Tree People

1. Introduction

Across myriad disciplines - from climate science to political science - resilience to climate change is a popular subject. And trees are instrumental in these pursuits - especially in urban settings, where populations and summer temperatures are disproportionately high. As such, it is only prudent to heed the expertise of arborists - the “tree people” - in efforts to cultivate more aesthetically and seasonally clement metropolitan areas. But how do arborists communicate with laymen (like myself)? What might this reveal about their misgivings with environmental policies, practices in other industries, senses of authority and expertise, and experience in public relations?

In this paper, I will illustrate how, in my interview with an arborist, he marks himself as a knowledgeable professional - as well as a “tree person” - through his anthropomorphization and agential characterizations of trees, and how these characteristics are central to the construction of this arborist’s identity.

2. Anthropological Implications: Linguistics, Ontology, and Theory

It is a common cliche, often levied mockingly against New Age groups, hippies, and environmental activists, that “trees are people, too.” Likewise, the term “tree hugger” carries a similar array of implications and distasteful stereotypes. (Antonetti and Maklan, 2016). And while trees obviously lack the physiological and anatomical traits of homo sapiens sapiens, this doesn’t appear to preclude some measure of empathy with our arboreal neighbors. And this is especially the case for arborists - who colloquially refer to themselves as“tree people” (“Tree Memes”) - who are most intimately familiar with how trees move, grow, age, die - and, perhaps, even how they "speak." Within the discipline of linguistic anthropology, questions regarding non-human languages - as well as their evolutionary implications in the kingdom Animalia - have been explored by the likes of Hockett (1960) and Lind (2014), as well as Wacewicz and Żywiczyński (2014). However, the linguistic capabilities of trees - let alone any entity in the kingdom Plantae - are infrequently lent plausible credence or deeper critical thought.

At this juncture, I deem it necessary to elaborate upon some theoretical paradigms which will be integral to my analyses. Firstly, the so-called "ontological turn" in cultural anthropology - and subsequent "posthuman turn" - remain somewhat controversial in certain social science circles, yet their catalytic propositions persist, even as they are refined, modified, and proliferated by their acolytes. (Holbraad and Pederson 2017). Interestingly, Karen Barad (2007) seems to posit an apophatic view of posthumanism, stressing what it is "not;" what it "does not" do: "Posthumanism does not attribute the source of all change to culture, denying nature any sense of agency or historicity. In fact, it refuses the idea of a natural (or, for that matter, purely cultural), calling for an accounting of how this boundary is actively configured and reconfigured." (136; my emphasis). This problematizes the notion of a distinct nature/culture divide.

Crucially, however, the methodological and epistemological implications of such theories are no less salient to the disciplines of linguistics and semiotics. Here, the work of Eduardo Kohn is especially noteworthy (2013), as he illustrates his concept of “open whole.”

An anthropology beyond the human aims to reach beyond the confines of that one habit—the symbolic—that makes us the exceptional kinds of beings that we believe we are. The goal is not to minimize the unique effects this habit has but only to show some of the different ways in which the whole that is the symbolic is open to those many other habits that can and do proliferate in the world that extends beyond us. The goal, in short, is to regain a sense of the ways in which we are open wholes. This world beyond the human, to which we are open, is more than something “out there” because the real is more than that which exists. Accordingly, an anthropology beyond the human seeks a slight displacement of our temporal focus to look beyond the here and now of actuality. It must, of course, look back to constraints, contingencies, contexts, and conditions of possibility. But the lives of signs, and of the selves that come to interpret them, are not just located in the present, or in the past. (66).

But how, exactly, might we determine where trees factor into this configuration? How might a posthumanist linguistic anthropology aid in our investigations of how trees (and, more broadly, naturalist categorical hierarchies and distinctions) may be symbolically, dialectically, and realized in an agential sense? Such interdisciplinary debates persist with regards to what a “life form” even is, let alone what constituent phenomena predicate the discernibility of “life” itself. Crucially, in terms of our unconscious linguistic constructions of life forms as such, ethnobiological and ethnobotanical research, undertaken by the likes of Wierzbicka (1992), puts forth a convincing argument that many of these conceptualizations are contingent upon psychological processes which are recursively influenced by learned systems of taxonomic classification. (13). This, too, is worthy of some deeper phenomenological and semiotic thought. If trees are considered a form of “life,” and an oak is a “kind of tree,” then, by transitive property, an oak is also a form of “life.” And yet, if I were in the market for a new desk, I wouldn’t look for a “tree desk.” I would look for an “oak desk.” Likewise, I would not go to a restaurant and order the “cow,” but I would order the “beef.” It seems, then, that some things are too “raw” to be “dead.”

