nature is speaking essay

Orion Magazine

America's Finest Environmental Magazine

Speaking of Nature

Finding language that affirms our kinship with the natural world.

A CEMETERY SEEMED AN ODD PLACE to contemplate the boundaries of being. Sandwiched between the campus and the interstate, this old burial ground is our cherished slice of nearby nature where the long dead are silent companions to college students wandering the hilly paths beneath rewilding oaks. The engraved names on overgrown headstones are upholstered in moss and crows congregate in the bare branches of an old beech, which is also carved with names. Reading the messages of a graveyard you understand the deep human longing for the enduring respect that comes with personhood. Names, names, names: the stones seem to say, “I am. You are. He was.” Grammar, especially our use of pronouns, is the way we chart relationships in language and, as it happens, how we relate to each other and to the natural world.

Tiptoeing in her mud boots, Caroline skirts around a crumbling family plot to veer into the barberry hedge where a plastic bag is caught in the thorns. “Isn’t it funny,” she says, “that we think it’s disrespectful to walk over the dead, but it’s perfectly okay to disrespect the other species who actually live here?”

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We have a special grammar for personhood. We would never say of our late neighbor, “It is buried in Oakwood Cemetery.” Such language would be deeply disrespectful and would rob him of his humanity. We use instead a special grammar for humans: we distinguish them with the use of he or she, a grammar of personhood for both living and dead Homo sapiens. Yet we say of the oriole warbling comfort to mourners from the treetops or the oak tree herself beneath whom we stand, “It lives in Oakwood Cemetery.” In the English language, a human alone has distinction while all other living beings are lumped with the nonliving “its.”

As a botany professor, I am as interested in the pale-green lichens slowly dissolving the words on the gravestones as in the almost-forgotten names, and the students, too, look past the stones for inky cap mushrooms in the grass or a glimpse of an urban fox. The students out for a walk on this late fall day are freshmen in Janine DeBaise’s environmental writing class at the SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry where we both teach. I’ve invited them on a mission to experiment with the nature of language and the language of personhood. Janine would correct me: she would not refer to her students as “freshmen” since they are neither fresh nor all men. We call them “first-year students.” Words matter. She has collected their assignment, a written reflection on a cemetery walk last week, as baseline data. Now we revisit the same place, but with new ideas about grammar bouncing around in the students’ heads. New to them, perhaps, but in fact ancient—the grammar of animacy.

For me, this story began in another classroom, in another century, at the Carlisle Indian School where my Potawatomi grandfather was taken as a small boy. My chance of knowing my native language and your chance of ever hearing it were stolen in the Indian boarding schools where native children were forbidden to speak their own language. Within the walls of that school, the clipped syllables of English replaced the lush Potawatomi sounds of water splashing on rocks and wind in the trees, a language that emerged from the lands of the Great Lakes. Our language hovers at the edge of extinction, an endangered species of knowledge and wisdom dwindling away with the loss of every elder.

So, bit by bit, I have been trying to learn my lost language. My house is spangled with Post-it notes labeling wiisgaak, gokpenagen, and ishkodenhs. It’s a very difficult language to learn, but what keeps me going is the pulse of animacy in every sentence. There are words for states of being that have no equivalent in English. The language that my grandfather was forbidden to speak is composed primarily of verbs, ways to describe the vital beingness of the world. Both nouns and verbs come in two forms, the animate and the inanimate. You hear a blue jay with a different verb than you hear an airplane, distinguishing that which possesses the quality of life from that which is merely an object. Birds, bugs, and berries are spoken of with the same respectful grammar as humans are, as if we were all members of the same family. Because we are. There is no it for nature. Living beings are referred to as subjects, never as objects, and personhood is extended to all who breathe and some who don’t. I greet the silent boulder people with the same respect as I do the talkative chickadees.

It’s no wonder that our language was forbidden. The language we speak is an affront to the ears of the colonist in every way, because it is a language that challenges the fundamental tenets of Western thinking—that humans alone are possessed of rights and all the rest of the living world exists for human use. Those whom my ancestors called relatives were renamed natural resources. In contrast to verb-based Potawatomi, the English language is made up primarily of nouns, somehow appropriate for a culture so obsessed with things.

At the same time that the language of the land was being suppressed, the land itself was being converted from the communal responsibility of native people to the private property of settlers, in a one-two punch of colonization. Replacing the aboriginal idea of land as a revered living being with the colonial understanding of land as a warehouse of natural resources was essential to Manifest Destiny, so languages that told a different story were an enemy. Indigenous languages and thought were as much an impediment to land-taking as were the vast herds of buffalo, and so were likewise targeted for extermination.

Linguistic imperialism has always been a tool of colonization, meant to obliterate history and the visibility of the people who were displaced along with their languages. But five hundred years later, in a renamed landscape, it has become a nearly invisible tool. We forget the original names, that the Hudson River was “the river that runs both ways,” that Devils Tower was the sacred Bear Butte of the Lakota. Beyond the renaming of places, I think the most profound act of linguistic imperialism was the replacement of a language of animacy with one of objectification of nature, which renders the beloved land as lifeless object, the forest as board feet of timber. Because we speak and live with this language every day, our minds have also been colonized by this notion that the nonhuman living world and the world of inanimate objects have equal status. Bulldozers, buttons, berries, and butterflies are all referred to as it, as things, whether they are inanimate industrial products or living beings.

English has come to be the dominant language of commerce, in which contracts to convert a forest to a copper mine are written. It’s just the right language for the purpose, because the forest and the copper ore are equivalent “its.” English encodes human exceptionalism, which privileges the needs and wants of humans above all others and understands us as detached from the commonwealth of life. But I wonder if it was always that way. I can’t help but think that the land spoke clearly to early Anglo-Saxons, just as it did to the Potawatomi. Robert Macfarlane’s wonderful book Landmarks, about land and language, documents myriad place names of great particularity that illuminate an ancient Anglo-Saxon intimacy with the land and her beings. It is said that we are known by the company we keep, and I wonder if English sharpened its verbal ax and lost the companionship of oaks and primroses when it began to keep company with capitalism. I want to suggest that we can begin to mend that rift—with pronouns. As a reluctant student of the formalities of writing, I never would have imagined that I would one day be advocating for grammar as a tool of the revolution.

SOME OF THE STUDENTS in the cemetery have read the chapter in my book Braiding Sweetgrass that invokes the grammar of animacy. They are taken aback by the implicit assumption of the hierarchy of being on which English grammar is built, something they had not considered before. They dive headfirst into the philosophical implications of English-language pronouns.

One student, Carson, writes in his essay that it is a numbing word: “It numbs us to the consequences of what we do and allows us to take advantage of nature, to harm it even, free of guilt, because we declare other beings to be less than ourselves, just things.” He echoes the words of Wendell Berry who writes, “People exploit what they have merely concluded to be of value, but they defend what they love, and to defend what we love we need a particularizing language, for we love what we particularly know.”

While it’s true that words are simply vessels for meaning, without meaning of their own, many cultures imbue the utterance of words with spirit because they originate with the breath, with the mystery of life itself. In her book Becoming Wise, Krista Tippett writes, “The words we use shape how we understand ourselves, how we interpret the world, how we treat others. Words make worlds.”

I don’t mean to say that we are constrained to act in a certain way because of our grammar. I’ve been saying it for most of my life and so far I have not clearcut a forest. (I can’t even bring myself to litter, although I tried once, just to see what it would feel like.) Nor does a language of animacy dictate that its speakers will behave with respect toward nonhumans. After all, there are leaders of indigenous nations, raised speaking a grammar of animacy, who willingly surrender their homelands to the use of mining or timber companies. And the Russian language, while embracing animacy in its structure, has not exactly led to a flowering of sustainability there. The relationship between the structure of a language and the behavior characteristic of a culture, is not a causal one, but many linguists and psychologists agree that language reveals unconscious cultural assumptions and exerts some influence over patterns of thought.

As we talk beneath the oaks, one of the students emphatically disagrees: “Just because I say it doesn’t mean I disrespect nature. I grew up on a farm and we called all of our animals it, but we took great care of them. We just said it because everyone knows that you don’t give a name to the thing that you’re going to eat.” Exactly! We use it to distance ourselves, to set others outside our circle of moral consideration, creating hierarchies of difference that justify our actions—so we don’t feel.

In contrast, indigenous philosophy recognizes other beings as our relatives, including the ones we intend to eat. Sadly, since we cannot photosynthesize, we humans must take other lives in order to live. We have no choice but to consume, but we can choose to consume a plant or animal in a way that honors the life that is given and the life that flourishes as a consequence. Instead of avoiding ethical jeopardy by creating distance, we can embrace and reconcile that tension. We can acknowledge food plants and animals as fellow beings and through sophisticated practices of reciprocity demonstrate respect for the sacred exchange of life among relatives.

The students we walk with in the cemetery are primarily environmental scientists in training. The practice of it -ing everything in nature is not only prevalent, but is required in scientific writing. Rachel points out that in her biology class, there are “strict taboos governing personification of nature, and even a whisper of anthropomorphism will lose you a grade on a paper.”

I have had the privilege of spending my life kneeling before plants. As a plant scientist, sometimes I am collecting data. As an indigenous plant woman, sometimes I am gathering medicine. These two roles offer a sharp contrast in ways of thinking, but I am always in awe, and always in relationship. In both cases the plants provide for me, teach me, and inspire me. When I write as a scientist, I must say, “An 8 cm root was extracted from the soil,” as if the leafy beings were objects, and, for that matter, as if I were too. Scientific writing prefers passive voice to subject pronouns of any kind. And yet its technical language, which is designed to be highly accurate, obscures the greater truth.

Writing as an indigenous plant woman I might say, “My plant relatives have shared healing knowledge with me and given me a root medicine.” Instead of ignoring our mutual relationship, I celebrate it. Yet English grammar demands that I refer to my esteemed healer as it, not as a respected teacher, as all plants are understood to be in Potawatomi. That has always made me uncomfortable. I want a word for beingness. Can we unlearn the language of objectification and throw off colonized thought? Can we make a new world with new words?

Inspired by the grammar of animacy in Potawatomi that feels so right and true, I’ve been searching for a new expression that could be slipped into the English language in place of it when we are speaking of living beings. Mumbling to myself through the woods and fields, I’ve tried many different words, hoping that one would sound right to my leafy or feathered companions. There was one that kept rising through my musings. So I sought the counsel of my elder and language guide, Stewart King, and explained my purpose in seeking a word to instill animacy in English grammar, to heal disrespect. He rightly cautioned that “our language holds no responsibility to heal the society that sought to exterminate it.” With deep respect for his response, I thought also of how the teachings of our traditional wisdom might one day be needed as medicine for a broken world. So I asked him if there was a word in our language that captured the simple but miraculous state of just being. And of course there is. “Aakibmaadiziiwin,” he said, “means ‘a being of the earth.’” I sighed with relief and gratitude for the existence of that word. However, those beautiful syllables would not slide easily into English to take the place of the pronoun it. But I wondered about that first sound, the one that came to me as I walked over the land. With full recognition and celebration of its Potawatomi roots, might we hear a new pronoun at the beginning of the word, from the “aaki” part that means land? Ki to signify a being of the living earth. Not he or she, but ki. So that when the robin warbles on a summer morning, we can say, “Ki is singing up the sun.” Ki runs through the branches on squirrel feet, ki howls at the moon, ki’s branches sway in the pine-scented breeze, all alive in our language as in our world.

We’ll need a plural form of course, to speak of these many beings with whom we share the planet. We don’t need to borrow from Potawatomi since—lo and behold—we already have the perfect English word for them: kin. Kin are ripening in the fields; kin are nesting under the eaves; kin are flying south for the winter, come back soon. Our words can be an antidote to human exceptionalism, to unthinking exploitation, an antidote to loneliness, an opening to kinship. If words can make the world, can these two little sounds call back the grammar of animacy that was scrubbed from the mouths of children at Carlisle?

I have no illusions that we can suddenly change language and, with it, our worldview, but in fact English evolves all the time. We drop words we don’t need anymore and invent words that we do. The Oxford Children’s Dictionary notoriously dropped the words acorn and buttercup in favor of bandwidth and chatroom, but restored them after public pressure. I don’t think that we need words that distance us from nature; we need words that heal that relationship, that invite us into an inclusive worldview of personhood for all beings.

As I’ve sent these two little words out into the world like seeds on the wind, they have fallen here and there on fertile ground. Several writers have incorporated them into children’s books and into music. Readers have reported that the very sound, the phoneme pronounced “kee,” has resonance with other words of similar meaning. Ki is a parallel spelling of chi —the word for the inherent life energy that flows through all things. It finds harmony with qui or “who” in Latinate languages. I’ve been told it is the name of a Sumerian Earth goddess and the root of Turkic words for tree. Could ki be a key to unlocking a new way of thinking, or remembering an ancient one?

But these responses are from nature writers, artists, teachers, and philosophers; I want to know how young people, the language makers among us, react. Our little environmental college is dominated by tree huggers, so if there were ever an audience open to ki, they would be it.

