
Environmental Encyclopedia 3
Henry David Thoreau
Trying to trace any idea through Thoreau’s work is a
complicated task, and that is true of his ecology as well. One
straightforward example of Thoreau’s sophistication as an
ecologist is his essay on “The
Succession
of Forest Trees.”
Thoreau found the same unity in
nature
that present-day
ecologists study, and he often commented on it: “The birds
with their plumage and their notes are in harmony with
the flowers.” Only humans, he felt, find such connections
difficult: “Nature has no human inhabitants who appreciate
her.” Thoreau did appreciate his surroundings, both natural
and human, and studied them with a scientist’s eye. The
linkages he made showed an awareness of
niche
theory,
hierarchical connections, and trophic structure: “The perch
swallows the grub-worm, the pickerel swallows the perch,
and the fisherman swallows the pickerel; and so all the chinks
in the scale of being are filled.”
Much of Thoreau’s philosophy was concerned with
human ecology
, as he was perhaps most interested in how
human beings relate to the world around them. Often char-
acterized as a misanthrope, he should instead be recognized
for how deeply he cared about people and about how they
related to each other and to the natural world. As Walter
Harding notes, Thoreau believed that humans “Antaeus-
like, derived [their] strength from contact with nature.”
When Thoreau insists, as he does, for example, in his journal,
that “I assert no independence,” he is claiming relationship,
not only to “summer and winter...life and death,” but also
to “village life and commercial routine.” He flatly asserts
that “we belong to the community.” Present-day humans
could not more urgently ask the questions he asked: “Shall
I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves
and vegetable mold myself?”
The essence of Thoreau’s message to present-day citi-
zens of the United States can be found in his dictum in
Walden to “simplify, simplify.” That is a straightforward
message, but one he elaborates and repeats over and over
again. It is a message that many critics of today’s materialism
believe American citizens need to hear over and over again.
Right after those two words in his chapter on “What I Lived
For” is a directive on how to achieve simplicity. “Instead of
three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of
a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in propor-
tion,” he asserts. The message is repeated in different ways,
making a major theme, especially in Walden, but also in his
other writings: “A man is rich in proportion to the number
of things he can afford to let alone.” Thoreau’s preference
for simplicity is clear in the fact that he had only three chairs
in his house: “one for solitude, two for friendship, three for
society.” Thoreau is often quoted as stating “I would rather
sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded
on a velvet cushion.”
1396
Hundreds of writers have joined Thoreau in censuring
the materialist root of current environmental problems, but
reading Thoreau may still be the best literary antidote to
that materialism. Consider the stressed commuter/city
worker who does not realize that the “cost of a thing is the
amount of...life which is required to be exchanged for it,
immediately or in the long run.” In the pursuit of fashion,
ponder his admonition to “beware of all enterprises that
require new clothes.”
Thoreau firmly believed that the rich are the most
impoverished: “Give me the poverty that enjoys true wealth.”
The enterprises he thought important were intangible, like
being present when the sun rose, or, instead of spending
money, spending hours observing a heron on a pond. Work-
ing for “treasures that moth and rust will corrupt and thieves
break through and steal...is a fool’s life.” As Thoreau noted,
too many of us make ourselves sick so that we “may lay up
something against a sick day.” To him, most of the luxuries,
and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only
dispensable, “but positive hindrances to the elevation of man-
kind.” For most possessions, Thoreau’s forthright answer
was “it costs more than it comes to.”
Thoreau was a humanist, an abolitionist, and a strong
believer in egalitarian social systems. One of his criticisms
of materialism was that, in the race for more and more
money and goods, “a few are riding, but the rest are run
over.” He recalled that, before the modern materialist state,
it was less unfair: “In the savage state every family owns a
shelter as good as the best.” Thoreau was anti-materialistic
and believed that the relentless pursuit of “things” divert
people from the real problems at hand, including destruction
of the
environment
: “Our inventions are wont to be pretty
toys, which distract our attention from serious things.” In
this same vein, he claimed that “the greater part of what my
neighbors call good I believe in my soul to be bad.”
In modern life, stress is a major contributor to illness
and death. And, much of that stress is generated by the
constant acquisitive quest for more and more material goods.
Thoreau asks “why should we be in such desperate haste to
succeed and in such desperate enterprises?” He notes that
“from the desperate city you go into the desperate country”
with the result that “the mass of men lead lives of silent
desperation.” This passage was written in the nineteenth
century, but still echoes through the twenty first.
Simplification of lifestyle is now widely taught as a
practical antidote to the environmental and personal conse-
quences of the materialist cultures of the urban/industrial
twentieth century. And that kind of simplification is central
to Thoreau’s thought. But readers must remember that Tho-
reau was unmarried, childless, and often dependent on
friends and family for room and board. Thoreau lived on
and enjoyed the land around Walden Pond, for example,