Recently, I was in my local park when I noticed a young girl staring at me with a puzzled expression. She then turned to her mother and asked: ‘Why is that man hugging a tree?’ It was a good question. Why was an old, cynical, embittered hack like me hugging a tree? The simple answer is: I’ve become a tree hugger.
There was a time when I laughed at people like me; and many are still laughing. Tree hugger is a term of abuse that everyone seems happy to use. Green politics may have moved closer to the mainstream but we tree huggers have been left out in the cold. We are the friends of the earth who have very few friends. To ‘climate sceptics’ on the right, we’re just lunatics. To left leaning eco-warriors, we are eco-wimps.
To some in the Green movement, tree hugging is part of their embarrassing past. Don’t mention the hug word around Zack Polanski. According to a recent report in the Telegraph, ‘Greens shun tree hugging and embrace Gaza at Gorton and Denton by-election’. It represents the soft sentimental side of the hard struggle to save the planet. Hug a tree? You might as well pet a puppy.
When someone calls themselves a tree hugger it’s usually done for comic effect or as a conspicuous act of self-deprecation. Earlier this month in the House of Commons, during a debate on woodland protection, Labour MP Jen Craft announced to the house with a heavy dose of self-mockery: ‘I am a self-confessed tree hugger – I literally will hug a tree.’
Sir Keir Starmer, on the other hand, will not. In 2023, when he was leader of the opposition, Starmer is alleged to have told members of the shadow cabinet that he was ‘not interested in tree huggers’ before saying: ‘In fact, I hate tree huggers.’
Despite such widespread disapproval, I go every day to a tree-lined square near my home and hug my tree. (It’s a very tall and thick London plane, with an unruly mass of branches, which juts out of the ground at a slight angle.) And I mean hug. I don’t just touch or stroke my tree or give it a little pat of appreciation. I stretch out my arms as wide as I can and wrap them around as much of the tree that I can, and press my face and entire body against the tree and just stand there, hugging. I listen to the tree hum. I feel its vibrations. I soak up its energy. And yes, sometimes I feel like a twit.
How did my life as a tree hugger begin? I’d walked by this same tree a million times and regarded it as just another tree. But then, one cold sunny day, instead of phone scrolling, I put my phone away and looked at the tree and saw a thing of beauty and wonder. How had I never noticed this tree before?
I moved closer to the tree and put my hands on it. A voice inside my head said: ‘Oh no! Please, don’t do any of that tree hugging shit for heaven’s sake.’ And before you could say, ‘piss off, Sting’, I had my arms wrapped around it. And it felt good. I squeezed tighter and a smile spread across my face.
I listen to the tree hum. I feel its vibrations. I soak up its energy. And yes, sometimes I feel like a twit
At first, I was worried by what people passing by might think of me. One thing I enjoy about tree hugging is that it teaches you not to worry about such things. I’ve had local youths laugh and mock me. ‘Get a room!’ said one wit. Male friends all crack the same joke about getting wood. I get stared at by joggers, bin collectors, pram-wheeling mums and pot-smoking delinquents. I suspect that some feel sorry for me, thinking: ‘Look at that poor old bloke. Obviously, he has no one to hug!’
Why do I do it? I’m not really sure. All sorts of medical and psychological claims are made for tree hugging – it reduces stress, anxiety and lowers your blood pressure. Maybe. (I certainly feel better after a tree hug.) But maybe that’s due to the uplift you get from being away from your screen, walking in a park and inhaling fresh air, and has nothing to do with the actual hug or healing energies that comes from the tree itself.
For me it has something to do with wanting to get closer to nature, really close. It appeals to that longing that many modern, secular-minded people have for a connection with something bigger than themselves. No, I don’t feel one with the universe, but I do feel one with my tree. If you listen carefully during your tree hug you can hear God or Nature – call it what you will – whispering in your ear.
To some this might sound like a lot of mushy mysticism or woo-woo spirituality. And yes, it’s such a white, middle-class thing to do! In modern times, tree hugging began as a form of social protest in 1973 in northern India to save local forests. Now it’s slowly becoming a part of the wellbeing movement. I certainly feel better for my tree hugs.
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