Care and moral repair: Restoring historical land-caring practices

Abstract

Do we have an obligation to restore historical land-caring practices as an act of moral repair? Recently, Almassi has put forward ecological restoration as a form of moral repair between humans and the environment. However, this account relies on the anthropocentric notions of ‘trust’ and ‘forgiveness’. In this article, I develop the moral repair justification using the non-anthropocentric terms of ‘flourishing’ and ‘care’. I argue historical land-caring practices involve a moral relationship of mutual dependency between humans and biotic communities, and restoring such practices can be act of moral repair. Using the example of fire-stick farming by the Martu people of the Australian Western Desert, I show that the restoration of historical land-caring satisfies a plurality of environmental ethics.

Introduction

We are sisters, mothers, daughters, granddaughters, aunties, nieces.

We are painters, we are Martu women, caring for our country.

We hunt in this country to look after it.

We burn it, then gather bush fruit.

We burn it, and the animals eat the waru-waru,

Then they get fat, and we hunt and eat the animals: Goanna, hill-kangaroo, bustard, cat.

We are telling lots of little stories about hunting in the Parnngurr area

All of the women putting their stories together on a big canvas.

It is special to teach others—Martu and non-Martu—how we live now And always have In this country.

This country is us.

We need to share it, and talk about it, and protect it … keep it strong. (Yikartu Bumba, Karnu Taylor, Ngamaru Bidu, Yuwali Nixon, Reena Rogers, Thelma Judson, and Nyalangka Taylor ¹ )

There is debate within environmental ethics about the extent to which ecological restoration should be a goal of conservation (Almassi, 2017; Gamborg and Sandøe, 2004). The popular Nature Positive Initiative – a coalition of environmental groups and NGOs – aims to restore natural environments to ‘improve the abundance, diversity and resilience of species and of ecosystems’ (Locke; et al., 2021). Such human-initiated restoration can vary in its level of intrusiveness. For instance, passive ‘rewilding’ aims to decrease human intervention within ecosystems, amongst other aims (Gammon, 2018). On the other hand, more intrusive or ‘active’ forms of restoration focus on returning an ecosystem to a specific state, ‘as with a revered cathedral, classic car or desired landscape’ (du Toit and Pettorelli, 2019: 2468). Environmental philosophers disagree about whether there is justification for the latter, more intrusive form of restoration (Gamborg and Sandøe, 2004). Those in favour of restoration have traditionally pointed to the ‘human and ecological benefits of restoration’ (Almassi, 2017: 19), while others argue that restoration is ‘faking nature’ and lacks authenticity (Katz, 2000).

One source of disagreement surrounding ecological restoration resides in conflicting accounts of environmental value, that is, an environmental ethic. In the simplest terms, an environmental ethic explains which biological entities have moral value and therefore what we owe those entities. For instance, anthropocentric environmental ethics derive the norms surrounding human–environmental relations from human-centric value systems (Barry, 1999; Brennan and Lo, 2024). They maintain that the value of more-than-human entities is derived from human interests. Alternatively, biocentric ethics argue that more-than-human entities have intrinsic value. These positions differ in their account of the level at which intrinsic value lies within biological organisation. Taylor's (1986) biocentric egalitarianism holds that all individual biological entities are a ‘teleological-centre-of-life’ and deserve equal respect, whereas Callicott's (1989) environmental holism places value in the integrity, beauty, and stability of a biotic community to which its constitutive members are subordinate. Each environmental ethic, whether anthropocentric or biocentric, will have a different answer to the question who is ecological restoration for? A good justification for restoration can accommodate different answers to that question.

Recently, Almassi (2017) (building on previous work done by Basl (2010) and Throop (2012)) has argued in favour of viewing restoration as a necessary part of restoring a moral relationship between humans and the environments they have damaged. Rather than focusing on what humans owe environments, or what environments can do for humans, Almassi argues that restoration is a way of repairing the relationship between humans and the environment. In other words, restoration is not about ‘paying reparations’, but a matter of moving towards a morally adequate relationship (Walker, 2006) with the environment. As I’ll argue, the framework of repair has the advantage of being ‘environmentally agnostic’ or pluralistic, in the sense that it is compatible with both anthropocentric and biocentric ethical approaches.

One problem with the moral repair account is that Almassi seems to define ‘moral adequacy’ in the anthropocentric terms of ‘trust’ and ‘forgiveness’ (Katz, 2018). Katz denies that a biotic community is the sort of entity that can trust and forgive and claims that asserting as such, as Almassi does, incorrectly anthropomorphises more-than-human entities. Thus, Katz argues this mistaken attribution of ‘trust’ and ‘forgiveness’ undermines the moral repair account of restoration.

