Unless we know better, we tend to view the totality of living things as a hierarchy. Humans are “higher”; among animals, big (whales) and cute (dogs) rank above small and ugly (insects); plants are disposable and/or edible; bacteria are bad unless proven otherwise. Big fish eat little fish. The struggle to survive goes to the “strongest” (the common misinterpretation of fittest).
A corrective lens to such distortions might be the thought of the living world as a Democracy of Living Things. You and I are citizens, and so are every crow, dandelion, rat, spider, mushroom, flounder, and elephant. We all share the challenges of starting our lives, surviving, and reproducing. We all struggle and rest and flourish, though some of us experience those conditions more consciously than others. In light of the differences among us all, such common ground is narrow but profound.
This Democracy operates under no formal political or legal safeguards, yet it remains reasonably democratic in that all its residents participate in the pursuit of their lives and in the local labors of their species. True, there are pecking orders, leaders and followers, and queens, soldiers and workers. But there are few tyrants wresting power from others and killing in order to hold on to that power.
All members of this democracy are endowed with certain entitlements. Having been created in the first place, they are entitled to live at least briefly, to struggle so they can continue to live in the pursuit of thriving, and to take their chances in the lottery of who will be spared in a disaster such as an earthquake that is fully beyond their control.
Still, most people can’t help but see other living things—including some of their own species—as anything other than fundamentally different from them, as less nuanced, less valuable. Our intelligence serves our ego so strongly. Perhaps the idea of a democracy of living things can encourage a more vivid acknowledgement of each individual organism. Imagine it: the Democracy of Living Things.