I have a pretty positive view of environmental activism, but I

Hear the thoughtful and searching words of Marshall Curry: “I have a pretty positive view of environmental activism, but I didn’t know much about the ELF. A lot of people make documentaries because they have something they want to say, but I make them because there’s something I want to explore.” In these words shines the spirit of inquiry, the hunger not only to declare, but to understand. Curry reveals that his work is not the proclamation of a verdict, but the journey of discovery itself. He reminds us that true wisdom begins not with certainty, but with humility—the humility to say, “I do not yet know, but I will seek.”

At the heart of his words lies the tension between activism and exploration. Activism seeks to change the world by shouting truths it believes must be heard. Exploration, however, seeks first to listen, to watch, and to uncover truths not yet fully seen. Curry’s approach shows us that to explore is itself an act of reverence toward truth, for one who explores admits that the world is vast, complex, and not easily reduced to slogans or certainty. In this way, the documentary becomes not a weapon of ideology, but a lantern carried into the unknown.

When Curry speaks of the ELF—the Earth Liberation Front—he acknowledges a movement controversial and often misunderstood. To many, it was a banner of radicalism, accused of arson and destruction in the name of defending the environment. To others, it was the desperate cry of those who felt the earth was being consumed without mercy. By choosing not to pass immediate judgment but instead to explore, Curry embodies the wisdom of the ancients: that one must look deeply into the heart of a thing before condemning or praising it. For only through exploration can one discern what is born of noble intention, and what is twisted by error.

History offers us an echo of this method. Consider the philosopher Socrates, who roamed Athens not to declare what he knew, but to ask questions, to probe, to explore the beliefs of his fellow citizens. Many grew angry with him, for they wished for certainty, not inquiry. Yet his method revealed deeper truths, truths hidden beneath the surface of easy assumptions. So too does Curry remind us that exploration—whether of a movement, an idea, or a story—is the beginning of wisdom, and that rushing to judgment is the enemy of understanding.

His words also reveal a deeper lesson about the nature of art. Some create because they wish to say, to shout their message into the world. Others create because they wish to learn, to use the act of creation itself as a journey of discovery. The second path, Curry’s path, is not weaker—it is perhaps stronger, for it keeps the heart open. It allows the artist, and the audience, to be transformed not only by the truths they already hold, but by the truths they uncover along the way. This is the spirit of the seeker, and it is the lifeblood of honest storytelling.

The lesson for us, then, is clear: do not live only to declare what you already know. Live also to explore, to seek what lies beyond your own horizon. When you meet movements, ideas, or people you do not understand, resist the easy impulse to judge, and instead step forward with curiosity. For in exploration lies growth, and in growth lies the wisdom to see the world not as you wish it to be, but as it truly is.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, carry with you the spirit of Marshall Curry’s words. Let your convictions be strong, but let your curiosity be stronger. Explore before you declare. Seek before you condemn. Learn before you teach. In this way, your words will not be hollow echoes of prejudice, but living reflections of truth. And just as a lantern does not banish the night in an instant but lights one step at a time, so too will your explorations illuminate the path to wisdom—for yourself, and for all who follow after.