The epigraph to this article, a poem written by a group of Martu women, offers a non-anthropocentric account of the moral relationship between humans and the environment. Namely, one of care and mutual dependency: ‘we hunt in this country to look after it’. ² In this article, I propose an account of restoration as an act of moral repair in non-anthropocentric terms. I argue that historical land-caring practices entail a moral relationship of mutual dependency between humans and biotic communities. Extending Engster's (2007) theory of care to such relationships, I argue that restoring certain historical land-caring practices can be justified as an act of moral repair.

The In this introductory section provides a short overview of Almassi's account of restoration as an act of moral repair and Katz’ objection to this account on the grounds of anthropocentrism. Next, I argue Engster's (2007) principle of consistent dependency can be extended to obligations of care from humans towards more-than-human entities like ecosystems, such that ties of mutual dependency between humans and ecosystems can therefore be construed as a moral relationship. I continue by exploring fire-stick farming as an example of a historical land-caring practice that represents a moral relationship between the Martu people and their country. In doing so, I argue how the restoration of certain historical land-caring practices can be an act of moral repair using the non-anthropocentric terms of ‘care’ and ‘flourishing’. In the concluding section, I examine whether my account can answer the ‘baseline issue’ of arbitrarily favouring a particular historical ecosystem state to restore. I respond by arguing that restoring historical land-caring practices does not necessarily restore the environment to a particular time-slice, but rather restores a particular relationship of mutual dependency and care.

In my discussion of the relationship between the Martu people and the biotic communities of the Western desert, I acknowledge the framing of this article implies a divide between humans and the environment that the Martu people would almost certainly reject. For the Martu people fire-stick farming is a ‘part of a larger set of caretaking responsibilities over people’ (Bird et al., 2016: 71). There is no inherent ‘conservation ethic’ in the practice, because for the Martu people they ‘are their country in the sense that humans are a critical component of ecological relationships’ (Bird et al., 2016: 66). As I will argue, the restoration of fire-stick farming can be seen as an act of moral repair between settler populations in Australia and First Nations people like the Martu, where the latter care for country in accordance with traditional Martu beliefs.

Moral repair

Almassi (2017) appeals to Walker's (2006) concept of moral repair as an argument in favour of ecological restoration. Contemplating how we ought to rectify historical injustice, Walker (2006) argues we should restore relationships between perpetrators and victims to a place of moral adequacy. Thus, moral repair is ‘is the task of restoring or stabilizing—or in some cases creating—the basic elements that sustain human beings in a recognizably moral relationship’ (Walker, 2006: 23). In the context of the ecological restoration debate, the moral repair approach is contrasted against the ‘compensation model’ which treats ecological restoration as ‘compensation’ for the historical harms of human environmental degradation (see Taylor 1986). Almassi argues that the compensation incorrectly frames the issue of environmental degradation in terms of material reparations. In doing so, it ignores the relational nature of harm, in which the relationship between humans and the environment is harmed by environmental degradation. As opposed to the compensatory model's focus on the harm to ‘stuff’, Almassi argues we should focus on the harm of the relationship between humans and the environment (Allison, 2004). For Almassi, restoration is justified as an approach to morally repairing the relationship between humans and the environment, conceived through Walker's (2006) lens of reparative justice. Ecological restoration should be thought of as moving towards a more ‘morally adequate’ relationship where victims gain trust and forgiveness.

In identifying who the ‘victims’ of environmental injustice are, Almassi (2017: 31) adopts an approach of ‘environmental ethical pluralism’ that is inclusive of both anthropocentric and biocentric accounts of environmental value. For instance, Barry's (1999) anthropocentric ethic could identify humans, such as Indigenous groups and future people affected by climate change, as victims of environmental degradation. Alternatively, Taylor's biocentric account may identify ecosystems or their constitutive species as victims. In the latter case, Almassi (2017: 33) suggests we do not interpret ‘trust’ and ‘forgiveness’ literally. Instead, we should find a middle ground. Perhaps, he argues, ‘trust’ and ‘forgiveness’ from a biotic community is the point at which ‘migratory and indigenous species begin to repopulate the formerly degraded and now restored habitat’.

The anthropocentric objection

Katz (2018) replies that Almassi is unable to make sense of victim identification and the repair of ‘trust’ and ‘forgiveness’ in the context of biocentric ethics. The strength of the moral repair approach in humans is the importance of trust and forgiveness in human moral relationships. However, Katz argues, trust and forgiveness are incoherent in the context of the relationship between human and more-than-human entities. An ecosystem is not the type of entity that can trust or forgive. Almassi's ‘middle-ground’ approach no longer uses these terms in their original human context. For Katz, this anthropomorphism weakens the overall appeal of the moral repair approach. The challenge for Almassi is to define the moral relationship between humans and the environment without reference to anthropocentric qualities, or to offer a more convincing account of why the environment is something that can ‘trust’ or ‘forgive’. In this article, I attempt to do the former by providing an account of ecological restoration as an act of moral repair in terms of mutual dependency and care. For the account to be successful, it must:

Show there is a moral relationship between humans and biotic communities.