WITH ki and kin rattling around in their heads, the students walk together in the cemetery again, playing with using the words and seeing how they feel on their tongues and in their heads.

Steeped in the formalities of syntax, a fair number of student questions revolve around wanting “rules” for the use of the new words, rules that we don’t have. Is there a possessive case? Where are the boundaries? “I could say ‘ki’ about this shrub,” Renee says, “but what about the wind?”

“Yes,” I tell her, “in my language, the wind is understood as animate.”

As we stand beneath the stoutly branched oak, the students debate how to use the words. If the tree is ki, what about the acorns? They agree that the acorns are kin, a whole family of little beings. The ground is also littered, in this unkempt portion of the cemetery, with fallen branches. “Are these dead limbs considered kin too? Even though they’re dead?” Evelyn asks. “Looking at the dead branches on the ground, I found myself thinking a lot about firewood,” she says. “I’ve always spoken—and thought—as if I was the one who made firewood. But when I thought of that tree as ki, as a being, I suddenly saw how preposterous that was. I didn’t make the firewood. The tree did. I only picked it up from the ground.” In just one sentence Evelyn experiences a transfer of agency or capacity for action from humankind to the tree itself. The grammar of animacy is an antidote to arrogance; it reminds us that we are not alone. Evelyn later writes, “Using ki made me see everything differently, like all these persons were giving gifts—and I couldn’t help but feel grateful. We call that kind of firewood kindling, and for me it has kindled a new understanding. And look—that word kin is right there in kindling.”

Another student, Amanda, adds, “Having this word makes me regard the trees more as individuals. Before, I would just call them all ‘oak’ as if they were a species and not individuals. That’s how we learn it in dendrology, but using ki makes me think of them each, as not just ‘oak,’ but as that particular oak, the one with the broken branch and the brown leaves.”

Despite their very brief introduction to ki and kin, the students get right to the heart of the words’ implications: “I imagine that this would be a challenge for most religious people,” Paul says. “It kind of knocks humans off the pedestal of being the only ones with souls.” Indeed, Christian missionaries were the spearhead of language suppression in indigenous cultures and were among the prime architects of the Indian-boarding-school movement. War on a language of animacy and relationship to the natural world was essential to the dual mission of religious and economic conversion. Certainly the biblical mandate for human subjugation of the creation was incompatible with indigenous languages.

Another student, Kieran, observes, “Using these words as I walk around opened my eyes to how we are all connected. When you start using ki and kin, you will feel remorseful that all of your life you took them for granted.”

Ecopsychologists have suggested that our conceptions of self as inherently separate from the natural world have negative outcomes on the well-being of humans and ecosystems. Perhaps these words can be medicine for them both, so that every time we speak of the living world we breathe out respect and inhale kinship, turning the very atmosphere into a medium of relatedness. If pronouns can kindle empathy, I want to shower the world with their sound.

The most outspoken students voice some enthusiasm for the new pronouns, but the quiet skeptics save their reservations for the writing assignment when we are back in class. One student puts it this way: “This is a warm-hearted and generous idea, but it will never work. People don’t like change and they will be pissed off if you try and tell them how to talk. Most people don’t want to think of nature as being as good as them.” One student writes in a scrawl that carries his impatience in every half-formed letter: “If changing the world is what you’re after, do something real. Volunteer at the food bank, plant a tree. Dreaming up pronouns is a major waste of time.”

This is why I love teaching, the way we are forced to be accountable.

The abstraction of “dreaming up pronouns” does seem fruitless during a time in our nation’s history when the language of disrespect is the currency of political discourse. American nationalism, to say nothing of human exceptionalism, is being elevated as a lofty goal, which leaves little room for humility and ecological compassion. It seems quixotic to argue for respect for nonhuman beings when we refuse to extend it to human refugees. But I think this student is wrong. Words do matter, and they can ripple out to make waves in the “real” world.

The ecological compassion that resides in our indigenous languages is dangerous once again to the enterprise of domination, as political and economic forces are arrayed against the natural world and extractive colonialism is reborn under the gospel of prosperity. The contrast in worldview is as stark today as it was in my grandfather’s time, and once again it is land and native peoples who are made to pay the price.

If you think this is only an arcane linguistic matter, just look to the North Dakota prairie where, as I write this, there are hundreds of people camping out in a blizzard enduring bitter cold to continue the protective vigil for their river, which is threatened by the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline and the pipeline’s inevitable oil spills. The river is not an it for them—the river lies within their circle of moral responsibility and compassion and so they protect ki fiercely, as if the river were their relative, because ki is. But the ones they are protecting ki from speak of the river and the oil and the pipe all with the same term, as if “it” were their property, as if “it” were nothing more than resources for them to use. As if it were dead.

At Standing Rock, between the ones armed with water cannons and the ones armed with prayer, exist two different languages for the world, and that is where the battle lines are being drawn. Do we treat the earth as if ki is our relative—as if the earth were animated by being—with reciprocity and reverence, or as stuff that we may treat with or without respect, as we choose? The language and worldview of the colonizer are once again in a showdown with the indigenous worldview. Knowing this, the water protectors at Standing Rock were joined by thousands of non-native allies, who also speak with the voice of resistance, who speak for the living world, for the grammar of animacy.

Thankfully, human history is marked by an ever-expanding recognition of personhood, from the time when aboriginals were not seen as human, when slaves were counted as three-fifths of a person, and when a woman was worth less than a man. Language, personhood, and politics have always been linked to human rights. Will we have the wisdom to expand the circle yet again? Naming is the beginning of justice.

Around the world, ideas of justice for nature are emerging in political and legal arenas. In New Zealand, when the Whanganui River was threatened, indigenous Maori leadership earned protection for the sacred waters by getting the river declared a legal “person” with rights to its own well-being. The constitutions of indigenous-led Ecuador and Bolivia enshrine the rights of Mother Nature. The Swiss amended their constitution to define animals as beings instead of objects. Just last year, the Ho-Chunk Nation in Wisconsin amended its tribal constitution, recognizing that “ecosystems and natural communities within the Ho-Chunk territory possess an inherent, fundamental, and inalienable right to exist and thrive.” This legal structure will allow the tribe to protect its homelands from mining for fracking sand and fossil fuel extraction because the land will have legal standing as a person. Supported by the revolutionary initiatives of the Community Environmental Legal Defense Fund, the burgeoning Rights of Nature movement is flowering from the roots of animacy, from the personhood of all beings. We’ll need a new pronoun for that.

THE STUDENTS COMMENT that they’d like to use ki and kin, but stumble over the changes in phrasing. “This would be much easier if I’d learned it as a child,” they say. They’re right of course. Not only because language patterns are established early in development, but because children quite naturally speak of other beings as persons. I delight in listening to my grandson, who like most toddlers watching a butterfly flit across the yard says, “He is flying,” or “She sits on a flower.” Children speak at first with a universal grammar of animacy, until we teach them not to. My grandson is also completely smitten with bulldozers and will watch them endlessly, but despite their motion and their roar he is not confused as to their nature: he calls them “it.”

I am also introducing him to Potawatomi words. In honor of the language that was taken from his great-grandfather, I want to give that language back to my grandson, so he will never be alone in the world and live surrounded by kin. He already has the basics of animacy; he hugs trees and kisses moss. My heart cracked with happiness when he looked up from the blueberries in his oatmeal and said, “Nokomis, are these minan?”

He’s growing up in a time when respect among peoples has grown threadbare and there are gaping holes in the fabric of life. The mending we need will require reweaving the relationship between humans and our more-than-human kin. Maybe now, in this time when the myth of human exceptionalism has proven illusory, we will listen to intelligences other than our own, to kin. To get there, we may all need a new language to help us honor and be open to the beings who will teach us. I hope my grandson will always know the other beings as a source of counsel and inspiration, and listen more to butterflies than to bulldozers. O

This article was made possible through the support of the Kalliopeia Foundation. Listen to an interview with Robin Wall Kimmerer here .

This is a brilliant, elegantly written piece, which I will share widely — and have already posted to the Rethinking Schools Facebook page. Thanks to Robin Wall Kimmerer for writing it and to Orion for publishing it.

Re: As we talk beneath the oaks, one of the students emphatically disagrees: “Just because I say it doesn’t mean I disrespect nature. I grew up on a farm and we called all of our animals it, but we took great care of them. We just said it because everyone knows that you don’t give a name to the thing that you’re going to eat.” We are raising a beautiful Dexter steer; HIS name is Albertus. When we eat HIM, we will remember HIM and be grateful for HIM.

Thank you for the essay. Pronouns are, as you note, revelatory. We can learn from other languages. For example, there are no gender indications for pronouns in Magyar. So the English (and other language) debate on whether GOD is He or She is impossible to arise.

Thank you for this thoughtful, beautiful, and spacious essay. There is a lot to think about here for me, and for many of us.

I’d add another observation of using languages with genderless pronouns–to understand the meaning of the language and the subject of conversation, you have to take in the context. You cannot know what ki is referring to without the company of description and relation.

My experience as a learner of Ndjoeka (in Suriname) is that the structure of the grammar is simple, but the language is not. Learning to hear and speak within a richness of context and relation is beautiful complex and subtle, and makes meaning poetic.

Perhaps this is another support of how language can help us consider repositioning our speakers within a more equal world.

Thank you again.

As an activist working on the Willamette River superfund site, participating in a cleanup narrative that treats the river as an it to be fixed rather than healing with, in collaboration with the river has always been painful for me. What a huge relief and inspiration to hear someone decry the use of “it” and begin to create a language of animacy!

I am thankful for Robin’s clear writing and vital advocacy on behalf of language. This is an important topic that seems to be gaining momentum thanks to writers like Robin and Robert Macfarlane. However, gender of animacy is simply one of many tools that we can use to open up language and our relationship with the natural world, and this is the topic of my recent book “Language Making Nature.”

This was so beautiful- Thank you for this.

There is alienating language, and there is wanton destruction of animate beings. Both matter. And they shape each other. May we learn how to re-join the wholeness that has been broken, in how we think and in what we do.

In Malay language, there is no distinction of he and she. They use ‘dia’ meaning person for both. Try discussing gender issues with them. 🙂 And in Hindi, the verb takes different forms depending on whether the act is done by a female or a male. Now, try discussing gender issues with them. 🙁

Language matters and we (all living beings, kin) are connected genetically and spiritually. Thank you for this lovely article. I think many young people will embrace the change of language! There are many of us, young and older, who love and appreciate all of life.

Thank You, Thank you, Thank you,

I have been at a loss for words in my English language vocabulary. It misses so much of what I feel in nature, in love, in true living.

As an old man who escaped to the forest as a young man and spent most of my life here, thanks for the good work. May you alway teach in the shade of a tree as the ancient Greeks did.

Thank you to Orion for publishing this piece. Thank you to Robin for raising our consciousness about these important ideas

Thank you so much for this brilliant perspective and writing. And thank you, Orion, for featuring this piece.

As someone who works with people to (re-)connect with their Spirit Helpers and spirits of Nature, to hear their wisdom and guidance in order to live more authentic, joyful, transformative and effective lives of service, I feel limited by English on a daily basis. I often find myself saying, “it’s hard to translate what your Helper is saying into English” – and then I muddle along, doing the best I can, often having to try a few times before the Spirit Helper is satisfied. And then – by what pronouns do I call Spirit Helpers such as Wolf, Bear, Eagle, Deer, Magpie, Tree Spirit? I often revert to “he” but it doesn’t feel right.

I agree with you that the English language holds a great deal of power, and that it has shaped the mindset of people responsible for colonialism, racism, environmental destruction, and in general the culture of domination. My hope is that all of us – including white people – can come home and reconnect with Nature as mother, father, teacher and friend. Your work is so helpful in this.

Lastly, as we spread the seeds of “ki” and “kin,” I wonder if the gender queer and trans rights movement might provide fertile ground. Many of us who have never identified strongly with the male or female gender have been deeply hurt by the definitive and limiting binary pronouns of she/her/hers and he/him/his. Many people now request to be referred to as they/them/theirs, or even “ze” (pronounced “zee”). Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could add the pronouns ki and kin to our lexicon for gender queer folks as well? And wouldn’t it be wonderful if the LGBTQ and rights of nature movements could join in common cause?

Thank you so much for your work!

Thank you for your insights and your courage in articulating them so beautifully. English is my native tongue, and it often fails me. Our culture shuns wildness and intimacy, both essential to our evolution. Words do build worlds. They can also tear them down as we are seeing everyday. Let’s continue to rediscover the rich, root words and bring them into daily use to remind us all of our place of responsibility alongside all of our kin in this magnificent world.

This article was very interesting. It led me back to other questions that have been recently discussed in political discourse regarding the use of gender-neutral pronouns. The use of the singular ‘they’ as a way of designating a person without designating a gender. I wonder if another possible solution would be to expand the singular use of ‘they’ from being a way of designating a gender-neutral singular person to being a species-neutral animate singular and plural.

