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Difference, Discourses, and Animism: A Critical Engagement with Murray Bookchin’s Social Ecology
Sean Wilson
swilson30@elon.edu A version of this paper is to be presented at the Annual Conference for the International Society for Environmental Ethics, Pace University, NYC, June 28-July 2, 2016.
Abstract
The notion of difference features heavily in Murray Bookchin’s social ecology. Bookchin routinely gives value to recognizing difference within the human social world, among the beings inhabiting the more-than-human world, and (most controversially) between humans and other kinds of living beings. In this essay, I home in on Bookchin’s emphasis on difference and build upon it in two ways that are inchoately hinted at in Bookchin’s works. First, I use Bookchin’s emphasis on difference to analyze and critique certain environmental discourses. In particular, I argue that discourses that allude to an undifferentiated transcendental humanity or to overpopulation as the cause of the environmental crisis serve to shift undue blame for the environmental crisis onto disadvantaged social groups. Second, I consider Bookchin’s insistence on ontological difference within his project of developing an animistic way of being in the world (i.e., a worldview that reveals an ethical, sacred or otherwise spiritual essence in plants, animals, and/or objects). Following Bookchin, I argue that recognizing ontological difference between humans and other kinds of livings beings is valuable for avoiding the potential dangers in the development of animism and in ensuring that human-type essences are not privileged or taken to be the transcendent norm within an animistic worldview. After arguing in favor of the value of recognizing ontological difference in the development of animism, I turn to the works of feminist theorist Luce Irigaray in order to suggest that “wonder” may be the proper attitude to guide the development of an animistic worldview.1 I. Introduction
I begin with a brief anecdote in order to articulate the aims of this paper. A few
years ago, as an undergraduate philosophy student, I had a conversation with an
environmental philosopher in the department about my plans to embark upon a research
project examining the interconnections between environmental degradation and issues of
1 While I had originally hoped to incorporate the works of Irigaray, this ended up being a bit too ambitious for the scope of this paper. However, I am still interested in how Irigaray’s work on wonder may be used to articulate an animism-of-difference.
social justice. At the time, I had scarcely oriented myself in the subfield of environmental
philosophy. Nevertheless, I had gleaned from a few review articles (and Wikipedia-
surfing sessions) that the work of Murray Bookchin represented the foundational texts in
a field known as “social ecology,” the basic premise of which is that “the very notion of
the domination of nature by man stems from the very real domination of human by
human” (Bookchin 2005, originally published 1982). Thus, it seemed reasonable to me,
as an undergraduate, to start this research project by reading the works of Bookchin.
However, when I told this environmental philosopher in the department about my plans
to begin with the work of Murray Bookchin, I remember getting the impression that he
was trying to hold back a wince of skepticism.
Certainly, this skepticism may have been due to the philosophical disagreement
that this philosopher had with Bookchin’s work. However, looking back on this
interaction, I now interpret this restrained wince of skepticism to have been due to the
current lack in conversation around Bookchin’s thought. To put it bluntly, outside of a
relatively small group working within this school of social ecology (Price 2012; Tokar
2014; Brincat and Gerber 2015), I have scarcely been able to find authors are who are
bringing Bookchin’s ecological thought into conversation with the wider conversation of
environmental philosophy (though see Best 1998; White 2003).
To be sure, I think there are many good reasons why Bookchin’s social ecology
may have faded from relevance, including empirical and methodological problems in his
social-historical theorizing (White 2003), his apparent unwillingness to engage with
competing systems of thought in a non-polemical way, his one-size-fits-all political
solution (Bookchin 1992),2 and his inheritance of “problematic aspects of the humanist,
Enlightenment, Hegelian and Marxist traditions” (Plumwood 1994, 16). And yet, as
Bookchin’s thought has seemingly faded from relevance, there also seems to be
increasing public recognition that environmental issues are linked to various sorts of
oppressions in human society. Consider the (somewhat) widespread use of the term
“environmental racism” to describe the (ongoing) Flint water crisis. Indeed, as evinced by
our co-presence in this very room, there is certainly an interest in whether environmental
philosophy can “avoid a sustained critique of the current political-economic system and
remain sincere participants in the environmental community.”3 It is in Bookchin’s work
on social ecology that we find some of the earliest attempts to address this question and
articulate these connections.