Explain that moral relationship in non-anthropocentric terms.

Accommodate anthropocentric and biocentric ethical approaches to ecological restoration.

Demonstrate that ecological restoration will help repair that moral relationship in the event of wrongdoing or harm.

Below, I argue that we can conceive of the moral relationship between humans and biotic communities in terms of mutual dependency, care, and flourishing, and these are non-anthropocentric terms.

Dependency and care

In this section, I will extend Engster's (2007) theory of care to our relationships with more-than-human entities. The argument is that we have moral relationships (i) with certain non-human animals and biotic communities that are in a state of enforced or mutual dependency. This account responds to the anthropocentric objection (ii) by appealing to non-anthropocentric notion of flourishing.

Inevitable dependency and a definition of care

As far back as Hume’s A Treatise of Human Nature (3.2.2.252), the mutualdependency of humans has been a core concern of moral theory. Every human, at some stage in their life, is dependent on others for their survival and functioning. Newborn babies are almost entirely dependent on their caregivers, children are dependent on education from their adult networks to function in society, and many of us experience injury and disability that necessitates care. Dependency on others is ‘natural’ and ‘inevitable’ (Fineman, 1995: 162), caused by ‘determinants of [human] biology and social circumstances’ (Kittay, 2019: 32). Thus, our moral and political theories need to acknowledge that dependence on others is ‘built-in’ to being human. This inevitable dependency has provided the basis for a branch of moral and feminist theory called care ethics, which argues that care is an essential part of moral relationships and motivation.

What exactly is care? Care can be described as an either disposition or a practice (Engster, 2007; Keller and Kittay, 2017). As a disposition or virtue, caring is an internal attitude someone has towards the needs and well-being of others. On this definition of care, someone who thinks ‘I want Naomi to recover from her illness’ is said to have a caring disposition towards Naomi. Thus, a caring disposition is a virtue – a morally good trait for someone to have. Some theorists also emphasise the important role of sympathy and empathy in acts of care, and how these emotions act as moral motivation (Wrage, 2022). However, thinking of care in terms of sympathy and empathy cannot make sense of caring acts done without such moral motivation (for instance, in cultures where emotional de-attachment towards care-receivers is valued; Engster, 2007: 34 ³ ). Furthermore, the caring-as-a-disposition definition can make sense of interpersonal caring (I care for Naomi), but not institutional or structural care. ‘The state cares for its citizens’ does not make sense because ‘the state’ does not have an ‘internal life’ in the same way a living being does.

For these reasons and others, Engster (2007) and other care theorists prefer the practice-definition of caring. In this approach, we analyse the traits and aims of what we generally consider to be caring activities and provide a definition based on those traits and aims. Tronto (1993: 103), for instance, defines caring as a ‘species activity that includes everything that we do to maintain, continue, and repair our “world” so that we can live in it as well as possible’. While this definition points to something important about caring – the idea of living as well as possible within the world – it is too broad for the development of a care ethic. An electrician fixing the wires of a mining excavator is not necessarily doing a caring act, even if they are repairing an aspect of ‘the world’. Their motivation for the repair is likely financial, and the act is removed from the direct needs of any other being. As such, as Engster (2007) argues, we should refine the aims of care and its necessary virtues.

Engster's definition of care includes three aims. The first aim (ibid. 26) of caring is to help others meet their biological needs. This aim is perhaps what most people associate with caring: we care for children when we make food for them, when we assist a patient in using the bathroom, and when we give a thirsty person water. The second aim (ibid. 26) of caring is the development of ‘innate capabilities’ for social functioning. Societies where literacy is necessary for flourishing care for children and young people by teaching them how to read and write. The third and final aim (ibid. 28) is the alleviation of unnecessary pain and suffering. This accounts for acts of care that do not necessarily fulfil a biological need but are nonetheless important. If a patient in the hospital is in severe pain, the medical staff have a duty of care to provide pain relief even if the relief has no tangible benefits to the patient's condition.