What a beautiful, compassionate essay. As a high school English teacher, there is so much here to reflect on. As someone who writes regularly about the relationship between humans and creatures (mainly through the lens of bird hunting), I’m fascinated by the potential impact on prose as well as concept. For example, one question that comes to mind regarding the pronoun “its” has to do with human ignorance (mine included) about the sex of animals. Most of us can’t tell at a glance if the tree swallow fledgling is a male or female, and we want to be accurate, right? So it seems “it” is a catch-all in that sense. I wonder if “ki” can accommodate a regard for the biological sex of a bird or if that’s not a concern, if it’s a catch-all like “it” but more of a de-hierarchical linguistic move.

This is a beautiful piece of writing on language and nature. I never refer to an animal as an “it.” Words matter indeed, in our customs, our culture, our language, our thoughts, our values.

Yes, beautiful thoughts beautifully expressed. I wonder about domesticity? Most pet owners refer to their cats and dogs as he or she. I was scolded once for speaking of a friend’s dog as “he,” and was informed that SHE had produced two litters of pups and SHE had more than earned her rightful gender. I think it must be, as Robin writes, a case of relationship. We feel our pets are family. Why not the trees all around us and the garden plants I spend my summer days with and the water I swim in? So much to think on here. Thank you!

I make no claims at being a trained environmentalist, yet I happily claim to be an amateur environmentalist in the context of being an agrarian working to make my homestead regenerative. As Wendell Berry has reminded us, being an amateur means you are a lover, in the entomological sense. As an agrarian, one of the most important ecosystems I “love” is the rhizosphere – something Occidental industrial agriculture has abandoned since the “Green Revolution” and reinforced by the misguided policies of Earl Butz.

Once I became aware of the extensive universe of life in and near the rhizosphere I immediately adopted an approach to agriculture and gardening that abandoned tillage. The kin of the soil are as mandatory for healthy life and salubrious food as is the oxygen we breathe. Using tillage and pulverizing the soil to create a specific germination or growing condition can be a sign of one of two things: simple ignorance of (or about) the life beneath our feet, or, arrogance of high order motivated by avarice.

Whether ignorance or arrogance the result is the same: billions of destroyed kin that are the mechanism of botanical flourishing. If yield is our objective as growers of food, we have selected the wrong goal. Yield is a biproduct of fertile soil. Fertile soil is the biproduct of abundant and integrated life within the soil. Instead of yield, our goal as growers of food should be to create an environment, to create conditions, whereby the residents of the rhizosphere prosper and thrive. When we do this, our photosynthesizing neighbors will blossom, both figuratively and literally. This isn’t just sustainability, this is regenerative because the natural process is perpetual or at least cyclical.

The biota (the kin) of the soil should command the same level of respect as any other species on the Earth. Some people, such as myself, claim this group of neighbors needs even more attention. Without humans raising their respect for the kin of the soil, we are not likely to survive as a species in this amazing geosphere.

Excellent piece, on a subject I have thought a lot about over the years. While in London last month I happened across an old cemetery a couple blocks from the hotel. There were many moss encrusted, nearly illegible grave markers tilting at precarious angles under large old oaks. At the center of the cemetery was the larger grave of John Bunyon, author of “Pilgrims Progress”, one of the earliest examples of an invading alien language to the Americas. Nearby was also a marker for William Blake, someone who would probably sympathize greatly with Ms. Kimmerer’s essay and thoughts. I’ll see if I can post photographs.

Wonderful paradigm shifting work. I really loved the realization that our language shapes the way we approach the world. Migwetch

Our industrialized and environmentally unsound system of animal-for-food production treats animals as objects and commodities for profit. Big Ag raises and kills animals in cruel and inhumane ways and their short lives inevitably end in slaughter as they are transformed into an entree for one’s dinner plate. Their deaths serve as another example of how our language debases and controls the animate world. If we can see animals as Ki and Kin, as individuals with their own lives to live, perhaps we can also see that eating them is an affront to their rights too. As Alice Walker states, ““The animals of the world exist for their own reasons. They were not made for humans any more than black people were made for whites, or women created for men.”

Wonderful article. I’ve always hated using the pronoun “it” for non-human animals, but never thought to extend the “personhood” further–toward rivers, forests, etc. This reminds me, too, of the film by Akira Kurosawa–Dersu Uzala. Dersu, the main character, a Nanai hunter who lives in the Russian Far East. He refers to the sun, the forest, everything–as “persons”, which makes the Russian explorers laugh (but they get it after a while–Kurosawa is good at showing empathetic moments.) Again, this is beautiful, and beautifully written. Thank you!

Yes! I love the idea and etymological family of “ki” and “kin,” despite the worrisome lack of a syntax that clarifies subject/object, etc. I use “he” and “she” for animals, as more and more “animal people” seem to be doing. Of course, that usage has the same problems as it does in English for the unknown or nonspecified sex and the other complications. But “it”? No way! My “Ask Me, Says the Turtle” (Turtles All the Way: Poems. Finishing Line Press, 2016), expresses that lack of respect in a persona poem written in box turtle Diode’s voice. (Diode has been involved in communication and cognition exploration since 1979.)

“You meet me steering down the woodland trail, secure in the hand of my tutor. You look in her eyes and ask her what I always hear, Does it know you? And what does it eat?

I say, ask ME. I am not an it. . . .”

I would love to see these concepts published as a children’s book, with lovely illustrations. This is a perspective that ideally should be learned at a young age and the material lends itself to illustration. Hoping to see this happen before my little grandchild gets too much older.

author says, “Sadly, since we cannot photosynthesize, we humans must take other lives in order to live. We have no choice but to consume, but we can choose to consume a plant or animal in a way that honors the life that is given and the life that flourishes as a consequence. Instead of avoiding ethical jeopardy by creating distance, we can embrace and reconcile that tension. We can acknowledge food plants and animals as fellow beings and through sophisticated practices of reciprocity demonstrate respect for the sacred exchange of life among relatives.”

This is a crap excuse for killing and eating non-human beings. Really? You would eat your cousin? your mother? If you really saw non-human beings as your relatives, you wouldn’t eat them.

There is a qualitative difference between eating plants and eating non-human animals which the author conveniently drifts over. Eat animals, if you wish, but with honesty, not with hypocrisy.

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This is a powerful article that illustrates how western thought and language centers objectification and thus separates human species from all other corporeal, material, and spiritual phenomena. But language is alive and fluid. Robin Kimmerer gracefully leads us along a spiritual path of reconnection. As a psychoanalyst, I seek ways to breach the barriers of our language so that we can more fully experience the miracle of the cycles of life.

I was fortunate enough to hear Robin Kimmerer speak at the University of Oregon on this very topic. This is just what a nature essay should do – make us think differently. Force us to sit down and say, “ahh, I never thought of it that way before.” I hope this idea sprouts wings and that we can go to court and speak for the unnamed, the “it” of nature. That we can defend rivers and trees, not for their usefulness to humans but for what they are. #earthtoo

I found refuge in the oasis of that cemetery while a law student at Syracuse, and well remember the acorns, squirrels and peace it offered. Ms. Kimmerer’s essay calls to mind the dissent of Justice William O. Douglas in Sierra Club v. Morton, in which Douglas opined that any natural being — e.g., a river, a grove of trees, or an animal — should have “standing” to be heard, and its (ki?) voice considered. “So it should be as respects valleys, alpine meadows, rivers, lakes, estuaries, beaches, ridges, groves of trees, swampland, or even air that feels the destructive pressures of modern technology and modern life. The river, for example, is the living symbol of all the life it sustains or nourishes — fish, aquatic insects, water ouzels, otter, fisher, deer, elk, bear, and all other animals, including man, who are dependent on it or who enjoy it for its sight, its sound, or its life. The river as plaintiff speaks for the ecological unit of life that is part of it.”

This essay made me thinking of all the times I have tried to explain to people surrounding me about the differences that different language provoke your ways of thinking. Or how it limitates it.

Born in Argentina and living more than 30 years in Israel, came as a child when my parents decided this will be the best place for us, every single day in my life goes by with thoughts about this issues. Different thinking options that evoke the ways we think.

As a nurse giving service it a community care clinic, I have lately started working with ultra religious people. Every interaction became an act of learning. Even though we speak the same language, Hebrew , we use the same language in such different ways. While interacting I discover many ways of speech used by them which I do not no at all. So the context, of course, produces the meaning.

I enjoyed reading! Thank you

I identify with so many elements in this reading. I grew up in a marvelous old cemetery and I loved to read tombstones to try to learn about the people who rested there. I have also always loved Native American cultures and history and often work with and write about Pawnee and other Native people whom I know and love. I have learned much from them and feel very akin to them. In this piece, Robin Kimmer writes about the very “person”-al kinship that Native Americcns feel for each other, the earth, the animals, their environment, and more. That is so true and so worth remembering. When Native American hunters kill an animal, they do so in ritualistic ways and with great respect. They address the animal as brother or sister and thank him or her for giving up his/her own life so that the hunter might live. When their women harvest Mother Corn, squash, pumpkins, beans, or even wild foods, those women always offer thanks and prayers directly to those plants and spirits as if they were people. In so doing, they also honor the gods and spirits of their ancestors. When I talk to or about my animals (horses, dogs, cats) or other animals I usually use he or she pronouns and seldom use it, unless the gender is unknown, but I am less personal with plants and places. Perhaps I need to revisit my own way of looking at places. Thinking that way, I can easily see that my land is a she, for she brings forth grass and shelters my animals with her tree limbs. It is amazing to see how just ascribing a he/she pronoun to a subject can make it far more personal, but it certainly does make a positive difference.

I work as a substitute teacher at a native village nearby my home. It saddens me that capitalistic culture has made its way into the school curriculum. The forest is taught as a renewable resource to be used for the benefit of the economy. We live in a forested area and I am sad to see the pine disappearing and being replaced by a mostly disiduas forest. The DNR says with rising temperatures the forest will soon change permanently, but no responsibility is being taken for the way we manage our forests and how this relates to climate change. In college I was taking botany, and many of my friends were studying forestry. It was interesting to see that we were learning completely different things from our intructors. Botany would teach of the importance of root systems and how the leaves of old growth trees would pull in moisture, while the forestry students were being taught that clear cuts were good because that way the deer would have plenty to eat. In saddens me to see that native children are being taught that clear cuts are necessary and and easily renewable, and that trees only took a short time to grow. I wonder how soon the native children will lose the old way of thinking and forget that the ancient white pine are indeed there “kin”. Teddy Roosevelt is a good example of someone who was able to keep a balance between the economy and preserving the natural world in which we live, so I know it is possible. One thing I did disagree with regarding the essay is the idea of being heartless when you do not take in refugees. I think one has to be careful of taking in mass immigrants from places that have already experienced environmental collapse due to high birth rates and cultural separation from nature. The Native Americans learned a hard lesson when they let Europeans immigrate in in mass. To invite many people into your nation that do not respect your way of life or the natural world will forever be a thorn in your side. Just as the white settlers did not respect the native cosmology, so is it with many refugees and immigrants that come to our country for economic benefit. I do think we as nation should help them, but it is dangerous to make them citizens and allow them to vote. We can help in other ways that do not include sacrificing our own way of life and making America unlivable for our grandchildren to come.

Re: Janine would correct me: she would not refer to her students as “freshmen” since they are neither fresh nor all men. We call them “first-year students.” Words matter. She has collected their assignment, a written reflection on a cemetery walk last week, as baseline data. Now we revisit the same place, but with new ideas about grammar bouncing around in the students’ heads. New to them, perhaps, but in fact ancient—the grammar of animacy.

The “first year students” here are called “freshers” and are taken as “fresh ass” as I have come to understand. “Words matter”.

I love this whole idea, especially with the opening lines. Truly, words matter coherent with the grammar of animacy, I wondered why kids would gladly repeat the same “mistake” of calling the “its” “kis”, but now I realized. Nature cannot lie. In my language, Igbo, of Nigerian origin, it is general also to refer to “nonhuman beings” by their true names, not minding pronoun. Trees are called trees, oaks, oaks, and so it is with animals and humans. There’s no such word as it, only that verbs justifies “ki” and “kin” from human beings. I love this, the world needs this not because it is against English as a language, it is the fact. Nature cannot lie.

I love this whole idea, especially with the opening lines. Truly, words matter coherent with the grammar of animacy, I wondered why kids would gladly repeat the same “mistake” of calling the “its” “kis”, but now I realized. Nature cannot lie. In my language, Igbo, of Nigerian origin, it is general also to refer to “nonhuman beings” by their true names, not minding pronoun. Trees are called trees, oaks, oaks, and so it is with animals and humans. There’s no such word as it, only that verbs justifies “ki” and “kin” from human beings. Now, plants in biology are grouped as sexual and asexual. My native language also recognises this and coalesce also the haemaphrodites. Nature is beautiful, no language is superior to the other, and THANK you so much for this Ma. I love this, the world needs this not because it is against English as a language, it is the fact. Nature cannot lie. Thanks to Orion Magazine for publishing this essay. Peace.