Even metalinguistically, this is an intriguing topic in itself (for a fascinating read on the different words for “life” and its many forms across different languages, see Mike and Brownnut 2021). Thus, taking a phenomenological approach, Duranti (2009) illustrates how a Husserlian lens of phenomenological modification may allow us to better understand, among other things, the various accruals of meanings and values which, through passive and active experiences, we put into words, put into words, and embody through recursive, learned, ordinal, and temporally salient processes. Indeed, the literature appears to point to time as life’s mirror. Triangulating this reflection, Tim Ingold (1993) posits that “...human life is a process that involves the passage of time…this life-process is also the process of formation of the landscapes in which people have lived. Time and landscape, then, are to my mind the essential points of topical contact between archaeology and anthropology. (152, italics in original).

So, we have life, time, and landscape. With regards to the latter, especially, trees pose an interesting ontological challenge which is scientifically, semiotically, and phenomenologically entangled. “…[T]he tree bridges the gap between the apparently fixed and invariant forms of the landscape and the mobile and transient forms of animal life, visible proof that all of these forms, from the most permanent to the most ephemeral, are dynamically linked under transformation within the movement of becoming of the world as a whole.” (Ingold 1993, 168). This becoming and mobility insinuates a holistic sense of change, wherein discernable and nameable "things," by virtue of their ephemerality, are, like humans, imbued with an inherent form of agency.

But we must also take care to note that these notions of becoming, mobility, and ephemerality are experienced and embodied intersubjectively across cultures, subject to infinitely many localized, symbolic, and political formulations. (Rival 1998; Reichert 2015; Krøijer 2021). As such, the phenomenological triangle of life, time, and landscape unearths a theoretically fertile medium for linguistics. In order to address the linguistic components of environmental-ethnological constructs, then, we must take on these ontological challenges. (Hauck 2022). Chief among them, which we will explore in this paper, pertains to agency and, more specifically, the agential realism of trees and their landscapes. (Ahearn 2001; Barad 2007; Basso 1996). What are the dialectics involved in expressing this agency, and how might they be evoked - consciously or unconsciously - in my conversation with a local arborist?

3. Methods, Tools, and Setting

For this project, I conducted a semi-structured interview via Zoom. I was able to conduct this interview from my apartment in Charlotte, North Carolina, while Matthew tuned in from his own residence. It was a sunny summer afternoon, and I had just returned from a day of work at my internship with a non-profit organization in Charlotte. Both of us had our work cut out for us that summer which, according to NASA, had been one of the hottest worldwide since 1880. (Fox et al. 2023). By then, word had spread that Florida’s oceans reached temperatures nearing 97 degrees Fahrenheit. (Zerkel, 2023). As such, the hot air of the season was heavy with more than North Carolina’s infamous humidity; the weight of climate anxiety was heavy on both of us.

The interview consisted of 12 questions, covering both the informant’s personal perceptions of Charlotte’s urban tree canopy, as well as any professional insights they wished to share. Fortunately, Matthew, my informant, was exceedingly thorough and eloquent in his answers. The audio, originally recorded with an Otter.ai Zoom extension, was later manually transcribed with Express Scribe transcription software. The interview lasted 57 minutes. Given this crucial context, I will now analyze the conversation that transpired between me and Matthew.

4. Analysis

4.1 What the Arborist Knows, What the Tree Person Feels

Arborists are as passionate as they are proficient in all things arboreal, and this is evident in their poignant, pointed, and didactic speech. On a cursory level, the insights of studying this rhetoric are twofold: 1) this coalescence of knowledgeability and emotion is demonstrative of complex knowledge and personal investment, and 2) the jargon employed by this arborist is saturated with exhortations for proper tree care, as well as lamentations for harmful practices. Upon further analysis, however, the language articulated by my informant, an arborist working in Charlotte, North Carolina, in his critiques of tree neglect, reveals something deeper about his personal distaste for improper tree care. Crucially, he frames these admonitory positions in such a way that imbues trees with an aura of agency.

Take, for instance, this excerpt from our conversation, wherein Matthew (the arborist) constructs the agency of trees; what they “want” (line 56), what they “would love” (lines 58, 59), and how “we’ve” (speaking collectively as Charlotteans, though the same rings true for humanity in general), in some sense, done the trees a disservice.

Transcript 1

56 Matthew because for the most part they do not want

57 to be in the place that they are.

58 They would love to be in a full, lush forest,

59 they would love to have leaves that are not constantly

60 raked up,

61 they would love to

62 not have the pests and disease that

63 we’ve introduced by bringing in different

64 varieties of plants from different countries

65 that haven’t been properly checked for that pest and disease

66 before being planted in the ground.