The three virtues of caring, according to Engster, are attentiveness, responsiveness, and respect. Attentiveness is equivalent to noticing someone's need for care and responding appropriately. For instance, if you are walking along a remote trail and see a fellow hiker with their leg caught underneath a fallen tree trunk, you are attentive by recognising that the hiker probably needs care. Responsiveness is the virtue of providing the right kind of care that is appropriate to someone's needs. An unresponsive act of care would be providing the trapped hiker with a muesli bar and walking off. Care must incorporate what the person needs. Finally, respectful caring involves the recognition that a care recipient has agency and is not ‘lesser’ because they need help. In summary, Engster defines caring:

…to include everything we do directly to help others to meet their vital biological needs, develop or maintain their innate capabilities, and alleviate unnecessary pain and suffering in an attentive, responsive, and respectful manner. (Engster, 2007: 31)

Throughout the rest of this article, I will sometimes refer to ‘biological needs’, ‘survival’, and ‘functioning’ as ‘flourishing’. On one hand, this will act as a simple shorthand. On the other, Aristotle (Nicomachean Ethics, 1095a) definition of eudaimonia or ‘flourishing’ is often used in animal and environmental ethics literature (e.g. Taylor, 1986) to describe the state of an organism or community fulfilling its function. It is a useful and accurate term to unite the pluralist ethical approach with Engster's definition of care in terms of survival, development, and functioning.

The principle of dependent care

From his definition of care, Engster (2007: 49) infers that we have certain obligations to care for others. This obligation, which he calls the ‘principle of dependent care’, is primarily grounded on the premise that as human beings whose survival and development depend on care, we implicitly demand care from others. As I will explain later, the ‘implicit’ demand is an important feature of Engster's account because it allows for nonhuman animals to make claims without needing to use human language.

The first step in Engster's (2007: 46) argument is:

(1) ‘All human beings can be assumed to value their survival, the development and functioning of their basic capabilities, and the avoidance or alleviation of unwanted pain and suffering—unless they explicitly indicate otherwise’ (italics in original).

This is followed by what I call the ‘inevitable dependency premise’:

(2) ‘all human beings depend upon the care of others to survive, develop and maintain their basic capabilities, and avoid or alleviate unwanted pain and suffering’ (ibid).

Since humans are assumed to value their functioning, and human functioning is dependent on the care of others, Engster argues that all humans implicitly value care and assume a right to care.

(3) ‘all human beings can be said at least implicitly to value caring as a necessary good and to make claims on others for care when we need it, meaning that we at least implicitly assert that others should help us to meet our basic needs, develop and maintain our basic capabilities, and avoid or alleviate pain when we cannot reasonably achieve these goods on our own’ (ibid.).

Engster emphasises that an individual does not need to literally ‘voice’ a claim for (3) to be true. Rather, an individual implies a claim to care because they value their functioning, and their needs can only be met through the care of others. If Sarah falls off her bike and is unable to talk through her broken jaw, a passer-by may assume she has a claim to care despite being unable to physically voice that claim. From this claim we can derive a moral principle:

(4) ‘in claiming care from others, we imply that capable human beings ought to help individuals in need when they are able to do so consistent with their other caring obligations’ (ibid. 48).

All humans have at some point made a claim to care in their lives (the inevitable dependency premise). Thus, to remain consistent with our own claims to care we must recognise (4) as obliging us to recognise and respond to claims of care from others. Engster (ibid. 49) calls this the ‘principle of consistent dependency’:

(5) ‘Since all human beings depend upon the care of others for our survival, development, and basic functioning and at least implicitly claim that capable individuals should care for individuals in need when they can do so, we should consistently recognize as morally valid the claims that others make upon us for care when they need it, and should endeavor to provide care to them when we are capable of doing so without significant danger to ourselves, seriously compromising our long-term functioning, or undermining our ability to care for others’ (ibid. 49).

In addition to the principle of consistent dependency, I add:

(6) We are in a moral relationship with all those who can implicitly make a morally valid claim of care upon us. Responding to claims of care in accordance with (5) is necessary for a morally adequate relationship.

(6) follows from (5) in the sense that a moral relationship can be defined as a relationship between two parties that has a moral dimension to it. Since the principle of consistent dependency entails that we ought to recognise the claims of others to care for us when they need it as morally valid, then the relationship between the claimer and claimant has a moral dimension. In simpler terms: inevitable dependency entails a claim to care, and such claims constitute a moral relationship. Therefore, a relationship is morally adequate insofar as those in the relationship recognise and respond to relevant claims of care in the way described in (5).

Notice criteria (i) – that there is a moral relationship between humans and a biotic community – has not been satisfied yet. All that has been established so far is that we are in a moral relationship with all those who have a valid claim of care from us as per the principle of consistent dependency. To show that there can be a moral relationship between humans and a biotic community, I now show that the principle of consistent dependency also applies to more-than-human entities.

