Let us for a moment, forget about the existence of the future. Suspend, too, the assumption that “humanity” is a self-evident reality. Strip away the inherited layers of philosophy, law, religion, and ideology, and ask a more foundational question: Does humanity exist?
Not as a collection of individual humans—but as a singular entity, a cohesive “we,” something worthy of ethical commitment or emotional attachment. Is humanity a real thing, or merely an abstraction, a ghost conjured by imagination, a placeholder that never truly held form?
Historically, “humanity” has been invoked to inspire noble ideals—compassion, unity, universal rights—but also manipulated as an empty vessel into which selective agendas are poured. The notion remains poorly defined, floating between sentiment and statute. The very phrase “crime against humanity” was only minted after World War II, crafted as a legal innovation to prosecute unprecedented atrocities. Before that, civilizations invoked higher laws—not crimes against humanity, but crimes against God.
In fact, even today, many are punished or persecuted for transgressions framed as offenses against the divine. This continuity underscores a truth: ethical systems often rest upon constructs—God, the nation, humanity—that are not ontologically real, but symbolically powerful.
What if “humanity” was constructed to fill the vacuum left by a retreating God?
This is not a rhetorical flourish, but a deep ontological inquiry. In the framework explored in the book Planetary Foresight and Ethics, it is argued that instead of loving abstractions, we must reorient our ethical compass toward what undeniably exists: the Earth.
The Earth is not a metaphor. It is a living, breathing, complex system that sustains all known life. We know it exists; we stand upon it, drink its water, breathe its air. It is more than a backdrop—it is an actor, an entity, a home. And unlike “humanity,” the Earth has no ambiguity. It has boundaries. It can suffer. It can be healed.
Therefore, an ethical pivot is proposed: let us speak not only of love for humanity, but of love for the Earth. Let us define and operationalize concepts like crimes against the planet, crimes against nature, or even crimes against life itself. These are not symbolic phrases, but practical frameworks for a new planetary ethic.
To do so is not to abandon human dignity. It is to ground that dignity in the real. It is to affirm that our future—if there is one—depends not on the abstraction of humanity, but on our relationship with the living world that birthed and sustains us.
In this light, the future becomes not a linear projection of human goals, but a space of planetary stewardship. We don’t need faith in the future—we need fidelity to the Earth.
And in that fidelity, perhaps we may rediscover what it truly means to be human.