Thus, it is my purpose in this essay to enter a critical engagement with
Bookchin’s early writings on social ecology and uncover those aspects of his thinking
that may continue to be of use to environmental thought and practice. To borrow an
analogy from Hannah Arendt, we might liken this approach to that of a pearl diver.
Arendt used pearl diving as a metaphor to describe a manner of thinking about the history
of ideas, in which the “pearl diver” explores the “sea” of history “not to excavate the
bottom and bring it to light but to pry loose the rich and strange, the pearls and the coral
in the depths and carry them to the surface” of the present (Arendt 1968, 50-51). That is,
the pearl diver looks to history to find those “rich and strange” ideas that may be brought
out of their context to serve our present purposes. The metaphor of “pearl diving” implies
2 It is interesting to note, however, that Bookchin’s political program has begun to receive more attention due to its implementation by a number of Kurdish groups in northern Syria (see Enzinna 2015) 3 This being the guiding question to our conference.
that most of what we find will be less-than-useful, although our search may be justified
by the few gems that happen to stick out.
Thus, by entering into a critical engagement with Bookchin’s environmental
thought, I mean to recover those enduring or peculiar components of his work – that is,
those “pearls” of this work – and us them as a springboard into a larger conversation
surrounding environmental ethics. In particular, for this essay, I will argue that
Bookchin’s emphasis on difference is a pearl of his work that may be built upon in ways
that contribute to contemporary environmental thought and practice.
I structure my arguments in the following manner. First, I briefly introduce
Bookchin’s work, centering his notion of difference in my summary. I then move into the
body of my arguments. I provide two, overarching arguments. First, I argue that
Bookchin’s emphasis on social difference continues to be useful in analyzing and
critiquing environmental discourses that absolve difference by appealing to categories
such as “humanity.” Second, I use Bookchin’s emphasis on difference as a starting point
to argue for the importance of recognizing ontological difference between humans and
non-humans within the context of developing an animistic worldview.
II. Bookchin’s Social Ecology and Difference
In many ways, Bookchin’s emphasis on difference is rooted in his dialectical
conception of nature. Under this dialectical conception, nature (including humans and
non-humans) is seen as having an open-ended teleology that leads the developmental
processes of nature towards ever-increasing diversification, complexity, and uniqueness,
rather than a fixed, final state. Bookchin seeks to ground these themes of differentiation
and heterogeneity as ethical foundations inherent in the processes of nature. In
Bookchin’s view, the science of ecology verifies this conception of nature. Moreover,
ecology demonstrates that difference – such as difference among species in an ecosystem
– can be seen as a good in communities, as something that allows for stability, for
interdependence, and for continued ontological unfolding. In other words, ecology
reveals that difference may be “complementary,” ethical, and positively enabling, rather
than conflictual and consumptive.
On Bookchin’s account, such an ethical notion difference or otherness can also be
found in early human societies. According to Bookchin, this notion of difference is
apparent in what he calls “the outlook of organic societies,” which includes a way of
seeing or recognizing humans as well as non-humans as richly alive, differentiated,
unique, and – in this regard – valuable in their own right. However, difference as a value
has been increasingly eroded with the emergence of “hierarchical outlooks” in Western
society. Under the hierarchical mode of conceptualizing the world, difference or
otherness is not seen as valuable, but as antagonistic – as something to be overcome,
eliminated, ignored, or eschewed. Indeed, seemingly influenced by Arendt’s (1958)
account of “the social,” Bookchin problematizes the homogenizing effects of Western,
capitalist society, as they work against what Bookchin sees as an ethical differentiation
and diversification inherent in the natural world. Bookchin implies throughout his social
ecology that (to borrow (Heidegger's phrase [1962, 165]) the “leveling down of all
possibilities of being” is reflected within both the human and non-human worlds under
contemporary, Western conditions. For instance, the reduction of the non-human world
under monocultural and industrial farming practices is reflected in the homogenization of
the urban and suburban landscape. Bookchin’s political answer to the environmental
crisis – a sort of radical democratic municipalism – emphasizes the ability for individuals
to distinguish themselves in the public sphere – that is, to appear as unique to others.