Extending the principle of consistent dependency to the more-than-human

While many (if not a majority of) non-human animals do not depend on human care for their survival and development, some do. Animals that humans have domesticated as pets, for instance, depend on us to function in the human social world (‘urinate outside’, ‘do not eat this unidentified piece of food on the ground’). Often, the longer animals live with us the more dependent they are on us for their survival. Dogs and cats grow to depend on regular feeding from their human companions to the extent that they can no longer reliably source their own food. While these animals may not have begun in a position of inevitable dependency, they eventually become dependent on humans for their flourishing. Thus, ‘We assume moral duties to animals when we make them dependent upon us because we then actively bring them into a relationship of dependency with us’ (Engster, 2006: 527). Since (6) states that we have a moral relationship with individuals or groups who have a valid claim of care against us, we can say that we are in a moral relationship with domesticated animals and all other animals in a state of enforced dependency (regardless of whether that moral relationship is, in fact, morally adequate).

We can extend Engster's reasoning about the enforced dependency of domesticated animals to other more-than-human entities. Adopting a holistic environmental ethic, we can plausibly say that biotic communities are the sort of entities that ‘survive, develop, and function’ (1). In other words, ecosystems can be in a state of flourishing or not flourishing. Whether the mark of a flourishing ecosystem is its ‘integrity, stability, and beauty’ as Callicott (1989) claims is a matter of considerable debate (Justus, 2021). What is important, however, for whether we can apply Engster's theory of care to include biotic communities is whether ecosystems are the sort of entities that can value their functioning.

At this point in the argument, I anticipate the objection that only conscious beings – that is, animals – value their functioning (Korsgaard, 2018). It makes no sense to talk about ecosystems valuing their functioning because value must be conscious. Yet, such an understanding of value is already assuming a particular environmental ethic; an ethic that is not holistic, but more narrowly values individual animal lives. An environmental holist could argue that in having a teleology, a functioning, an ecosystem strives towards that functioning (Schlosberg, 2012). In other words, it values its functioning, whatever that may be. Thus, using Engster's reasoning, if biotic communities are the sort of entities that flourish, and humans have a relationship of enforced dependency with that biotic community, then we would have duties of care towards that biotic community.

Here, another objection arises. Enforced dependency describes how humans train dogs to be dependent on them. Yet, what would it look like for an ecosystem to be in a state of enforced dependency on humans? We can say that an ecosystem is dependent on humans for a particular functioning, such as resistance to perturbances like severe bushfires (more on that in the next section). However, a dog who is in a state of enforced dependency will likely die if their human owners stop caring for them. Biotic communities have no such dependency on humans for their survival: ecosystems have survived for billions of years without humans, and there is no inherent reason to think they will not continue to survive when humans go extinct. Thus, while enforced dependency may be a useful concept for thinking about our duties of care towards some domesticated animals, we will need another concept to extend Engster's theory of care to the more-than-human.

The concepts I have in mind for extending Engster's care theory to more-than-human entities more simple: mutual care and dependency. Below, I argue that historical land-care practices are an example of mutual care and dependency between humans and ecosystems by using the example of fire-stick farming by the Martu people in Australia's Western Desert.

Fire-stick farming, care, and restoration

Fire-stick farming

Controlled farming practices exemplify the coevolutionary effects of the human niche in ecosystem complexity and biodiversity (Hussain and Baumann, 2024). Anthropogenic fires – those ignited by humans – have been used to facilitate small-animal hunting by First Nations peoples in the Australian continent since the Pleistocene (Bird, 2015; Bliege Bird et al., 2008; Crabtree et al., 2019; Hill and Baird, 2003). For instance, the Martu people, whose traditional lands are in the Western Desert of Australia, light fires to burn spinifex grassland (Triodia spp.) to reveal the mounds of sand monitor lizards (Varanus gouldii) burrowed in the winter sands (Bird, 2015; Codding et al., 2014). The ‘fire-stick’ method of farming is hypothesised to have contributed to the mass extinction of megafauna in the Australian continent during the Pleistocene (Miller et al., 2005); it is also believed that species such as the hill kangaroo (Macropus robustus) and the brushtail possum (Trichosurus vulpecula) have evolved with the practice (Codding et al., 2014). In addition, the fire regime reduces the abundance of ‘slow-growing’ floral species and creates space for a greater diversity of plants (Bliege Bird et al., 2008).

