Loving the Earth: Reimagining the Foundations of Ethics Beyond Humanity

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.

When Abstract Visions of the Futures Collide in Physical Space: A Case Study in Futures Studies

In the discipline of futures studies, preferred visions of the future often remain abstract—elaborate expressions of national aspirations, policy roadmaps, or ideological dreams. Yet occasionally, these imagined futures break through the boundaries of discourse and collide violently in the physical world, leading to devastating consequences. A striking case in point is the tragic unraveling of Iran’s Vision 2025 amid the outbreak of the Iran–Israel war in June 2025—a confrontation that starkly illustrates the friction between clashing futures.

Adopted in 2005 under a religiously driven leadership, Iran’s Vision 2025 laid out an ambitious roadmap: to become “a developed country that ranks first economically, scientifically and technologically in the region of Southwest Asia… with constructive and effective international interactions.” This was not merely a developmental blueprint but a symbolic assertion of Iran’s place in the regional and global order—a vision informed by Islamism values, anti-Western attitude, and aspirations for scientific leadership.

However, on June 13, 2025, the abstractions of this future were pierced by missiles and fire. Israel launched a surprise offensive against Iran, targeting its military and nuclear infrastructure. Less than ten days later, the United States—long aligned with Israeli strategic interests—escalated the conflict by striking three key Iranian nuclear sites. What was once a vision of regional leadership had become a battlefield. Vision 2025, as articulated two decades prior, was not merely delayed or challenged; it was decisively shattered in the material realm. This sequence of events is an undeniable instance of what can happen when competing abstract visions—each loaded with historical grievances, ideological fervor, and strategic anxieties—collide.

This breakdown serves as a warning to all foresight practitioners and policymakers: visions are not neutral. They are strategic. They are political. And they are often in tension with one another. The 2025 war exemplifies the danger of ignoring such tensions, assuming that visions can unfold linearly without resistance or conflict from other actors whose preferred futures may be fundamentally incompatible.

To systematically analyze such dynamics, the Alternative Planetary Futures Institute (Ap-Fi), a Washington DC-based think tank, has published a foresight-oriented report titled The Middle East and the United States: Scenarios for the Medium-Term Future until 2030. This study recommends cross-comparing the preferred futures of regional actors—including Iran, Israel, Saudi Arabia, Turkey—and external powers such as the United States and China. The methodology encourages researchers to map not only aspirations but also the strategic behavior likely to emerge when visions come into contact—cooperative or confrontational.

Ap-Fi’s scenario work proposes that rather than asking only “What is our preferred future?”, leaders and analysts must ask: “Whose future are we in conflict with?” In the Middle East, the convergence or collision of visions—whether economic (e.g., Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030), ideological (e.g., Iran’s theocratic leadership), or strategic (e.g., Israel’s military doctrine)—shapes the region’s trajectory far more than the content of any single vision.

Looking beyond present and the Middle East, a looming question arises in the near future: what happens when the American and Chinese visions of the future collide as described in the book Planetary Foresight and Ethics? With the U.S. championing a rules-based international order and China promoting a system with socialist modernization characteristics, the next major global flashpoint may arise not just from territorial disputes or military missteps, but from an irreconcilable clash between two vastly different conceptions of the future.

This is why future visioning must evolve. It must move from isolated idealism to comparative strategy. From internal policy documents to geopolitical foresight frameworks. And from static images to dynamic conflict anticipation.

In closing, the Iran–Israel war of 2025 is more than a tragic geopolitical escalation. It is a foresight lesson in real time: visions are powerful, but they are not insulated. When abstract dreams of the future are projected onto the same physical and political space without coordination or empathy, collision is not just possible—it is inevitable. Futures studies must be ready to anticipate, map, and mediate these collisions, if peace is to remain more than just a vision.