One thing that has really struck me recently is something that is incredibly obvious. It’s so incredibly obvious that it’s embarrassing to admit that I never really saw it before. What is so obvious is that humans are animals too. Sure, I knew that on a certain level, but I never fully understood what that means. This dawning knowledge is like waking from a dream…or more like shaking off a terrible nightmare. Just as when waking from a dream you realize that the dream was never “real”, so too I realize that all knowledge that preceded this dawning knowledge too was unreal and fabricated in imagination. And the dawning knowledge isn’t really about acquiring new knowledge as much as it is about rediscovering that knowledge that has always been there. It is knowledge that cannot be lost any more than one can lose one’s heart. It is inherent in one’s own life, but it can be ignored…to a point.
Like many people I was born into a culture that teaches and then continually reinforces the notion that while “scientifically-speaking” humans may *technically* be animals, there is something, nonetheless, which sets us apart from the rest of the animals, effectively making us greater than any other animal. I believe this is called brainwashing in most cases. It’s necessary to brainwash people to keep them voluntarily participating in a cult. This reminds me of a part of a letter Benjamin Franklin is said to have written that I’ve seen quoted before. (Note that I’m not endorsing Benjamin Franklin, his ideas, or his behavior. As far as I can tell he was one of the oppressors. But this particular letter does provide an interesting perspective.)
“[A]lmost all [the American Indians'] Wants are supplied by the spontaneous Productions of Nature, with the addition of very little labour, if hunting and fishing may indeed be called labour when Game is so plenty, they visit us frequently, and see the advantages that Arts, Sciences, and compact Society procure us, they are not deficient in natural understanding and yet they have never shewn any Inclination to change their manner of life for ours, or to learn any of our Arts; When an Indian Child has been brought up among us, taught our language and habituated to our Customs, yet if he goes to see his relations and make one Indian Ramble with them, there is no perswading him ever to return, and that this is not natural to them merely as Indians, but as men, is plain from this, that when white persons of either sex have been taken prisoners young by the Indians, and lived a while among them, tho’ ransomed by their Friends, and treated with all imaginable tenderness to prevail with them to stay among the English, yet in a Short time they become disgusted with our manner of life, and the care and pains that are necessary to support it, and take the first good Opportunity of escaping again into the Woods, from whence there is no reclaiming them. One instance I remember to have heard, where the person was brought home to possess a good Estate; but finding some care necessary to keep it together, he relinquished it to a younger Brother, reserving to himself nothing but a gun and a match-Coat, with which he took his way again to the Wilderness.”
To me this affirms my own observation, which is that the civilized way of life is unnatural and only accepted when no other option appears to be available. But it requires great and consistent brainwashing to keep civilians from defecting and living among the rest of the wild. During Benjamin Franklin’s time there were still many wild places to which one could escape, and there were still many wild people who could aid one in escaping civilization. There were still many wild people well-acquainted with their natural, animal, tribal, wild human identities, as part of and not separate from nature. (Please note that I do not use the term “wild” in the pejorative sense that many civilized people would intend it. I use wild as synonymous with natural, as synonymous with sane and balanced.) However, where might one go today if one wanted to escape civilization? I’ve thought about this. I don’t have an answer. All I know is that civilization has no power of its own. It feeds off the life force of those it has domesticated. Without our consent civilization has no power. It is a phantom. But this phantom uses our life force to brainwash us (and to destroy life, to destroy the wild, to turn life into death.) It uses everything it can to brainwash us. It knows its own existence is always on the verge of collapse if only enough of us see through its guise. If enough of us see that we are its slaves giving it power over us with no benefit to us then civilization loses. Therefore the propaganda machine must be strong, the primary use of our life force. This is the purpose of schools, television, newspapers, religions, politics, wars, everything. It’s all to keep us locked into the belief that civilization is good and necessary, that we are dependent on it. But the truth is exactly the opposite of that. We are not dependent on civilization. Civilization is dependent on us. Civilization doesn’t even exist as an independent thing. It is, in fact, merely a pathology of individual and collective humans. There is no such thing as civilization. Instead, there are people acting under the delusion, the hypnotic trance that says that they are civilized, part of something called civilization. Don’t get me wrong. While civilization doesn’t exist, as such, the effects of the delusion/psychosis are real enough. Ask the Lakota (those who remain.) Ask the forests (those that remain.) Ask the polar bears. Ask the halibut. As the Mississippi river. The effects are real. It’s just that it’s not what we think it is.