As I noted in the introduction, for the Martu people, fire-stick farming is practice of ‘caring for country’. Here, ‘caring for country’ is ontologically indistinct from caring for fellow humans, since there is no separation between humans and their country:

When one kanyininpa ngurrara, carries the country, one is looking after country like one would look after a child, nurturing, feeding, giving it room to grow according to its own inevitable processes, fostering its autonomy and self-direction, and not controlling and managing it. (Bird et al., 2016: 11)

From an Indigenous perspective, caring for country through fire-stick farming is a part of larger framework of ‘holding country’. Foraging and burning for some Martu people is a reenactment of the ancestral forces that shaped the country and themselves during the the Dreaming, Jukurrpa or (Bird et al., 2016: 8). This practice binds both people and their place within the “web of ecological relationships” between different species in the Western Desert (Bird et al., 2016: 12). Bird et al. (2016: 2) argue that it is in the consumption and regeneration, the taking and use of resources - as opposed to their conservation - that “traditionally minded” Martu people find key to “healthy country and healthy selves”. Holding, or caring, for country through fire-stick farming fosters social relationships through the sharing of food. Additionally, ecological relationships in the Western Desert are also sustained through the practice, as species such as the hill kangaroo “capitalize” (Bird et al., 2016: 13) on the landscape that emerges, as I will shortly explain. Now adopting Engster’s theory of care, we can see that fire-stick farming embodies the three caring virtues of attentiveness, responsiveness, and respect. The Martu people affirm the benefits of the practice for animal and plant populations (Bliege Bird et al., 2008). Further, the practice is deeply rooted in Yulupirti, the law around the use of fire that acknowledges co-ownership of land. Yulupirti embodies the respect of care, and the acknowledgement of the practice's benefits to animal and plant populations is both attentive and responsive.

For the purposes in this article, I will describe fire-stick farming an example of a ‘historical land-caring’ practice. I define a historical land-caring practice as human-initiated niche construction that aims to care for both humans and the biotic communities those humans are a part of.

Historical land-caring practices, like fire-sick farming, foster a relationship of mutual dependency between humans and the species within the biotic community that rely on that practice. Codding et al. (2014) found that areas where the Martu people had conducted fire-stick farming had a higher abundance of hill kangaroo relative to similar areas where there was no burning. Similarly, the hunting practice benefits the Martu people, providing them with food. If we interpret abundance as a form of ‘species flourishing’, to use Taylor's (1986) terms, then the hill kangaroo is dependent on the practice for their flourishing. Counterintuitively, despite the human predation of sand monitor lizards, the practice also has the overall effect of increasing the sand monitor lizard population (Bird et al., 2013). It is also hypothesised that the extinction of many small mammals in the Western desert between the 1930s and 1970s was at least partly caused by the depopulation of the Martu people from the region (ibid.), which I will discuss in more detail shortly. The reduction of fire-stick farming reduced the abundance of plants reliant on the practice, reducing the food supply for small mammals.

Thus, since a state of mutual dependency entails a duty of care from humans, the relationship between humans and the biotic community is a moral one. According to the principle of consistent dependency outlined in the previous section, the recognition of this dependency obliges us to take seriously the claims – implicit or explicit – of care for those who rely on that care. This principle, I argued, extends to animals, animal species, or biotic communities that are in a relationship of enforced or mutual dependency on us. If species flourishing and broader ecosystem flourishing depends on a historical land-caring practice, then that historical land-caring practice is an act of care. In the fire-stick farming example, the act of burning the spinifex grassland meets the biological needs of the hill kangaroo, brushtail possum and sand monitor lizard species.

Fire-stick farming also benefits ecosystem flourishing by preventing large scale lightning fires (Bliege Bird et al., 2016). During the 20th century, the Western desert was depopulated of Martu people for a multitude of reasons relating to colonisation. Atomic testing led to illness and social isolation and the pull of resources from pastoral settlements on the fringes of the desert (Bliege Bird et al., 2016). When a group of Martu returned to their homeland in the mid-80s, the ecosystem had changed drastically, with many small mammals becoming extinct having been replaced by ‘feral housecats, camels, donkeys, and foxes’ (Bliege Bird et al., 2016). Since the virtual cessation of fire-stick farming in the mid-60s, lightning fires that were 10 to 100 times larger than the ones ignited by the Martu (Burrows et al., 2006). Assuming that the increase in fire perturbance disrupts the ecosystem's ability to function or flourish, it is clear that it was not only species that benefitted from fire-stick farming, but also the entire ecosystem.

From care to restoration

I argue that the restoration of historical land-caring practices like fire-stick farming is justified as an act of moral repair of the relationship of mutual dependency between humans and biotic communities. As established earlier in this section, a relationship of mutual dependency is morally adequate insofar as each party receive the care they need to flourish. In the case of historical land-caring practices, this means that humans continue the practices biotic communities depend on to flourish. The colonial forces that led to the cessation of fire-stick farming in the mid-60s undermined the mutual dependency between the Martu people and biotic communities they resided in. Since those responsible for the cessation of the practice are no longer providing the necessary care, the relationship had become morally inadequate. Thus, rather than ecological restoration being an act of moral repair based solely in terms of trust and forgiveness, we can think of restoration as an act of moral repair based on restoring care. Restoring historical land-caring practices repairs the moral relationship between humans and biotic communities by providing the care entailed in mutual dependency. In other words, restoring historical land-caring fulfils condition (iv), that restoration will help repair moral relationships.

