the 2022 planet forward summit was dedicated to tom’s enduring work on behalf of biological diversity and the amazon rainforest. in this segment, alumni from the 2018 planet forward storyfest expedition reflect on their time with tom at the camp 41 biodiversity center in the amazon rainforest.

watch “why is connectivity important in the rainforest?” by jayme dittmar

view the series “planet forward in the amazon.”

frank sesno, founder of planet forward and host of the conference, warmly welcomed the audience to the kickoff of a killer summit. now more than ever, he said, we need to find ways to “communicate and connect, to engage public audiences.” in a politically divided time, these stories will provide a uniting platform on which a divided population can engage in conversation. “you will simply do better if you can communicate,” sesno said.

tom lovejoy, the “godfather of biodiversity” and founder of camp 41, a research camp located in the heart of the amazon, stepped up on stage for a short conversation with sesno. lovejoy sees the earth and environment as not just a physical system, but a linked physical system, and he believes it crucial for humanity to recognize this fact in order to 2022年卡塔尔世界杯官网 .

up next: eyes on earth: inspiring a new generation of storytellers >

movement 1: the morning sonata

the sounds of the city drifted to a hum as the shifting trucks rattled through cracks in the road forcing the riders to jig in their seats. the sun’s heavy rays rolled along weary backs popping like a snare. at mid-day, the heat tames the forest, the tempo is slow and muddled. sounds meandered from trunk to trunk, where shaded hollows shield sleeping wildlife. after noon, there was an intermission. the sun-beaten visitors circled in chatter, reflecting on the superb acts of the morning.  

movement 2: a slow adagio 

as night rolled in and the clamor and clang of dinner dishes ceased, all visitors retired to their hammocks. there they wrapped themselves in fabrics coated in scents of home. they closed their eyes to reveal lids painted with the stars of a serene night sky. the unseen, skillful singer hummed to them good night lullabies. and though the sleep could only be described as complete peace, they often stirred to the low, gurgling growls of monkeys deep in the darkness offset by sweet chirps swimming from birds’ breasts flickering in the forest foliage.

movement 3: daybreak minuet

at dawn, buzzing cicadas bounced vibrations from tree to tree ushering in the audience and introducing the first round: wisps, whips, and whistles whirling across treetops, whispering to the crowd below. the meter quickly was uncovered by restless flies for their masterful demonstration. waving trees, free-falling leaves, and the decomposing matter on the forest floor, too, displayed a capability to dance about the scenery with expert sonic capacity; truly, they proved to be the liveliest of the bunch. spotted skipping above the shading, petite primates conducted the vegetation in 4/4. the morning composition was soon to reach its climax – but, for that the musicians needed silence, not excitement. experienced artists know how to make a scene whole: sometimes one must step aside. the wind, she was delicate, shy, and moved with secrecy; so, with swift elegance she navigated her way. upon her arrival, the act reached its pinnacle. as she departed, it dissipated into the rain.

movement 4: final allegro 

the evening was the act of the duets – all solo specialists retired for the day following the imposing performance at noon. all voices, all vibrations, paired. each body dedicated itself to magnifying the other. this wasn’t simply harmonizing, but magnetizing, drawing together both players and drawing the ears of all listeners. the result was nothing less than the creation of a single essence; a buzz to a chirp, a ring to a thump, a rustle to a breeze.

sounds of a natural melody

in the amazon no sound fights for dominance, and no sounds fight for a place. all cast members of the musical give room for the next one in. by relinquishing control over the external world, one gains complete control of their self and their sound.

the amazon conducts the sounds of biodiversity with great mastery. hierarchy is its great baton; there cannot be balance without it. some shall sing fortissimo one moment while others sing pianissimo, and their positions can switch fluidly with the measure. the spotlight is wide and bright. the symphony would not progress so seemingly effortlessly if not for this understanding. birds in the canopy sing with excellency, yet they cannot thump in the tree trunks below.   

however, the ear of the performer is not the same ear possessed by the listener. the audience has not studied the nuances of tone and volume made second nature for the musicians and conductor after years of sitting in the fire learning from life.

for many listeners, as the howler monkeys play fortissimo at 5 am and the crickets play mezzo piano underneath, the crickets sit in the background far beneath howler monkeys, and instead of keeping rhythm, maintaining pace, and accentuating the roars of the beast – it’s their time to shine as well. in fact, without the crickets, the howler monkeys’ roar would serve only as a somber moan and not as an enthusiastic declaration of their entrance. much in the same way a saxophone cannot dazzle the crowd with a melodic masterpiece if the drums do not stay in the pocket to be felt.