Fascinating account of how language differences change our perceptions–of us and other entities in our world, and beyond. As a text linguist, I have always been interested in how language shapes and to an extent explains a culture, by providing quite detailed terms for some areas of life, and hardly anything in others. One example of language and thinking differences in two cultures is found in the 1992 novel, Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow, by Danish author Peter Høeg.

Fascinating. I wonder if there is something about boundaries, related to colonising cultures. A while back I went to the Koorie (Australian Indigenous People) Heritage Trust to enquire about their stories of the afterlife. Two of the elders tried to explain to me. Let me be clear that I may have only poorly understood. This is their story, not mine to tell, and I’m only trying to comprehend from my side of the cultural border. The gist was, I think, that their stories were all about country, the place of all things, animate, inanimate, human, in country – ”Beings of the earth’? All things were always part of country. So the moment of one human being moving from life to death, was not crossing a border of any consequence. The two Koorie women were very kind to me, gave me a lot of their time, but finally looked at one another and sighed, as if they felt I was just never really going to be able to get it.

“The language speaks us” according to de Saussure. Hence, the reason why Robin Kimmerer invites us to change the way we speak about other beings so as to acknowledge them as our kin. Just like the Native Americans, the indigenous peoples of the Malay Peninsula and Borneo used to be close to Nature. They treated living and non-living beings in their cosmos as if they were their ancestors or relatives. When I was a child living in a village, my mother taught me to seek permission from the guardians of the trees, and even anthills, when we passed through groves, shrubs and bushes in the dark. With urbanization, and electricity, we began to dismiss such practices as superstitions and illogical.

I think we are a world waiting for ki. In this post- Bruce Jenner world gender has been redefined. Labels Men and Women do not begin to cover the diversity lived and experienced by some. We trip over he and she pronouns. I often lament that the America’s would be so different if settled and conquered by Asians and not Europeans. We would have welcomed ki a long time ago. And then I wake to the thought- but we were. The tribal peoples who were present at the conquest could have taught all those who came a language and philosophy of your people. Humans are not separate from nature. We are part of that web of life and must develop a vision of how we protect that web that provides for the continuance of ki. Not as objects to objectify and commercialize. It does all start with language and in middle school we used to invent words and attribute meaning to kin. I share your vision.

A beautifully written eye opener. The change in pronouns did work a kind of magic though it remains to be seen whether I will succeed in my intention to use ki instead of it. But then in languages that assigns male and female gender (french, hindi)even to inanimate things like table there is no particular intimacy. Or is there? The world is a better place due such passionate lovers of nature who can love the lichen on a tomb and the birds on a bough

A beautifully written eye opener. The change in pronouns did work a kind of magic though it remains to be seen whether I will succeed in my intention to use ki instead of it. But then in languages that assigns male and female gender (french, hindi)even to inanimate things like table there is no particular intimacy. Or is there? The world is a better place due to such passionate lovers of nature who can love the lichen on a tomb and the birds on a bough

The change in pronouns did work a kind of magic though it remains to be seen whether I will succeed in my intention to use ki instead of it. But then in languages that assigns male and female gender (french, hindi)even to inanimate things like table there is no particular intimacy. Or is there? The world is a better place due to such passionate lovers of nature who can love the lichen on a tomb and the birds on a bough. poignant

I liked that you started out with human interest. It helped bring me into the subject. I also love how you compare human death rites with animals. Beautifully written.

I have read your book, Braiding Sweetgrass and portions of Gathering Moss. It was only while reading this essay though that I was reminded of St. Francis and his lovely poem, “The Canticle of Brother Sun.” In this work, he refers not only to Brother Sun, but also to Brother Fire and Brother Wind. He refers to Sister Moon, Sister Water, and our sister, Mother Earth. Perhaps this is another pat to wholeness. After reading your book, i began to experiment with forms by referring to trees, birds, rivers, etc as someone. Someone flows between to banks and carries boats along. It felt a bit stilted when I read the poems aloud, and I got strange looks from the audience. My heritage is European and not Indian, so I may try using the vocabulary of St. Francis. Sister Water, Brother River, etc. It will be another attempt.

Delightful. Moving. Needed in our times. For a linguist (German, Spanish, English French; international conference interpreter) deeply troubling and enlightening. In German, I remember a horrible book: “The Dictionary of the Inhuman.” Made up almost entirely of nouns. Composite nouns. Very long, complicated, composte nouns. I am a poet. Poems, to be poetic, flutter on words. It’ their key, their life force, their sparkle Thank you for a timely, beautifully argued appeal!

Fascinating article about changing out mindset through deliberate use of language.

Thoughtful essay about how different languages provide us with different world-views and values.

Yes I do think the words we use affect the way we think. When we refer to an animal as “it” instead of “he” or “she” we are more inclined to treat it as an object instead of a sentient being. like ourselves. A new pronoun would be useful, but have I the courage to be a pioneer in this regard?

An intriguing argument for the power of language – even a harmless pronoun – to shape our world view and our morality. And the proposed new pronouns – ‘ki’ and ‘kin’ – even evoke linguistic associations with existing words, like ‘kindred’ and perhaps even ‘kind’. I found the argument compelling, although in some places it verges on religious fervour. Here are some quotes I found particularly significant: ‘I wonder if English sharpened its verbal ax and lost the companionship of oaks and primroses when it began to keep company with capitalism.’ ‘Wendell Berry writes, “People exploit what they have merely concluded to be of value, but they defend what they love, and to defend what we love we need a particularizing language, for we love what we particularly know.”’ ‘I am always in awe, and always in relationship. In both cases the plants provide for me, teach me, and inspire me.’ ‘An indigenous plant woman might say, “My plant relatives have shared healing knowledge with me and given me a root medicine.”’ ‘I want a word for beingness. Can we unlearn the language of objectification and throw off colonized thought?’ ‘War on a language of animacy and relationship to the natural world was essential to the dual mission of religious and economic conversion. Certainly the biblical mandate for human subjugation of the creation was incompatible with indigenous languages.’ ‘If pronouns can kindle empathy, I want to shower the world with their sound.’ We should not forget, however, that English is not the only language! Latin languages and German, for example, genderize, and thus in some sense personalize, all nouns; we anglophiles struggle with the articles and declensions. Finnish, on the other hand, abolishes the gender of nouns but distinguishes between person of any gender and things.

I found this story educational as well as startling. I agree with all of the students mention ed in this story. I am concerned about how we as humans treat each other and how we treat each other. I also struggled with changing the way we refer to nature and animals. I me have a problem with changing the way it is used.

Greetings; It’s a fact that it is a fact that it is a matter of great interest to the disappearance of the sub-languages in developing countries and the lack of importance of the local dialects. Thank you

It is interesting that this is the second of the given essays to look at language and the natural world. I wondered if the author had thought about how sometimes we label a bird or an animal with it if we don’t know the sex but anyone with a male dog calls him, him or a female her, etc Ki coming from kin is the perfect pronoun for other living things as they truly are our kin and this can apply to trees and lichens as well as elephants and birds, yet I feel it will work better with lifeforms that don’t have gender that is obvious to us. I thought it a little sad that the kid who came from the farm protested to animals being called he or she. I grew up on a farm where every cow had a name and not all but many of the sheep too and they were always referred to as he or she or they. Maybe we are waking up a little to how we have had to not dehumanise animals to make them commodoties in our factory farms and on our freezer shelves. maybe ki and kin wont get into world wide use but the more people we have who write thoughtfully about and worry about these things the better place our world will be. This author feels the loss of the connection her ancestors had with the natural world and making that connection with how her people’s language was erased is very moving. This happened us in Ireland too where we are still trying to erase the shame that was heaped on our beautiful culture by colonisation. In rural Ireland every ditch, fence, hillock had a name and every creature was as just a part of the world as the humans, in a funny aside rural Irish people will often use a female pronoun for perhaps their car her tractor as he she is such an important part of their life but maybe that’s taking it too far!

Fascinating account re linguistic agency and being.

This is a well articulated piece of article. I love it! It reminds me of how the imperial settlers marginalized, and systematically tried to exterminate my culture and traditions- the Oromo. The Oromo have lived with nature for years and years. They have big respect for nature- trees, animals , in general for all living things. They love to live with them They don’t treat, for example water as an object, they treat as a subject. They call “bishaan”, as bi-sha—n, meaning water. They have rules for every creatures – if you kill a snake, you will be punished, even a termite can’t be unreasonably be killed in their tradition.

The writer doesn’t only has scientific knowledge but she also has an indigenous knowledge. And, she skillfully blended them together to present us this wonderful article.

Thank you again!

Astounding article. Thank you, thank you. I am extremely curious to know which children’s books have incorporated these pronouns into their text, as mentioned in the article. Does anyone happen to know of any? I am having difficulty finding them. Thank you.

Thank you for this beautifully written, thought provoking essay. I am a better person for having read this. I only wish these thoughts had been presented to me as a child, rather than in my old age.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this loving tribute to all beings on this earth. As a person who feels most peaceful and happy when outdoors – especially among trees and by water – I have a strong connection with nature. I like the idea of using ki and kin more often. I will also be more aware of when I use the word ‘it’.

Many thanks for this fascinating article which has resonated with me so strongly. May I use ki and kin at the end of a novella I have written in draft? I was a university lecturer at Manchester Metropolitan Uni., UK, Cheshire campus, teaching creative writing. I now facilitate Wild Writing workshops in the community. As a keen naturalist, I have written for the Guardian’s Country Diary and am a member of Wildlife Trust and RSPB. During the pandemic I have written pieces on my FB page about the power of the natural world and the links between ecology, sighting Robert Macfarlane( I have recently listened to Robin’s podcast with Robert 🙂 ) tenets of yoga philosophy and the Romantic poets: Everything is connected. Nature is us and we are nature. A title of a piece of writing I wrote in terms of how we relate to the natural world: It is time for a new beginning, a new way of living, time for change-I was delighted at the positive response I received. Thank you for enhancing my thinking. I have been wondering for sometime how we might move forward with our relationship with the land and family and how this may impact on my writing too. I experiment with language: ‘words make worlds’ of course, I have ‘borrowed’ language from this article and Robin’s podcast and the piece in today’s Guardian, which of course I will reference and acknowledge in my creative work: ‘reciprocity’ of gifts. Like Robin, and Richard Powers: ‘art and storytelling move consciousness’ and in a humble way I wish to contribute to this debate and seek to do this in my work. Thank you for gifting me a way forward. Namaste Julie

This beautiful and inspiring article brought me to tears. Thank you!

really inspiring article about how do we look towards nature

In one of the above comments the writer referred to the Greeks (may you teach in the shade of a tree as the Greeks did). However, we must remember that to a large extent the objectification that Western thinking and language encourage is due to the dualistic thinking of the ancient Greeks.

Totally inspiring article. I will try to use ki and kin. Pleae not the correct spelling of Māori.

I’m reminded of a story I read by Frank O’Connor, the Irish short-story writer. I cannot remember the title. An old woman goes to her priest to commission a mass for a deceased family member. The priest is shocked to learn that the family member was a dog. He tells her that dogs don’t have souls. In the mid-20th century Irishmen, let alone Irishwomen, didn’t contradict a priest – but this one does. “Anything that can love has a soul,” she says, and tells him how much love the dog gave her and her late husband. The priest tries again, saying that the dog wouldn’t be in Purgatory. Neither is her husband, she says – he was a good man and she’s sure he went straight to heaven. Then why did she have a mass said for his soul? “Just to let him know I’m thinking of him.” I think the story ends with the priest asking the woman to pray for him.

What a fascinating essay, yes indeed, we have a great deal of relationship with nature, but only those with a sense of how the environment around them came into being, understand the summary of this piece. Growing up in my native home, the forest was our place of refuge when trouble came. We consulted the rivers when bearing child has become an issue for a family. Our ancestors spoke through the trees to messengers when calamities were above to befall the land. Not to mention the leafs that were used as herbs to heal the sick. Yet, they used “it”pronoun coined to favor them to describe nature. Nature is part of us, we’re made from it and we will return to it. Be wise and begin to treat it as part of you, so that when you return to it, generations after you would offer same.

As someone who knows so little about the environment, this article was a very endearing read. I am so happy I came across this as part of one o fmy readings for a university course. Thank you for writing this.

I don’t know how I came across this article but I am glad I did. I am working on a play about the digitization of East Indian languages and the loss of aesthetics. I found reading this very wholesome. I wish I could take your class. Thank you for sharing.

I just loved this article. I referred to it in the thesis I am writing and all the its referring to kin, are being corrected to “ki”, with a full explanation. Thank you

I think some poeple use “it” when gender is unknown, but I have always found myself identifying an animal or plant as he or she based on how it felt to me during an encounter. Attitude is important in our interactions, as is moving past the shallow measure of “What can I use this for? Of what benefit is it to me?” Better to wonder how we can coexist, or simply coexist without treating everything as expendable. If a new pronoun, even teh discussion of a new pronoun, moves us in that direction, we are making good progress. Excellent article – thank you for sharing it again!

