Our Minds, Our Cultures, and the Cosmos

Niche Constructing the World: Insights from the Cognitive Niche

It is in art that we can best appreciate the cognitive niche of an Other. Painting by the Jewish-American artist R.B. Kitaj.¹

The more you release the god of tribalism, the more aware you become of G-d as aliveness, and the more sacred life becomes. The more sacred life becomes, the more compassionate you are toward the living – and the more you engage with life justly, kindly, and humbly (Micah 6:8).

- Rabbi Rami Shapiro, Judaism without Tribalism, 2022

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I love [Judaism] and its language, and want to see it live again, aspiring new generations of seekers. It cannot do that, I believe, so long as it is stuck in the clutches of certain premodern conceptions, including both literalism and exclusivism.

- Rabbi Arthur Green, Judaism for the World, 2020

This article aims to reveal the reality and the complexities of our cognitive niche – the place in which human consciousness comes to know the world. To do this, this article will venture from current events to my personal development, and all the way back to the creation of what we now know as Judaism. Through each of these interwoven narratives, we will examine the ways in which our perceptions of the world are shaped and change in intimate dialogue with the wider social, ecological, and technological environment in which we live. This article is the third of an ongoing series on the human niche – if this concept feels strange to you, please consider reading the first and second articles in this series.

Current Events: Media Bias and Maintaining the Cognitive Niche

On Sunday, June 23rd, Anti-Occupation protesters gathered outside an LA synagogue to protest a real estate auction, seeking to disrupt the sale of land in the land of Israel. Though this protest was organized by the Palestinian Youth Movement, activists of all sorts (including many Pro-Palestine Jews) came out to denounce the sale of land in the occupied West Bank. 

This auction was being held in a neighborhood with a large contingent of Orthodox Jews, and even before the protest had began, a large counter protest had gathered. Protesters on both side saw the other as motivated by hatred: pro-Palestine protesters saw the Zionist counter-protesters as pro-colonial white supremacists, Zionist counter-protesters saw the pro-Palestine protesters as pro-Hamas antisemites. Each group had a very narrow understanding of what drove the other to rally against hate, and as chanting simmered into physical confrontations, nothing could stop hatred from turning into violence. I am not going to place the blame for this violence on any one individual or side, neither will I dive into the minute-by-minute unfolding of this tumultuous scene – that is not my purpose here. Rather, in recounting these events, I want to show how the encounter has been painted in broad strokes, further reinforcing simplistic narratives through fear-mongering, and blind hate. Here, we can see one way society fails to cultivate real dialogue between people with real differences.

Following these events, LA Mayor Karen Bass, California Governor Gavin Newsom, and US President Joe Biden met to coordinate their responses. It seems likely that going into the meeting, they had already figured out who they wanted to blame. While Mayor Bass has announced her intentions to ban masking at protests (a reckless “solution” in the midst of a pandemic), President Biden led the charge in framing the events for the wider American public: 

In this single tweet, Biden wholeheartedly embraced a one-sided narrative, echoing the myopic idea that these protests are simply based in an irrational hatred towards Jews. By flattening the wider context, this event is now able to be seamlessly fit into a broader narrative pervading Jewish communities: that criticism against the Israeli government is wholly rooted in hatred, and that Jewish people need protection against these hateful mobs. The pervasive nature of pro-Palestine activism on the left is thus seen as damning evidence that the American left has unquestioningly embraced Palestinian nationalism – a nationalism that is described by partisans as Islamist, anti-Jewish, and genocidal. For more and more Jews, the tools of the state seem to be our sole bastion: if we are not careful, we will cheer as police beat protesters into submission.

Since the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, countless Americans have been struggling to comprehend the supremacist roots of American racism – reflecting on the long legacy that colonialism has left on our cultures and psyches. We have been unlearning white-washed historical narratives and striving to truly listen to the stories of those who have been historically oppressed. It isn’t easy to shatter idealistic narratives and reconstruct an understanding of history that recognizes the various ways racialized, gendered, and antisemitic violence intersect to shape oppression past and present. But as we do, we increasingly recognize the continued legacy of our colonial past – here and across the world.