The restoration of historical land-caring practices understands moral repair in terms of the relationship of mutual dependency between humans and biotic communities. Without fire-stick farming, biotic communities in the Western Desert are less resilient to bushfires (Bird et al., 2016; Bliege Bird et al., 2008), negatively affecting the flourishing of the ecosystem. Similarly, from a species-flourishing perspective, restoring fire-stick farming would likely have a positive effect on the hill kangaroo, brushtail possum, and sand monitor lizard populations (as well as a number of other plant species).

Restoration of historical land-caring practices from an anthropocentric perspective can also be an act of moral repair ‘among human beings’ (Almassi, 2017: 31). As I have noted, the cessation of fire-stick farming was in part caused by injustices perpetrated by settler people in Australia against the Martu and First Nations people more broadly. By supporting the restoration of fire-stick farming through the dedication of resources, non-Indigenous populations in Australia can facilitate reconciliation and move towards a more morally adequate relationship. This would be a form of giving care to a caregiver, which Engster (2007: 42) recognises as an essential aspect of care. In other words, giving resources and support towards restoring historical land-caring practices can repair the relationship between human groups by supporting victims of environmental injustice to care for their country.

Pluralism, but not for every case

Does restoring historical land-caring practices satisfy the pluralism criteria (ii) in providing a justification for ecological restoration as an act of moral repair? As I will explain, it only partly satisfies this condition. One disadvantage of the care argument is the difficulty of applying Almassi's pluralism criteria (ii) to every case of restoration. As Almassi argues, a good justification for ecological restoration should be compatible with a whole range of ethical views about value in humans, animals, and other more-than-human entities. Yet if we were to adopt a strict animal rights approach (for instance, see (Francione, 1995; Korsgaard, 2018; Regan, 1983), in which each animal has a right not to be killed, fire-stick farming would not be permissible. After all, fire-stick farming is a hunting practice for killing sand monitor lizards. Hunting a lizard does not help its flourishing; killing the lizard is hardly an act of care for that particular lizard under most circumstances. Furthermore, someone adopting an animal welfarist approach (for instance, see (Singer, 1977) might worry that the pain sand monitor lizards go through in the hunting process is unnecessary. Thus, it seems like the care argument falls short of satisfying the pluralist requirement of a justification for ecological restoration because the fire-stick farming example is incompatible with a strong animal rights or welfarist position.

There are at least two ways of replying to this concern. First, we can restore a historical land-caring practice and remove the aspects of it that are problematic according to one's chosen environmental ethic. Yet, in the case of fire-stick farming, this would clearly present an injustice to the Martu people who would be denied the agency to practice fire-stick farming in a culturally relevant way.

The second and more plausible response is to concede that not every historical land-caring practice will accommodate the dictates of every environmental ethic. Rather, which environmental ethic provides justification for the restoration of historical land-caring practices as an act of moral repair will vary case by case. Yet, we have good reason to believe the problem would not be too widespread in practice. For instance, the restoration ‘lo’i’ wetland agro-ecosystem traditionally cultivated by the Kānaka Maoli of Hawaii would restore habitat for endangered bird species without hunting any individual animals (Harmon et al., 2021). In this particular case, the restoration of lo’i would likely satisfy most environmental ethics. The efficaciousness of thinking of moral repair in terms of mutual dependency and care on real-world restoration projects will depend on the empirical effects of each restoration, and the underlying ethics of decision-makers. However, the advantage of this approach is that it has the strong potential, as exemplified in the prospects of restoring lo’i agro-ecosystems, to satisfy most environmental ethics.

We can conclude at the end of this section that my account satisfies or partly satisfies all the conditions set out in the moral repair section for a good justification for ecological restoration as an act of moral repair. The account (i) explains the moral relationship between humans and biotic communities as one of historical mutual dependency (ii) in the non-anthropogenic terms of ‘flourishing’ and ‘care’. It (iii) can accommodate anthropocentric and biocentric ethics depending on the specific circumstances of the historical land-caring practice, and it (iv) explains restoration as repairing relationships between humans and biotic communities to a morally adequate state of care. Next, I consider the perennial objection to ecological restoration known as ‘the baseline issue’.