The implication is that the trees in Charlotte (and, presumably, other metropolitan areas) are not thriving, and this is due to human error, negligence, and ignorance of best practices in tree care. We betray this ignorance when we rake up leaves, plant trees where they do not “want” to be, bring in plants from different parts of the world, and fail to improperly inspect them for pests and diseases which could hinder the health and well-being of other trees. Throughout these transcripts, note the striking oscillation between active and passive voice - what trees do vs. what is done to them. Matthew appears to imply that, when trees thrive (in environments they would “love to” be in), this is the ideal, organic state of things - such is the nature of their agency. When humans take the initiative to plant trees in places which would hinder their agency, the situation is summarily suboptimal. The same can be said of humans who disengage from proper tree care altogether.

Transcript 2

77 Matthew Because,

78 hey, there’s trees that you’re seeing from

79 that airplane a lot of times,

80 those are 50, 60, 70, 80, up to 150 years old in some cases.

81 And,

82 they have a lifespan like a human does.

83 They eventually die of their own natural causes.

Phenomenologically, from a bird's eye view (lines 78-79) the trees may seem populous and healthy. But, this experience may be misleading, as these larger trees are typically decades (and, in some cases, over a century) old. And, "like a human…they eventually die of their own natural causes." (lines 82-83). Such massive trees do not suddenly appear where they are; they’ve lived long lives, and they will eventually die - of “natural causes.” This is strikingly reminiscent of how one might discuss the passing of an elderly human; some say that it’s best to “let nature take its course.”

But how much of this death is really “natural?” How much of this death could be averted if people took better care of their local trees - or took more care not to plant trees where they could not possibly survive?

Transcript 3

153 Matthew Red maples are the one that comes

154 to my mind most prevalently in regards to Charlotte,

155 because they were planted

156 so much by developers in a lot of these

157 subdivisions and communities.

158 And for one,

159 making red maples

160 hate our clay soil,

161 but they also hate heat stress.

Here, Matthew provides a brief example of how these dynamics unfold in Charlotte. In this scenario, however, red maples take on a passive role (lines 155-157). Red maples “were planted” by (human) developers in places which are subject to conditions they “hate.” Or, more precisely, the red maples are made to hate these conditions by the developers, whether intentionally or unintentionally. In a sense, Matthew appears to imply that the deck was stacked against them from the very start - perhaps by design. In any case, one is forced to consider how the autonomy of red maples is systemically suppressed in this fashion. This notion is further supported by Matthew’s rhetoric surrounding the inequities and inequalities that exist in human-tree relationships.

Transcript 4

193 Matthew But I think for me on the mental health aspect,

194 one of the biggest benefits is

195 the beauty of it as you're walking through

196 it is taking the moment to realize that

197 over the last 50 years to 100 years,

198 this thing has been doing nothing

199 but trying to grow and be beautiful.

200 And it doesn't even know it's beautiful.

201 It's just there.

202 But it's worked very hard.

203 And seeing that man's…

204 the futility of man has built up around it.

205 And has…

206 it has still managed to stay there.

207 And it has survived.

Trees do not (typically) receive official accolades, nor are they given rights or special privileges for the public health benefits they provide (lines 193-195) - the “work” (line 202) they do in this regard - nor do they know how to ask for such rights or privileges.. Their agency does not extend so far as to personally vie for civil rights. Their beauty is admired, but it is not reciprocated, nor are trees aware of this admiration. They just are, and what they are is - at least to Matthew - beautiful (lines 199-200). When taken with Matthew’s prior insinuations about the agency of trees, it appears that their agency is to be and, in so being, they are beautiful; when their agency is hindered by humans, humans hinder beauty. Nature is not only beautified by trees, but this beauty is, itself, naturalized. 

It may be, perhaps, that Matthew’s positionality as an arborist influences this admixture of concepts: the being, beauty, and agency of trees are, in fact, within the disciplinary purview of arborists. For many, trees are their livelihood. As such, it may be that, on a symbolic level, this quasi-symbiotic relationship, forged out of radical empathy for trees - as well as formal arboricultural education - is no less vital to the “tree person” (being a more embodied ideological epithet for those who engage with arboriculture) than it is to the trees themselves.

4.2 Arbori-”Culture”

Beyond the more direct public health benefits trees provide, Matthew also appears to imply that trees imbue the landscape with sociocultural value.

Transcript 5

225 So it would be communal spaces

226 and of the benefit of-

227 between people,

228 because I know an old saying is,

229 in the South,

230 was

231 “we’ll meet under the old oak tree”

232 or

233 “we’ll meet in the middle under the tree,”

234 things that are garnered off of that.

