On animist ethics
Living in a world where everything has a spirit raises all sorts of complicated questions about how to best live one’s life. Those topics get even more complicated when one starts to consider working with those spirits in a way that goes beyond everyday interaction. In this essay, I’ll explore animist theology and ethical expectations, trying to forge a guide for how we can exist in good relationship as part of a world of beings, not all of them human.
The most fundamental question of animist ethics is suggested just by the common description of the belief: “Everything is conscious.” If everything is alive, under what circumstances is it ethical to do anything at all? Looking at this from consent-based ethics, it would seem that one would have to get consent to take a breath or a step on the floor, much less eat even a piece of fallen fruit. The easiest response to this would be “some things are more conscious than others,” but that leads down a number of fraught paths. Is there a way to address this without recourse to a “great chain of being?”
Instead of thinking in terms of greater or lesser “beingness”, what if we thought in terms of effect? What does it matter to air to be breathed, the floor to be stepped on, the fruit to be eaten? It certainly matters to them (in the sense that it causes some sort of effect upon them), and this perspective is not to subscribe strictly to consequentialist ethics, but to consider the relationships that are formed alongside the effect. Breathing the air changes it, as a part of a larger system of renewal. The floor was made to be walked upon, and doing so fulfills its purpose. The case of the fruit, while the most destructive one, combines both of these. The fruit’s place, in the larger context of the ecosystem, is to propagate the plant it came from, and being eaten can be an integral part of that, whether we plant the seed, or whether demand for the fruit causes more clones of its parent tree to be grafted. Thus eating the fruit improves the prospects of what gave rise to the fruit.
The answer then is not to seek to minimize harm by pulling ourselves out of the vast system of spirits. That would do nothing but diminish it. Instead, the animist is called to deeply consider their role in that system. Why do you do things, and what happens after you do, beyond the direct consequences? Do your choices strengthen the relationships that are best for the integrity of the system itself? On a personal level, it’s a lens through which we can consider our own choices and their effects on the world, and on a larger level, it suggests investment in clearly animist-aligned causes like restorative ecology and the Rights of Nature movement.
Someone working magic in an animist context has more to consider than the spirits of physical objects, however. We interact with gods, ancestors, and spirits of abstracts like elements and concepts. It can be more difficult to understand our effects on them, and vice versa, given they happen first in the realms of idea and imagination, but it’s no less important. For them, we must rely on story, research, or direct conversation to know what they need of us, and what we need of them. The core relationships involve no less give-and-take than our interactions with material worlds. We shape our ideas, and our ideas shape us in turn. Even if gods pre-exist their believers, the relationship between them could be expected to shape both parties.
The complexity deepens when we think of practicalities, of working with gods and spirits. Some magicians talk about the “creation of a servitor”, literally making a spirit to do what they ask. Even if we think of the service as being part of that spirit’s nature, there’s an uncomfortable moral dimension to this. If it’s expected for creators to have dominion over their creation, isn’t that another manifestation of that “great chain of being” that we’re seeking to step away from?
How, then, to work with spirits ethically? A better approach could be to create not a spirit, but a set of expectations that a spirit might be willing to fulfill, and see who answers the call. “I need this, and in return, I’ll do this for you. If I don’t, I understand things may not go well between us.” Then, whichever entity comes forward to fill those expectations stands a better chance to be a good fit for it, both giving and getting. At the least, this turns a spirit-relationship into one of employment, and at best it supports a true mutualistic collaboration of equals, each party finding purpose in what they give to the partnership.
This same perspective can then be turned back to the material world, to how we use anything that we call a “tool”. Any craftsperson knows that it’s important to treat tools well; this is the “I’ll do this” part of the contract. But this also applies to the use of a tool, or the specific working with of a spirit ally. If one uses a hammer without understanding its full nature, one is much more likely to miss the nail… or hit their own thumb. Likewise, if one treats a spirit ally as purely instrumental, their results are likely to reflect that as well. They could be diminished, the lack of connection causing the ally to miss the intended target… or they could go dramatically wrong, as the ally follows its own arc, regardless of whatever metaphorical thumb might be in the way. This goes beyond just “fulfilling the contract”, it requires a knowledge-based relationship with the entity you’re working with: “A hammer is heavy and moves faster than I can react.” In the same way, knowing your spirit allies well builds upon your relationship with them, and improves the outcome of your collaborations. The consequences follow from the relationship.
Being aware of one’s existence in an animist world, a system consisting of nothing but people, can be daunting. However, in a sense this is no more or less of a challenge than simply living in a world filled with other human people who all have different needs. Someone who experiences human relationships as a network of obligation, where everyone is trying to secure the most for themself, will have a very different experience of even walking down a street, compared to someone who sees every relationship as an opportunity for understanding or collaboration. The animist world merely asks us to apply that cooperative perspective to a larger scope, and in so doing, provide even more opportunities for others to do the same, to strengthen the network of relationships that makes up all creation.