Can We Metamodernize Animism?

Seated on a weathered stump in a Berlin park, I waited patiently as my dog explored his curiosities, delving into scents and stories beyond my comprehension. My thoughts wandered, ensnared by the absence of something when a common sparrow made an appearance.

Sparrows, those unassuming inhabitants of urban landscapes, have always fascinated me with their boldness. Often seen darting close to people, they audaciously pilfer crumbs from diners’ plates. This one sized me up, as if in search of stray breadcrumbs, forming an unspoken connection between our species.

Then, in an unexpected moment, I ceased to be an observer and instead became the sparrow. For the briefest of moments, my consciousness merged with the bird. It was a tranquil and unremarkable experience. The boundary between the sparrow and myself dissolved. It no longer mattered whether I was “I” or “it.” I wasn’t merely witnessing the sparrow; I was the sparrow. And as swiftly as this sensation arrived, it departed.

I often find that encounters with the more-than-human world offer some of the most captivating moments in my life.

But why is that?

In 1984, Edward O. Wilson introduced the concept of “biophilia,” suggesting that humans possess an innate, genetically encoded connection with the natural world. This theory posits that our survival historically relied on forming connections with non-human life forms, leading to our deep-seated bond with nature, from landscapes to animals and plants. “Biophilia” translates to “love of life or living systems.” According to Wilson, our instinctive affection for life and lifelike processes clarifies our attraction to non-humans, the soothing nature of gardens, aquariums, and forests, and the rejuvenation we experience after a walk in the woods.

Current research corroborates the importance of our link to the natural world. Activities like forest bathing, observing trees in hospitals, and interacting with animals have been shown to enhance our well-being, affirming our innate drive to seek what bolsters our survival.

From a scientific perspective, this concept offers a logical explanation for our fascination with the non-human world, portraying it as an evolutionary mechanism designed to ensure our survival.

However, despite the fascination of this research, it appears to miss the mark.

This line of thinking carries some underlying assumptions:

Non-humans are only relevant insofar as they benefit humans. Encounters like the one with the sparrow are fantastical and futile. Humans can exploit non-humans for their gain. The sole connection between humans and non-humans is functional. Essentially, humans are biological machines governed by biochemical laws. As Descartes emphasized, creation is divided into two substances: mind (or soul) and mere matter. While humans possess minds and souls, the rest of creation, including the human body, is inert, unthinking matter. This Cartesian worldview reduces creation to ‘nature’. In my view, a significant challenge we face is overcoming this disenchanted worldview and rekindling our connection with the non-human world.

Eco-philosopher Timothy Morton contends that reenchantment lies ahead, dismissing the notion that something—an enchanted sensibility—has been lost in the past and can be recaptured. Morton suggests that enchantment emerges when we confront puzzling and enigmatic situations that challenge our current understanding, potentially transforming our perception of the world. To be enchanted is to encounter something both real and uncanny, weird, mysterious, or awe-inspiring.

In contrast to the scientific perspective, animism offers a more enchanted worldview. It centers on the idea that all objects, places, and creatures possess a distinct spiritual essence or consciousness. In this perspective, the world is an interconnected tapestry where humans, animals, plants, and even inanimate objects like rocks or rivers each have spirits or souls.

In his book “Less is More,” Jason Hickel delves into the worldview of the Achuar, an indigenous ethnic group residing primarily in the Amazon rainforest of Ecuador and Peru. According to Hickel, the Achuar perceive most of the jungle’s plants and animals as having souls (wakan) akin to those of humans, categorizing them as literal “persons” (aents). In the eyes of the Achuar, plants and animals are considered relatives.

At this moment, my curiosity revolves around discovering a worldview that harmoniously combines animism with science, or what Scout Rainer Wiley terms “metamodern animism.” This perspective avoids idealizing the past or the more-than-human world while embracing wonder, mystery, and awe to re-enchant our world. It’s a worldview that takes my encounter with the sparrow seriously.