Relationships between Humans and Nature
Reflections on the Anthropause

The COVID-19 pandemic shows us that economic, social, and ecological systems are not only mutable, but also that they can be reshaped much faster than previously thought. In this article, Adam Searle und Jonathon Turnbull ask: What do lockdowns teach us about human relationships with nature?

By Adam Searle and Jonathon Turnbull

The drastic reduction in human activity during the COVID-19 pandemic was viewed by some ecological scientists as a golden opportunity to observe, measure, and understand the complexities of nonhuman life without the background noise of human industry and mobility. In an article published in Nature, biologist Christian Rutz and his co-authors coined a term to describe this period of reduced anthropogenic activity: the “anthropause”. Specifically, they write that the anthropause “may provide important insights into human and wildlife interactions in the twenty-first century.”

As cultural and environmental geographers, the anthropause presented an immensely provocative and generative term for thinking through human and nature relationships during the pandemic. Crucial to our development - and critique - of the anthropause is the contention that it is not a singular event. Rather, as a lived experience, the anthropause was felt differently across socioeconomic, cultural, political, and ecological contexts. Indeed, many were not afforded the privilege of pausing, such as “key workers”. Importantly, the COVID-19 anthropause has historical precedents, like the Chornobyl nuclear disaster, which have, to differing extents, inaugurated widespread and rapid slowdowns in anthropogenic activity.

Animals “Reclaiming” Human Spaces

The scientific impulse to measure and quantify the anthropause was preceded by more everyday perceptions of how the nonhuman world was responding to lockdowns. Stories of animals “reclaiming” nominally human spaces, like cities, went viral in countless contexts around the world. These stories included wild boar roaming the emptied streets of Barcelona, macaques brawling in a deserted temple in Thailand, and a herd of goats running riot in the Welsh town of Llandudno to name a select few. Ironic memes proliferated alongside these stories, with the accompanying tagline “nature is healing”. While several of these reclamation stories, which are termed “resurgent natures”, were later proven to be false, they nonetheless signalled that human-nature relations were being reconfigured during the anthropause, from understandings of where certain animals should be, to the affective potential of nonhumans to soothe lockdown-related anxieties.

On 18th March 2020, famous British naturalists Chris Packham and Megan McCubbin went live on Packham’s Facebook page to address their followers. “What are we gonna do to stay sane, to stay mentally healthy,” Packham asked his fellow lockdowners above birdsong at dawn. “Well,” he continued, “I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to be listening to those robins.”

The Self-Isolating Bird Club (SIBC), as it became known, evolved rapidly into a social media collective where members of the public could upload images of wildlife in their local greenspaces to a Facebook page. The group rose to popularity rapidly, creating a space for both budding and experienced naturalists to offer support for each other while learning more about the natural world.

Fieldwork on Human-Nature Relations

Realising the popularity of the SIBC represented an ethnographic moment, a window into the specificities of human-nature relations during anthropause, with Professor Jamie Lorimer we decided to conduct time-sensitive qualitative and ethnographic fieldwork with members of the SIBC to add empirical weight to the predominantly speculative work concerning human-nature relations during lockdown. This fieldwork led to several key insights of relevance beyond the anthropause. First, contrary to the commonly held belief that digital technologies distance people from nature, we found that during the anthropause, digital technologies facilitated numerous meaningful human-nature relationships. From installing trail cameras in back gardens and tuning into livestreamed webcams of birds of prey, to using online nature identification applications like iNaturalist, many people turned to digital technologies in pursuit of new connections with their local and distant wildlife and to improve their knowledge about it.

Second, social media allowed people who were not involved in, or excluded from, nature conservation prior to the pandemic to connect to nature online. The SIBC was an inclusive and supportive community where people were able to ask questions without fear of judgment. For instance, the numerous questions asked for identification tips concerning common birds like pigeons were met with enthusiasm and encouragement. This signals the potential of online communities and digital technologies to further the democratisation of environmental knowledge, making space for alternative ecological expertise.

Furthermore, people expressed appreciation for local natures that were previously overlooked or considered unworthy of attention, such as “scruffy” urban animals like feral pigeons. Without the luxury of travel, many turned to wildlife observation from their balconies or windows and forged connections with the nonhuman life that had always surrounded them but had been largely ignored. What counts as a meaningful encounter with nature was reimagined by many people, for whom local greenspaces became sites of potential multispecies conviviality.

Lastly, the SIBC showed us that there was a widespread desire to connect with nonhuman species throughout lockdown. Many participants took active steps to make such connections, from growing vegetables on their balconies to buying their first pair of binoculars for observing wildlife. Moreover, many changed the ways they managed greenspace to actively promote opportunities for nonhuman life to flourish. This involved building physical structures to encourage successful wildlife corridors, such as “hedgehog hotels” or wildlife ponds, as well as the cultivation of “wilder” gardens, through the planting of wildflower beds which encourage pollinators. The widespread popularity of the action “No Mow May” during lockdown in the United Kingdom in 2020, a campaign to produce more biodiverse lawns, evidences the environmental sensibilities many people had during this period.

Offering robust reflections on the anthropause is difficult given the ongoing effects of the pandemic and the patchwork of restrictions easing or tightening in different contexts. What we can conclude thus far, though, is the assumption that lockdown is inherently good for wildlife is a depoliticising act which dangerously overlooks the extensive labour which makes multispecies futures possible. Rather than finding naïve hope in “resurgent nature” narratives, we look to the actual changes which took place: increased and inclusive engagement with nature, and the proliferation of active efforts to care for nonhuman life in new and innovative ways. As lockdowns ease, we hope that the meaningful connections people made with the nonhuman world continue to flourish, both digitally and physically.