Deeply observed and thought through, Prof. Kimmerer’s essay is very stimulating. I’m a little surprised that in 5 years of comments, only one person (Ray Zimmerman on November 21, 2018) points out that in late Medieval Europe, Francis of Assisi developed and bequeathed to his followers a language of identifying nonhuman creatures as brothers and sisters. Whatever fresh start this might have given Western Christian thinking about nature was overwhelmed in the following centuries by internal turmoil and encounters with capitalism, colonialism, rationalism, science, and technology. St. Francis was covered with cement and chained to a birdbath. Some of his followers today are trying to cut him loose, though, and his linguistic innovation can mesh nicely with Kimmerer’s. I do have to object that the “biblical mandate for human subjugation of the creation” that Kimmerer mentions is a pure fiction, got up by capitalism from two or three sentences wrenched out of their context in a large collection of literature. The Bible itself originated in an “indigenous” pastoral and agricultural community. One Psalm (8) may be misinterpreted to bless human exploitation of the nonhuman; but another (Psalm 104) envisions forest creatures “seeking their food from God” just as humans do, and an animating divine spirit giving rise to all creatures. Yet another (Psalm 148) pictures sun, moon, and stars, winds and weathers, mountains, trees, animals, birds, and “creeping things” worshiping the Creator on an equal footing with men and women. All which is to say that the ecological crisis must be met with every human resource. Not only is changing language a way to change the world, it may be the only way to change the world. The record of new pronouns succeeding is not encouraging, but it must be tried. Traditional beliefs and cultures must be given their voices back. And that includes ones lingering in the background of some very unpromising reaches of Western culture.

It appears I have been few years off in discovering this ligh bearer. Nevertheless, these words have tugged my heart’s strings as does a song that speaks our soul. The least I can do is share this “conversation” with my kin near and far.

You just perfectly put into words what I’ve needed and wanted to hear since I was little. The world around is just as real as us and we are not above ki. Ki is part of us and us part of ki. Thank you, so much for this, I can now speak of nature in a way that reveres ki. I also found a pronoun that says I’m living and part of this earth. Thank you so much.

They did something similar in Swedish a few years ago, it’s already widely accepted. They introduced a new pronoun “hen” (instead of han(=he) or hon(=she)) that’s to be used when the gender of a person isn’t know. It’s not animacy but it could be used the same way, and probably is.

Thank you for a very well written and thoughtful article. I have recently come across animal communication, which I and many others have experienced as very very real. Far more real than most things in our lives, like money, aha. The animal communicator I have worked was telling me about how she learned the medicinal properties of the plants by talking and listening to them in a field. There is lost wisdom in the old languages, cultures, perspectives of the indigenous. However, the Truth is never lost. It always exists within us and all things all the time. There is always room to embrace new language; I say that if you find it rings true for you, it likely will for many others (I know it does for me). There will 100% be resistance, even from within ourselves. I found myself wondering why the whole world doesn’t know about animal communication. It is the same concept you are talking about here, respecting and knowing these other beings as full equal beings with shared soul. I realized it is because it requires us to abandon everything we are holding onto. Our world could not possibly stay the same if we let ourselves know what was possible and True. The pronouns will be embraced as the world and our perception of it changes.

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Etching: "The Branches of an Oak Tree," by Eugene Stanislas Alexandre Blery, 1837, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Speaking of Nature

A cemetery seemed an odd place to contemplate the boundaries of being. Sandwiched between the campus and the interstate, this old burial ground is our cherished slice of nearby nature where the long dead are silent companions to college students wandering the hilly paths beneath rewilding oaks. The engraved names on overgrown headstones are upholstered in moss and crows congregate in the bare branches of an old beech, which is also carved with names. Reading the messages of a graveyard you understand the deep human longing for the enduring respect that comes with personhood. Names, names, names: the stones seem to say, “I am. You are. He was.” Grammar, especially our use of pronouns, is the way we chart relationships in language and, as it happens, how we relate to each other and to the natural world.

Tiptoeing in her mud boots, Caroline skirts around a crumbling family plot to veer into the barberry hedge where a plastic bag is caught in the thorns. “Isn’t it funny,” she says, “that we think it’s disrespectful to walk over the dead, but it’s perfectly okay to disrespect the other species who actually live here?”

We have a special grammar for personhood. We would never say of our late neighbor, “It is buried in Oakwood Cemetery.” Such language would be deeply disrespectful and would rob him of his humanity. We use instead a special grammar for humans: we distinguish them with the use of he or she, a grammar of personhood for both living and dead Homo sapiens. Yet we say of the oriole warbling comfort to mourners from the treetops or the oak tree herself beneath whom we stand, “It lives in Oakwood Cemetery.” In the English language, a human alone has distinction while all other living beings are lumped with the nonliving “its.”

As a botany professor, I am as interested in the pale-green lichens slowly dissolving the words on the gravestones as in the almost-forgotten names, and the students, too, look past the stones for inky cap mushrooms in the grass or a glimpse of an urban fox. The students out for a walk on this late fall day are freshmen in Janine DeBaise’s environmental writing class at the SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry where we both teach. I’ve invited them on a mission to experiment with the nature of language and the language of personhood. Janine would correct me: she would not refer to her students as “freshmen” since they are neither fresh nor all men. We call them “first-year students.” Words matter. She has collected their assignment, a written reflection on a cemetery walk last week, as baseline data. Now we revisit the same place, but with new ideas about grammar bouncing around in the students’ heads. New to them, perhaps, but in fact ancient—the grammar of animacy.

For me, this story began in another classroom, in another century, at the Carlisle Indian School where my Potawatomi grandfather was taken as a small boy. My chance of knowing my native language and your chance of ever hearing it were stolen in the Indian boarding schools where native children were forbidden to speak their own language. Within the walls of that school, the clipped syllables of English replaced the lush Potawatomi sounds of water splashing on rocks and wind in the trees, a language that emerged from the lands of the Great Lakes. Our language hovers at the edge of extinction, an endangered species of knowledge and wisdom dwindling away with the loss of every elder.

So, bit by bit, I have been trying to learn my lost language. My house is spangled with Post-it notes labeling wiisgaak, gokpenagen, and ishkodenhs. It’s a very difficult language to learn, but what keeps me going is the pulse of animacy in every sentence. There are words for states of being that have no equivalent in English. The language that my grandfather was forbidden to speak is composed primarily of verbs, ways to describe the vital beingness of the world. Both nouns and verbs come in two forms, the animate and the inanimate. You hear a blue jay with a different verb than you hear an airplane, distinguishing that which possesses the quality of life from that which is merely an object. Birds, bugs, and berries are spoken of with the same respectful grammar as humans are, as if we were all members of the same family. Because we are. There is no it for nature. Living beings are referred to as subjects, never as objects, and personhood is extended to all who breathe and some who don’t. I greet the silent boulder people with the same respect as I do the talkative chickadees.

It’s no wonder that our language was forbidden. The language we speak is an affront to the ears of the colonist in every way, because it is a language that challenges the fundamental tenets of Western thinking—that humans alone are possessed of rights and all the rest of the living world exists for human use. Those whom my ancestors called relatives were renamed natural resources. In contrast to verb-based Potawatomi, the English language is made up primarily of nouns, somehow appropriate for a culture so obsessed with things.

At the same time that the language of the land was being suppressed, the land itself was being converted from the communal responsibility of native people to the private property of settlers, in a one-two punch of colonization. Replacing the aboriginal idea of land as a revered living being with the colonial understanding of land as a warehouse of natural resources was essential to Manifest Destiny, so languages that told a different story were an enemy. Indigenous languages and thought were as much an impediment to land-taking as were the vast herds of buffalo, and so were likewise targeted for extermination.

Linguistic imperialism has always been a tool of colonization, meant to obliterate history and the visibility of the people who were displaced along with their languages. But five hundred years later, in a renamed landscape, it has become a nearly invisible tool. We forget the original names, that the Hudson River was “the river that runs both ways,” that Devils Tower was the sacred Bear Butte of the Lakota. Beyond the renaming of places, I think the most profound act of linguistic imperialism was the replacement of a language of animacy with one of objectification of nature, which renders the beloved land as lifeless object, the forest as board feet of timber. Because we speak and live with this language every day, our minds have also been colonized by this notion that the nonhuman living world and the world of inanimate objects have equal status. Bulldozers, buttons, berries, and butterflies are all referred to as it, as things, whether they are inanimate industrial products or living beings.

English has come to be the dominant language of commerce, in which contracts to convert a forest to a copper mine are written. It’s just the right language for the purpose, because the forest and the copper ore are equivalent “its.” English encodes human exceptionalism, which privileges the needs and wants of humans above all others and understands us as detached from the commonwealth of life. But I wonder if it was always that way. I can’t help but think that the land spoke clearly to early Anglo-Saxons, just as it did to the Potawatomi. Robert Macfarlane’s wonderful book Landmarks, about land and language, documents myriad place names of great particularity that illuminate an ancient Anglo-Saxon intimacy with the land and her beings. It is said that we are known by the company we keep, and I wonder if English sharpened its verbal ax and lost the companionship of oaks and primroses when it began to keep company with capitalism. I want to suggest that we can begin to mend that rift—with pronouns. As a reluctant student of the formalities of writing, I never would have imagined that I would one day be advocating for grammar as a tool of the revolution.

Some of the students in the cemetery have read the chapter in my book Braiding Sweetgrass that invokes the grammar of animacy. They are taken aback by the implicit assumption of the hierarchy of being on which English grammar is built, something they had not considered before. They dive headfirst into the philosophical implications of English-language pronouns.

One student, Carson, writes in his essay that it is a numbing word: “It numbs us to the consequences of what we do and allows us to take advantage of nature, to harm it even, free of guilt, because we declare other beings to be less than ourselves, just things.” He echoes the words of Wendell Berry who writes, “People exploit what they have merely concluded to be of value, but they defend what they love, and to defend what we love we need a particularizing language, for we love what we particularly know.”

While it’s true that words are simply vessels for meaning, without meaning of their own, many cultures imbue the utterance of words with spirit because they originate with the breath, with the mystery of life itself. In her book Becoming Wise, Krista Tippett writes, “The words we use shape how we understand ourselves, how we interpret the world, how we treat others. Words make worlds.”

I don’t mean to say that we are constrained to act in a certain way because of our grammar. I’ve been saying it for most of my life and so far I have not clearcut a forest. (I can’t even bring myself to litter, although I tried once, just to see what it would feel like.) Nor does a language of animacy dictate that its speakers will behave with respect toward nonhumans. After all, there are leaders of indigenous nations, raised speaking a grammar of animacy, who willingly surrender their homelands to the use of mining or timber companies. And the Russian language, while embracing animacy in its structure, has not exactly led to a flowering of sustainability there. The relationship between the structure of a language and the behavior characteristic of a culture, is not a causal one, but many linguists and psychologists agree that language reveals unconscious cultural assumptions and exerts some influence over patterns of thought.

As we talk beneath the oaks, one of the students emphatically disagrees: “Just because I say it doesn’t mean I disrespect nature. I grew up on a farm and we called all of our animals it, but we took great care of them. We just said it because everyone knows that you don’t give a name to the thing that you’re going to eat.” Exactly! We use it to distance ourselves, to set others outside our circle of moral consideration, creating hierarchies of difference that justify our actions—so we don’t feel.

In contrast, indigenous philosophy recognizes other beings as our relatives, including the ones we intend to eat. Sadly, since we cannot photosynthesize, we humans must take other lives in order to live. We have no choice but to consume, but we can choose to consume a plant or animal in a way that honors the life that is given and the life that flourishes as a consequence. Instead of avoiding ethical jeopardy by creating distance, we can embrace and reconcile that tension. We can acknowledge food plants and animals as fellow beings and through sophisticated practices of reciprocity demonstrate respect for the sacred exchange of life among relatives.

The students we walk with in the cemetery are primarily environmental scientists in training. The practice of it -ing everything in nature is not only prevalent, but is required in scientific writing. Rachel points out that in her biology class, there are “strict taboos governing personification of nature, and even a whisper of anthropomorphism will lose you a grade on a paper.”

I have had the privilege of spending my life kneeling before plants. As a plant scientist, sometimes I am collecting data. As an indigenous plant woman, sometimes I am gathering medicine. These two roles offer a sharp contrast in ways of thinking, but I am always in awe, and always in relationship. In both cases the plants provide for me, teach me, and inspire me. When I write as a scientist, I must say, “An 8 cm root was extracted from the soil,” as if the leafy beings were objects, and, for that matter, as if I were too. Scientific writing prefers passive voice to subject pronouns of any kind. And yet its technical language, which is designed to be highly accurate, obscures the greater truth.

Writing as an indigenous plant woman I might say, “My plant relatives have shared healing knowledge with me and given me a root medicine.” Instead of ignoring our mutual relationship, I celebrate it. Yet English grammar demands that I refer to my esteemed healer as it, not as a respected teacher, as all plants are understood to be in Potawatomi. That has always made me uncomfortable. I want a word for beingness. Can we unlearn the language of objectification and throw off colonized thought? Can we make a new world with new words?

