Weeds as Sinners, Weeds as Saints
The names we give nature matter
“Weeds are nothing more blameworthy than to be wildflowers in a garden, and yet the tract of a gardener’s mind is so jealously a one-way street that he makes a theology of weeds and flowers as others make one of saints and sinners… The moment [the gardener] leaves his garden for the lane, the aggressive sinner takes on something of an angelic fashion.”
- H.J. Massingham, County.
What do you see when you see a dandelion, a speedwell, or a daisy? Do you see a beautiful wildflower to enjoy and a rich source of nectar for bees and butterflies? Or do you see a noxious weed, an intruder and an invader to be plucked up and destroyed? What name will you give to the flowers that you see and why? It matters a great deal how you answer…
As I have argued before, the names we give to the creatures around us matters tremendously. Naming is an act with the deepest of consequences, an act whereby an identify is conferred; an identity that sticks — and one which influences our actions towards the named. In this case, the act of naming influences both how we perceive and how we act towards the flowers we see growing in our lawns, in our flower beds, and in our fields. By referring to the dandelion as a weed we are saying it does not belong, it is something negative, hostile and perhaps even something wrong.1
To use Mr. Massingham’s provocative phrase, it is as if we are calling the weed a “sinner”. By existing where it “should not”, this weed is in the wrong; it is “ sinning” by inconveniencing us and is about to incur our judgement…
But the dandelion has done nothing wrong. It is only us who are saying it should not grow here. There is no ecological or natural law that it is transgressing, no natural boundary that it is intruding upon. No. What the weed is actually doing is growing where it naturally should. It is doing what it was designed to do.
Furthermore, by calling the dandelion a weed we are conditioning ourselves to see it as ugly and undesirable. This obscures us from recognising its valuable ecological function as a source of nectar, its sunny, cheerful appearance, and the delicate beauty and spherical perfection of the dandelion clock — one of the most extraordinary marvels in nature. Instead of seeing its beauty, all we see is an inconvenient little villain. The identity we bestow makes invisible its true beauty.
But then a paradox occurs. We leave our gardens and take a walk in the countryside. There, we stumble across a field full of dandelions, dandelion clocks and other wildflowers. We rightly marvel at the beauty of the scene. But hang on. Isn’t this field full of weeds? Isn’t this field full of the plants we just wanted to destroy moments ago? Nothing has changed in the flowers themselves. These are the same type of dandelions that grow on our lawns. The only thing that has changed is where they are growing.
Out in the wilds, the dandelions — far from being floral sinners — become beautiful ecological saints.
Part of our general aversion to weeds is we consider them as intruders to our curated worlds of perfect order. The garden or the farm is an environment fully under the control of humans (or so we think). We decide what grows there (what brings us a profit or enjoyment), and thus we have the final ecological say. The presence of weeds is the uncomfortable reminder that we have much less control over nature than we believe. When there is a will (and an opportunity) nature will find a way.
Nowhere perhaps are weeds as frowned upon than on the lawn — a decidedly human creation. The ideal lawn, the one we have convinced ourselves is beautiful and desirable — thanks to advertising, peer pressure, tradition, and homeowner associations — is a manicured lawn mowed a few cm high and perfectly uniform in colour. It appeals to our modern aesthetic standards of order, neat and tidiness, and airbrushed flawlessness. It also could be said to appeal to the modernist urge for geometric standardisation2. Countless hours can be spent tending and maintaining the perfect lawn — and protecting it from the chief enemy: the weed.
There is nothing necessarily wrong with wanting a perfect lawn, and I am aware that many Homeowner associations demand it. It is, though, an incredibly unnatural space (exemplified by just how much effort we have to expend to maintain it from reverting to nature). And from an ecological perspective, the lawn is a disaster. Little to no food here exists for wildlife, no places to call home, and no diversity of life. A barren ecological desert, the lawn, more than any other environment is the chief expression of man’s domination of nature.
However, weeds are a tenacious group of plants. They see the freshly mown lawn as a frontier to colonise. And colonise they do. Dandelions spring up, speedwell, white clover, and self-heal too — all interrupting the perfection of the lawn. We call them squatters and invaders but in reality, they are recolonising their home, where they naturally should be found. And in recolonising the domain of man, they are providing a home for other species, most importantly bees and butterflies which add a burst of colour to our suburban lives. Weeds, or more fittingly, wildflowers, are ecological saints.
Next time you see a flower growing on your lawn, on the sidewalk or on the edge of your farm field, take a moment to consider what you are going to name this plant? Is it merely a weed to be destroyed or a wildflower to be enjoyed? It matters a great deal what name you decide to give it.
I hope you decide on wildflower.
And when we teach our children this, we are conditioning them to perceive these plants as weeds meaning they are likely to grow up considering them as something bad.
See James C. Scott in Seeing Like a State for more on this.
Lovely. My most joyous mom moment is when my son knows where to find the yarrow and plantain in the yard for first aid. He is also my boy who will drink camomile tea from the flowers he harvested happily. Plant power!!
I think I'd like to disagree, kindly, tentatively, Englishly. I think you're right, that the names we give do matter. But I do think that there is a place for the idea of "weeds", without that being a hostile, domineering, controlling instinct.
"Part of our general aversion to weeds is we consider them as intruders to our curated worlds of perfect order." Yes, but to start abstractly. Paradise, the Garden of Eden, literally and etymologically, is an "enclosure/park", or a "walled garden". https://www.etymonline.com/word/paradise
And a walled garden needs work! This work is good. But it does require discrimination: that which we want to grow and that which we do not.
To speak less abstractly, I have a small vegetable garden at home. It is situated within a grass field. That field is very happy to remain as grassland: it is me that wants to grow vegetables, not the field. My "walled garden" (a bit of rabbit fencing, and a lot of wood-chip) wants to become grass. Grasses emerge all over the bloody place! This is not an unhealthy ecosystem, with "weeds" doing restorative work; rather, grass is one possible end-point of ecological succession. The hope, with enough wood-chip and mulch, is to move the dial towards a forest ecosystem (dominated by fungus rather than bacteria), so that grasses don't emerge naturally. But all the while that this process is unfolding, I am happy to consider grasses as weeds, and to pull them out.
And, to speak candidly, we are all lucky enough that the distinction between weeds as saints and sinners is an abstraction and the site of ideals, rather than a daily reality. There's a line of James Rebanks that's coming to mind: it's only when we are don't depend directly on land that we can "love nature" in its totality. If I depended on that vegetable patch for my survival, in a subsistence sense, the distinction between saint and sinner would be obvious and necessary.
I do think that there are more creative and sympathetic approaches to so-called undesirables that doesn't always lead to the nuclear option. Weeds as bio-indicators, or weeds as healers. But that creativity and sympathy doesn't exhaust the possibility of a good hand-rogue, even in a healthy farmed ecosystem.
Do feel free to disagree!