Ghost Forests
The symptoms of human myopia in a land teetering on the edge of collapse.
Skeletons inhabit these hills. Charred limbs that reach up into the skies, grasping for something that it cannot find. Static and inanimate, these longing figures have long since given up their fight.
New life occupies the empty space in between the desolate remains, yet it is somehow paradoxically empty — devoid of the qualities that constitute aliveness. Leaves rustle in the breeze but it is only the voice of one lifeform: a monoculture. These vast hills and valleys were once abundant with life which is now only visible in fractured pieces, clinging on, barely surviving — that with each blaze continues to shrink further into oblivion.
These relics are not those of humankind, although the cause is certainly human driven. This cemetery is from the forest, and the deceased are the trees that have burnt in the wildfires of the not-so-distant past.
It's been a little over four years since I first arrived in Portugal and my perception of eucalyptus and the human relationship to it has evolved drastically over time. Through observation, it seems there area few stages that human perception goes through in regards to this species:
At first, the view of the Portuguese countryside is mainly clouded by a naive ignorance. There is a bewildering quality to the vibrant greenness of the landscape in the Centro region. Aromatic eucalyptus shimmers with silver-green leaves, mimosa blossom radiates with the colour of sunbeams, and the rich, intoxicating perfume scent of rock rose fills the air. To the untrained eye, it seems like a wild and untamed place, an escape from the monotonous order of patchwork grain fields and the rare traces of woodland from the northern European homelands.
The second stage is informed by the disruptive reality of wildfires that sweep across the country year after year. The scale of destruction is difficult to grasp until you have seen it with your own eyes. This phase, usually associated with feelings of anger and frustration at the incompetence of government to manage this issue, means that we need to find someone or something to blame. Eucalyptus is naturally the easy target: an invasive species, highly flammable and for lack of a better phrase, existing bloody everywhere. Covering hilly terrain across the country from South to North — once the eye is trained, it appears to cover most of the available rural space. Planted for the paper pulp industry and dominating the landscape, it makes sense that this species which does not belong here will suitably take the blame. The scapegoat has been identified. It must be eliminated and then the problem will be solved. But it isn’t quite that simple.
Following this apparent yet illusory revelation, most people do not enquire to look further into the complexities surrounding this topic. The human mind is appealed by reductionist, over-simplified and binary thinking. This is this, that is that. End of story. The longer I have spent in this country, the more I yearn for a larger perspective in which to frame this topic. Dissatisfied with this unilateral perception, it made little sense to me that we can blame one species for what must be a larger and more complicated issue. After a few years I can say that I’ve managed to barely scrape beneath the surface of an issue which extends deeper than anyone could realise. What I will elaborate on is but only one aspect of a cultural, historical and economic issue that is reflective of our times.
The eucalypts do not arrive by accident. A perfect case study of human hubris, the trajectory for how one species colonised an entire country is much familiar to its human equivalent of colonialism: short-sighted and driven by dominance, power and control. A tree which has no intention other than to fulfil it’s biological purpose is hijacked by human greed. Imported from Australia in the 19th century, it was noted for its ability to grow quickly in straight, orderly lines. Due to it’s incredible adaption to arid climates and poor soils, it thrived in the conditions which this territory presented. Promoted by the dictator Salazar during his reign, much of the native oak and chestnut forests were decimated. The once-rich biodiversity of Europe’s most westerly country was exchanged for the promise of short-term profit and GDP growth. How ironic then, that a tree that is known for it’s exceptional growth rate but long-term destructive tendencies would reflect the dysfunctional economic structure and conditioning which governs our world.
The moment that shifted my beliefs around the subject came through the introduction to the approach of syntropic agriculture, mainly through my friend Lars Wild (yes, that is his actual name). The philosophy of syntropic farming is framed in terms of complexity and symbiosis, each part existing and cooperating within a larger system. When there is balance in the ecosystem, there can be no “bad” species — the dominance of one type of tree, specifically those such as mimosa or eucalyptus, is merely a symptom of an imbalance in the larger system. These trees evolved to fix nitrogen in the soil, to have a short life span that would create conditions that would allow for the stages of succession to flourish: from rock and dust, to arid scrubland and finally to mature, biodiverse woodland. They are merely fulfilling the ecological niche with which they have evolved to exist within.
To see someone like Lars planting eucalyptus in order to create fertile soil is completely antithetical to those that have hardline beliefs in terms of only planting native species, often also in monocultures. Yet it is an example which shows that the how is as important as the why. They will be cut back and returned to the soil until they have served their function. These trees are harnessed to create a self-contained composting system, providing biomass that will nourish the trees which will fulfil the latter stages of ecological succession: fruit trees like apricot, pear, apple. Nut trees like pistachio, walnut and almond. Through this approach, the human can nurture a sense of balance within the system, participating within this diverse expression of life.
It became clear then that the issue here is less about the tree species itself and more about the way in which we have interacted with it. When we treat any living being, whether it is a tree or animal, as merely a commodity to be exploited through industrial means — the outcome is disastrous. When our feedback and guidance comes from spreadsheets and graphs rather than observation and felt-experience, it is clear that we have lost our way. The distorted and amplified scale of these wildfires — which have always existed as a means of maintaining balance within the larger system — are merely a symptom, a reflection, that the human perception has been warped by a belief system which is innately degenerative and destructive. As per my own human tendency and fallibility, I have also tried to find a label to reduce it down to: is it industrialisation? Is it capitalism? Is it greed? I suppose it is all of them and much more. It is rarely as simple as identifying one thing to point the finger at, as appealing as it may seem.
The ghost forests that we see around us are a reminder of what happens when we become lost in myopia. What little fragments of ancient forest that remain serve as a reminder of what could be once again, if our limited perceptions can evolve beyond anthropocentrism — by recognising our ability to nourish and participate within the richness of the wider biology that we are privileged to exist within, perhaps these desolate monocultures could once again become thriving ecosystems that burst with vibrancy and aliveness.
You have such a wonderful way of sharing your experiences and adventures, wishing nothing but chill vibes and more adventures for you