14
Council
Stimpunks Foundation · Zine No. 14

The Council of
All Beings

on multispecies justice, more-than-human governance, and the star stuff that convenes


L★S
Love You Down
To Your Star Stuff
· open edition ·
Why a council

The cosmos
convenes


Carl Sagan said it plainly: the calcium in our bones, the iron in our blood, forged in stars that died before the Earth was born. But the same is true of the soil under the city, the water in the river, the beaver and the cuckoo and the meadow. Every being at the table is star stuff.

The Council of All Beings is a ritual from deep ecology, developed by Joanna Macy and John Seed: for an afternoon, humans set down the human mask and speak on behalf of another being — a mountain, a wolf, a river. Read cosmically, it isn't make-believe. It's the universe convening with itself, in all the forms it has learned to take.

And that reframes everything downstream. You cannot rank what you are made of. Kinship here is not a metaphor — it's an inventory of shared atoms.

The council is the universe convening with itself — the same star stuff, gathered in all the forms it has learned to take.
one forge C · O · H Ca · Fe human beaver cuckoo river meadow

same forge, different form
every seat is star stuff

justice count recognition be heard participation exist & act capabilities fair share distribution

four questions for every being
the agenda of a real council

The seating chart

Mere service
providers


The trouble is the seating chart we inherited. Modern planning treats the more-than-human world as a set of service providers — nature valued for what it yields to us, a resource rather than a relation. Repeated everywhere, that one move is a root of the socioecological crisis (Harms et al., 2025).

Multispecies justice turns the resource back into a party with standing. It asks four plain questions of any being: can it count (recognition), can it be heard (participation), can it exist and act (capabilities), does it get a fair share (distribution)?

These aren't abstractions. They're the agenda for a council that actually means to seat everyone.

Ethodiversity

Difference in how,
not just what


Biodiversity counts the kinds of life. But a subtler variety is nested inside it: not just what lives, but how it lives. Ombre Tarragnat calls this ethodiversity — the variety of "ways of being and behaving" across all animals — extending a term coined in ecology by Adolfo Cordero-Rivera. The migratory route, the dialect of a birdsong, the nocturnal life, the whole existential style of a creature.

Its shadow is ethonormativity: the unwritten rule about which behaviours are allowed to count as acceptable. The horse who refuses the rider, the cat who won't be petted — abandoned, or worse, for departing from the expected script. A grid laid over a field that was already full of variation.

So justice has to protect more than a list of species. It has to protect their ways of being. Star stuff varies in matter — and in manner. The council seats not just the beaver, but the beaver's way of being a beaver.

The cosmos varies not only in what it makes, but in how its creatures live. Ethonormativity is the grid; ethodiversity is the field.
the grid polices the ways of being

ethonormativity over ethodiversity
the field came before the grid

the table SOIL BEAVER CUCKOO RIVER MEADOW

a role card for every voice
you argue the world from there

Participation · the method

Speak as the soil,
the river


How do you give a being a seat when it can't pull up a chair? You speak as it. In multispecies role-play — the method behind the guide Speaking as a River — people take the part of the soil, the beaver, the cuckoo, the meadow, and argue the world from there. One role card simply reads: "You are the Soil — without you, nothing works here."

Good councils run on a few principles (after Artmann): each being is a relating subject with agency, not an object; each has a right to its own voice; each has value in itself, not only in use; and the exchange is reciprocal — giving and taking on equal terms, the old hierarchy set down.

It's a rehearsal for a wider "we" — a room where the beaver's right to stay is something you answer to, not around.

The hard part

Who speaks,
and how


A borrowed voice carries a real hazard: speaking for a being can slide into speaking over it. A human voicing the river is, honestly, a human guess — shaped by human wants.

Philosophical ethology offers a discipline for it. Vinciane Despret asks that we pose the questions that matter to the animal, not only to us; Jakob von Uexküll called each creature's lived world its Umwelt — the meadow a tick senses is not the meadow you see. The task is to enter that world, as far as you can, before you presume to represent it. Listen long. Represent second.

