Seeds of War and Peace
Is the opposite of war and conflict peace, or something else?
You’re at Mother E, a free newsletter about our connections to other species in a climate-changing world. Did you miss the last post? Love Notes to Other Species
This was not the article I planned to post this week, but when the forces of Russian aggression stomped on the Ukraine, I reflected on what causes war and the parallels with human aggression against other species. There’s hope out there too, in the caring responses.
THE WORLD WATCHED IN DREAD, anger, or foreboding as the democratic country of Ukraine was attacked this week. As of this writing, the Ukrainian people have responded with a fierce love of place, defending their homes, homeland, and each other with courage and determination.
Geopolitics aside, the question of where war comes from has occupied my mind. Why do we humans seem to have more problems with violence than other species? What causes the fracturing of relationships that lead to war, and how can we lessen these conflicts in the future?
Part of our human aggression may come from imaginative concepts that we’ve convinced ourselves are real. This includes the idea that we can impose artificial lines on Earth that keep people in or keep people out, such as state lines or country borders. We need an international perspective that transcends nation-state. Boundary wars are so entrenched that I don't know how we could change them, but it's worth considering that fighting over a line on the ground may not be the best way to spend our creative energies and lives.
Drawing boundaries leads to an "us versus them" mentality rather than the truth that we all share this planet under the same sun, the same air, the same atmosphere, as all other species. Our current inability to rally together to fix the climate crisis is one example of how the "us versus them" mentality has harmed us. Many are failing to see our interdependence on other people and species when faced with a large common threat.
Another artificial concept is money. Money has no intrinsic value. We can't eat it, wear it, or use paper dollars to shelter from a storm. Money's worth is only in what we assign it, yet it rules our consciousness through the daily assail of marketing—Buy this! Treat yourself! Save for your future! Economic values rule! If you observe ads around you, you’ll see that they usually convey one of those messages.
I worked in the money field for a few years, so I understand that side of it too. We work within the system we have, and some degree of planning is needed, but the overriding influence of money seems excessive now. The Western cultural message is still that "more is better," which sets up the endless treadmill of acquisition that has led us to the collapse of many species and Earth Overshoot Day.
Money and conflict often have a close association. Putin is reputed to be one of the world's richest men, but he is unhappily grasping for more, in money, power, and territory. It's a myth that there is a correlation between money and happiness beyond having the necessities. Money is a tool that allows us to barter for what we need, but we sometimes place that tool on the same level of importance as the essentials we need for life.
Where do the answers lie?
Historically, some cultures have lived in ways that built stronger community bonds than we generally have today. When someone had a need, others helped out, so there was a steady flow of resources and aid between people.
When I was in my 20s, I lived in Kenya for four months, staying with friends who worked with the agricultural side of the United Nations. I spent time with the Kikuyu and Turkana people, who embodied more of that mutual aid system.
We talked around campfires using a blend of English, Swahili, and sign language. We walked together and ate together. I got to sit in on classes at a girls' school and was invited to a dance party. A scratchy record player blared loud, rhythmic African music for over 2 hours while watery cups of punch quenched our thirst. The girls and I didn't share a language but communicated through dance. I tried to copy their moves (how can they jump so high and for so long?!), then I showed them some movements from the west, which they laughingly tried to copy. It felt like they were the more graceful dancers, and they certainly had more stamina than I did, but we had fun together and parted with waves, smiles, and new understanding.
One of the lessons I learned is that once people have basic shelter and food needs met, their happiness depends more on the support they get from their community and the quality of their interactions than on material wealth. These were impoverished people by any material standard. Some of them owned no more than one set of clothes, perhaps a comb and eating utensils, yet they had a natural pride of culture, strong connections within their community, more leisure time, and appeared happier than most western people I know.
War and conflict start with unhappiness—over perceived inequities or insults, unequal distribution of resources, or oppression. Helping members of society feel supported and building authentic connections is a beginning.
Is the opposite of war— peace?
How do we even define peace, except that it's a state of non-war? I wonder if the opposite of war is life and the support of life forms.
This new definition would call any assault on life forms an act of war. When a forest is clear cut and bulldozers scrape the remaining vegetation, that's war, as it kills thousands of individual life forms. When dolphins and whales are herded by motorboats into a shallow bay and slaughtered, that's an act of war. When we spray fields with chemicals that kill bees, insects, and soil organisms, that's an act of war. Dams that block fish migrations, oil drilling with its attendant toxic spills, purse seine nets that pull up thousands of fish at a time from the ocean— all are acts of war against our fellow species. In the past sixty years, the war on the natural world has been profound and full of losses, driving us into the sixth mass extinction known on Earth.
Naturally, we feel most affected when war hits other people or us. As we grieve over the Ukrainian deaths and suffering, perhaps feeling helpless as we observe from afar, we should consider that if the opposite of war is life, then there are many ways to help create better life.
Enterprising Ukrainians set up a phone line for Russian women worried about their husbands/sons/boyfriends. Thousands of Russian women have called in. I can only imagine the emotional conversations in support of life, opening up dialogue between the people of two warring countries.
The end of war will come when we value and uphold life in all its diversity, build more connected communities, and find our natural fit. We may need to scoot over a bit to make more room for all the other species on Earth.
I welcome your comments! You can leave remarks above, reach me privately by responding to this email, or reach out on Twitter @RobinApplegarth
You are so right on about this!! Very well written. How I wish this wonderful piece and its very significant messages could be read globally. Thank you, Robin.