Such a politics is intended to cultivate an ethical notion of difference that may ultimately
be extended to the non-human world as well.
III. The Erasure of Difference in Environmental Discourses
Bookchin’s emphasis on difference appears in his critique of deep ecology, which
he criticizes for using terminology that collapses all social identities and positions into
the category of the human. As Bookchin (2005, 33) writes,
To use such ecumenical words as humanity, we, people, and the like… when we discuss social affairs is grossly misleading… This ecumenical view of the human species places young people and old, women and men, poor and rich, exploited and exploiters, people of color and whites all on par that stands completely at odds with social reality. Everyone, in turn, despite the different burdens he or she is obliged to bear, is given the same responsibility for the ills of our planet.
In other words, the erasure of social difference in discussions of environmental issues is
evinced by the use of words such as “humanity.” To use such terms, Bookchin asserts,
downplays the different roles that various groups of people play in the economic,
political, and social systems that contribute to environmental degradation.
Of course, to accept Bookchin’s argument here, one must take as axiomatic that
capitalism, patriarchy, and white supremacy play a significant role – directly and
indirectly – in advancing the environmental crisis. It is beyond the scope of this paper to
provide an argument for these interconnections. However, if one accepts that these
systems play a significant role in environmental degradation, then Bookchin’s argument
bears weight. The use of “ecumenical” terms such as humanity would seem to downplay
the role that various systems of oppression play in driving environmental degradation
itself or in creating the conditions of scarcity and need that drive environmental
degradation.
Although Bookchin’s argument in favor of recognizing social difference is framed
in the context of the debate between social ecology and deep ecology, it may be extended
into our contemporary context. For instance, it is not uncommon to hear a more general
discourse that blames ‘humanity as such’ in conversations on environmental issues. In
my own experience as a student in classroom discussions, I have often heard other
students employ this sort of discourse, implying that it is humanity as a whole is to blame
for the crisis. Yet, this sort of discourse fails to place sufficient blame on those actors,
groups, and systems that have a higher stake in maintaining the systemic roots of
environmental degradation. In fact, inasmuch as this ecumenical terminology equally
distributes responsibility for the environmental crisis across social groups, it may be said
to shift undue blame onto disempowered social groups.
Indeed, when such a discourse is employed by individuals in social groups that
benefit from aforementioned systems of domination, this sort of discourse may be
considered a sort of distancing strategy. That is, the discourse which blames humanity as
such for the environmental crisis functions to distance privileged identities both ethically
– from accepting an adequate level of environmental responsibility – as well as
materially – by reinforcing a social privilege which includes a physical distance from
environmental harm.
The logic of “non-differentiation” that roots the discourse that blames humanity
as such for the environmental crisis motivates a related discourse: namely, the discourse
that blames overpopulation as the cause of the environmental crisis. In other words, the
idea that overpopulation is the primary cause of the environmental crisis is the logical
outcome of discourses that designate a singular humanity as responsible for
environmental degradation. As with the discourse that employs terms such as
“humanity,” I understand the discourse that blames overpopulation as the source of
environmental crisis as implicitly shifting blame and responsibility away from the
economic and social processes that are primarily maintained by white men in
industrialized countries and placing blame and responsibility on people of color in less-
developed countries. Thus, this additional discourse likewise functions as a distancing
strategy when people living in more developed or Western countries employ it.