our interpretation of the sonic landscape being built on the ends of our ears appear drastically different when the barriers we build around each individual performer are absolved and their sounds are given the freedom to interlope, overlap, and support one another. of course, this is not a concept ingrained into the listener. therefore, most listeners must actively work to tear down those artificial walls built around the musicians and their instruments.

for many listeners who sit down and listen to a concert, the measure of music quality is the similarity in skill level between all performers on their respective instruments, not discern a complete. for a piece to pass into the threshold of immaculate, all players must execute with precision; if they play their part then it will come together as it says on the paper. and while, only the proven play on the highest stage, a robotic performance is far from exceptional.

the squirrel monkeys that skip from branch to branch do not do so with an impervious cadence, the buzzing insects do not rumble a continuous vibration, and the wind, with her paralyzing performance, leaves gaps of hesitation at her climax.

these performers do not play the same part in different ways, but play different parts in different ways. the excitement of the concert comes to those who devote time and effort to break down those interloping barriers; to let loose a wide-ranging palette of sounds and colors that come from the imperfections of the amazon’s musical masters. that the sonorous conservatory of the amazon can produce a sound that suggests uniformity with a cast of eccentric characters is what makes this the lauded exhibition that it is.

witness the natural beauties of manaus, brazil. sail through the arteries of the rainforest — the rio negro. shop around at a floating market — a backbone for the country’s tourism industry. go out on a limb at janauari ecological park and check out the giant water lilies that have inspired architecture around the world.

with an open mind and a small green footprint, this 360° video puts the power in your hands. come explore — see for yourself.

this is moving the planet forward.

—

narration by nolan hausler

sources: science alert, world travels, plants of the world online, frontiers in materials science and greenpeace

first, where were the grand cities, like those found in the riviera maya of central america, the incan empire of the andes, or the aztec temples of central mexico?   

second, the effervescence of life in the amazon rainforest is an illusory potemkin village. despite the verdant vegetation and cacophony of life, the soils of the amazon are generally nutrient-poor, rust-colored clay. amazonian soils are generally old and weathered, tired and weary. time has stripped them of their ability to retain the nutrients resulting from organic matter decomposition. plants that survive here must be adapted to efficiently assimilate any available nutrients before they are leached out of the soils by torrential rains. the land could simply not support densely populated, stratified societies (mann, 2012).

finally, indigenous populations are low. some 900,000 indigenous live in brazil today and in the early 1980s, the number was likely lower than 200,000. historians chalked up carvajal’s descriptions to the exaggeration to which many explorers were prone (mann, 2012).

recent research, however, has cast this assumption into doubt. in fact, far from being a green desert largely devoid of human settlements, archaeological, anthropological, ecological, and pedological research suggests that the amazon rainforest may be a cultural artifact engineered by indigenous cultures.

building the rainforest

while archaeologists have uncovered the vestiges of geoglyphs, likely created by amazonian indigenous cultures, most of the construction in the amazon was probably wooden. it was an obvious choice of building material, given its abundance and the rarity of stone in the region. unfortunately, wood decays if not maintained, explaining the lack of ruins in the amazon basin. these indigenous civilizations, however, did bequeath a more perennial stele, one perhaps more inspiring than any ruin: the forest itself (mann, 2012).  

indigenous populations have altered large swaths of the amazon rainforest, particularly near rivers where their settlements were concentrated. they planted a diverse array of fruit and nut trees near their communities, in part to ensure a stable and ample supply of food. unlike most annual commercial crops that strip the soil of nutrients, these tree species are adapted to the nutrient-poor soils of the amazon and cycle nutrients efficiently. they also support wildlife populations, many of which depend upon these trees’ fruits and flowers. this was a way for indigenous peoples to enact their sacred responsibilities to maintain balance between the physical and spiritual forces that permeated their world. even conservative estimates suggest the plant community composition of up to 12% of the amazon rainforest has been altered by indigenous management (mann, 2012).