When we learn new stories – be it of past struggles or current events – they are framed through the lenses that our broader understanding of history provides us. When we hear one-sided news stories or read simplistic tweets, we are further entrenched into our beliefs: biased reporting serves to immunize us to the contrasting perspectives held by those who disagree with us.   

Here, we can see how ideological worldviews are constructed and reinforced by the narratives we embrace as true. All human experience is filtered through the lenses of our own histories and communities; what we perceive as True exists within ideology. Every story we are told, every narrative we understand as real, every label and identity we see as corresponding with real things existing in the cosmos – all we can know is rooted in our personal perspectives. Our particular human ways of thinking can only narrowly grasp the true impact and responsibility bound up in our place in the world. And yet, all that we can know is seeded in reality: Judaism did truly arise within the Land of Israel, and Jews have had a continuous presence on this land for at least 2,500 years; Palestinian land has been truly dispossessed and sold to Jews, not dissimilar to how American land was dispossessed from Native Americans and sold to settlers. Our conscious understanding of the world and our place in it arises within our wider cultural context, and is rooted in the symbols, identities, and narratives in which we understand ourselves to be situated.

If any of this made you uncomfortable, you are beginning to see the contours of your cognitive niche. Perhaps you are prepared to debate some of my claims – having numerous counter-points ready to go to dismiss one or both sides of this conflict. Corporate news media, online social media, direct education: no matter where you got your counter-points, you have been inoculated with counter-narratives. Mainstream discourse acts as a sort of cognitive immune system, helping us keep our ideological blinders intact. When we encounter two contrasting narratives and realize both are grounded in truth, cognitive dissonance reminds us that our understanding is limited: we have more to learn, and to do so, we must be open to listening.

Worldview, ideology, consciousness – each of these words encapsulates the narrow richness and fecund limitations through which we come to understand the world. The cognitive niche can act as a complementary perspective to these notions, allowing us to grasp the wider context through which our thinking grows, develops, and matures.

Defining the Cognitive Niche

If our ecological niche is composed of all the lived relationships that define our place within the broader environment – the ground of our living existence – the cognitive niche is composed of our conscious awareness of these relationships. The ecological niche and the cognitive niche are two aspects to the same phenomenon – one viewed from the outside and the other from the inside. There is no separating these distinct attributes of our niche.² The cognitive niche is the wider environment in which the developing consciousness comes to understand its place in the world.

In ecology, we call this the Umwelt, a term which specifically denotes the subjective perspective an organism has evolved to navigate its environment. Through understanding an organism’s umwelt, we can comprehend the experience of an organism, and better appreciate the depth of meaning which permeates our world.³ While the human cognitive niche is undoubtedly distinct from other animals, it is essential to recognize that we, like all animals, have evolved to see the world in a way necessary to ensure that all our needs are met. It’s only that for us humans, our needs extend far beyond just food, safety, and reproduction. We have social needs and spiritual needs, without which we feel cosmologically lost and existentially purposeless.

To understand the emergence of the modern human cognitive niche — replete with emotions and attachments, language and mental frameworks, instrumental knowledge and symbolic meaning — I would need to tell a vast story about the coevolution of our brains, our social relationships, and diverse ecologies which enabled language, understanding, and knowledge, to eventually be passed down inter-generationally across time. That is beyond my purposes here. Instead, I hope that through this article you gain a deeper understanding of how people’s cognitive niches develop and are maintained – and how they can transform through being introduced to new ways of seeing and understanding the world. 