In fact, to the extent that population rates are significantly higher in the formerly
colonized and majority non-white regions of the world, the discourse that blames
overpopulation as the fundamental environmental problem reinforces the notion of non-
white peoples as ontologically problems (i.e., problems in their very existence). In this
way, the logic of non-differentiation complements a logic of racism. As a whole,
discourses which fail to acknowledge social difference ultimately reinforce social
privilege and oppression.
IV. Towards an Animism-of-Difference
So far, I have used Bookchin’s work to argue for the importance of emphasizing
differences among humans as it relates to discussions surrounding environmental issues
and allocations of responsibility or blame. Now, I wish to turn to Bookchin’s emphasis on
the difference between humans and non-humans, and use Bookchin’s thought as a
springboard into a discussion on animism. I will first discuss what I mean by “animism,”
before turning to a discussion of how Bookchin’s emphasis on difference offers insights
into the development of an animistic outlook toward the more-than-human world.
A: The Aims of Animism
I take animism to be a way of being in the world that recognizes or imparts a
subjectivity or intelligence to the more-than-human world or does not restrict mindlike
qualities human beings. Discussions surrounding animism are often related to
anthropologies of non-Western, indigenous cultures in which such a mode of being in the
world is more commonplace than in contemporary Western society. A number of well-
known environmental philosophers – including Val Plumwood (Plumwood 1994;
Plumwood 2008) and David Abram (2012) – have written about the importance of
developing or recovering an animistic outlook toward the more-than-human world. These
authors generally understand the deanimization of the world as a product of the Cartesian
mind/body dualism (and associated dualistic structures found throughout the history of
Western world, such as the mind/matter dualism and the human/nature dualism) as well
as positivistic or "detached" scientific thought and discourse. These authors also imply
that the lack of animistic characteristics imparted into the more-than-human world
renders difficult an ethical responsiveness to non-humans beings, including non-human
objects. We might therefore understand the deanimization of the wider natural world as
both an effect of the wider conceptual motors of environmental and social crises
(dualistic thinking and scientific positivism) as well as a further cause of non-ethical
relationships between humans and the more-than-human world. A more-than-human
world that is deanimized, devoid of intentionality, and utterly deprived of meaning is
more easily arrogated, instrumentalized, exploited, and polluted than one which is
conceived of as containing or expressing mindlike, active, or intelligent qualities of its
own. The development of an animistic outlook toward the more-than-human world may
therefore be taken as a strategy of environmental ethics, in that it opens up the possibility
for an ethical and embodied engagement with the non-human world and disrupts the
Western correlation of the “mind” or ”intentionality” with “human” and the negations of
“matter” or ”passivity” with “nature.”
Like a number of environmental authors, Bookchin also expresses an interest in
developing an animistic outlook toward the world in his earlier writings. Bookchin turns
to non-Western, oral societies for clues on how to develop an animistic sensibility.
Although there may be empirical flaws in his claims (White 2003), Bookchin asserts that
common features of an animistic outlook in these societies involve an ethical notion of
difference. For instance, Bookchin writes, “animism may have been a form of solicitation
rather than coercion… Game, it was assumed, could then be lured to ‘accept’ the hunters’
spears and arrows” (2005, 49). In this conception, non-humans are not understood as
mere instruments to a human ends nor as possessing human-like ends, but rather as
beings with separate ends who must be ‘reasoned with’ – so to speak. Bookchin’s notion
of particularity or uniqueness also comes into play in his understanding of early animism.
As Bookchin writes, “To the animist, bears were bears and not bisons or human beings.
The animist discriminated between individuals and species as carefully as we [humans]
do” (170). As such, Bookchin’s understanding of animism latches onto the value of
difference that may be found throughout his theory of social ecology.