Inspired by the grammar of animacy in Potawatomi that feels so right and true, I’ve been searching for a new expression that could be slipped into the English language in place of it when we are speaking of living beings. Mumbling to myself through the woods and fields, I’ve tried many different words, hoping that one would sound right to my leafy or feathered companions. There was one that kept rising through my musings. So I sought the counsel of my elder and language guide, Stewart King, and explained my purpose in seeking a word to instill animacy in English grammar, to heal disrespect. He rightly cautioned that “our language holds no responsibility to heal the society that sought to exterminate it.” With deep respect for his response, I thought also of how the teachings of our traditional wisdom might one day be needed as medicine for a broken world. So I asked him if there was a word in our language that captured the simple but miraculous state of just being. And of course there is. “Aakibmaadiziiwin,” he said, “means ‘a being of the earth.’” I sighed with relief and gratitude for the existence of that word. However, those beautiful syllables would not slide easily into English to take the place of the pronoun it. But I wondered about that first sound, the one that came to me as I walked over the land. With full recognition and celebration of its Potawatomi roots, might we hear a new pronoun at the beginning of the word, from the “aaki” part that means land? Ki to signify a being of the living earth. Not he or she, but ki. So that when the robin warbles on a summer morning, we can say, “Ki is singing up the sun.” Ki runs through the branches on squirrel feet, ki howls at the moon, ki’s branches sway in the pine-scented breeze, all alive in our language as in our world.

We’ll need a plural form of course, to speak of these many beings with whom we share the planet. We don’t need to borrow from Potawatomi since—lo and behold—we already have the perfect English word for them: kin. Kin are ripening in the fields; kin are nesting under the eaves; kin are flying south for the winter, come back soon. Our words can be an antidote to human exceptionalism, to unthinking exploitation, an antidote to loneliness, an opening to kinship. If words can make the world, can these two little sounds call back the grammar of animacy that was scrubbed from the mouths of children at Carlisle?

I have no illusions that we can suddenly change language and, with it, our worldview, but in fact English evolves all the time. We drop words we don’t need anymore and invent words that we do. The Oxford Children’s Dictionary notoriously dropped the words acorn and buttercup in favor of bandwidth and chatroom, but restored them after public pressure. I don’t think that we need words that distance us from nature; we need words that heal that relationship, that invite us into an inclusive worldview of personhood for all beings.

As I’ve sent these two little words out into the world like seeds on the wind, they have fallen here and there on fertile ground. Several writers have incorporated them into children’s books and into music. Readers have reported that the very sound, the phoneme pronounced “kee,” has resonance with other words of similar meaning. Ki is a parallel spelling of chi —the word for the inherent life energy that flows through all things. It finds harmony with qui or “who” in Latinate languages. I’ve been told it is the name of a Sumerian Earth goddess and the root of Turkic words for tree. Could ki be a key to unlocking a new way of thinking, or remembering an ancient one?

But these responses are from nature writers, artists, teachers, and philosophers; I want to know how young people, the language makers among us, react. Our little environmental college is dominated by tree huggers, so if there were ever an audience open to ki, they would be it.

With  ki and kin rattling around in their heads, the students walk together in the cemetery again, playing with using the words and seeing how they feel on their tongues and in their heads.

Steeped in the formalities of syntax, a fair number of student questions revolve around wanting “rules” for the use of the new words, rules that we don’t have. Is there a possessive case? Where are the boundaries? “I could say ‘ki’ about this shrub,” Renee says, “but what about the wind?”

“Yes,” I tell her, “in my language, the wind is understood as animate.”

As we stand beneath the stoutly branched oak, the students debate how to use the words. If the tree is ki, what about the acorns? They agree that the acorns are kin, a whole family of little beings. The ground is also littered, in this unkempt portion of the cemetery, with fallen branches. “Are these dead limbs considered kin too? Even though they’re dead?” Evelyn asks. “Looking at the dead branches on the ground, I found myself thinking a lot about firewood,” she says. “I’ve always spoken—and thought—as if I was the one who made firewood. But when I thought of that tree as ki, as a being, I suddenly saw how preposterous that was. I didn’t make the firewood. The tree did. I only picked it up from the ground.” In just one sentence Evelyn experiences a transfer of agency or capacity for action from humankind to the tree itself. The grammar of animacy is an antidote to arrogance; it reminds us that we are not alone. Evelyn later writes, “Using ki made me see everything differently, like all these persons were giving gifts—and I couldn’t help but feel grateful. We call that kind of firewood kindling, and for me it has kindled a new understanding. And look—that word kin is right there in  kindling.”

Another student, Amanda, adds, “Having this word makes me regard the trees more as individuals. Before, I would just call them all ‘oak’ as if they were a species and not individuals. That’s how we learn it in dendrology, but using ki makes me think of them each, as not just ‘oak,’ but as that particular oak, the one with the broken branch and the brown leaves.”

Despite their very brief introduction to ki and kin, the students get right to the heart of the words’ implications: “I imagine that this would be a challenge for most religious people,” Paul says. “It kind of knocks humans off the pedestal of being the only ones with souls.” Indeed, Christian missionaries were the spearhead of language suppression in indigenous cultures and were among the prime architects of the Indian-boarding-school movement. War on a language of animacy and relationship to the natural world was essential to the dual mission of religious and economic conversion. Certainly the biblical mandate for human subjugation of the creation was incompatible with indigenous languages.

Another student, Kieran, observes, “Using these words as I walk around opened my eyes to how we are all connected. When you start using ki and kin, you will feel remorseful that all of your life you took them for granted.”

Ecopsychologists have suggested that our conceptions of self as inherently separate from the natural world have negative outcomes on the well-being of humans and ecosystems. Perhaps these words can be medicine for them both, so that every time we speak of the living world we breathe out respect and inhale kinship, turning the very atmosphere into a medium of relatedness. If pronouns can kindle empathy, I want to shower the world with their sound.

The most outspoken students voice some enthusiasm for the new pronouns, but the quiet skeptics save their reservations for the writing assignment when we are back in class. One student puts it this way: “This is a warm-hearted and generous idea, but it will never work. People don’t like change and they will be pissed off if you try and tell them how to talk. Most people don’t want to think of nature as being as good as them.” One student writes in a scrawl that carries his impatience in every half-formed letter: “If changing the world is what you’re after, do something real. Volunteer at the food bank, plant a tree. Dreaming up pronouns is a major waste of time.”

This is why I love teaching, the way we are forced to be accountable.

The abstraction of “dreaming up pronouns” does seem fruitless during a time in our nation’s history when the language of disrespect is the currency of political discourse. American nationalism, to say nothing of human exceptionalism, is being elevated as a lofty goal, which leaves little room for humility and ecological compassion. It seems quixotic to argue for respect for nonhuman beings when we refuse to extend it to human refugees. But I think this student is wrong. Words do matter, and they can ripple out to make waves in the “real” world.

The ecological compassion that resides in our indigenous languages is dangerous once again to the enterprise of domination, as political and economic forces are arrayed against the natural world and extractive colonialism is reborn under the gospel of prosperity. The contrast in worldview is as stark today as it was in my grandfather’s time, and once again it is land and native peoples who are made to pay the price.

If you think this is only an arcane linguistic matter, just look to the North Dakota prairie where, as I write this, there are hundreds of people camping out in a blizzard enduring bitter cold to continue the protective vigil for their river, which is threatened by the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline and the pipeline’s inevitable oil spills. The river is not an it for them—the river lies within their circle of moral responsibility and compassion and so they protect ki fiercely, as if the river were their relative, because ki is. But the ones they are protecting ki from speak of the river and the oil and the pipe all with the same term, as if “it” were their property, as if “it” were nothing more than resources for them to use. As if it were dead.

At Standing Rock, between the ones armed with water cannons and the ones armed with prayer, exist two different languages for the world, and that is where the battle lines are being drawn. Do we treat the earth as if ki is our relative—as if the earth were animated by being—with reciprocity and reverence, or as stuff that we may treat with or without respect, as we choose? The language and worldview of the colonizer are once again in a showdown with the indigenous worldview. Knowing this, the water protectors at Standing Rock were joined by thousands of non-native allies, who also speak with the voice of resistance, who speak for the living world, for the grammar of animacy.

Thankfully, human history is marked by an ever-expanding recognition of personhood, from the time when aboriginals were not seen as human, when slaves were counted as three-fifths of a person, and when a woman was worth less than a man. Language, personhood, and politics have always been linked to human rights. Will we have the wisdom to expand the circle yet again? Naming is the beginning of justice.

Around the world, ideas of justice for nature are emerging in political and legal arenas. In New Zealand, when the Whanganui River was threatened, indigenous Maori leadership earned protection for the sacred waters by getting the river declared a legal “person” with rights to its own well-being. The constitutions of indigenous-led Ecuador and Bolivia enshrine the rights of Mother Nature. The Swiss amended their constitution to define animals as beings instead of objects. Just last year, the Ho-Chunk Nation in Wisconsin amended its tribal constitution, recognizing that “ecosystems and natural communities within the Ho-Chunk territory possess an inherent, fundamental, and inalienable right to exist and thrive.” This legal structure will allow the tribe to protect its homelands from mining for fracking sand and fossil fuel extraction because the land will have legal standing as a person. Supported by the revolutionary initiatives of the Community Environmental Legal Defense Fund, the burgeoning Rights of Nature movement is flowering from the roots of animacy, from the personhood of all beings. We’ll need a new pronoun for that.

The students comment that they’d like to use ki and kin, but stumble over the changes in phrasing. “This would be much easier if I’d learned it as a child,” they say. They’re right of course. Not only because language patterns are established early in development, but because children quite naturally speak of other beings as persons. I delight in listening to my grandson, who like most toddlers watching a butterfly flit across the yard says, “He is flying,” or “She sits on a flower.” Children speak at first with a universal grammar of animacy, until we teach them not to. My grandson is also completely smitten with bulldozers and will watch them endlessly, but despite their motion and their roar he is not confused as to their nature: he calls them “it.”

I am also introducing him to Potawatomi words. In honor of the language that was taken from his great-grandfather, I want to give that language back to my grandson, so he will never be alone in the world and live surrounded by kin. He already has the basics of animacy; he hugs trees and kisses moss. My heart cracked with happiness when he looked up from the blueberries in his oatmeal and said, “Nokomis, are these  minan?”

He’s growing up in a time when respect among peoples has grown threadbare and there are gaping holes in the fabric of life. The mending we need will require reweaving the relationship between humans and our more-than-human kin. Maybe now, in this time when the myth of human exceptionalism has proven illusory, we will listen to intelligences other than our own, to kin. To get there, we may all need a new language to help us honor and be open to the beings who will teach us. I hope my grandson will always know the other beings as a source of counsel and inspiration, and listen more to butterflies than to bulldozers.

This article was made possible through the support of the Kalliopeia Foundation. Originally published in Orion Magazine.

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Mother Nature – Nature is Speaking – Julia Roberts

All beings, including humans, are born in nature and from nature. Nature provides for all our needs and fulfils our dreams. Nature provides the life supporting ecosystems that make the Earth habitable, hospitable and friendly for us humans. When we die we go back to nature. This is why we call it Mother Nature.

Mother Nature

“Some call me Nature, others call me mother nature I’ve been here for over four and a half billion years Twenty-two thousand five hundred times longer than you I don’t really need people but people need me Yes, your future depends on me When I thrive, you thrive When I falter, you falter or worse But I’ve been here for aeons I have fed species greater than you, and I have starved species greater than you My oceans, my soil, my flowing streams, my forests, They all can take you or leave you How you chose to live each day whether you regard or disregard me doesn’t really matter to me One way or the other your actions will determine your fate not mine I am nature I will go on I am prepared to evolve Are you?”

NATURE DOES NOT NEED PEOPLE PEOPLE NEED NATURE

Every year we celebrate Mother’s Day. It is an opportunity for us to reflect on relationships and the important role the mother plays in the family.  Very often this is a caring, guiding and nurturing role, becoming over time, a friendship and perhaps companionship. Your mum might be, or might have been, your inspiration, your confidante, perhaps the glue that bonds the family. Mothers are so many wonderful and meaningful things, often making many sacrifices to be so.

In nature it is exactly the same, a lioness will watch over, groom and feed her cubs, and when they are a little older, will teach them to hunt and catch their prey. An elephant will gently teach her little calf to use their tiny trunks, and a giraffe will watch over and encourage her new-born to quickly stand and then run on their long, thin wobbly legs – in all these cases, the mother remains ever vigilant, and will sacrifice all to protect their young. In nature this nurturing and caring often continues for years – well into adulthood.

There are many cases as well in nature where the mother is all of the above, and leads the group, the colony or the tribe: honey bees, killer whales, elephants, spotted hyaenas, lions, meerkats and ants – all are examples of these matriarchal societies where females are the leaders!