Notventriloquism — a borrowed voice is a responsibility, not a costume.
Notusefulness in disguise — "ecosystem services" is the service provider again.
Nota token seat — a chair you can't speak from is set dressing.
Notspeaking-over dressed as speaking-for — enter the Umwelt first.
the river proxy · in its Umwelt council listen long before you represent

enter its world before you speak for it
the proxy has to stay honest

TE AWA TUPUA the river · a legal person the water runs through us all

standing, not service
the river flows through the room

Distribution · standing

A real seat,
not a favour


The ritual points toward real governance. Under Rights of Nature, some rivers and forests now hold legal standing. Aotearoa New Zealand recognised the Whanganui River as a legal person — Te Awa Tupua — with appointed guardians who speak in its name. Projects like the Interspecies Council rehearse the same shift: governing with the more-than-human world, not merely about it.

And the river was never only "out there." In Astrida Neimanis's hydrofeminism, we are all bodies of water — rain, river, and blood passing through one another. The water in you has been the sea; it will be the cloud. Kinship is wet and literal, the way it is stellar.

So the Star Stuff turn is simple. This isn't charity extended outward — it's the cosmos, made of one shared stuff, learning to govern itself with care.

Coda

Already in flow


Not every convening needs a chair. The council seats us — star stuff at a table, taking turns to speak. But water never waited for an invitation to convene. It was already in flow before anyone sat down: sea to cloud, cloud to rain, rain to river, river to blood, blood to rain again — one long convening that never adjourns.

Maybe that's the truer shape of the thing. Not a table with seats around it, but a flow with all of us already in it — no head of the table, no order of speaking, just the same water finding its way through every body it passes.

The council asks us to notice who's missing from the table. The flow asks something simpler: notice you were never outside it.

We are star stuff, and we are the water that carries it. The council convenes because the flow already did.

L★S We are star stuff, and so is the river. The Council of All Beings is the universe convening with itself — learning to govern with care.
No. 8 The Universe Runs on Difference — variety & the failure of monoculture
No. 9 The Lines We Drew — the constructed border & the case for redrawing it
No. 10 The Dead Stars Still Reach Us — starlight, ancestry & the work of memory
No. 11 Why Difference Comes First — Helen Edgar (guest)
No. 12 Turn and Face the Strange — David Bowie
No. 13 Warriors and Weirdos — AURORA, the alien who came home
No. 14 The Council of All Beings — multispecies justice & more-than-human kin ← you are here
Reflection

Whose voice is missing from the tables you sit at — and who could speak for it?

Where do you still meet the more-than-human world as a service provider rather than a relation?

If you spoke as the river, what would you have to learn before you had the right to?

The Council of All Beings is the fourteenth zine in the Stimpunks series, and the first to seat the more-than-human world directly. It widens the "we" of Star Stuff — from the people who make it to all the beings made of the same matter — and carries the ethodiversity thread from No. 8, The Universe Runs on Difference out to the question of governance.

The ideas are real and worth naming precisely. The "Council of All Beings" is a deep-ecology ritual developed by Joanna Macy and John Seed (see Macy & Brown, Coming Back to Life). Multispecies justice and its four dimensions — recognition, participation, capabilities, distribution — draw on Pineda-Pinto et al. and Tafon et al. (2023). The multispecies role-play method, the "service provider" critique, the four human–nature partnership principles (after Artmann), and the Soil role-card line all come from Philip Harms, Neelakshi Joshi & Stefan Knauß, "Designing multispecies role-playing games" (npj Urban Sustainability, 2025, CC BY 4.0), and the companion guide Speaking as a River (Harms & Ortner, 2025).

Ethodiversity, ethodivergence, and ethonormativity are from Ombre Tarragnat, "Biodiversity, neurodiversity, ethodiversity: towards a more-than-human and more-than-neurological turn in neurodiversity studies" (TRACE: Journal for Human–Animal Studies, 2025), building on ethodiversity as coined in ecology by Adolfo Cordero-Rivera (2017); the ethology draws on Vinciane Despret's philosophical ethology and Jakob von Uexküll's concept of the Umwelt. Rights of Nature examples include Aotearoa New Zealand's Te Awa Tupua (Whanganui River) Act 2017; the Interspecies Council is a project of Moral Imaginations. "Bodies of water" is Astrida Neimanis's hydrofeminism.

The reading — that the council is the universe convening with itself, and that a table wide enough for the river was always our own — is ours. The star stuff in you is in the river too.