Yet, apart from these few musings in his early works, Bookchin does not offer his
reader much by way of animism. On the contrary, Bookchin seems to distance himself
from various attempts of animism later in his life. Indeed, in an introduction to his
Ecology of Freedom written twenty years after its original publication, Bookchin
expresses an aversion to various animist forms of thinking and insists more strongly upon
human apartness from the wider natural world.
Ultimately, Bookchin seems to move away from an animist position entirely. As
Best (1998, 350) writes, Bookchin speaks of the need for “a new spirituality, a reverence
of nature, and a new animism” in his 1970 works, though by the late 1990s, “all of this
[caused] Bookchin to wince” as he had moved “towards an even firmer, pro-rationalist,
pro-enlightenment position” (ibid., 349). Throughout this shift away from animism and
related sorts of positions, Bookchin also seems to argue more stringently in favor of a
fundamental difference between the human and non-human world.
I would agree with Best that much of Bookchin’s rejection of animistic thinking
and increasing emphasis on the difference between humans and non-humans is inherited
from modernist and Enlightenment thinking. However, I wish to offer different, possible
reading of Bookchin’s move away from animism alongside his increasing insistence on
human apartmentness. Namely, I wish to suggest that Bookchin may have moved away
from his earlier positions due to his fear that animism results in ontological reductionism.
In what follows, I clarify what I mean by ontological reductionism and show how it fits
into Bookchin’s larger project.
Recall that for Bookchin, there is an interaction between how humans understand
and treat the human world and how humans understand and treat the “nature.” A
conception of “nature” that is seen as essentially homogenous, passive, and despiritized is
a reflection of, and serves to reinforce, a similar conception of humanity. Steven Best
draws an analogy to the work of Feuerbach to explain the connection that Bookchin is
hoping to draw out: as Feuerbach “argues that human beings project their psychological
states into a hypostatized world of gods, with all their anthropomorphic qualities, so
Bookchin claims that they [humans] project the characteristics of their social life into
their relations with nature” (Best 1998, 343)
Thus, while Bookchin’s insistence upon the fundamental distinctness of humans
from non-humans and his ultimate rejection of animism may be due to a turn towards
modernist and rationalist thinking, another reading of Bookchin’s shift from animism is a
fear of ontological reductionism – that is, a fear that the non-human world may be
reduced to that which is recognized as similar to a human way of being. On Bookchin’s
account, such a reduction to the human would constitute a fundamental ontological
restriction to humans as well as non-humans, for a reduction of the more-than-human
world to the human would metaphysically restrict the diversity of human forms to
something more singular.
To put this all another way, Bookchin may have feared that any Western effort to
develop an animistic way of being would be doomed to fail as long as Western peoples
live within a homogenizing society. Indeed, following Bookchin’s account, such an
animism would be risky because it would, in turn, reinforce a singular, homogenous
conception of humanity. In Bookchin’s view, humans must begin by valuing and
recognizing difference and uniqueness within the human world, so that they may then
transfer such views onto their conception of “first nature.”
B: Animism-of-Likeness and the Critique of Anthroporeductionism
Rather than affirm Bookchin’s repositioning away from animism, I will instead
redirect Bookchin’s concerns of ontological reductionism towards a productive critique
of animism. That is, I will argue that Bookchin’s concerns with animism may be
employed in such a way that it pushes animism away from potential pitfalls. To do so, I
will introduce the term “anthroporeductionism” which I define as the phenomenon of
looking for and privileging human-like qualities in non-humans at the expense of
marginalizing or backgrounding those non-human qualities that are also possessed by
non-human beings.
