So far, science has no evidence that the Earth is “conscious.” We have always associated consciousness with the individual, with the brain, with the eye that sees, with the memory that remembers. Yet nature is teeming with systems in which no single part possesses the complete picture, and which nevertheless behave as a whole: an ant colony, flocks of birds, rainforests. I would not dare ask, “Could it be that it feels pain when we burn its forests, bury ant colonies deep within it, or hunt its birds during their migrations?” But I have begun to believe that the question itself contains a measure of our arrogance. Why must the Earth feel pain as I do before I acknowledge that it has an existence beyond being a resource for me and my fellow descendants of Adam? We have altered the chemistry of the atmosphere, warmed the oceans, and driven entire living species to extinction. Then we were surprised when the planet’s systems began to change, and hastened to soften the crime by inventing the phrase “environmental crisis,” as though this were simply a malfunction that could be fixed by an administrative decision. We call what is happening “climate change” because the phrase sounds scientific and neutral, absorbing the humiliation of what we have done.
