Furthermore, I would point out that one of the most problematic killers of Indigenous populations today is the work of active missionaries who encroach upon previously uncontacted tribes and effectively replace the established paradigm with that of a Western/Christian variety. The indigenous societal institutions collapse, and the tribal people, unable to recover from the spread of Christian contagion, die of assimilation. On the contrary, if Americans were suddenly forced to accept the Yanomami point of view, it would most likely not kill us, and perhaps, it would help us.
I believe that Biocentrism is a great idea, and I certainly would not discount the integrity of the large body of literature produced by such influential figures as Henry David Thoreau, Gary Snyder, and Aldo Leopold, to name a few, that inclines us toward embracing biocentric values. However, as a pragmatic means to implement changes in environmental policy, I believe Anthropocentrism wields the heavier ax. Unfortunately, that same anthropocentric ax can be used to cut down the rainforest instead of assuring its survival.

I would call this inherent limitation of Anthropocentrism the cost/benefit problem. It is a dilemma derived from the very anthropocentric doctrine that nature has instrumental value.   In the article, �Environmental Philosophy Is Environmental Activism: The Most Radical and Effective Kind,� J. Baird Callicott explains this dilemma succinctly:

If all environmental values are anthropocentric and instrumental, then they have to compete head-to-head with the economic values derived from converting rain forests to lumber and pulp. . . Environmentalists, in other words, must show that preserving biological diversity is of greater value to present and future generations than lucrative timber extraction. . .

The destructive implications of this problem can be seen in parts of Puerto Rico where large areas of rainforest were cut down and the land converted to coffee plantations. The native farmers perceived the cost of preserving the rainforest as high because they could not make a profit from it. Even the relatively small profit they did make from using the converted land for coffee production offset the high cost of not profiting from the land at all.   Additionally, the benefit of converting the land, rather than employing more sustainable techniques, seemed greater because the start up costs of slash and burn methods are lower, and the returns timeline is much shorter for coffee plants than sustainably harvested timber. If we must rely on purely anthropocentric sentiments, it is difficult to explain why the farmers should not continue in this manner. As anthropocentrism applies, the situation is complicated further because the farmers do believe that nature has instrumental value and the cafetal serves them much better then the tropical rainforest.

It follows from the aforementioned shortcomings of both biocentric and anthropocentric principles, that applied environmental ethics will be challenging. I think the distinction between Biocentrism and Anthropocentrism, which has characterized much of the philosophical dialogue, will prove to be at once merely a crutch for the staunch proponent of either side, as well as a thoroughly outdated tool for the advancement of an integrated philosophy. Supporters from either philosophical camp seem to be leaning on a reverie rather than gleaning stability from a solid foundation. That foundation, I believe, will require the amalgamation of the two distinct components plus some real a posteriori sweat. The same materials will be needed to salvage the anachronistic distinction from uselessness. If tempered properly, and formed into a new shape, the two ideologies could incorporate and reflect one another, thus becoming a beneficial tool for the progression of a more unified environmental ethic.

With that said, I must digress away from the hopeful overtones, as this paper is concerned with what I really think, and not what I think ought to be. Ultimately, I believe environmental philosophy is an admirable and totally futile endeavor, for, as Wordsworth laments, �The World is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;� and �we are out of tune.� In addition, it is inconceivable to me that the same human mentality, which only recently extended the right to live to certain other humans, will change so much as to eventually grant non human species the freedom to exist.   Although I must concede that some strides have been made in the arena of environmental policy due in part to the work of dedicated environmental philosophers, I cannot believe these small gains will be enough to alter our course. As I understand environmental philosophy, the work is largely comprised of articulating what a new, more sustainable paradigm should look like and I therefore must conclude that it is futile for precisely the same reason that I decided to forego the telling of my own paradream�a new paradigm will surely not be meddling with the minds of our pernicious seed sowers and weed pullers.
In fact, I feel that engaging in environmental philosophy, and even dedicating one�s life work to the thankless occupation, is not unlike the venerable, fruitless laboring of the poet. Even the distinguished poet, Dylan Thomas, knows his painstaking efforts are all for naught as he labors by �singing light.�   Thomas admits it is a sullen craft because humanity, for which he writes, is relentlessly oblivious and will �pay no praise nor wages / Nor heed my craft or art.� I believe poets and philosophers throughout the ages would sympathize with Thomas because they are all, in some way, locked in a deleterious affair of unrequited love. From Socrates to Oscar Wilde, philosophy has been expressed, and poetry written, for the love of a world that will never return such affections. The quandary arises, in part, from the absence of an appreciable audience. Who reads poetry? Other poets. Who reads philosophy? Poets and other philosophers.

It should be noted that I used the word �futile� and not �worthless� to describe the vocation of environmental philosophy. Although I think making an effort to rescue our planet from imminent disaster is, in the broad sense of geologic time and particle minutiae, an exercise in futility, I nevertheless ardently believe it is a worthwhile enterprise for individuals to undertake whilst briefly a part of this great biomass. While the earth still rotates on its axis, she will continue to produce, benefit from, and bid farewell to environmental philosophers and poets alike. Their work may not save our turning blue sphere, but it may enrich individual lives, whether American, shaman, or Douglas Fir, and perhaps even grant them a longer temporal existence. That, I believe, is what environmental philosophy is good for and why it is a worthwhile endeavor.

Finally, momento mori literally means remembrance of death�our own, as well as that of other species, and even entire ecosystems. It is to remember our essential finitude and to acknowledge that we, and everything else on earth, cannot outlive mortality. I hold this perspective close to my intellectual consideration and in doing so, I hold life even closer.   Through a microscope we see that life is composed of a vast amount of space, and through a telescope we see a black hole at the center of our galaxy. To me, these observations render all of life utterly miraculous, unknowable, and in the end, very likely ineffectual. Momento mori reminds us to live passionately, work with integrity, and love those who are close to us because our lives are a limited resource.