490 - 573 nm

The first thing that struck me, when we landed in Taiwan, was the green. The colour is everywhere, in the deep forests covering the mountain, in the rooftop garden overlaying the buildings of Taipei, in the paddy fields omnipresent in the landscape. Its shades mix together in messy way, reminiscing the monochromatic trend of the modern arts. In the three hours train ride, separating the airport from National Dong Hwa University, I stared at the window, gaping at the surrounding environment. Amazed and, frankly, a little bit overwhelmed by the ubiquitous tone. Seated on that train, submerge in this virescence, I could only think. However, if the thoughts roaming in my mind for the past week, all revolve around nature and humanity, they rapidly evolved toward a place I didn’t think I would be able to reach seven days ago. The following reflection portray the role of Taiwan in my processes of understanding an anthropology beyond humanity (proposed, amongst other, by Kohn, 2013).

Taiwanese Landscape

        Back on the train ride, settling down from my initial shock, is where I first started reflecting on the presence of this green. The first thought jumping through my mind was that this was the perfect example of a nature takes over. A magnificent environment where the earth regains its due. My mind, used to the concrete jungle of the North American continent, immediately separated the concept of nature and humanity. The human, I, against the nature, it, combining together to form an unfathomable dichotomy. Two different societies, controlled by the two different sides, and two different cultures subsequently arising. The past week, nevertheless, that idea has been challenged many times. With the reading of How Forest Think (Kohn, 2013) at the back of my mind, I started rethinking my preconceived idea of the natural order.

         Eduardo Kohn, in his book following a four-year fieldwork in the Amazonian forest, follow the step of anthropologists like Ingold and Descola in proposing an anthropology where nature takes a new meaning. Instead of separating the concepts of the you, reserved to the entities with whom we share a self, and the it, attributed to what is left of this world (animals, plants, object), Kohn propose that we see nature as a we, thus connecting with the environment around us (Kohn, 2013, pp. 1–2). By doing so, we could conceive an anthropology above the concept of humanity. Kohn states it clearly “It is grounded in an ontological fact: there exist other kinds of thinking selves beyond the humans” (Kohn, 2013, p. 94). In equalizing the field and considering human and nature as a whole, it opens a door toward understanding all types of thinking indiscriminately of humanity.

Reading the words of Kohn, while making me question my conceptions, did not, at first, trigger in me some kind of ontological enlightenment. If I could understand the concepts explained, I found it difficult to grasp fully the reasoning deriving from it. They stayed in my mind as abstract ideas taking indefinite shapes that I couldn’t associate with anything I knew. But, after a weekend visiting indigenous communities near Taitung, in the southeast of Taiwan, I started putting a face to the rhetorical chaos in the back of my mind. And, thus, I saw the green surrounding me in a way that is totally different than when I first arrived in Taiwan. Less in the form of an it and more toward a we.

Because the nature is not overpowering humanity. Humans and nature collaborate together for the betterment of the whole. People take care of plants and crops who, in exchange, provide them with fruits or grains. In the elementary school of Dongsing Village, harbouring the largest Rukai community of Taitung, children learn how to harvest millets. They take care of the plants, protecting it from predators trading off the grains of millet which can be used, for instance, in various dishes. Furthermore, the Rukai calendar partly revolves around the cycle of the millet culture. As an example, the Harvest Festival, as its name implies, is an important celebration honouring the harvest of the grain. It is also an occasion for the Rukai people to declare their love to a significant other. Nature and culture then form a whole, reminding of Kohn notion of the we.

     Right : Carving of the Rukai cycle, Dongsing Village Elementary School, Left : Millet field, Dongsing Village Elementary School 

In a Paiwain hunting school, located in the Taimali Township, we were told about some hunting rules. Here, the respect of nature subjugates legislation. An official hunting calendar rooted in dates and bureaucracy become pointless when, the hunter knows how to respect the animal breeding season and the danger of nature in certain seasons. The Paiwain will know not to hunt the muntjac (a Taiwanese version of our Canadian deer) when its breeding and not to hunt the female, carrying the children. They also know not to go hunting during the raining season when the weather makes the hunt dangerous and difficult. In listening to nature, they not only keep safe, but they also ensure that the resource is sustainable. Thereby protecting the environment better than any legislation ever could.

Right : Paiwan Men Gathering House, Taimali Township, Left : Ahronglong Sakinu, leader of the Tepes Clan, sharing his knowledge

This weekend in Taitung County made me rethink about Kohn’s words and the way it could be applied to the Taiwanese vegetation, this green so deeply present in the landscape. You see, by seeing ourselves as a part of nature, we stop the endless debate separating nature and culture. We let nature flow inside our cities, widely, exchanging with it freely, in a well-balanced transaction. The vegetation is not restricted to an enclose space, it is truly rooted in humanity. A vision seemingly far from the occidental way of considering nature.

Indeed, there is often comparison made between the French and the English garden (see Zgarbovà, 2014), both of them revealing the culture in which they are grown, as if two ends of definite spectrum. But what if we added Taiwan to the equation? Could it reveal its own new spectrum, full of hidden knowledges? Would we find that, as opposed as they are, both occidental branches of the garden are originated from the same tree? A tree where humanity domesticate nature; where the concept became an it. A tree organized, clean and straight, but slowly dying due to the restrictions that its essence request. And maybe somewhere we could find another tree, messy, untidy, untangled with its surroundings. But a tree gleaming, full of life, beautiful. A grand tree symbolizing a common we. If we were to put a colour on that tree, I think it would be a vibrant shade of green. The same tone surrounding my short experience in the east Formosan coast, reminding me every day that we are an infinitesimal part of a bigger whole. In a world where our lifestyle is slowly killing us, maybe it is time to look at that second tree. By learning from it we may have a chance to save the forest; a green, messy, magnificent forest.

Right : French Garden, Chambord, Left Taiwanese Garden, Breathing Life          

    Bibliography 

Kohn, Eduardo. 2013. How Forests Think: Toward an Anthropology Beyond the Human. University of California Press, 288 p.

Zgarbova, Marie. 2014. “Philosophical and Socio-Philosophical Base of Historical Garden Types Development--from Continental French Formal Garden of the 17th Century to Insular English Landscape Garden of the 18th Century.(Report).” European Scientific Journal 2 SE: 381 p.