Nature itself is indeed wonderful – perhaps that is also why we call it ‘Mother Nature’ – recognising these life-giving qualities.

Source: Conservation International & AlexandrasAfrica

To read other articles on the catastrophic collapse of nature cause by people click here

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One-And-Done Guide To A-Grade Worthy Essays On Nature

Table of Contents

At least once in your life from elementary school you will find yourself having to talk or having to write about the inspiring relationship between man and nature that has been there since us humans started walking this planet.

You better be inspired and get a feel for it before you start gnawing at your pen. You’ll see that this topic, apart from being so ubiquitous and beloved by teachers of all kinds and calibers, is rather fun to explore and write about.

Essays on nature: how to structure?

The topic of essays on nature is blissfully broad unless narrowed down by your teacher’s specifications. Not that we will break any major news saying that you should start your essay with a catchy introduction.

Do not underestimate the importance of that short introductory piece : written well, it will set the right tone to your essay, make your own voice heard and make that first impression on your readers.

The contextual diversity stems from the very definition of nature. Quoting Merriam Webster , nature can be defined as

• The inherent character or basic constitution … of a person or thing.
• A creative and controlling force in the universe.
• Natural scenery.

We have picked here only the most distinct definitions that would send your essay in three different directions, but you certainly get the drift.

As often as not, tasking students with an essay on nature, an educator expects a charming piece on scenic beauty with lots of descriptive passages.

But before you knock yourself out waxing lyrical on that breathtaking view from the mountain top that opened itself to your eyes as you were hitchhiking with your family during your Colorado trip, let not a premature sigh of relief escape your lips: there is more depth to it than may initially seem.

Depending on what the actual topic at hand is, you should:

• Make a concise presentation of the topic.
• Outline the problems you are going to solve in your essay.
• Introduce a clear thesis statement.

Normally, you are not expected to come up with any laboriously picked and analyzed sources of information other than your own experiences with nature that inspired you into deep contemplations, profound emotions and filled other spiritual gaps in your perception of the world.

However, a good quote here and there is a must – just to show that you are familiar with the background and the efforts your fellow-writers have made in the field.

Proceed to the core of your writing, speaking about the moments when the presence of nature in your life overpowered you, the thoughts and ideas this feeling sparkled in you, and the impact it has had on your way of thinking and living.

Remember that drawing unexpected parallels is a mark of genius. How about you compare natural phenomena to the way you express your own emotions? What in the way you express your feelings through beaming, smiling – or tears and yelling – can be paralleled to weather changes?

…Go full-on allegorical!

Writing about nature, we suggest that you pick such tried-and-true fellow-writers as Henry David Thoreau , who is commonly referred to as “the godfather of American nature writing,” as an environmental educator and a travel/naturalist writer Heidi Zillie put it, and a harbinger of all go-green enthusiasts.

Speaking of environmentalists: as far as the cornerstone idea of your essay is concerned, it would score you a lot of points to jump on the naturalist bandwagon and make a strong call to protect natural resources.

The use of nature essay examples

Depending on what your primary focus in the essay is, you should pick a specific set of arguments to back up the viewpoints you express in your writing.

While describing and processing the imprint that nature sceneries have had on you is not about debating, since it is a purely subjective description of your own emotions, you still can present your feelings as contradictory and conflicting.

For instance, speak about the impact a sunny spell has on you when you are happy as opposed to when you are depressed. By contrasting your own emotions, sunshine from a clear blue sky can make you feel worse – although it can do the opposite and pick you up.

Um… or not?

Provide arguments to support both stances and illustrate with an example from your life.

Don’t be afraid to channel your inner Hemingway; we mean, the topic is pretty corny in its nature – bad pun intended!

What to write in essays on human nature?

Essays on human nature open up new horizons still.

Here once again it would be great to make a reference to Thoreau who advocated for

“the importance of leaving nature undisturbed, the need for all humans to have contact with nature, and the relationship between humans and other living things”

Speak about the contradictory nature of humans: we are part of nature, but we constantly seek to outsmart it.

What do we get as benefits, and are they compared to the damage we do the environment in the process?

One thing is for sure, and it is that it is human nature to defy mother nature, and our own nature whilst at it.

For centuries, from the earliest forms of human life on Earth, man has been trying to interpret, explain and even control nature and its phenomena, it is not by chance that the first explanations of meteorological phenomena that is rain can already be found in the first primitive men.

The wind, the sun, the snow, which, however, lacking any logical or scientific connection , gave an answer through the omnipotent presence of gods who controlled these temporal impacts.

But not only that, being peoples who based their entire survival on agriculture, they introduced the first songs and dances of the rain, of the sun, and in doing so they were convinced that the gods could hear them and that they could control and “send” what could be used to harvest to be prosperous.

Essays on nature vs. nurture

Merriam-Webster defines nurture as

– as opposed to those predetermined by genes, or nature.

The debates about to what extension we are influenced by our genetics that is nature, and to what – by environmental factors.

The supporters of the “nature” camp study the behavioral development in twins to prove their point, and we suggest you get the most out of citing some of them.

On the other side of the equation, scientists prove that there is a link between the events in our lives and our bodily functions; some events or actions can actually make us pass on genes to our offspring, like for instance substance abusing or smoking.

A study like this one under the supervision of Dr. Linda J. Luecken proves some meaningful connections between our biography facts and health condition.

Nature vs. nurture essay topics

Here are some of the most fruitful and inspiring topics for an essay on nature versus nurture you can dig into because every essay topic needs to be narrowed down for you to be able to make a clear and logical presentation of your standpoint:

• Nature vs. Nurture In Personal Development.
• Nature Vs. Nurture In Children.
• The Nurture Assumption.
• Nature vs. Nurture: From Elizabethan Times Till Now.
• Frankenstein: Nature vs. Nurture.
• Nature vs. Nurture Debate.
• Nature vs. Nurture In Medicine.
• Intelligence Quotient.
• Nature vs. Nurture From A Psychological Standpoint.
• Human Nature.
• Obligate vs. Facultative Adaptations.
• Social Pre-Wiring.
• Heritability Of Intelligence.
• Nature vs. Nurture in Genomics.
• Personality Traits: Nature Or Nurture?
• The Fallacy Of Nature vs. Nurture.
• Darwinian Ethics In Nature Vs. Nurture Debate.
• Biological Determinism.
• Stability And Change In Nature Vs. Nurture Discourse.
• The Nature And Nurture Of Genius.

Bottom line

Science is progressing with increasingly surprising innovations and technologies day by day, but people in some way continue to not fully grasp the benefits nature offers.

Exemplary is the case of houses built at the foot of Vesuvius, an area considered to be at risk of eruptions.

There are laws that prevent building in those areas, but at the same time in those areas, you always see more architectures, houses, and buildings that endanger human life.

Then the question arises of who is to blame in the end, and the necessary answer is that man, as in many things, is the main cause of own flaws!

…You get the drift?

Got questions or feel a bit lost? You don’t have to do this on your own; there is expertly help to get you all set for a maximal educational outcome!

Speaking of that… How about trying an expert help right now? Any topic, tightest deadline, complete safety! Click the button below to save your evening!

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Nature Is Speaking

“Nature is Speaking” is an invitation to the human race to listen to nature. All films are narrated by Hollywood talents to deliver messages from the earth, forests, ocean and other natural elements.

Nature is essential to every aspect of human life and well-being. Unfortunately, people are taking more from nature than it has to give, and as a result, we’re putting our own lives on the line. Nature’s message to humanity is simple: Nature doesn’t need people. People need nature.

We created a playlist below so that you can watch the full series.

You can also click here to learn more about this Conservation International initiative.

Related Movies

Treeline – The Secret Life of Trees

Song of the Paddle

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Nature Essay for Students and Children

500+ words nature essay.

Nature is an important and integral part of mankind. It is one of the greatest blessings for human life; however, nowadays humans fail to recognize it as one. Nature has been an inspiration for numerous poets, writers, artists and more of yesteryears. This remarkable creation inspired them to write poems and stories in the glory of it. They truly valued nature which reflects in their works even today. Essentially, nature is everything we are surrounded by like the water we drink, the air we breathe, the sun we soak in, the birds we hear chirping, the moon we gaze at and more. Above all, it is rich and vibrant and consists of both living and non-living things. Therefore, people of the modern age should also learn something from people of yesteryear and start valuing nature before it gets too late.

Significance of Nature

Nature has been in existence long before humans and ever since it has taken care of mankind and nourished it forever. In other words, it offers us a protective layer which guards us against all kinds of damages and harms. Survival of mankind without nature is impossible and humans need to understand that.

If nature has the ability to protect us, it is also powerful enough to destroy the entire mankind. Every form of nature, for instance, the plants , animals , rivers, mountains, moon, and more holds equal significance for us. Absence of one element is enough to cause a catastrophe in the functioning of human life.

We fulfill our healthy lifestyle by eating and drinking healthy, which nature gives us. Similarly, it provides us with water and food that enables us to do so. Rainfall and sunshine, the two most important elements to survive are derived from nature itself.

Further, the air we breathe and the wood we use for various purposes are a gift of nature only. But, with technological advancements, people are not paying attention to nature. The need to conserve and balance the natural assets is rising day by day which requires immediate attention.

Get the huge list of more than 500 Essay Topics and Ideas

Conservation of Nature

In order to conserve nature, we must take drastic steps right away to prevent any further damage. The most important step is to prevent deforestation at all levels. Cutting down of trees has serious consequences in different spheres. It can cause soil erosion easily and also bring a decline in rainfall on a major level.

Polluting ocean water must be strictly prohibited by all industries straightaway as it causes a lot of water shortage. The excessive use of automobiles, AC’s and ovens emit a lot of Chlorofluorocarbons’ which depletes the ozone layer. This, in turn, causes global warming which causes thermal expansion and melting of glaciers.

Therefore, we should avoid personal use of the vehicle when we can, switch to public transport and carpooling. We must invest in solar energy giving a chance for the natural resources to replenish.

In conclusion, nature has a powerful transformative power which is responsible for the functioning of life on earth. It is essential for mankind to flourish so it is our duty to conserve it for our future generations. We must stop the selfish activities and try our best to preserve the natural resources so life can forever be nourished on earth.

{ “@context”: “https://schema.org”, “@type”: “FAQPage”, “mainEntity”: [ { “@type”: “Question”, “name”: “Why is nature important?”, “acceptedAnswer”: { “@type”: “Answer”, “text”: “Nature is an essential part of our lives. It is important as it helps in the functioning of human life and gives us natural resources to lead a healthy life.” } }, { “@type”: “Question”, “name”: “How can we conserve nature?”, “acceptedAnswer”: { “@type”: “Answer”, “text”: “We can take different steps to conserve nature like stopping the cutting down of trees. We must not use automobiles excessively and take public transport instead. Further, we must not pollute our ocean and river water.” } } ] }

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Our relationship with nature

• Global Issues
• Environment

Speaking class

This is a standalone lesson but it can also be used as part of the set titled:

• Agreeing and disagreeing with others

LESSON OVERVIEW

In this environment conversation class, students talk about nature . They also watch a video and discuss ways to protect the environment. 

This is a Speaking Class worksheet. It includes a variety of tasks that let your students practise their speaking skills. This lesson format does not focus on grammar or vocabulary. Learn more about it here.

TALKING ABOUT NATURE

This environment conversation class starts with a warm-up activity in which students look at three photos of people spending time in nature and discuss some questions about them. Then, they look at a list of things people do in nature and share some details about the last time they did these activities. There are also some additional questions in the teacher’s version of the lesson and the e-lesson plan. For example, students can talk about how they feel in nature or why spending time in nature is healthy. After that, students read five ideas on letting more nature into our lives (e.g. plants in public spaces, building schools close to beaches or forests). They need to decide if the ideas are achievable and explain their opinions. 

VIDEO & DISCUSSION

The second part of this environment conversation class starts with the video viewing. Then, students discuss the message in the video. They also answer some additional questions . In the next task, students need to say whether they agree with some comments or not. They also need to give reasons for their answers. The comments are about the environment, climate change and the planet. Finally, students look at different activities people can do to help protect the environment. They need to decide which one in each pair they would rather do and why. The activities include for example being vegan, cleaning beaches and not using air-conditioning. 

There is also a game in the teacher’s version and the e-lesson plan. The teacher can use it at any point of the lesson , when they feel that students need a break. Students play the game in teams. A team gets a category and needs to come up with three things for it. The categories are related to nature and the environment.

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Thank you! I was just thinking about how to do a lesson on this topic. Synchronicity I guess 🙂

Great. Hope you and your students enjoy it 🙂

Impeccable!!!

How come you can never find a nature lesson without this humans are evil crap thrown in.

I don’t think that the lesson implies that humans are evil. However, failing to address the fact that many species are being harmed by humans in a lesson about nature wouldn’t be fair. There is another A2/B1 Speaking Class you might want to use instead of this one, though: Ways to relax features a video about spending time in nature.

Thanks, I guess you’re right.