In short, I argue that the term “anthroporeductionism” provides a vocabulary for a
productive critique of the familiar animistic outlook that focuses the similarity of non-
humans to humans – what I shall call an “animism-of-likeness.” To clarify the “critique
of anthroporeductionism,” I distinguish it from the more common (though less
productive) “critique of anthropomorphism.” In order to develop this argument, I argue
for the legitimacy of the critique of anthroporeductionism that does not depend on
Bookchin’s Feuerbachian thesis. Instead, I provide three alternative grounds for the
critique of anthroporeductionism against animisms-of-likeness. These alternative grounds
include that an animism-of-likeness (1) risks reinforcing the human-nature dualism (2)
puts practical limits on the extent to which animism is possible, and (3) that it obscures
the need to recognize new types of intelligences in the animist project.
As noted above, I define anthroporeductionism as the phenomenon of looking for
and privileging human-like qualities in non-human beings at the expense of
marginalizing or backgrounding those non-human qualities that are also possessed by
non-human beings. In order to elucidate this term, I will distinguish it from the critique of
anthropomorphism. As Val Plumwood points out, charges of anthropomorphism are often
used to police the language of animating the non-human world (Plumwood 2008).
Critiques of anthropomorphism basically deny any significant continuity between
humans and non-humans. That is, they deny that animals, plants, or non-living beings can
possess any sort qualities that are also apparent in many humans. The charge of
anthropomorphism implies a sort of delusional or wishful thinking on the part of the
animist – a fanciful hope to see humanness in the non-human.
There are a number of responses that may be employed against the charge of
anthropomorphism that I will not reiterate here (see Plumwood 2008). Rather, I will take
as axiomatic that other-than-human beings can and do share a number of qualities that are
also found in many humans.4
On the other hand, anthroporeductionism implies that an animist may be reducing
non-humans to something that is essentially human-like; of a centering on the “familiar”
qualities of a non-human being, while backgrounding those qualities understood as
“natural,” in an attempt to develop an ethical relationship with non-human beings.
Indeed, via anthroporeductionism, the “more-than-human world” is reduced to a
partially-human world. Thus, the critique of anthroporeductionism may be distinguished
4 To be sure, Plumwood notes that the critique of anthropomorphism may bear weight when sufficient difference is not recognized between humans and non-humans (Plumwood 2008). I have sought to frame this problem with the term “anthroporeductionism.”
from that of anthropomorphism in that the critique of anthroporeductionism affirms
difference without denying continuity. Indeed, under the critique of
anthroporeductionism, the charge is not against the bringing of non-humans into the
realm of the human, but rather in reducing non-humans this sphere. In this sense, the
critique of anthroporeductionism affirms a more-than-human excess. The charge of
anthroporeductionism is therefore concerned with the forgetting of what is not human
with the projection of human-like essences upon non-humans.
D. Defining Animisms-of-Likeness
The critique of anthroporeductionism may be leveled against animistic mindsets
or positions that privilege the human-like qualities of non-humans at the expense of
difference. For the purposes of this paper, I will call these animistic positions “animisms-
of-likeness.” To be sure, I am doubtful that animism-through-likeness is an articulated
philosophical position. Nevertheless, animism-through-likeness appears to be a common
or popular way of trying to animate the nonhuman world, to the extent that such attempts
are made in the Western world at all. Anthony Weston (1999, 60) provides an example of
this phenomenon in a discussion of interspecies respect, writing:
Ten years or so of research aimed at getting captive apes to talk dead-ended when it finally dawned on someone that they don’t have our kind of vocal equipment. Now we try to get them to manipulate symbols, or use sign language (ASL), and the success of some animals has been stunning. Still, why should we suppose that they even care about using symbols?
The harm here is not simply anthropomorphism, in the sense that researchers may have
simply imparted human qualities to apes (i.e., proper vocal organs). More pointedly, I
would argue, the harm is anthroporeductionism, in the sense that researchers focused on
the development of essentially human capacities (i.e., human language) in order to reveal
the animated character of the apes while simultaneously relegated those non-human
characteristics of the ape (i.e., a likely apathy regarding the acquisition of human
language) to non-importance. Thus, the apes in question were reduced to the human, as if
only a similarity to humans mattered, while those qualities that are more particular to
apes are quickly backgrounded or forgotten.5
I suggested above that one could interpret Bookchin’s eventual disavowal of
animism as a caution against ontological reduction with justification. This interpretation
inspires the terminology of “anthroporeductionism” and “animism-of-likeness.”
