Living in a Tree—Environmentalist-Style

The movie Avatar has been a great success. And deservedly so. It is a festival for the eye and an inspired effort at myth making. Most of those who have attended a showing, including this writer, have enjoyed the ride. Utterly absorbing and strangely moving, it weaves a spell to which few are immune.
And yet there is something odd about this adventure—or rather the implications of its message. Avatar is not just a myth; it is an environmentalist myth. Its plot taps into a storyline straight out of environmentalist fantasies.
These are, it must be said, also progressive fantasies. For many years now, when teaching social theory at Kennesaw State University, I have used the Disney version of Pocahontas to illustrate the ideas of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Rousseau believed that the American Indians were “noble savages.” He also believed that the rest us would revert to their elevated condition if we gave up the corrupt trappings of civilization.
In the future, I plan to use Avatar to make the same point. Its central characters, the Na’vi, are even better at demonstrating the supposed advantages of being innocently in touch with nature. Theirs, after all, is a world in which every living thing is either physically or spiritually attached to every other living thing.
More than this, it is a world in which respecting the inviolable rights of every living thing produces an unselfish happiness and complete personal fulfillment. Thus, in surrendering oneself to the good of the whole, the individual acquires the opportunity to fly on the backs of pterodactyl-like creatures.
Much of this feels correct because it recapitulates long-established human legends. One of these is the myth of the “hero.” This is the universal tale of the unpromising youth who eventually proves his merit by performing a difficult deed of immense worth. In the movie, the hero tames the most terrifying beast of them all and then leads the people to victory over heartless invaders. For this he is rewarded with total respect and unquestioned leadership.
Another myth is that of resurrection. In the end, the physically crippled hero dies only to be reborn in a better and stronger body. But in order to achieve this, he must first relinquish his fears and allow the spiritual strength of the community to work its magic on his immobilized frame.
If this sounds wonderful—as to many it must—consider some other implications of this environmental primitivism. First, the Na’vi live in trees. They literally sleep in hammock dormitories in the bowels of immense trees. Is this actually something we want to do? Is living in a tree really superior to residing in modern houses?
Second, probably due to the lack of privacy in these trees, the heroes make love out in the middle of the forest. We the viewers have already learned of the dangerous predators lurking in these verdant jungles, so the question becomes: Is this safe? Will the wolf-like creatures respect their vulnerability while in the throes of coitus? How many of us would be willing to take the chance?
Finally, the victory of the Na’vi over the invaders, who incidentally are technologically advanced despite having deforested their home planet, comes because of magic. The faith of the hero somehow rouses hordes of wild creatures to come to the rescue of the embattled innocents. Their spiritual connectedness produces success that unassisted bravery could not.
What makes this so remarkable is that contemporary environmentalists routinely portray their preservationist commitments as deriving from rational science. Nevertheless, the filmmakers, when their heroes are in danger, resort to fairy-tale enchantment to vindicate a primitive lifestyle.
The bottom line is that environmentalism is itself a form of religion. It too relies on a faith that it cannot justify in purely scientific terms.
Worse still, as Avatar implies, environmentalism encourages us to embrace a way of life that is neither self-sustaining, nor particularly comfortable. Only a magical suspension of disbelief could make it appear so.
Melvyn L. Fein. Ph.D.
Professor of Sociology
Kennesaw State University