Ghosts in the Trees: An Animist Approach to Environmentalism
A tree of towering height, looming and casting shadows over the ground beneath. Its roots are immense and myriad, too numerous to count, snaking its way into the earth: a proof of its age and history. Colorful, satin ribbons are tied around its trunk — ribbons of vibrant red and yellow and green and blue — and at the base of the tree is a small but lovingly-made spirit house. Here, flower garlands and incense sticks are offered in reverence to the tree. Here, believers leave their gifts and whisper their prayers.
Such a sight is not uncommon in Thailand, a place where animism thrives as a local faith.
I was taught growing up that the hopea odorata is haunted. Within its gnarly bark lives a beautiful woman who goes by the name of Nang Ta-khian, a spirit that takes the form of an unearthly maiden with pale skin, wearing a dress of blood red or earth brown. Those who wish to steal her wood for lumber will suffer her displeasure. Those with wicked hearts who wander near her are at risk of being punished too. But, if you are good and harbor no sinister intentions, then Nang Ta-khian will leave you unbothered. The same is true for the spirit called Nang Tani, the maiden who haunts the banana tree. Her greenish complexion gives away her inhuman nature and it is said that men who had wronged women should be fearful of her anger.
It is said that spirits live in trees. It is said that the land is alive, and the very rivers are home to mythic water serpents. In other words, there are ghosts in the trees. There are serpents in the rivers.
Environmentalism changes when one is an animist.
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When one is an animist, environmentalism isn’t merely about protecting the natural resources for the sake of conserving the resource to be consumable in the future. Instead, it is a way to honor the spirits. It is a way of venerating one’s ancestors.
A fascinating example of environmentalism and animism intersecting can be seen in villages in the North and Northeast of Thailand. In essence, villagers would select a forest and build a small shrine within the forest for their ancestor ghosts to live in. It is believed that the ancestor ghosts, in return for the conservation of the forest, will in turn protect their villages and cast blessings to improve their lives. The forest is called Don Phu Ta— a source of food and income, as well as a holy place. It is believed that the ancestor ghosts will be angered should trees from the forest be cut down. Most villages have a dedicated Don Phu Ta Forest along with a representative called the Tao Jum who is believed to be able to commune with the ancestor ghosts. This system of folk belief is one that thereby promotes environmental conservation.[1]
Increasingly too there have been instances of Thai Buddhist monks becoming environmentalists. These monks would perform ordination (buat) and life-extending (sueb chataa) ceremonies for trees, tying saffron robes around a large tree in the forest and connecting it to other trees via strings. This way, the trees are said to have become sacred— to have become surrogate monks. One of the worst crimes in Buddhism is to kill a monk, thus the ordination ceremony which transforms a tree into a monk thereby renders them holy and protected.[2]
As aforementioned, it is not only trees which are said to have spirits living in them, but also rivers— the waters being the home to nagas. To put it simply: nagas are serpent spirits, most commonly viewed to be associated with the waters, the land and the rain. In several locations within Northern Thailand such as that of the Chiang Saen basin, it is believed that all rivers, waterways, and lands, are either under the protection of or were created by the nagas. Such thinking makes perfect sense when one considers the movement of rivers. Not only do rivers slither like serpents throughout the lands, it is also believed that rivers are the passageways which nagas take to travel in and out of their underwater netherworld.[3]
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In the book Less is More: How Degrowth Will Save the World by the economist Jason Hickel, the author states the following regarding animism:
“My colleagues in anthropology have long pointed out that for most of human history people operated with a very different ontology – a theory of being that we refer to, broadly, as animist. For the most part, people saw no fundamental divide between humans and the rest of the living world. Quite the opposite: they recognised a deep interdependence with rivers, forests, animals and plants, even with the planet itself, which they saw as beings equivalent to humans and animated by the very same spirit. In some cases they even regarded them as kin [...] When you see the world this way, it fundamentally changes how you behave. [...] To exploit nature as a ‘resource’ for the sake of human enrichment is morally reprehensible – similar to slavery or even to cannibalism. Instead, you have to enter into a relationship of reciprocity, in the spirit of the gift. You have to give at least as much as you receive.”[4]
Reciprocity is the key: giving as much as you receive, and never taking more than you give back. Failing to not do so is not merely ‘wrong’ on a philosophical or moral level, but it is impolite and offensive to the spirits of the land and waters.
My engagement in environmentalism is not simply due to my desire to have clean air to breathe or fresh water to drink. Whilst it is true that I may wish to have a healthy world to live in and a sustainable earth to leave behind, a key part of my interest in environmentalism stems from my love and respect for the spirits that exist as my kin and neighbors. As an animist, I know that to engage in deforestation is to incur the wrath of the local tree spirits. As an animist, I know that to dump toxic waste into rivers and waterways is to provoke the ire of nagas who are said to be capable of destroying cities in their rage and grief. A healthy respect and fear for nature is instilled in an animist— for how could it not be, when one believes or has seen with their own eyes the ghostly women and majestic serpents?
Final notes
[1] K. Thathong, “A Spiritual Dimension and Environmental Education: Buddhism and Environmental Crisis,” Procedia: Social and Behavioral Science, 46, 2012, p. 5063–5068.
[2] Juntadach, S. et al., 1998. “Sacred and/or Secular Approaches to Biodiversity Conservation in Thailand,” Worldviews: environment, culture, religion, 2(2), pp. 155–167.
[3] Moonkham, P., 2017. Mythscape: An Ethonohistorical Archeology of Space and Narrative of the Naga in Northern Thailand.
[4] J. Hickel, Less is More: How Degrowth Will Save the World, Windmill Books, 2021, p. 36.
Ivy Senna
Ivy Senna, born and raised in Thailand, is an astrolater and a practitioner of the occult. Haunted by siren songs and silver-clad serpents, she is an avid lover of fixed stars and eldritch sea monsters. Her pamphlet, “Venus-as-Mother: to Soothe a Grieving Heart,” is purchasable via Hadean Press. She is also a contributor of “The Gorgon’s Guide to Magical Resistance,” available at Revelore Press. Her article, "God of Wealth and Delusion: An Exploration of Rahu through the Lens of Thai and Vedic Beliefs" can be read at the Mountain Astrologer blog. Ivy can be found online @ivy.crowned on Instagram and on her blog at uponthealtar.