However, I also suggested that Bookchin’s fear of ontological reductionism is premised
on the Feuerbachian idea that humans project their social relations onto nature. Yet, this
is a highly contested notion of Bookchin’s thought (Best 1998, 343). For instance,
Erkersley (1992, 156) contests this thesis by alluding to “the many historical examples of
hierarchical societies that have lived in relative harmony with the nonhuman world” and
“by the theoretical possibility of an egalitarian, nonhierarchical society that nonetheless
continues to dominate the nonhuman world.” Thus, it would seem that Bookchin provides
5 I have also come across this phenomenon in my personal experiences. Since I enjoy bird watching, my friends and family will sometimes try to engage with me on this interest. In these interactions, my friends and family members will often tell me a number of facts about different birds. Almost always, these facts imply a similarity to humans (or what is supposed to be human-like). A few frequent examples include: “penguins are monogamous” and “bald eagles live in the same nest their whole lives.” In each case, these facts are implied to be attractive or fascinating because they reveal a supposed similarity to the human side of the human/nature dualism. It is interesting to note that when I tell people that penguins are not, in fact, generally monogamous, I am often met with disappointment. The supposed monogamy of penguins apparently grants them an aura of “culture” or “non-eroticism” that distinguishes them from “nature” and therefore pushes them toward a sort of humanness (see Gaard [1997] for a discussion of the identification with the natural with the erotic).
poor grounds upon which to base the critique of anthroporeductionism against animisms-
of-likeness. Thus, in what follows, I seek to provide new ground for the critique of
anthroporeductionism by offering three alternative reasons why hopeful animists should
avoid an animism-of-likeness.
i: The potential reinforcement of the human-nature dualism
First, animism-through-likeness functions with a framework of assimilation. The
boundaries for animism become coterminous with that which is considered to be human.
In this way, animism-through-likeness assumes a framework for the animistic that
privileges the human and aims to incorporate the non-human into the human. An animism
through likeness therefore contributes to the backgrounding of the “natural” components
of the more-than-human world. Only those “human” aspects of “nature” are portrayed as
properly animistic, whereas the “natural” components are relegated to non-importance.
As such, through a framework of assimilation in which the humanness defines the
animated, animism-through-likeness reinforces the human-nature dualism.
The challenge here is that the human-nature dualism itself supports connected
Western dualisms – including mind-body, mind-matter, active-passive – that themselves
function against the animist project. Thus, an animism-of-likeness subverts animism itself
in being tied to the conceptual structure of Western dualisms.
ii: Practical Limits to Animism-of-likeness
A second, closely related critique is that animism-through-likeness puts practical
limits on the extent to which the more-than-human world may be animated. By aligning
the category of the animistic with the category of the human, it becomes difficult to
conceive as animated those non-human beings that share little recognizable continuity
with humans. For instance, under such a framework, it may be relatively easy to see as
animate mammals that are evolutionarily related to humans due to such physical
similarities. However, it renders difficult the animation of nonmammalian living beings,
not to speak of nonliving things themselves.
