Grizzly Man: Good Intentions Run Amok

This review was published orginally on cinekklesia on June 4, 2006.

Within the social and political realms, it often appears that we are divided in regards to the moral choices we have before us; as such, our divisions seem intractable since nothing polarizes more than a good moral debate, especially if that debate is wrapped in strong religious conviction. However, on at least some issues, what appear to be moral debates are really matters of practical policy concerns. For example, in terms of the U.S. invasion of Iraq, most Americans were not debating whether Saddam Hussein was a bad guy (most agreed that he was), nor were people debating whether democratic reform of some sort would be good for the Middle East (most would support that position in some capacity). Rather, the debate was often a very practical one: (1) Is an invasion the best vehicle to bring about democratic change? (2) How long would the U.S. have to stay in Iraq? (3) Would an invasion seriously destabilize the region, thus producing a political scenario even worse than Saddam's rule? (4) Would this serve to increase anti-Americanism at a very inopportune time? (5) Oh, and about those pesky WMDs....While those who argued for and against the war may have done so with passion and moral zeal, the questions that they raised often were practical.

The same dynamic applies to disagreements over how we care for the natural world. Many years ago, I heard a political commentator make an astute point in regard to such debates: environmentalists often have an uphill rhetorical battle because there is nobody on the other side who is arguing that we should destroy nature. I am going to make the relatively safe hypothesis that given a choice, most people on the planet would prefer clean air and water over smog and toxic waste. The question, then, is not whether we should protect the environment, but to what extent and by what means. How does one balance economic development (as much of a human need as clear skies) with environmental protection? Does one need government regulations, or can the free market correct environmental problems (what economists call "externalities") by itself?

On one level, Werner Herzog's Grizzly Man (2005) attempts to examine this question of practicality in the case of one man: Timothy Treadwell, an environmental activist and documentarian who spent many summers studying bears in Alaska, filming both their behavior and his own. (During his final expedition, Treadwell and his girlfriend were tragically killed by one such bear.) Herzog edits the hours of documentary footage that Treadwell recorded, interviews Treadwell's friends and family, and narrates his own interpretation of the motivations and behaviors that led to his subject's ultimate demise. Herzog is always respectful and specifically celebrates the magnificent natural footage that Treadwell was able to capture under remote and sometimes harsh conditions. However, his respect is tempered by his criticism of Treadwell; as such Grizzly Man is not just a study of Treadwell's worldview but of Herzog's, as well.

One obvious criticism of Treadwell is his seeming anti-empiricism. For instance, why is this man spending his summers living next to wild bears without any sort of protection? Doesn't he realize how dangerous they are, that they easily could turn him into a meal, should the need arise? Secondly, for all his concern about the dangers that the bears in his part of Alaska face, they actually are doing relatively well. Herzog interviews a biologist, who notes that the population is relatively stable, that humans can hunt a small percentage of them each year without causing real harm, and that unlike other regions of the world, that section of Alaska has a relatively low rate of poaching. Thus, Treadwell's protective zeal seems misplaced.

The second main critique concerns Treadwell's lack of respect for the bears. This may seem odd since so much of his footage consists of monologues regarding how much he loves his furry friends. However, according to a Native Alaskan that Herzog interviews, Treadwell crossed an invisible line between humans and bears; by trying to befriend the bears (or actually "become" a bear), he was violating their turf and thus, disrespecting them. It is one thing to advocate for the protection of bear habitat, but it is quite another to think that one can inhabit their world successfully. As the biologist noted, humans can be lured into thinking that the bear's life is idyllic—just romping around nature, catching salmon all day—but the reality is far more difficult (and brutal) than we like to admit. To revere the beauty of the natural world, while ignoring (or at least downplaying) its brutality, demonstrates a lack of respect (even a lack of basic knowledge) about that world.

The final critique that can be lodged against Treadwell is more metaphysical. Though he played down religiosity, his work eventually took a mystical turn; he came to despise human civilization and sought salvation among the bears. (This salvific sense stems partially from his previous bout with alcoholism: he realized that if he were going to serve as an advocate for the bears, then he would have to clean up his ways — lo and behold, he did.) Herzog criticizes Treadwell's idyllic view of the natural world and his intense desire to break down the barriers between human and animal. For Herzog, the universe is full of chaos and brutality, not harmony, and Treadwell demonstrated an incredible naivete that eventually cost him his life.

So what are we to make of Timothy Treadwell's legacy? We certainly do have a responsibility to take care of God's earth; in Genesis 1, we read of God bestowing moral significance on His creation and thus, we are to treat it with respect and gratitude. The tricky part comes in the details: how do we balance human need with environmental protection? What type of perspective should we hold in regards to the natural world (i.e., how much agency should we grant it)? Treadwell took a relatively extreme position in that he came to view his fellow humans with disdain and the natural world, particularly bears, as pure manifestations of being. This empirically incorrect view led him to conduct himself in ways that were both embarrassing and unintelligent (to put is nicely). Thus, the message from Treadwell's life and tragic death is simple: good intentions, divorced from sound reasoning, can produce very bad outcomes.