Princess Mononoke: How an animated film taught us Environmental Lessons | By Parveena Yousuf

by - April 30, 2025

by @0xaphi @franchestca_ave

 We often turn to Ghibli films for comfort— the soft music, soothing colours, and whimsical worlds that offer a gentle escape. But Princess Mononoke is different. Amid the fantasy and aesthetic charm lie quiet truths and messages hidden in plain sight, waiting for us to notice. Sometimes, in our love for magic, we forget to listen to the warnings softly whispered through the story. As Prince Ashitaka asks, “Can’t the forest and humans live together peacefully?” A question that still echoes softly today, waiting for us to answer it. In this article, we explore how an animated film from decades ago still carries one of the most urgent lessons of today. 1. “To see with eyes unclouded by hate.” - Prince Ashitaka, Princess Mononoke (1997)
Prince Ashitaka says this as he leaves his village, burdened with a curse but determined to understand the conflict between humans and the forest. He isn’t there to take sides — only to see the truth for what it is. In a world filled with noise, anger, and fast judgments, Prince Ashitaka reminds us to pause — to look at the world without the fog of bitterness. Can we learn to see nature as it is, not as something to take from, but something to care for? It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the damage being done, but maybe the first step isn’t shouting louder — it’s seeing clearer. What would change if we all looked at the Earth with a little more kindness? Perhaps healing begins not with outrage, but with gentle understanding — seeing the Earth not as an enemy or a lost cause, but as something still worth saving. 2. “I’m not afraid to die. I’d do anything to see that God dead.” - Lady Eboshi, Princess Mononoke (1997)
Lady Eboshi isn’t a villain — she is complex. Her fierce determination to protect her people leads her to harm the Great Forest Spirit, believing it’s the only way forward. But at what cost? When the Spirit is slain, everything crumbles. Her own city is brought to ruin. Later, she reflects, changed — quieter, softer, wiser. How often do we charge ahead, thinking we’re building a better future, while nature quietly suffers? Her words echo today’s mindset — growth at any cost, even if it silences the sacred. It makes you wonder: in our pursuit of progress, are we listening to what we’re destroying? But it’s not too late to rebuild with respect. Like her, can we choose to begin again — not in dominance, but in harmony? 3. “You cannot alter your fate, my prince. However, you can rise to meet it, if you choose.” - Hii-sama, Princess Mononoke (1997)
Fate can feel overwhelming — like the damage done to the planet is already too great. But Hii-sama’s words are a quiet reassurance: though we can’t undo the past, we can choose how we face the future. Isn’t that what hope is? Rising to meet what’s coming, not with fear, but with courage. Climate change, extinction, deforestation — these aren’t easy battles. But what if we faced them with open hearts, like Prince Ashitaka did? What if, instead of retreating in despair, we rose — with kindness, responsibility, and belief that it’s not too late to do better? 4. “Even if all the trees return, it won't be His forest anymore.” -San, Princess Mononoke (1997)
San’s words come from heartbreak — a forest once sacred now stripped of its spirit. But Prince Ashitaka gently answers, “The Forest Spirit can’t die. He is life itself… He’s telling us that we should live.”
In the end, the Great Forest Spirit returns what was taken and vanishes without vengeance — no punishment, only silence. Isn’t that how nature often speaks to us? Quietly enduring, quietly fading. This moment reminds us that even when we fail it, the Earth doesn’t strike back — it waits. The question is: will we listen before it’s truly gone? Maybe, like Prince Ashitaka, we can begin again, not as conquerors, but as caretakers. Conclusion Princess Mononoke doesn’t shout. It doesn’t lecture. It whispers. “The trees cry out in pain, but you cannot hear them.” Said goddess Moro. Even wrapped in fantasy, the truth lingers —if we keep taking from the Earth without listening, something precious will be lost. The forest may seem distant now, fading into background noise, but it’s still there, waiting. This 1997 tale isn’t just a story. It’s a quiet reminder of the harmony we’ve forgotten… and the voice of nature we’ve learned to ignore.

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