Personal Growth: Transforming the Cognitive Niche Through Ecology 

My journey as an ecologist began with a deep interest in botanical diversity – so many beautiful and distinct leaves and flowers, colors and textures. Growing up in the modern world, I am thoroughly convinced that the vast majority of us are “plant blind.” Plant blindness is a term used to describe our modern proclivity to overlook the vegetation that decorates our world. While plant blindness can manifest anywhere where we are near plants and fail to truly notice them, it is in driving a car that this phenomenon is most clear. As we drive, plants literally frame our journey – lining hills and highways, city streets and soils everywhere. Behind the wheel, we are literally training ourselves to focus on the road before us – it would be dangerous if we were concerned with the various flowers and leaf morphologies that are found all along our route. But when we slow down and leave our vehicles, when we take time to focus our attention on the diverse plants that surround us and nourish us, something changes. 

When I lost my plant blindness, the texture of my cognition fundamentally changed. While I still do my best to focus on the road when I drive, when I move through space, I no longer am solely concerned with my destination, nor with the road beneath me. Now, my focus is scattered – my eyes and attention are drawn to the various growth forms, leaf shapes, colors, textures, scents. My mind wanders as I greet the various plants and species I have now come to recognize – always considering what is unique and different in each individual while also thinking about how the wider context and each species’ ecology might teach me about where I am.

Plants taught me about ecological diversity, and about the variously narrow or broad conditions in which organisms can thrive. Through pondering the biogeography of the many species I have come to know, I have learned (and continue to learn) about the ways plants adapt to distinct environments. Through learning the many species which dwell in the varied ecosystems across the landscapes of my home – California – I have learned to understand the broader environment in which I live. My attention has shifted. I now see the impact that water, soil, topography, and history play in shaping a landscape. In a way, the plants speak to me. Some tell of water feet below the surface, others tell of generations past – of cattle ranches, of horticultural fads, of urban development. 

While I am still occasionally focused entirely on my path, I am now far more regularly drawn outward – I slow down and find a connection to place rooted not only in my own relationship to place, but also the relationships bound up in the roots, flowers, and broader web of interdependence upon which all life is made possible. These steps — losing my plant blindness, becoming increasingly ecologically aware, learning to see the wider context in which we live — each served to reorient my cognitive niche. Through learning to see what had remained overlooked for so long, I have become increasingly aware of the ways the dominant culture has shaped my consciousness, and how we all might learn to see and think differently .

Plant blindness is a symptom of the modern cognitive niche endemic to urban living. Through unlearning plant blindness, I have noticed as my cognition and relationship to the broader world has been transformed. I have seen how learning names for plants has drawn me into closer relationships with my wider home. I have found deep appreciation in the ability of our minds to learn and continuously adapt and incorporate new knowledge into our understanding of who we are and what our world looks like. Through this change, I have realized just how much lies beyond the scope of everyday human concern. My mindset has shifted from being chiefly concerned with my own life to caring for others – other people, other species, other ways of living. 

Before I entered college, I understood that my primary goal was to learn what it looks like to live well on the Earth. I know now that there is no one way to live in good relation with all of nature. And yet, I see that it is paramount that we collectively make decisions regarding what is necessary for us to move forward. In these times of anthropogenic climate change and mass extinction, it is more vital than ever that we reevaluate our norms and understandings of how to live well together. Whether through religious or secular, philosophical or scientific, culturally particular or scientifically universal frameworks, we need a new standard for what it means to do right by others. Let’s now turn towards the case of Jewish life, and consider how Judaism has sought to bring the cognitive niche into alignment with the broader environment in which it first developed.

Historical Perspective: The Jewish Cognitive Niche and Eco-Kashrut

Judaism as we know it today — including our rich textual heritage and sage leadership — first arose as a textual tradition in the decades following the destruction of the first temple in Jerusalem. As Judeans were put into exile, spiritual leaders were forced to establish new ways of preserving their traditional identity and our collective covenant with G-d. Whereas before the destruction of the temple, this was done chiefly through animal sacrifice and proper ritual technique, the people were now dispersed, lacking a physical center for worship. In the place of a temple, the Torah was compiled, and 613 Mitzvot — commandments — were canonized into the Halachic laws, vital to conserving Jewish ritual practice.

Judaism as we know it developed through this textual tradition. As generations of teachers and scholars debated the deeper meaning and importance of these commandments, and as the wider historical context continued to shift with the rise and fall of kings and empires, new revelations, interpretations and texts were added to the Jewish canon of scripture. These have persisted into today as the Tanakh and the Talmudic tradition of argumentative debate.

