The Rights of Nature, Remembered on the Road

Observations from the road, the forest, and the resilience of life.

I’ve been struggling lately, with work and with words. Writing takes me hours, even full weekends, as I try to articulate the strife I feel and propose solutions rather than just complain. Yet I always end up tangenting — after all, it’s all connected. This month I’ve been mostly out of pocket, thankfully not tethered to my desk or computer. The pocket computer is another story, sadly.

Part of my struggle is wondering if sharing my words on Substack matters at all. I appreciate the community, but sometimes it feels like an echo chamber. Mainstream conservation groups rarely go to bat for tough, uncomfortable conversations about wildfire as a pretext for logging on our public lands. Agencies label these projects “restorative,” but in practice they remove trees across landscapes, disrupt ecological processes, and sell the public on “targeted, ecologically appropriate management.” Forests, left to govern themselves, rebound beautifully. That resilience gave me some comfort, and it reinforced why public lands at every stage of their spiral existence need protection. Access to these lands is a basic human right.

The second weekend of October, I drove out to southeastern Tennessee to attend the second annual Southeastern Public Interest Environmental Law Conference (SPIELC) — a road trip, my favorite pastime, the more miles the better. The panels inspired me, and the documentary showcase was both infuriating and heartening. I felt gratitude witnessing the labor of love from colleagues working across so many biodiverse landscapes. And yet my main takeaway remained clear: none of us should have these jobs. Non-profits, in general, shouldn’t exist. If businesses and government truly worked for the people, organizations like mine would guide visitors through public lands, showing them the wonders of naturally disturbed landscapes — fire, blowdown, insect outbreaks — helping people connect with the natural world instead of constantly fighting to defend it. I imagine a world where universal basic income is standard, neighbors are provided for, basic needs are met, and access to public lands is recognized as a basic human right.

After SPIELC, I caravanned with colleagues to Land Between the Lakes National Recreation Area, where friends from DC met us to explore. We saw firsthand the consequences of so-called “restorative” projects. A tornado had torn through part of the forest, leaving a blowdown. One side was salvage logged, the other left alone. The side spared from salvage logging remained vibrant and cool, life already returning beneath the fallen wood. Across the road, the logged side was drier, harsher, stripped of shade and moisture. These projects are framed as restoration, yet the ecological harm is real. Public lands deserve protection in all forms, from young forests emerging after fire or storm to centuries-old giants. Every stage of the landscape’s spiral life sustains the whole.

On the drive home, I queued up some podcasts. Bernie Sanders promoted yet another book, repeating familiar talking points. What I haven’t heard or seen is meaningful action in Congress — any legislation matching the urgency of his words. And please, spare me the nonsense that the left isn’t in power and therefore powerless. Quite the contrary: this was the time to throw everything at the wall and see what stuck. Rights of nature, universal basic income, healthcare for all — yesterday was the moment to push back against business as usual, introduce groundbreaking legislation, and heed the desires of the people. Perhaps it was a failure to imagine a paradigm outside the extractive status quo, or a reluctance to confront uncomfortable truths across the spectrum. The mainstream conservation groups, too, are complicit in giving cover to this inertia.

Driving through the Appalachians, clarity came not from argument or policy, but observation. I looked up at the sky and noticed a few vultures spiraling slowly above. They were patient, deliberate, and few. Even this small presence reminded me that life continued, guided by its own rhythms. Natural disturbances — fire, wind, flood, decay — have always been part of this balance. They are not disasters but processes of renewal. Forests manage themselves, creating mosaics that enrich the landscape and support countless species.

Time here felt different. Standing beside a massive tree in Mammoth Cave National Park, nearly four feet in diameter, I realized how rare such specimens have become. I wondered what the landscape might have looked like had our species shown restraint, and why we can not learn from past mistakes. Natural disturbances deserve protection just as much as mature and old growth forests. Public lands cannot be protected only in their oldest stages; we must safeguard them across their spiral existence. Witnessing these spaces reminded me why the rights of nature are essential — to allow ecosystems to govern themselves, to trust in resilience over human control.

Modern conservation often assumes human intervention is necessary: thinning, pile burning, attempting to simulate “natural” processes. Yet for millions of years, forests have governed themselves. Our role, if we are to respect them, is to step back, observe, protect, and marvel at processes unfolding far longer than our species has existed. The deepest restoration we can undertake is to honor the right of nature to govern herself, to trust life to live, and to recognize that some of the most vital lessons come from witnessing and participating in the rhythms of the world we belong to.

With awe and resolve,

Jenn

Call to Action
Pick up the phone. Call your members of Congress. Tell them what “pie-in-the-sky” legislation you want them to introduce — for instance, our Forest Protection and Climate Justice Act. Rights of nature, protections for public lands at all stages, universal basic care — these aren’t impossible. They are overdue.