How we think about plants 

Barbara Lawrence is a longtime friend, a Suquamish elder, and a gifted storyteller. Last weekend she told Suquamish stories at Benaroya Hall in Seattle. In every story, she made reference to “the plant people, the animal people, and the human people.”  

That repeated reference to the “Plant People” mirrors a view produced by a growing body of recent scientific inquiry. 

A new book, The Light Eaters, by Zoe Schlanger, reports that botanical researchers have found more evidence that plants are “intelligent;” that they have “agency,” and that they communicate with one another. 

But these botanists often violate the conventional definitions of the words they use to describe plants’ remarkable abilities. The term “intelligent,” for example: No one thinks a plant could come up with the theory of relativity, or invent AI, or even learn how to drive. They are not, in the “Human People’s” definition, intelligent. The researchers use words that are self-referential descriptions of abilities we’ve always ascribed only to ourselves. 

(A digression: Here is one thing I like about Donald Trump: his use of capitalization. His tweets freely capitalized any and all words he considered Important. I think that’s a Good Idea. It’s quite Fun. And capitalizing Plant People is probably the highest and best use of this innovation.) 

Some of what scientists are studying are plant behaviors gardeners have long observed. Those of us who’ve watched our beans germinate, sprout, find a pole to climb, and bear loads of beans have an intuitive understanding that plants are miraculous and admirable, but we probably never thought about describing their feats as a scientist would – or ascribing words like “decision-making” to them. To us, it’s just beans being beans – and we are simply glad about that. 

Gardeners might also be more aware than most people that the lives of us “Human People” are made possible by photosynthesis, which is something only plants – on land and in the oceans – can do. They have mastered the use of solar power; they live on sunlight. They produce the oxygen we breathe, and they are the essential foundation of our food web. 

These are among the many jaw-dropping wonders of the 3.7 billion-year history of life on earth that gardeners might be at least slightly more aware of than most. 

But scientists cited in this book are telling us plenty we don’t already know. The wonderful descriptions of specific plant responses to sound, to seasonal changes, to each other, and to predators and pollinators deepens our understanding in new ways.  

For instance, they’ve identified chemical evidence of trees changing the composition of their leaves to ward off predatory insects – and sending “airborne pheromonal substances” that warned nearby trees to prepare to do so too. 

Researchers found another plant – a beach evening primrose – that made its nectar sweeter when played a recording of a buzzing honeybee. (Since plants don’t have ears, it is assumed that the plant senses that specific vibration.) 

For non-gardeners and gardeners alike, this research leads to a deeper way of thinking about plants as living beings – as Plant People – with whom we share a planet, a country, a park, a big farm, a small yard, or a potted geranium.  

It’s marvelous to read how modern botanists eventually arrive at the same realization that has been a part of many indigenous cultures for thousands of years: that the Plant People deserve respect and reverence from the Human People. 

As the author wryly notes, plants have a greater claim to be regarded as people than corporations do. 

Our little English words – like intelligence, agency, decision-making and such – don’t accurately describe plants’ abilities; we simply don’t have words for them. Maybe some indigenous languages do, or maybe most indigenous peoples didn’t think such words were necessary. 

Like the Suquamish people, those whose cultures were shaped by close relationships with the natural world experienced the Plant People, the Animal People and the Human People as all being related – as being part of one family of living beings on earth. 

The dawning of that recognition among today’s scientists is a profoundly hopeful development. 

Jill Severn writes from her home in Olympia, where she grows vegetables, flowers, and a small flock of chickens. She loves conversation among gardeners. Start one by emailing her at  jill@theJOLTnews.com