just as they helped build the forest, so too did indigenous peoples build its soil. to overcome these nutrient limitations, indigenous peoples amended the soil with charcoal, bone, potsherds, and manure. these soot-black, rich soils, known as terra preta have helped recycle nutrients for centuries. to this day, terra preta soil is coveted for its fertility. it is so valuable that local farmers will sell it as potting soil rather than cultivating it. while terra preta is generally concentrated in riparian areas, it covers between 0.1% and 10% of the lowland rainforest in brazil, again demonstrating the extent and degree to which indigenous peoples in the amazon have modified the ecosystems in which they live (lehmann, 2010).

a symbiotic relationship

these are but two examples illustrating how indigenous people around the world have learned to live with the land rather than merely on it. their traditional ecological knowledge is a cumulative body of knowledge, practice, and belief that has adapted to unique sets of environmental constraints and has been handed down from generation to generation using cultural practices and social structures. this knowledge body is expansive and considers the rights and responsibilities they have in relating to one another and nature (berkes, 1999).

the sustainability and ingenuity of this traditional ecological knowledge supported diverse, populous, and complex societies that thrived throughout the amazon basin before europeans arrived. much like the rhizobium bacteria, which provides plants with nitrogen essential for growth in return for sugars from the plants’ photosynthesis, the indigenous peoples of the amazon lived in symbiosis with their environment, taking what they needed and returning the favor to sustain the complex ecosystem on which they relied.

major threats to communities, ecosystem

this was no garden of eden, no paradise lost, but it was a home. in a matter of decades, however, it was laid to waste. in a few tumultuous years of pestilence and misery, european diseases laid waste to indigenous populations throughout amazonia. a wave of death spread out ahead of the european colonists. smallpox and measles were the harbinger of conquest.

by the time the early european explorers probed the interior of the continent, the once multitudinous indigenous communities had been overwhelmed by a pathogenic war of attrition. then, the spanish and portuguese cannons roared, laying the survivors to waste. ninety percent of the indigenous population of the americas was wiped out in a matter of a few decades. conservative estimates hold that 5 million indigenous lived in the amazon in 1500. by 1900, the number had fallen to 1 million (park, 2002).

newcomers to the region still have not developed such nuanced adaptations to place. they impose their will upon the landscape and take what they can rather than heeding its guidance and accepting what it offers. with the construction of the trans-amazonian highway in 1972, farmers poured into the hitherto unfarmed amazonian lowlands.

the highway served as the initial incision, which then splintered out across the landscape as communities sprung up around the highway, easily observed from satellite imagery as the rich carpet of green forest is tattered by patches of brown farms and ranches. these scars tell the stories of the colonists’ dreams — dreams of hope, dreams of greed. the colonists slashed and burned the vegetation that stood in their way, transforming the forest into fields. in so doing, they sowed the seeds of their own destruction alongside their crops.

because amazonian soils are largely infertile, intensive commercial crop cultivation can only be sustained for a few years before production declines. it can be exceedingly difficult for forest to regrow on land that has been cleared and abandoned after farming. seedbanks in cultivated soils are generally non-viable, so forest plants must colonize what the colonists have abandoned (holl, 2007).

seeds that arrive in open fields need to successfully germinate, which is no small task, given the pressures of seed-eating animals and livestock-compacted soils. once plants germinate, the seedlings still need to overcome nutrient limitations, oppressive heat, and dry soils. in many situations, only ruderal vegetation, such as ferns and grasses, can grow rapidly given these hurdles. once these plants gain a stranglehold, they can outcompete any other pioneer species. thus, the engine of agricultural development in the amazon consumes the forest in a vicious, downward spiral (holl, 2007).

road to recovery?

while deforestation rates dropped precipitously after the government enacted regulations in 2004, they have crept upward since 2014. this trend is likely to continue as wealthy landowners pressure the embattled brazilian government to reduce environmental regulations in light of an economic downturn and political upheaval (cowie, 2017).

but this is not a ghost story. it is not a story of surrender. it is a story of resilience, hope, and faith. indigenous peoples have survived and many continue to practice their traditional lifeways. they have not forgotten and they are willing to teach us, if only we are willing to learn. just as the indigenous built the amazon, so too can we rebuild it. but we cannot simply learn what they know of the rainforest. we must learn a new way of living ‒ a new way of relating to one another and to the earth. it is not looking into the past for answers, but rather aspiring toward a common future.

