It wasn’t just a tree: why it feels so bad to lose the iconic Sycamore Gap tree and others like it
<p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/rebecca-banham-830381">Rebecca Banham</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-tasmania-888">University of Tasmania</a></em></p>
<p>The famous <a href="https://oversixty.co.nz/finance/legal/you-can-t-forgive-that-teen-arrested-after-felling-of-iconic-200-year-old-tree" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sycamore Gap tree</a> was felled last week, prompting global expressions of sorrow, anger and horror. For some, the reaction was puzzling. Wasn’t it just a single tree in northern England? But for many, the tree felt profoundly important. Its loss felt like a form of grief.</p>
<p>Trees tell us something important about ourselves and who we are in the world. That is, they contribute to <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/23251042.2020.1717098">ontological security</a> – our sense of trust that the world and our selves are stable and predictable.</p>
<p>Trees – especially those celebrated like England’s sycamore or Tasmania’s 350-year-old El Grande mountain ash – feel like they are stable and unchanging in a world where change is constant. Their loss can destabilise us.</p>
<h2>What makes a tree iconic?</h2>
<p>Individual trees can become important to us for many reasons.</p>
<p>When the wandering ascetic Siddhartha Gautama sat at the foot of a sacred fig around 500 BCE, he achieved the enlightenment which would, a few centuries later, lead to his fame as the Buddha. This sacred fig would become known as the Bodhi Tree. One of its descendants <a href="https://www.britannica.com/plant/Bo-tree">attracts millions</a> of pilgrims every year.</p>
<p>Sometimes a tree becomes iconic because of its association with pop culture. U2’s hit 1987 album <em>The Joshua Tree</em> has inspired fans to seek out the tree on the cover in the United States’ arid southwest – <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/feature/u2s-the-joshua-tree-10-things-you-didnt-know-106885/">a potentially dangerous trip</a>.</p>
<p>Other trees become famous because they’re exceptional in some way. The location of the world’s tallest tree – a 115-metre high redwood known as Hyperion – is <a href="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/the-worlds-tallest-tree-is-officially-off-limits-180980509/">kept secret for its protection</a>.</p>
<p>Niger’s Tree of Ténéré was known as the world’s most isolated, eking out an existence in the Sahara before the lonely acacia was accidentally knocked down by a truck driver in 1973. Its site is <a href="https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/last-tree-tenere">marked by a sculpture</a>.</p>
<p>In 2003, the mountain ash known as El Grande – then the world’s largest flowering plant – was accidentally killed in a burn conducted by Forestry Tasmania. The death of the enormous tree – 87 metres tall, with a 19 metre girth – drew <a href="https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/catalog/3945157">“national and international”</a> media attention.</p>
<p>This year, <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2023-08-14/vandalism-sacred-birthing-tree-buangor-police-investigate/102726014">vandals damaged</a> a birthing tree sacred to the local Djab Wurrung people amidst conflicts about proposed road works in western Victoria.</p>
<p>And in 2006, someone poisoned Queensland’s Tree of Knowledge – a 200-year-old ghost gum <a href="https://www.australiantraveller.com/qld/outback-qld/longreach/tree-of-knowledge-is-dead/">famous for its connection</a> to the birth of trade unionism in Australia. Under its limbs, shearers organised and marched for better conditions. The dead tree has been preserved in a memorial.</p>
<h2>What is it to lose a tree?</h2>
<p>Sociologist Anthony Giddens defines ontological security as a <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books/about/Modernity_and_Self_Identity.html?id=Jujn_YrD6DsC&redir_esc=y">“sense of continuity and order in events”</a>.</p>
<p>To sustain it, we seek out feelings of safety, trust, and reassurance by engaging with comfortable and familiar objects, beings and people around us – especially those important to our self-identity.</p>
<p>When there is an abrupt change, it challenges us. If your favourite tree in your street or garden dies, you mourn it – and what it gave you. But we mourn at a distance too – the Sycamore Gap tree was <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/gallery/2023/sep/28/hadrians-wall-sycamore-gap-tree-in-pictures">world-famous</a>, even if you never saw it in real life.</p>
<p>In <a href="https://figshare.utas.edu.au/articles/thesis/Seeing_the_forest_for_the_trees_ontological_security_and_experiences_of_Tasmanian_forests/23238422">my research</a>, I have explored how Tasmanian forests – including iconic landscapes and individual trees – can give us that sense of security we all seek in ourselves.</p>
<p>As one interviewee, Leon, told me:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>These places should be left alone, because in 10,000 years they could still be there. Obviously I won’t be, we won’t be, but perhaps [the forest will be].</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Temporality matters here. That is, we know what to expect by looking to the past and imagining what the future could be. Trees – especially ancient ones – act as a living link between the past, present, and future.</p>
<p>As my interviewee Catherine said:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>You lie under an old myrtle and you just go, ‘wow - so what have you seen in your lifetime?’ Shitloads more than me.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>That’s why the loss of the Sycamore Gap tree has upset seemingly the entire United Kingdom. The tree was famous for its appearance: a solitary tree in a <a href="https://www.northumberlandnationalpark.org.uk/places-to-visit/hadrians-wall/sycamore-gap/">photogenic dip</a> in the landscape.</p>
<p>Its loss means a different future for those who knew it. It’s as if you were reading a book you know – but someone changed the ending.</p>
<h2>Loss of connection</h2>
<p>We respond very differently when humans do the damage compared to natural processes. In one study, UK homeowners found it <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/13698570802381162">harder to accept</a> their house being burgled than for it to be flooded, seeing flooding as more natural and thus less of a blow to their sense of security.</p>
<p>This is partly why the sycamore’s death hurt. It didn’t fall in a storm. It was cut down deliberately – something that wasn’t supposed to happen.</p>
<p>The sycamore was just a tree. But it was also not just a tree – it was far more, for many of us. It’s more than okay to talk about what this does to us – about how the loss of this thread of connection makes us grieve.</p>
<p>Yes, we have lost the Sycamore Gap tree, just as we lost El Grande and many others. It is useful to talk about this - and to remember the many other beautiful and important trees that live on. <img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/214841/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /></p>
<p><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/rebecca-banham-830381"><em>Rebecca Banham</em></a><em>, Postdoctoral fellow, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-tasmania-888">University of Tasmania</a></em></p>
<p><em>Image credits: Getty Images</em></p>
<p><em>This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/it-wasnt-just-a-tree-why-it-feels-so-bad-to-lose-the-iconic-sycamore-gap-tree-and-others-like-it-214841">original article</a>.</em></p>