Later in the same letter Franklin continues with the following.
“The little value Indians set on what we prize so highly under the name of Learning appears from a pleasant passage that happened some years since at a Treaty between one of our Colonies and the Six Nations; when every thing had been settled to the Satisfaction of both sides, and nothing remained but a mutual exchange of civilities, the English Commissioners told the Indians, they had in their Country a College for the instruction of Youth who were there taught various languages, Arts, and Sciences; that there was a particular foundation in favour of the Indians to defray the expense of the Education of any of their sons who should desire to take the Benefit of it. And now if the Indians would accept of the Offer, the English would take half a dozen of their brightest lads and bring them up in the Best manner; The Indians after consulting on the proposal replied that it was remembered some of their Youths had formerly been educated in that College, but it had been observed that for a long time after they returned to their Friends, they were absolutely good for nothing being neither acquainted with the true methods of killing deer, catching Beaver or surprizing an enemy.”
This also confirms something I’ve thought for a while now. We civilized are taught that abstract knowledge is the highest aim to which we might aspire. In modern America, for example, we are routinely told that everyone should aspire to obtain a college education. But what strikes me is that nothing I ever learned in school was actually and practically useful in any sense. I never learned how to survive without the machine that is civilization. In fact, all I ever learned was how to distract myself from the fact that civilization is a parasite living off the life force of its human and nonhuman slaves. I also never learned how to form real, meaningful bonds with my tribe or community. I never learned that the world is alive, that the wind itself is love. I never learned how to listen to the land. I only ever learned how to falsely see the whole as separate parts, as resources that can be (and should be) used (exploited) by humans. I never learned anything of any real use in school.
One of the arguments I used to make for myself in order to not allow myself to consider this issue too deeply (and actually have to make changes in my life) was that humans, unlike almost all other animals that I have seen, appear to be pathetically adapted to survival in the wild. Compared to other animals we are slow, weak, largely defenseless, etc. Really, we’re missing even basic things like fur to protect us from the cold. But I realize now that this argument is a false argument for a few reasons. One reason is that I’m considering only domesticated humans when I make this argument. Undomesticated humans are likely to be far better adapted to their habitat. It does seem true in my own direct experience that living in domestication causes me to live well below my potential. I bet that living in the wild I would adapt. More importantly, though, I have actual evidence that refutes my argument, rendering it moot. I don’t need to contemplate this in the abstract. There are actual, living examples of humans living in the wild, and humans have lived in the wild for the overwhelming majority of their existence as a species. Domestication, by comparison, is very, very recent. If anything I would say that the evidence supports the conclusion that humans are only adapted for the wild and not for domestication since in the wild humans have survived for hundreds of thousands of years and in just a few thousand years of domestication humans have managed to very nearly drive themselves (and everything else on the planet) extinct. The fact of the matter is that whether I think humans are well adapted to live in the wild or not is irrelevant because humans do, in fact, live (and thrive) in the wild.
