Natural Imagery

It's very important that the image that accompanies an abstract idea in a metaphor have characteristics that can “carry” the idea,¹ in the sense that the physical characteristics of the image are relevant to the mental characteristics of the idea as well. Otherwise, you are just thinking or speaking gobbledy-gook, not truly metaphorically. I'd like to illustrate this with reference to an article on the mudslide in Washington state that recently took so many lives and so much human property: the New York Times article “A Mudslide, Foretold,” by Timothy Egan.²

I agree with Egan's thinking all the way through this article, up to the last sentence, where I think he tries to tie an abstract idea to the concrete image of the mudslide that does not establish a legitimate relationship between the two and thus undercuts his whole argument. Egan notes that there were plenty of studies and warnings about slides in this particular area and that the trees in the area above the slide had also been over-harvested, so that when a great deal of rain fell, the earth had nothing to anchor it in place and simply turned to mud. As Egan puts it, “. . . enough with the denial, the willful ignorance of cause and effect. . . .” He continues, “It is human nature, if not the American way, to look potential disaster in the face and prefer to see a bright and shining lie. . . .” I agree strongly with all this; it is certainly human nature too often to see what we want to see rather than objective reality. We too often live in a state of denial, especially about our own power over nature: “. . . the delusion that large-scale manipulation of the natural world can be done without consequence.”

But here is Egan's final line: “. . . you love the land, but you should never forget that it can turn on you.” First of all, the phrase “it can turn on you” is an abstract idea that Egan is seeking to connect to the image we all have in our minds of the mudslide, thanks to the media. But think about this metaphor—the mudslide representing or carrying the idea that nature can “turn on you.” What does that phrase mean, really? Doesn't it connote betrayal? Someone or something can only “turn on you” if there has been a previous implicit or explicit relationship of trust. So, one person can turn on another person: a husband, perhaps, can become enraged and physically assault his wife. This is a betrayal because the state of marriage presupposes that married people will love, comfort, honor, and keep each other (to use words from the old Episcopal marriage ceremony). An assault is a betrayal of that understanding held in common by virtually all people who accept social conventions. 
 
It is even possible, I believe, for a domesticated animal to turn on a human being. There is a compact between humans and their domesticated animals, as well, though it is not necessarily part of any social code. I feed my dog and provide comfortable shelter and medical care, take care of all her basic needs. In return, I expect that my dog will relate to me and other humans close to me in a friendly manner. If my dog bites me for no reason that I can see, then, yes, I would probably be justified in thinking that the dog has turned on me, though we tend to give domesticated animals more leeway than humans in reacting to violence or hostility from them, because we view our domesticated animals as closer to nature than we are.

On the other hand, if I starved and beat my dog, then I should not be surprised if the dog turns on me; in that case, I have broken the implicit compact with the dog first—and the dog has just responded in kind, in self-defense. But nature in the wild simply cannot turn on you, because there is no compact between us and nature that governs our or its behavior. Yes, we are creatures of nature—and would do much better to remember that, but nature and all the individual entities that make up the abstract idea of nature do not owe us anything. A grizzly bear that attacks you is just following its nature, not turning on you—because it has never accepted a curb on its behavior in exchange for benefits from you, as domesticated animals have. A hill that turns to mud because of a lot of rain and a lot of tree-cutting and then slides to a level plain is not turning on you; it is simply obeying its nature—it is a matter of physics, nothing else. There is no intention involved on the part of nature at all. Even if the grizzly bear intends to eat you, there is nothing personal in its actions—you are just warm meat in its path. There is absolutely no betrayal of humans in the actions of wild nature; to put the two ideas together is simply a contradiction of terms—and a dangerous way to think.

Part of the problem with global warming, mudslides, and other objective reactions by nature to our own activities is that we do not have any formal compact with nature. Perhaps we should have. Nature cannot make a compact with us in any intentional sense, because it behaves objectively, not subjectively. But we violate nature in so many ways; we treat nature as if it is there only to serve us. That mental attitude ignores the independent and objective existence of wild nature, and so long as we work through that attitude, we will increasingly suffer from nature the longer we fail to respect it. That's why using images in metaphorical thought and speech that are accurate is so important. Wild nature actually provides us, at least a little still, an objective measure of our own thoughts and actions. If we romanticize nature, as Egan says those who settled in that valley in Washington state did, and ignore the independent objectivity of nature (it is not just a nice view, but a cluster of living entities in their own right)--then our images are skewed by our wishes and will not temper our thoughts and actions. If we think not of the beautiful view but what is happening to the ecosystem when many trees are cut and much rain falls, we will not delude ourselves into thinking we are safe when we are not. If we use images of nature that are objective and concrete, then they can perform as a reality check on our thoughts and actions. And it seems so clear that more and more as each day passes, we really need that reality check.

1As I've explained before, the image is the vehicle that carries the abstract idea in a metaphor.

2http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/30/opinion/sunday/egan-at-home-when-the-earth-moves.html?