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Check out this lesson to have an engaging conversation about home exchange and house sitting and help your students learn useful vocabulary to describe experiences.

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Is productivity the best policy when it comes to days off? Encourage your students to tell you how they chill at weekends using gerunds.

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The Beauty About The Nature

To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, though nobody is with me. But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds, will separate between him and what he touches. One might think the atmosphere was made transparent with this design, to give man, in the heavenly bodies, the perpetual presence of the sublime. Seen in the streets of cities, how great they are! If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty and light the universe with their admonishing smile.

The Stars Awaken a Certain Reverence, Because Though Always Present, They Are Inaccessible;

but all natural objects make a kindred impression when the mind is open to their influence. Nature never wears a mean appearance. Neither does the wisest man extort her secret, and lose his curiosity by finding out all her perfection. Nature never became a toy to a wise spirit. The flowers, the animals, the mountains, reflected the wisdom of his best hour, as much as they had delighted the simplicity of his childhood. When we speak of nature in this manner, we have a distinct but most poetical sense in the mind. We mean the integrity of impression made by manifold natural objects. It is this which distinguishes the stick of timber of the wood-cutter, from the tree of the poet . The charming landscape which I saw this morning, is indubitably made up of some twenty or thirty farms. Miller owns this field, Locke that, and Manning the woodland beyond. But none of them owns the landscape. There is a property in the horizon which no man has but he whose eye can integrate all the parts, that is, the poet . This is the best part of these men's farms, yet to this, their warranty deeds give no title. To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man but shines into the eye and the heart of the child.

The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other;

who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature says, — he is my creature, and maugre all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me. Not the sun or the summer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight; for every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes a different state of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight.

Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. In good health, the air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear. In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith.

There I feel that nothing can befall me in life,

— no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, — my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental: to be brothers, to be acquaintances, — master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance. I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty. In the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in streets or villages. In the tranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of the horizon, man beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own nature.

The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable.

I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them. The waving of the boughs in the storm is new to me and old. It takes me by surprise, and yet is not unknown. Its effect is like that of a higher thought or a better emotion coming over me, when I deemed I was thinking justly or doing right.

Yet it is certain that the power to produce this delight, does not reside in nature, but in man, or in a harmony of both. It is necessary to use these pleasures with great temperance. For, nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, is overspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit. To a man laboring under calamity, the heat of his own fire hath sadness in it. Then, there is a kind of contempt of the landscape felt by him who has just lost by death a dear friend. The sky is less grand as it shuts down over less worth in the population.

Chapter I from Nature , published as part of Nature; Addresses and Lectures

What Is The Meaning Behind Nature, The Poem?

Emerson often referred to nature as the "Universal Being" in his many lectures. It was Emerson who deeply believed there was a spiritual sense of the natural world which felt was all around him.

Going deeper still in this discussion of the "Universal Being", Emerson writes, "The aspect of nature is devout. Like the figure of Jesus, she stands with bended head, and hands folded upon the breast. The happiest man is he who learns from nature the lesson of worship."

It's common sense that "nature" is everything you see that is NOT man-made, or changed by man (trees, foliage, mountains, etc.), but Emerson reminds us that nature was set forth to serve man. This is the essence of human will, for man to harness nature. Every object in nature has its own beauty. Therefore, Emerson advocates to view nature as a reality by building your own world and surrounding yourself with natural beauty.

• The purpose of science is to find the theory of nature.
• Nature wears the colors of the Spirit.
• A man is fed, not to fill his belly, but so he may work.
• Each natural action is graceful.

"Material objects are necessarily kinds of scoriae of the substantial thoughts of the Creator, which must always preserve an exact relation to their first origin; in other words, visible nature must have a spiritual and moral side."

This quote is cited in numerous works and it is attributed to a "French philosopher." However, no name can be found in association with this quote.

What is the main point of Nature, by Emerson?

The central theme of Emerson's famous essay "Nature" is the harmony that exists between the natural world and human beings. In "Nature," Ralph Waldo Emerson contends that man should rid himself of material cares and instead of being burdened by unneeded stress, he can enjoy an original relation with the universe and experience what Emerson calls "the sublime."

What is the central idea of the essay Nature, by Emerson?

For Emerson, nature is not literally God but the body of God’s soul. ”Nature,” he writes, is “mind precipitated.” Emerson feels that to realize one’s role in this respect fully is to be in paradise (similar to heaven itself).

What is Emerson's view of the Nature of humans?

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Ralph Waldo Emerson left the ministry to pursue a career in writing and public speaking. Emerson became one of America's best known and best-loved 19th-century figures. More About Emerson

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Self-reliance.

• Address at Divinity College
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Early Emerson Poems

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Emerson Quotes

"Every man has his own courage, and is betrayed because he seeks in himself the courage of other persons." – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”  – Ralph Waldo Emerson

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CONSERVATION INTERNATIONAL PHILIPPINES PRESENTS

NATURE IS SPEAKING

Nature Is Speaking. Conservation International Philippines is listening. Are you?​​​​​​

Nature is essential to every aspect of human life and well-being — we want to make sure it’s included in the conversation. People are taking more from nature than it has to give, and as a result, we’re putting our own lives on the line.

Nature’s message to humanity is simple: Nature doesn’t need people. People need nature.

"Minsan kong nilunod ang buong daigdig at maaari ko itong lunurin muli."

John Lloyd Cruz voices Karagatan, the Ocean — the origin and provider of life.

Hear him out

Hindi kailangan ng tao ang kalikasan. Kailangan ng tao ang kalikasan.

Voiced by Tony award winner Lea Salonga, Inang Kalikasan shares her serious misgivings about the way humans are treating the Earth.

"Kung ako’y inyong pababayaan, hindi ko kayo maaalagaan."

Jaclyn Jose voices Tahanan — home sweet home — the shelter and refuge for all Filipinos.

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Special Counsel Who Investigated Biden Offers Fierce Defense of Report

At a hearing, Republicans peppered Robert K. Hur about his justifications for not charging the president, and Democrats rebuked him for broad assertions about Mr. Biden’s memory.

• Share full article

By Glenn Thrush and Luke Broadwater

Reporting from Washington

• March 12, 2024

Robert K. Hur, the special counsel who investigated President Biden, on Tuesday fiercely defended the disparaging assessment of the president’s mental state included in his final report — and his decision not to charge Mr. Biden with a crime.

Mr. Hur, appearing before the House Judiciary Committee to answer questions about his polarizing 345-page report , cast himself as an impartial arbiter. He said he had expressed concerns about Mr. Biden’s memory because he needed to justify not bringing a case against Mr. Biden after some evidence showed that the president had willfully retained sensitive material from his vice presidency.

“I resolved to do the work as I did all my work for the department: fairly, thoroughly and professionally,” he said in his opening statement.

Mr. Hur, a registered Republican who has been slammed by Mr. Biden’s allies for including his politically damaging assessment of Mr. Biden’s memory, showed little emotion during the hearing, but reacted angrily when a Democrat suggested he had “smeared” the president to bolster Mr. Trump.

“Partisan politics played no part whatsoever in my work,” said Mr. Hur, 51, a former Trump Justice Department official whose appointment was lauded by some Democrats who praised his work as a prosecutor in Maryland.

About an hour before Mr. Hur testified, Democrats on the congressional panel released a lightly redacted transcript of the five-hour interview Mr. Hur and his team conducted with Mr. Biden. It offered a more nuanced portrayal than the special counsel’s damning description of the 81-year-old president as “a sympathetic, well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory.”

While the 258-page transcript showed that on several occasions the president fumbled with dates and the sequence of events, he otherwise appeared clearheaded, with the kind of gaps in recollection not uncommon among people interviewed about events that transpired years earlier. But Mr. Biden did have difficulty recalling specific dates, most strikingly when he fumbled in remembering the day his son Beau — who succumbed to cancer in 2015 — died.

On Tuesday, it was Mr. Hur’s turn to answer tough questions.

For more than four enervating hours, he sat at the witness table as alternating Democrats and Republicans pelted him with angry questions, pausing only to berate one another, or to deliver high-volume partisan speeches as Mr. Hur perched on the edge of his chair.

The political dynamics of the hearing were basic, brutal and binary: Democrats defended Mr. Biden, a candidate many Americans see as too old, while Republicans tried to shore up Mr. Trump, hoping to minimize his indictment over the summer on charges that he illegally retained documents and obstructed investigators.

The stakes of Tuesday’s hearing were high even as Mr. Biden gave a fiery defense of his presidency during his State of the Union speech last week that seemed to address some of the concerns about age and mental fitness raised by the special counsel.

Mr. Hur, who began by saying he would not comment beyond the contents of the report, offered little succor to either side.

He repeatedly refused to accept the Republican argument that Mr. Biden’s actions were comparable to the indictment against Mr. Trump in the Florida documents case. His report pointed to “several material distinctions,” including that Mr. Biden cooperated with the investigation into his handling of classified documents whereas Mr. Trump repeatedly resisted requests to return material from his time in office.

But Mr. Hur made a point of rejecting a suggestion by Representative Pramila Jayapal, Democrat of Washington, that he had exonerated Mr. Biden, and he did little to mask his disapproval of Mr. Biden’s handling of sensitive materials that were found in several unsecured locations, including his garage in Delaware.

“I did not exonerate him; that word does not appear in the report,” Mr. Hur said, a line that is likely to be seized upon by Mr. Trump and his supporters in the coming weeks.

Democrats kicked off the hearing by playing a highlight reel of Mr. Trump’s own verbal miscues and memory lapses — and included a clip in which he said he did not remember saying he had a great memory.

Representative Jamie Raskin, Democrat of Maryland, accused Republicans of focusing on Mr. Biden’s mental fitness, instead of Mr. Trump’s praise for authoritarian leaders and recent meeting with Victor Orban, the far-right leader of Hungary.

“It’s not a memory test for President Biden,” he said. “It’s a memory test for all of America. Do we remember fascism? Do we remember Nazism? Communism and totalitarianism?”

But Mr. Hur did not back down from the report’s characterization of the president.

When Representative Adam B. Schiff, Democrat of California, accused Mr. Hur of choosing “a general pejorative” to describe Mr. Biden’s mental state, Mr. Hur shot back by saying he would not “shape” and “sanitize” his report for political purposes.

“You cannot tell me you are so naïve as to think your words would not have created a political firestorm,” said Mr. Schiff, one of the managers of Mr. Trump’s first impeachment. “You understood how they would be manipulated.”

Mr. Hur did not challenge a claim by Representative Jim Jordan, the Ohio Republican who is chairman of the Judiciary Committee, that Mr. Biden had retained the documents to profit from a memoir he wrote after leaving office in 2017. In fact, the special counsel said he agreed with that “assessment.”

Yet he repeatedly refused to endorse Republican assertions that Mr. Biden would have been charged with a crime had he been able to remember his actions — and rejected their claims that his mishandling of documents was comparable to Mr. Trump’s.

When a Republican committee member asked Mr. Hur if his decision not to prosecute Mr. Biden created a new paradigm that made it acceptable to take “secrets” home, he dryly replied, “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Mr. Hur said that Mr. Garland, who has come under intense fire for picking him, did not pressure him to make changes to his report or request any changes.

Mr. Hur gave his testimony as a private citizen, not an employee of the Justice Department. As of Monday, he had resigned as special counsel and will be represented by a private lawyer, William A. Burck, according to a department spokesman, who did not explain Mr. Hur’s reason for doing so.

Mr. Burck, a former deputy counsel in the White House under George W. Bush who has deep networks in Republican Washington, sat behind Mr. Hur at the hearing.

Glenn Thrush covers the Department of Justice. He joined The Times in 2017 after working for Politico, Newsday, Bloomberg News, The New York Daily News, The Birmingham Post-Herald and City Limits. More about Glenn Thrush

Luke Broadwater covers Congress with a focus on congressional investigations. More about Luke Broadwater

Biden’s Mental Acuity Under Scrutiny

Comments about president biden’s age and memory in the special counsel’s report have captured democrats’ fears ahead of the november election and fueled republicans in their efforts to cast the president as weak..

Portrayal of Biden’s Memory: Robert Hur, the special counsel in the case examining President Biden’s handling of classified files, accused the president of “significant” memory problems in his report. The transcript of Hur’s interview  with the president as part of the inquiry offers context to his report .

An Age-Old Question: How old is too old to be president? The report has thrust the issue back into the spotlight  just as America seems poised to elect a commander in chief well past typical retirement age, no matter who wins in November.

Implications for 2024 Election: Why is the age issue hurting Biden  so much more than Donald Trump? Both are over 75, but voters are much less likely to worry that Trump is too old to serve .

Voter Reactions: To Americans in their 70s and 80s, the renewed questions swirling around Biden’s age have resonated in deeply personal ways . Many agree that it’s an issue, while others feel the criticism of Biden is insulting.

The Science of Memory Loss: After the report’s release, medical experts noted that the special counsel’s judgments on Biden’s mental health did not appear to be based on science .