bibliography

• berkes, fikret. sacred ecology. routledge, 1999.
• cowie, sam. “activists decry temer’s amazon deforestation bill.” al jazeera. 22 july 2017.
• holl, karen d. “old field vegetation succession in the neotropics.” old fields: dynamics and restoration of abandoned farmland. by viki a. cramer and richard j. hobbs. island, 2007.
• lehmann, johannes. amazonian dark earths: origin, properties, management. kluwer academic publ., 2010.
• mann, charles c. 1491: new revelations of the americas before columbus. knopf, 2012.
• park, chris c. tropical rainforests. taylor & francis, 2002.

but first — as my stomach reminded me, grumbling in hunger — breakfast. after an employee directed me to the restaurant, filled with a buffet of local foods, i perused the offerings and, oddly, skipped over my go-to favorite (carbs), because something else caught my eye: fruit.

neatly arranged on silver platters in the middle of the buffet were fruits ranging from bright red watermelon to blood orange papayas to yellow honeydew, and all met my gaze as i crept around the fruit table like a jaguar circling its prey.

i paused. “since when have i ever been this intrigued by fruit?” i thought.

keeping an open mind, i stacked my plate with as much fruit as it could hold and walked over to a table, careful not to drop anything from my overflowing plate on the floor.

“the pineapple,” i thought as i sat down. “i’ll try this first.”

my knife cut like butter through the slice of pineapple and i took a bite.  

i stopped chewing for a second. my eyes widened as the perfect, almost candylike sweetness of the pineapple struck my taste buds. it was the best damn pineapple i’d ever had. immediately i knew i could never go back to its american cousin; it doesn’t hold a candle to brazilian pineapple.

as i savored these fruits, i pondered: why is the fruit in brazil so good, and where does it come from? i knew i would have to do some research to learn more.

conveniently, i learned, my trip to brazil took me right to the source: the amazon rainforest. the rainforest, which is as big as the continental united states, harbors more than 10% of the world’s species and is home to 350 ethnic groups.

the rainforest also serves as a feeding ground for both humans and animals through its fruit production. boasting vast agricultural diversity, the amazon rainforest is the source of least 3,000 fruits, while only about 200 of those are consumed in the western world. it is home to fruits ranging from figs and lemons to bananas and guavas, the amazon provides the state of amazonas — and much of the world — with fruits created by mother nature herself.

josé luís camargo, a brazilian plant ecologist, researcher, and teacher who accompanied us on the trip to the amazon, said the fruits from the rainforest are among the most unique in the world. certain fruits like açaí — a highly nutritious purple berry — are special to the rainforest and are popular in not just brazil, but other parts of the world, including america.

“more of the local fruits are rich — very rich,” camargo said. “what happens for most of the people who live outside the amazon — most of the fruits you don’t find other places. only here.”

vegetables, however, are not as popular. camargo said there are some common vegetables used in meals, but joked that not a lot of brazilians eat “leaves” like americans do.

“vegetables are not a thing — it depends on the vegetables. some of them are very common, like tomate (tomato) … part of the regular food here doesn’t go with salad.”

being the third largest exporter of fruit, behind china and india, respectively, brazil also showcases the diversity of its fruits. from açaí, camu camu (a vitamin c-packed so-called “superfood”) to maracuyá (passionfruit) and aguaje (which has a high concentration of vitamin a, as well as vitamins e and c), brazil produces exotic fruits that make even the biggest foodies marvel at the uniqueness of the sweet delectables — and the nutritional impact they can provide both locals and consumers in other countries.

over the past several years, the fruit industry in brazil has risen 25%, dominating the country’s export economy, and provided 5.6 million jobs. about 35% of the world’s oranges come from brazil and more than half of the world’s orange juice is made there, too. in 2013, 14,598 tons of oranges were exported by brazil, serving countries like the united states, germany, uruguay, france and more.

beyond the economic and nutritional impact, camargo said the fruit is a big part of what makes the amazon special.

it’s what gives camargo a sense of home — no matter where he travels in brazil. for others in the city of manaus, it’s how they make a living — selling fruits in small shacks outside, under the blaze of the brazilian sun. for me? the fruit created a sense of comunidade.

