Dr. Seuss and Philosophy - Jacob M. Held [136]
What was the Lorax?
And why was it there?
And why was it lifted and taken somewhere
from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows? (Lorax)
The Lorax appears with a “ga-Zump!,” leaping out of the stump of the first Truffula Tree that the Once-ler cut down, and introduces himself: “‘I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. / I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues’” (Lorax). Later, we find out that he is also caretaker for the Brown Bar-ba-loots and responsible for sending off the Swomee-Swans and the Humming-Fish. Does the idea of having someone to speak for the trees seem unusual to you?
Most philosophers who teach classes on environmental ethics seem to find that the idea of speaking for trees is at least vaguely familiar. Some may attribute this to having read The Lorax to their kids at bedtime, but others will think of Christopher D. Stone’s influential essay, “Should Trees Have Standing? Toward Legal Rights for Natural Objects,”17 which is reprinted in most environmental ethics textbooks. Stone argues that we should, within the context of our legal system, “give legal rights to forests, oceans, rivers and other so-called ‘natural objects’ in the environment—indeed, to the natural environment as a whole.”18 To give a Truffula Tree grove, for example, the kind of legal rights that Stone envisions would require finding ways (a) for the trees to go to the courts on their own behalf, (b) because of some injury to themselves, and (c) in order to get benefits for themselves. It seems that (b) and (c) here are fairly easy to understand—if the Once-ler cuts down part of the grove, it is injured, and a court could step in to prevent the Once-ler from cutting down more trees and to cause him to plant some new trees in the grove to make it whole. But how could the Truffula Trees go to the courts themselves? They can’t speak for themselves, after all. But Stone points out that there are a wide variety of things that we recognize as having legal rights, which similarly can’t speak for themselves:
Corporations cannot speak, either; nor can states, estates, infants, incompetents, municipalities, or universities. Lawyers speak for them. . . . One ought, I think, to handle the legal problems of natural objects as one does the problems of legal incompetents[:] . . . those concerned with his well-being make such a showing to the court, and someone is designated by the court with the authority to manage the incompetent’s affairs.19
In the case of the Truffula Trees, it seems that the Lorax designated himself the guardian ad litem of the trees, animals, and all—though rather than take the Once-ler to court, he tries to appeal to the Once-ler’s environmental conscience, to no avail.20
Once the last Truffula Tree had been cut, the Once-ler’s family all packed up and left, leaving the Once-ler with an empty factory . . . and the Lorax. The Lorax also leaves, suddenly, and without any overt comment: “The Lorax said nothing. Just gave me a glance . . . / just gave me a very sad, sad backward glance . . . / as he lifted himself by the seat of his pants” (Lorax). The Once-ler discovers that on the “small pile of rocks” from which the Lorax lifted himself was one word, “unless”—which the Once-ler simply doesn’t understand. Years pass, and the factory crumbles away; but with the appearance of an unnamed child, the Once-ler finally understands the meaning and importance of the Lorax’s parting message.
UNLESS someone like you
cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better.
It’s not. (Lorax)
The Once-ler then gives the child the last of the Truffula seeds with the hope that a new Truffula forest can be planted, and maybe the Lorax and all the other animals will come back. Is this a hopeful ending? We’re not really sure: on the one hand, the nameless child appears to be interested enough to follow