iii: Obscures new forms of intelligence
Lastly, I wish to suggest that the critique of anthroporeductionism highlights that
animisms-through-likeness risk preventing humans from acquainting themselves with
new forms of intelligence. To be sure, coming to recognize new forms of intelligence
within the more-than-human world has been noted as an important feature of animistic
outlooks. As Deborah Rose Bird (2013, 103) argues, non-human forms of intelligence
require a sort of “active listening” in order to be recognized. This sort of intelligence may
take a number of forms. For instance, Rose Bird discusses how, in one region of
Australia, a particular type of insect begins to bite humans at the same time that alligators
lay their eggs. Rose Bird describes this type of insect as a “teller” in this situation. She
writes, “Tellers are those who provide information: they give news of what is happening
in the world” (Rose Bird 2013, 103). Examples such as these indicate that there is a sort
of intelligence in the non-human landscape that is not only non-human, but also not even
accessible to humans. However, an animism-of-likeness, in centering similarity to
establish an ethical relationship, risks overlooking the types of intelligence that are not
familiar or even accessible to human forms. That is, in seeking a familiar essence one
may prevent themself from experiencing how the non-human reveals its mind-like
qualities through a language that thoroughly non-human. Indeed, the more-than-human
world might be “saying” something that has no bearing on humans at all!
V. Conclusion
In sum, I have turned back to the early work of Bookchin and recovered an
emphasis on difference that may be built upon in useful ways that are only hinted at in his
works. Following this emphasis on difference, I first argued that Bookchin is right to
critique discourses which blame humanity as such for the ecological crisis, because such
discourses fail to recognize the various roles that different actors, social groups, and
systems play in maintaining political, economic, and social systems that underlie the
ecological crisis. Indeed, such discourses function as a distancing strategy to those who
benefit from such systems. I also sought to link discourses that employ “humanity” as an
undifferentiated category with discourses that blame “overpopulation” as the primary
source of environmental degradation. This latter sort of discourse, I have argued, is
problematic in similar ways.
In the second section, I have argued that Bookchin may have given up hopes of
developing an animistic outlook toward the world due to a fear of ontological
reductionism. This motivated the introduction of the term “anthroporeductionism,” as
distinct from anthropomorphism, which may be used to critique against what called
“animism-of-likeness” – or modes of animating the non-human world that center
similarity to the human. I ultimately argued that the critique of anthroporeductionism
should be made against animisms-of-likeness because animisms-of-likeness risk
reinforcing the human/nature dualism, placing practical limits on who/what can be
animated, and overlooking new forms of non-human intelligence.
Works Cited
Abram, David. 2012. The Spell of the Sensuous: Perception and Language in a More-
Than-Human World. Second Edition. New York: Vintage Books.
Arendt, Hannah. 1958. The Human Condition. Second Edition. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
Best, Steven. 1998. “Murray Bookchin’s Theory of Social Ecology An Appraisal of the
Ecology of Freedom.” Organization & Environment 11 (3): 334–53.
Bookchin, Murray. 1992. Urbanization without Cities: The Rise and Decline of
Citizenship. Montreal: Black Rose Books.
———. 2005. The Ecology of Freedom: The Emergence and Dissolution of Hierarchy.
Oakland: AK Press.
Brincat, Shannon, and Damian Gerber. 2015. “The Necessity of Dialectical Naturalism:
Marcuse, Bookchin, and Dialectics in the Midst of Ecological Crises.” Antipode
47 (4): 871–93.
Eckersley, Robyn. 1992. Environmentalism and Political Theory: Toward an Ecocentric
Approach. Albany: SUNY Press.
Enzinna, Wes. 2015. “A Dream of Secular Utopia in ISIS’ Backyard.” The New York
Times, November 24. http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/29/magazine/a-dream-of-
utopia-in-hell.html.
Gaard, Greta. 1997. “Toward a Queer Ecofeminism.” Hypatia 12 (1): 114–37.
Heidegger, Martin. 1962. Being and Time. Translated by John Macquarrie and Edward
Robinson. New York: Harper Perennial.
Plumwood, Val. 1994. Feminism and the Mastery of Nature. Routledge.
———. 2008. “Nature in the Active Voice.” Australian Humanities Review. 46: 139–50.
Price, Andy. 2012. Recovering Bookchin. Porsgrunn, Norway: New Compass Press.
Tokar, Brian. 2014. Toward Climate Justice: Perspectives on the Climate Crisis and
Social Change. Second edition. Porsgrunn, Norway: New Compass Press.
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