“community” in portuguese, comunidade is what i felt as i turned every corner in brazil. i felt it from its people, its music, and, yes, its fruit.

in fact, it was the fruit that brought all of us together during our time at camp 41 — the home base for a series of scientific studies done deep in the amazon.

with no technology embedded in our hands — and little knowledge about each other — our gatherings at the seemingly out of place, red-checkered tablecloth-clad picnic tables in the middle of the rainforest, nibbling on the sweetest of fruits that came from the rainforest made me simply happy. it’s the comunidade that moves the planet forward.

while others marveled at the abundance of insect and animal life in the rainforest, i marveled at the fruit. the fruit was pure — it came from the heart of the amazon to the table. no factories involved. no planes. just forest to table.

after becoming the ene, more and more of her sister tributaries, voyaging from the vast, craggy backbone of south america, join and transform her time and again. she is reborn and renamed with the meeting of their waters, becoming tambo after meeting the perene, ucayali after the urubamba, and finally the amazon after the marañón.

she has matured by the time she reaches the brazilian border and is no longer prone to the capricious nature of her youth. she is less deterred by the twists and turns of life, choosing a more level-headed course through the verdant lowland forests.  more of her sisters, like the putumayo and the japurá, join her in her journey, but by now she is their elder and she will not change for their sake. she remains the amazon, like the fierce hellenic women warriors of ancient greece who are her namesake.

the barasana people live on her banks here, near the border with colombia. by traversing her waters, they are able to commune with their forefathers, who did the same for centuries before them. they believe their distant ancestors traveled from the east in canoes borne by giant anacondas. the snakes transformed into rivers. their tails became headwater streams in the distant mountains and their open mouths emptied into the ocean far to the east. the first people settled near these life-giving rivers.

near manaus, her sediment-laden waters, colored like coffee with cream, finally meet those of the rio negro, stained inky black with tannins from decaying organic matter. this long into her journey, the amazon is slow to accept her sister’s embrace. they differ too much in pace and temperament. the amazon is still in a hurry to reach her destination and marches eastward faster than her sister. she is deep and cold. the rio negro, however, moves slowly, relieved to conclude her shorter journey from the colombian highlands. she still roils with the hot passion of youth. they run next to one another without mixing for almost 4 miles before the amazon relents, taking on her sister’s burden and carrying onward.

the river gives gifts to all she passes on her long journey east. fishermen pull their lives from her waters, plumbing the river’s murky depths. they toss in another line and hope against hope that she will offer up another gift so they may live another day. will she deliver a deep-bodied tambaqui? or perhaps they will be fortunate and manage to hook a giant arapaima, which can grow up to six feet long? more likely, though, the frenzied piranha will devour the bait before anything else.

sheet metal roofs of stilted houses built on her banks glint in the afternoon sun. it is the beginning of the dry season, so they stand high above the water for now, but her channel will swell with the winter rains, raising the water levels right to their doorsteps. the rising tides will also deposit sediment across some 69,498 square miles of várzea forest — the seasonal floodplain. the river’s caress will revitalize their tired, old soils with an influx of valuable nutrients that will sustain a diverse array of plants and wildlife. children play on her beaches, laughing as they haul buckets of water to fill moats dug around sandcastles. boats ferry passengers and cargo up and down the river. she becomes a highway, home, workplace, and playground, like veins radiating throughout the brazilian lowlands.

the river is the lifeblood that sustains brazil, and in large part, the entire world. she gives us the gift of life, and how do we thank her? in trying to wrench precious metals and fossil fuels from the earth, we poison her waters. we take more fish than she offers, threatening several more species with extinction. we shackle her with dams, disrupting finely tuned hydrologic and nutrient cycles, and thwarting fish movement. we burn forests for farmland, choking her waters with eroded soil. the deforestation is also undermining her very existence, as half of her water is produced from evapotranspiration within the amazon basin itself.

despite our affronts, the river takes our faults with grace. she is a sin-eater for the world, like the freshwater dolphin, who walked onto land and impregnated young women, thus assuming the transgressions of colonial missionaries. her waters absolve us of our sins, but for how much longer? the river counsels us in the gentle lapping of waves and the whispers of warm breezes. she teaches us patience, to think of the long-term and consider it broadly, to give more than we take, to run fast when we can but never pass up a chance to rest, to accept that things will always change, to leave things better than we found them. can we hear these lessons? will we listen?

by now, she is old and weary. she flows slow and full and deep. tired of her load of silt, how she longs to disencumber herself where she meets the brackish waters of the sea. finally, after traveling 4,258 miles, she reaches the atlantic. every second, 273,361 cubic yards of water flow from her mouth. here, she takes her respite, laying down her silt over 501,932 square miles of the ocean floor. after her rest, she will be lifted into the heavens and travel across the river of stars. she will fall in the distant mountains and start her long journey once more: a mighty river reborn in a raindrop.