The baseline issue

If we are going to restore a historical land-caring practice, how do we decide which state we are going to return the environment to? The baseline issue for ecological restoration is the apparent arbitrariness of choosing a particular historical ecosystem equilibrium as the desired state of return (Lee et al., 2014). As I previously pointed out, the introduction of fire-stick farming may have caused the extinction of megafauna on the Australian continent during the Pleistocene. The argument for restoring fire-stick farming seems to be suggesting that we should return the ecosystem to some historical state after its introduction but before its cessation in the mid-60s. Yet, there is no apparent reason we should favour one historical reference point over another. As Lee, Hermans and Hale (2014) put it: ‘… why [restore] the Pleistocene and not the Paleoscene or Eocene?’.

I reply that my proposed justification for ecological restoration is less about restoring a particular historical environmental state and more about repairing the caring practices necessary for particular relationships with the environment. Notice, for instance, that the restoration fire-stick farming would not necessarily entail a particular environmental state. As I argued in the moral repair section, an important characteristic of historical land-caring practices is that they are embedded within a relationship of mutual dependency. Restoring a historical land-caring practice does not entail restoring a specific historical environmental state. Rather, it acknowledges the cultural layers inherent within a landscape and forces us to acknowledge the place of humans within its unfolding history (Drenthen, 2018). The restoration of fire-stick farming ‘would be an “indigenous” occupation born from a history of human/ecosystem interaction, it would be dynamic and co-created, present and future-oriented rather than trying to “hold” nature in some idyllic past moment’ (Ladkin, 2005: 213). The restoration of historical land-caring practices restores a relationship, not an historical state.

Yet, if we are not returning the environment to a particular historical state, one may wonder whether it is still ecological restoration. In the introduction, I introduced ecological restoration as the practice of returning the environment to a particular state. Seemingly contrary to this, I have now just argued that the restoration of historical land-caring practices does not entail the restoration of a specific historical state of the environment. What exactly, then, is my argument justifying? The scope of my argument is specific: the justification for restoring historical land-caring acts using a moral framework of care and moral repair. It is not meant to be a catch-all justification for all forms of ecological restoration. In fact, an advantage of restoring historical land-caring practices is that in its dynamism, it seems to avoid the baseline issue that more prescriptive forms of restoration justification seem to be troubled by.

There are two final related issues with my argument in its specific form. The first is that the restoration of historical land-caring practices could have unintended negative long-term effects on ecosystem flourishing. The introduction of fire-stick farming is hypothesised to have contributed to the extinction of mega fauna on the Australian continent. Is there reason to believe that its reintroduction might have similar adverse consequences? In the specific case of fire-stick farming, it seems unlikely. The evidence in the fire-stick farming section showed that cessation, rather than reintroduction, of fire-stick farming caused the greater threat to ecosystem flourishing. Nonetheless, those undertaking the restoration of historical land-caring practices should take care to monitor and respond to the effect that restoration is having on the ecosystem. This leads to the second problem. Since I have not stipulated what exactly it means for a human-ecosystem relationship to reach a morally adequate relationship, there is no benchmark to assess whether restoration of land-caring practices has fulfilled its goals. Furthermore, since ecosystems are always in a state of flux, it may be hard to determine when a relationship has regressed from morally adequate to morally inadequate. A part of the solution to this problem can be found in the care virtue of responsiveness. To have a morally adequate relationship with a biotic community, humans must be responsive to when the caring needs of the community changes. Thus, responding to ecosystem flux is constitutive of a morally adequate relationship. Furthermore, establishing the evaluative standards of ‘flourishing’ is an essential project both to ecological restoration and the application environmental ethics more broadly but is beyond the scope of this paper. I encourage future scholars to supplement the moral repair view with a fuller framework of what ecosystem flourishing might mean.

Conclusion

In this article, I have argued that the restoration of historical land-caring practices can be justified as an act of moral repair within a care theoretical framework. From an anthropocentric perspective, the restoration of historical land-caring acts can help repair relationships between settler groups and First Nations groups by supporting the former to care for country. From the biocentric perspective, restoring historical land-caring practices provides the care required by a morally adequate relationship of mutual dependency between humans and the ecosystems they are embedded within. Rather than referring to ‘trust’ or ‘forgiveness’ from more-than-human entities, this account focuses on the care these entities require to flourish.

The care-as-moral-repair argument for restoring historical land-caring practices suggests that policymakers should provide more resources and remove legal barriers for First-Nations groups already undertaking such restoration. There is an array ⁴ of existing Indigenous-led restoration projects of historical land-caring. Yet, in the case of fire-stick farming and cultural burning in Australia, there are significant legal barriers for First Nations groups wanting to restore the practice (McCormack et al., 2024). Dedicating more resources towards the restoration of historical land-caring has the potential to repair broken moral relationships between humans and the environment in a way unbounded by anthropocentric notions of trust and forgiveness, but rather grounded in mutual dependency and care.