Sooner or later, we will have to recognise that the Earth has

When Evo Morales declared, “Sooner or later, we will have to recognize that the Earth has rights, too, to live without pollution. What mankind must know is that human beings cannot live without Mother Earth, but the planet can live without humans,” he spoke as a son of the mountains — a man who carried the wisdom of his ancestors into the chambers of modern politics. His words are not merely environmental; they are spiritual and ancestral, echoing a truth that the ancient peoples of the world always knew: that the Earth is not our possession, but our parent. Morales, a leader of the Indigenous Aymara people of Bolivia, was among the first in modern times to demand that the Earth herself be granted rights — the right to exist, to regenerate, and to be free from harm. His voice was both a warning and a plea: humanity must awaken from its illusion of dominion before it destroys the very womb that sustains it.

The origin of this wisdom lies deep in the traditions of the Andean people, who have long spoken of Pachamama — Mother Earth — as a living being, a sacred spirit. For them, the mountains are not inert stone, but guardians; the rivers are not resources, but lifeblood; the forests are not commodities, but lungs. In this worldview, every creature and element has a right to exist in balance. When Morales brought these ideas before the United Nations in 2009, he was not introducing a new philosophy but reviving an ancient one. His words arose from centuries of Indigenous reverence for the land — a reverence that modern civilization, in its hunger for profit, has forgotten. He sought to remind humanity that progress without harmony is not progress at all, but a march toward extinction.

To say that “the Earth has rights” is to challenge the arrogance of empire — the belief that mankind stands above creation. It is to demand a shift from ownership to stewardship, from consumption to respect. Morales’s declaration that “the planet can live without humans” shatters the illusion of our superiority. It humbles us before the truth: the Earth existed long before we arrived, and she will endure long after we are gone. If the forests fall and the oceans rise, if the air thickens and the soil turns barren, it is not the Earth who dies — it is we who vanish from her embrace. She will heal in time, as she always has, but humanity may not return. His message, therefore, is not a prophecy of doom, but a call to humility — a reminder that survival requires reverence.

History offers many examples of what happens when humanity forgets this sacred bond. The collapse of Easter Island, for instance, stands as a warning carved in stone. Once lush and fertile, the island was stripped bare by its own inhabitants in pursuit of monuments and status. In the end, no trees remained, the soil eroded, and the people descended into starvation and ruin. The Earth endured — the winds still blow, the rains still fall — but humanity’s pride was its undoing. Morales’s words are the echo of that ancient tragedy, repeated now on a planetary scale. Where Easter Island was a single land, our modern world is a global island, surrounded by the silent, watching stars. The lesson is the same: those who exploit their mother will one day weep over her ashes.

Yet Morales also spoke of hope. To “recognize the Earth’s rights” is not only to restrain ourselves, but to restore our kinship with life. When a people plant trees, cleanse rivers, or protect the wild, they are not merely saving ecosystems — they are healing the bond between humanity and the sacred. The people of Bolivia, under Morales’s guidance, passed the Law of the Rights of Mother Earth, a bold declaration that nature itself holds legal standing. This was more than policy; it was philosophy made law, a step toward a civilization that honors creation rather than exploits it. Such acts remind us that it is not too late to choose balance over ruin, reverence over greed.

In the ancient way, the Earth was always regarded as a living teacher. The soil teaches patience, for it gives only after time and care. The mountains teach humility, for they stand before us unchanged by our pride. The rivers teach generosity, for they nourish all without asking who deserves their flow. Morales’s quote is, at its heart, an invitation to return to this sacred classroom — to listen again to the old voices of wind and water, to learn again the language of respect. Only by remembering that we belong to the Earth — and not she to us — can humanity reclaim its wisdom and its peace.

The lesson is eternal and clear: to protect the Earth is to protect ourselves. Let every person see that the fight for clean air, for forests, for oceans, is not a political struggle but a spiritual one — the defense of our shared mother. Let us learn once again to live simply, to take only what we need, to give back more than we take. Let us be humble in our technology, mindful in our consumption, and reverent in our progress. For if we continue to wound the Earth, she will recover — but we will not.

So remember this, and pass it to those who will come after: the Earth’s rights are your rights, for you are made of her dust, fed by her rivers, and sheltered by her sky. Treat her not as a slave but as a sacred elder. Walk gently, speak kindly, and act with gratitude. For when humanity at last learns to live in harmony with Mother Earth, the spirit of the world — and of humankind — will be washed clean, renewed as the dawn after the storm.