It is through these debates – never fully concluded but always aiming to resolve the contradictions between different interpretations and ways of thinking – that the Jewish cognitive niche has developed. When these debates concerned the 613 commandments, new interpretations spawned different practices and beliefs – yet it was always with the belief that the “right” way of doing things was illuminated in text of our sacred books. Within Jewish Ecology, we are primarily concerned with the commandments which concern our physical relationships within our wider ecosystem: “Kashrut, elevating manufacturing and consuming to the highest ethical and environmental standards”.⁴ This should not be limited to any specific place or time. Whereas the traditional approach to Seder Zeraim (Order of Seeds) is that social and agricultural laws ought to only apply in the Land of Israel, here on Jewish Ecology, we are searching for universally applicable guidelines — natural laws — through which we can establish a more ecologically harmonious relationship with our whole living community.

In the modern day, as numerous Jews struggle to find the relevance of Orthodox Jewish laws to their lives in our post-Enlightenment culture, Kashrut can provide us a lens into what it means to be cognitively, ethically, and spiritually engaged with our wider ecological context. But we cannot dismiss the widespread disillusionment with orthodox religions – modern science has posed a nigh insurmountable challenge to the divine status of scripture-derived customs. To bring Judaism into the modern day, we must work to reconcile our ancient commandments with the modern day, and to reconstruct our understanding of the “right” way of doing things in a way that aligns with both the traditional spiritual intention and the modern ethical sensibility.

In the 1970s, Reconstructionist Jews sought out to do just that: the term “EcoKashrut” was coined to denote the project of bringing Jewish commandments into alignment with modern ecological wisdom. Through intentionally restructuring the contours of the Jewish cognitive niche, Reconstructionist, Renewal and Humanist Judaisms aim to preserve the heart of the Jewish tradition – with its concern for social, ethical, spiritual dimensions of Jewish life – while doing away with the premodern biases baked into ancient Jewish texts. In future articles, I aim to participate in this project – dwelling on our commandments and sketching out how they  can be adapted to our modern ecological and existential predicaments. But for now, I will leave you with some final words.

There is no one way of being Jewish. Neither is there a correct way of being human. The cognitive niche of Jews is informed by the Jewish textual tradition – some more than others – but in every case, what it means to be Jewish is informed by the words, stories, and relationships we elevate as essential to our Judaism. The human cognitive niche is essentially open: we are forced to reckon with our place in the world, and to work together to find meaning in our lives. For Jews, we must reckon with our texts – our commandments, our Torah. And yet, we mustn’t presume that anyone sees the whole truth, or that our sacred texts hold all the answers. In the Anthropocene, it is up to us to see our traditions for what they are – crafted by humans, for humans – and to aspire to bring them more fully into alignment with our deepest purpose – bring about a more ecological and socially just future. We must build bridges: from past into present, from one culture into another, from science into religion. Our future depends on it.

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Thank you for reading Jewish Ecology. This blog aims to build a participatory dialogue in which important ideas at the intersection of Judaism and ecology can help us root ourselves in the World. This blog is not just for Jews; I aim for these articles to be accessible and impactful for anyone that is interested in building up an understanding of the role that spirituality, philosophy, and/or ethics play in bringing about a more peaceful, ecological, and sustainable future for all People and the World. If you can think of someone who might enjoy these articles, please consider sharing this blog!

1. R.B. Kitaj. The Autumn of Central Paris (After Walter Benjamin). 1972. Link.

2. Tommaso Bertolotti and Lorenzo Magnani. “Theoretical Considerations on Cognitive Niche Construction”. Synthese. 2017. Link.

3. Kalevi Kull. “On the Concept of Meaning in Biology”, in Evolution "On Purpose": Teleonomy in Living Systems. edited by Corning et al. 2023. Link.

4. Rabbi Rami Shapiro. Judaism without Tribalism. 2022

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