Nicolas Delon delivers a startling pivot in environmental ethics: he argues that the most honest view of nature isn't that it's a harmonious sanctuary, but a realm of "overwhelming and collective murder." By weaving together the cosmic pessimism of filmmaker Werner Herzog with the utilitarian rigor of John Stuart Mill, Delon challenges the very foundation of how we justify protecting the wild. This isn't just philosophical musing; it's a high-stakes debate over whether our moral obligation is to leave nature alone or to intervene and stop the suffering we see in the natural world.
The Vileness of the Wild
Delon anchors his exploration in the visceral, unfiltered observations of Werner Herzog. The author draws heavily on Herzog's 1982 documentary Burden of Dreams, where the director rejects the romantic notion of a balanced ecosystem. Delon writes, "Herzog maintains a distinctly dark and unsentimental view of nature. He sees the natural world as fundamentally indifferent, violent, and chaotic." This framing is crucial because it strips away the sentimental veneer often draped over conservation efforts.
The piece leans on Herzog's most provocative assertion: "It is the harmony of overwhelming and collective murder." Delon uses this to dismantle the idea that nature has a moral purpose. He paraphrases Herzog's view that the jungle is not erotic or harmonious, but rather a place of "obscenity" where trees and birds exist in "misery," merely "screech[ing] in pain." This is a powerful rhetorical move. It forces the reader to confront the reality that predation, disease, and starvation are not anomalies; they are the baseline.
"There is no harmony in the universe. We have to get acquainted to this idea that there is no real harmony as we have conceived it."
Delon suggests that ignoring this brutality is a form of dangerous illusion. He notes that in Grizzly Man, Herzog criticized Timothy Treadwell for romanticizing bears, preferring instead to describe nature's "overwhelming indifference." The author argues that this "cosmic pessimism" is not just a mood but a factual description of the universe, where chaos and hostility are the "common denominator." This perspective is unsettling but necessary for any honest ethical framework.
The Millian Dilemma
Shifting from cinematic observation to philosophical rigor, Delon turns to John Stuart Mill's 1874 essay "Nature." The author highlights Mill's central dilemma: if "nature" means everything governed by natural laws, then following it is meaningless because we have no choice. But if "nature" means the world without human intervention, then following it is immoral because it is full of cruelty.
Delon writes, "Mill identifies nature's fundamental ambiguity," noting that Mill calls nature "callous, ruthless, uncaring, violent, impervious to our sentiments of justice and fairness." This is the core of the argument: the "appeal to nature" fallacy. Delon explains that Mill's goal was to show that human civilization exists to improve upon nature, not to mindlessly replicate it. As Delon puts it, "If you chose to act like nature—causing massive suffering without regard for individual welfare—I would consider you not a Nietzschean Übermensch but a monster."
The author also brings in Friedrich Nietzsche to reinforce this point, noting that Nietzsche called the Stoic command to "live according to nature" a "fraud." Delon quotes Nietzsche: "Living—isn't that wanting specifically to be something other than this nature?" This section effectively dismantles the idea that there is a moral blueprint hidden in the wild. The argument lands because it exposes the contradiction in telling humans to emulate a system that operates on pure, unfeeling survival.
The Call to Intervention
If nature is a place of horror, does that mean we should destroy it? Delon argues the opposite. He introduces the emerging field of wild animal welfare, which takes Herzog's descriptive horror and turns it into a moral imperative for action. The author cites philosophers like Oscar Horta and Catia Faria, who argue that the sheer scale of suffering in nature creates an obligation to intervene.
Delon writes, "Our aim should be, in the words of Martha Nussbaum in Frontiers of Justice, 'the gradual supplanting of the natural by the just.'" He illustrates this with graphic, unflinching descriptions of natural suffering: a deer starving in deep snow, a caterpillar being eaten alive from the inside by wasp larvae, and a bird dying of thirst with its eyes sealed by pox. These are not metaphors; as Delon states, "This is Tuesday in the natural world."
"Herzog's cosmic pessimism doesn't negate the reality of individual animal suffering; it might instead provide the strongest possible argument for why that suffering matters morally."
Here, Delon makes his boldest claim: that acknowledging the brutality of nature is the strongest argument for intervention. He suggests that wild animal welfare advocates accept Herzog's view but reject his tragic acceptance. Instead of resigning themselves to the chaos, they propose "herbivorize predators, engineer trophic chains, pave the forests!" This is a radical shift in environmental ethics, moving from preservation to active management to reduce suffering.
Critics might note that this interventionist approach risks a new form of hubris. Delon acknowledges this, suggesting that Herzog would likely view these aspirations as "another form of dangerous romanticism." The author admits, "I am not quite ready to endorse this move, but I see the appeal." The tension here is palpable: can humans truly fix a system that is fundamentally broken, or are we just imposing our own fragile order on a chaotic universe?
The Limits of Human Action
The piece concludes with a sobering look at the limits of human intervention, returning to Herzog's documentary Encounters at the End of the World. Delon describes a scene where a lone penguin, disoriented, walks away from its colony toward certain death. Despite the urge to help, the scientists advise against interference. Delon writes, "The penguin was doomed by whatever force of nature inhabited him."
This moment encapsulates the tragedy of the human condition in the face of nature. Delon notes Herzog's ambivalence: he deplores the obsession with conservation that ignores human suffering, yet acknowledges that "our presence on this planet does not seem to be sustainable." The author quotes Herzog's bleak prediction: "Human life is part of an endless chain of catastrophes... We seem to be next." Delon ends on this note of uncertainty, suggesting that while we may want to intervene, the scale of the problem may be beyond our capacity to solve.
Bottom Line
Delon's piece is a masterful synthesis of film, philosophy, and ethics, successfully arguing that the romanticized view of nature is not only false but morally hazardous. Its strongest element is the logical bridge it builds from Herzog's "harmony of murder" to the urgent need for wild animal welfare, challenging the status quo of environmentalism. However, its biggest vulnerability lies in the practical feasibility of intervention; the leap from recognizing suffering to engineering a solution remains a monumental, perhaps impossible, task. Readers should watch for how this debate evolves as the technology for ecological intervention becomes more advanced, forcing us to confront whether we have the right to play god in a world that never asked for us.