Then there is the issue of whether or not I’d actually *want* to live in the wild. This is a tough one because as much as I dislike civilization, it is all I’ve known. And there is fear when I contemplate living in the wild. The issue that I consider the most frequently is the issue of cold. Wouldn’t I be miserable during the winter months? (That is, assuming I’m not in a tropical environment.) Well, my fear says that yes, I’d be miserable. My fear says that I’d feel depressed and chilled to the bone all winter without a well-heated, well-insulated home. I’m not sure a wikiup or a tipi will really qualify. (Yes, I know that it is possible to heat and insulate these structures, but I’m just not likely to believe that they will allow us to cut ourselves off entirely from the realities of winter as do modern buildings.) Again, though, I have to look to the actual evidence. I see wild animals outside in the winter, and while I have no doubt but what they are cold, they don’t appear to be suffering. But then what do I know? Maybe the birds and squirrels are really miserable? But then what of the wild humans who resisted colonization with their lives, even in frigid places? South Dakota is pretty damn cold in the winter. The Lakota knew the white man’s way of life. But the Lakota rejected that way of life, preferring their own way life. Where the Lakota living in tipis on the plains in the winter miserable? If they were, why wouldn’t they have gladly traded in their way of life for the way of life of the civilized? Maybe they knew something we don’t. Maybe they knew that we are animals, no different from any of our other cousins such as the bison, the eagle, the wolf, and the deer. Maybe they knew that we can’t alter that reality. Maybe they knew that all we could do would be to tell ourselves lies. And maybe they knew that those lies meant death, the death of the spirit. And maybe they knew that the spirit needs to live for life to be experienced. Maybe they realized that one’s spirit is the same spirit as winter itself, and to cut oneself off from winter is to cut oneself off from spirit. Maybe. But what do I know? I’m domesticated.
Here’s another consideration. Lots of people like to say that human achievements are proof of our superiority. We are, they say, the pinnacle of evolution. And to prove it we need only go to the Louvre or to see the Sears Tower or to watch NASCAR or something else that demonstrates what humans can do that no other animal can. We can create works of art or technology, they say. That sets us apart. But I say that not only is that bullshit, but it’s doubly bullshit. And I’ll tell you why. The insinuation in these claims is two-fold. For one, who says that no other animals create works of art or technology? Really. I may not be an expert on animal psychology (and notice how our language subtly (or not so subtly) reinforces that we are *not* animals when we use phrases like “animal psychology”, not inclusive of human psychology,) but I really don’t know how you can claim that animals (other than humans) are any less expressive in what they create than what humans create. Sure, a bird nest or a spider web may be utilitarian on one level, but who’s to say that there’s not artistry in that? And to take this a step further, who exactly is the artist even in human art? Is it the human? Or is the human merely channeling (for lack of a better term) an artistic expression? What would make a spider any less capable of channeling artistic expression then? It just seems ludicrous to me to think that humans have exclusive rights to the domain of artistry. Hell, give me a forest any day for artistry. I’d take a forest over a Picasso in a heartbeat. Now, as for the technology part, again, I will disagree with the assumption that animals do not create technology. What about an ant hill? What about a bees nest? What about a beaver dam? What I think differentiates human technology from the technology of other animals is that our technology, by and large, is stupid while the technology of other animals is usually practical and healthy for the ecosystem within which they live. How many species of animal have invented internal combustion engines? Just one that I know of. That’d be us. Humans. But what an arrogant assumption to think that makes humans superior. If anything, I’d argue it makes us inferior. Every other species seems to have sense enough not to destroy the planet that they need for survival. Humans alone, from what I can tell, think they can destroy the planet. Humans alone seem to miss the obvious fact that if we poison all the water we’ll die. The owls don’t see to make that mistake. Neither do the elk. Nor the whales. Nor the elephants. Nor any of the other animals from what I can tell. My point then is that humans aren’t superior to other animals. Nor do we exhibit qualities that set us apart from other animals as dramatically as we’d like to think. Instead, I believe we exaggerate the perceived differences to support our psychosis, to justify our behavior.
My belief, then, is that the only sane thing we can do is to rediscover the undomesticated heart within us and to live in accordance with what that teaches. I believe that teaches us to listen to the hearts of all beings around us, including our animal cousins, our tree cousins, our river cousins…*all* beings. It teaches us to take our place as part of nature, not apart from it. I feel that our addiction to civilization is strong. *My* addiction to civilization is strong. But really, what choices am I faced with? Continue with the addiction and remain as one of the undead, walking still, but without a spirit. And with that choice means destroying the rest of the planet too. The other choice is to break the addiction to civilization, to see it for what it is, to understand that there is no redemption through civilization, and to rediscover my wildness, my spirit, life itself.