235 People still,

236 now you don't see very many parks

237 that don't have trees.

238 It's a gathering place for people.

239 It is a nice shady spot where you can

240 have a picnic.

241 And it brings people together

242 as much as

243 it's bringing the ecosystem together.

Here again, Matthew makes us consider the social (and cultural) lives of trees. They are not only landmarks, however - they actively bring people together (line 241). This is all in a day’s work for a tree. But again, the insinuation is that this work is not sufficiently reciprocated on a societal level. Trees, then - in addition to being landmarks; fixtures of a landscape - are place-makers. In so doing, they imbue the landscape itself with agency and life. This is reminiscent of Basso’s (1996) observations of how Apache place-names point to elements of tradition, oral history, and environmental phenomena (e.g., T'iis Cho Naasikaadé, “Big Cottonwood Trees Stand Here And There”). (52). The landscape itself, then, is imbued with agency - and identity.

Here, I would be remiss to neglect an intriguing pattern. One could make the argument that Matthew is framing trees in much the same way many choose to depict the plights of Indigenous peoples - indeed, there is an air of paternalism in Matthew’s narrativization of the ecological inequities between trees and humans - one where the former are exploited, oppressed, and overlooked by the latter - and it is up to Matthew (and, ostensibly, other arborists) to ensure the welfare of trees. In other words, these noble, pristine trees ought to be liberated from the anthropogenic hazards imminent in their environments (which they, themselves, did not “choose” to be planted in). Ultimately, if taken seriously, this ontologically revolutionizes the concept of environmental justice to not only benefit humans, but other living (and, perhaps, conventionally abiotic) subjects as well.

4.3 The Admonitory Arborist

Given our previous observations of how Matthew linguistically construes the agency and sociocultural roles of trees, we must now come to terms with how Matthew views himself in this human-environment configuration. Again, Matthew positions himself as an authoritative voice on the subject of tree care. When discussing how climate change may affect the state of North Carolina, Matthew does not offer an optimistic prognostication.

Transcript 6

118 Matthew It's going to be huge,

119 and where,

120 especially in my line of work,

121 when they're calling me out there,

122 it's because their trees generally are stressed

123 or there's a problem.

124 People are very reactive and not proactive.

Here, Matthew is critical of the “reactive” (line 124) nature of laymen who rely on the expertise of arborists to take care of their trees. The implication is that, for arborists, this is just business as usual. (lines 120-121). Further, as long as people are “reactive” and not “proactive,” the results are “going to be huge” (line 118) - that is, disastrous. Thus, throughout this interview, Matthew linguistically posits himself as a voice of reason and admonition - but he is frustrated that people don’t take the time to learn how to take care of their own trees. And, much like the titular character of Dr. Seuss’ (1971) Lorax, Matthew uses his voice to “speak for the trees.” (23). And much like the story of The Lorax, Matthew’s narrative is a cautionary tale abound with melancholy, regret - and, perhaps, a seed of hope - if we can learn where and how to plant it.

Conclusion and Conversation

In this paper, I have illustrated the ways in which Matthew linguistically marks himself as an arborist and, in his vivid rhetoric, conveys the sentimentality of what it means to be a “tree person.” In the interview itself, my initial goal was to parse his opinion of Charlotte’s urban tree canopy. Between the lines, however, it is clear that Matthew wanted to, on some level, invoke the agency of the canopy itself, using his expertise and experience as an armored vehicle for emotional didacticism in our conversation. His pathos, impeccably aligned with insider knowledge, training, and education, melts into a convincing - albeit scathing - call to action: respect the agency of trees; acknowledge their salubrious, cultural, and societal vitality; learn how to reciprocate their value; learn how to care for trees. It is only fair, Matthew might say, as the phenomenal, poetic beauty of trees, it seems, is both a means and an end for their mutual existence.

208 Matthew I think it gives a really good analogy for

209 people that are experiencing some problems

210 in their own life

211 and kind of feel like a dying tree,

212 to look at ones that have managed to

213 go through there and see

214 how beautiful they still are.

As we look down both sides of the barrel of life and death - the pitfalls ahead of us and the calamities we survived, somehow - trees can remind us that, in spite of it all, we are still beautiful. We still have something that keeps us grounded. Indeed, what would we be without our roots?

Future research, I claim, could investigate the myriad ways in which one’s language conveys the perceived importance of their profession or discipline; how individuals convey symbiotic relationships with their own embodied knowledge and, in tandem, the epistemologically constructed subjects thereof. This extends not only to the natural and biological sciences, but to all occupations and hobbies. What is it about what we do that makes us who we are? Can we imagine life without it? What would we defend with our lives - or our words, for that matter?

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