A personalist perspective on nature, the limits of knowledge, and scientific research

The film’s plot unfolds in the heart of the botanical garden of the University City of Marburg. A majestic ginkgo tree stands as a silent witness to the passage of time, articulating the cinematic narrative and connecting three profoundly human stories set in 1908, 1972, and 2020. Hungarian filmmaker Ildikó Enyedi—internationally acclaimed for films such as On Body and Soul , which won the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival in 2017—explores the growing difficulty of interpersonal relationships, our disconnection from nature, and the boundaries of scientific research. In a contemporary context marked by isolation and ecological crisis, this film takes on particular relevance, inviting us to imagine new forms of coexistence that are more responsible, respectful, intuitive, and sensitive to our environment. The film’s title itself carries a powerful philosophical and bioethical significance. The tree is a “friend” because it is not simply a thing available, and it is “silent” because we cannot access it in the same way that we communicate with a fellow human being.

All the protagonists share a sense of alienation: they are solitary, displaced figures searching for a sense of belonging. This yearning for connection becomes one of the main driving forces of the story, finding in the natural ecosystem a space of genuine affective and ontological resonance. In 1908, the young Grete (Luna Wedler) aspires to become the university’s first female botany student and challenges patriarchal structures while discovering universal patterns in plants through photography. In 1972, Hannes (Enzo Brumm) is swept away by an almost impressionistic sensory experience upon encountering the plant world through the observation of a geranium. Finally, in 2020, Dr. Tony Wong (Tony Leung Chiu-wai) embodies a renowned neuroscientist whose work is disrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns and who focuses his research on plant consciousness. The filmmaker uses different cinematic formats to reinforce the uniqueness and texture of each temporal experience.

Science and sensitivity

The film revives Goethe’s concept of delicate empiricism , whereby researchers become part of the phenomena they study, establishing a relationship of responsibility, otherness, and respect toward their object of knowledge. In the 19th century, conventional science—heir to Newton, Galileo, and Descartes—proposed that, to understand nature objectively, scientists had to distance themselves from it, treat it like clockwork, quantify it numerically, and isolate it in laboratories. Although history primarily remembers Johann Wolfgang von Goethe as the author of Faust , he dedicated much of his life to science, especially botany with his theory of plant metamorphosis, and optics. For Goethe, the senses, imagination, and intuition are not enemies of science, but rigorous tools if used respectfully.

If we observe nature with a delicate empirical approach , the ginkgo tree transcends mere symbolism and becomes an agent with its own intrinsic value and weight. As a living organism that surpasses the human timescale, it introduces into the film a perspective that questions, on the one hand, predatory technocratic anthropocentrism—which reduces the biosphere to a mere resource to be exploited without limits—and, on the other hand, the pretensions of reductionist biologism that simplistically equates all forms of life, diluting the specific dignity of the person.

The film poses numerous bioethical questions to the viewer: Does our inability to fully understand another living being exempt us from asking what obligations of care we have toward it? What happens when our relationship with the biotic environment degrades into instrumental utilitarianism for satisfying human needs? Is it legitimate to relate to living things solely through the dynamics of domination, efficiency, and utility? What degree of alteration or damage is deontologically acceptable for obtaining scientific knowledge? Or, how should we respond, from a place of ethical responsibility, to the epistemological limits of the imperceptible? The film does not turn these questions into an explicit or moralizing discourse, but rather introduces them organically into the narrative through a slow and contemplative rhythm.

Bioethical assessment

The film finds a solid theoretical parallel in Professor Jesús Ballesteros’s proposal of a personalist ecologism. He dismantles the false dichotomy of radical green movements, proposing a vision highly compatible with the reflections of filmmaker Ildikó Enyedi. On the one hand, he rejects technocratic anthropocentrism, which assumes human self-sufficiency and reduces the environment to a repository of resources for predatory exploitation. On the other hand, he distances himself from reductionist biologism or “savagery” (associated with deep ecology ), which dissolves human specificity by equating it symmetrically with any other species in the biotope. [1]

In the face of these dehumanizing extremes, Ballesteros’s work proposes understanding human beings through the evocative categories of “thinking humus” and “animated body.” This dual dimension acknowledges our radical vulnerability and physical dependence on the biosphere, but, at the same time, reaffirms a distinct ontological dignity. It is precisely this unique condition that ethically constitutes us not as tyrannical masters, but as guardians of nature. The responsibility to care for Creation does not stem from a flat biological equality, but from the moral asymmetry of the person: as the only ones capable of self-awareness and ethical judgment, we are the only ones obligated to safeguard all living things.

The film’s three time frames act as a phenomenological journey toward this guardian role. The alienation and loneliness that grip the protagonists highlight what Ballesteros calls the existential crisis of technocratic postmodernity. Neuroscientist Tony Wong’s attempt to unveil plant consciousness, far from stemming from a desire for instrumental domination, aligns with the pursuit of sustainable and equitable development, where scientific knowledge serves as a tool for pacification and reconciliation with the environment. The film reminds us that true ecology begins by healing the fractured human connection. Thus, protecting Marburg’s plant home is not merely a technical exercise in conservation, but the natural extension of an ethic of respect and compassion for the Other and for the Otherness of life.

Both the film and Ballesteros’s personal perspective on nature challenge us to acknowledge our epistemological limitations. We have limits to our ability to fully understand other life forms and to relate to the invisible or imperceptible. Consequently, the boundaries of our knowledge should incline us toward acts of kindness. It is in this just recognition of our intellectual fragility that science needs to shed its arrogance to give way to compassion and care. In the end, the ginkgo’s silence is not an emptiness, but a threshold of reverence that calls for a silent act of love and stewardship of all Creation. The Silent Friend shares the spirit of contemporary “cinema of slowing down,” where haste disappears to give way to the meticulous observation of the everyday, nature, and the subtle connections of the human soul. It is an art that demands patience, but rewards the viewer by revealing invisible links and restoring the capacity to look and listen attentively.

Technical specifications:

Original title: Silent Friend

Year: 2025

Director: Ildikó Enyedi

Country: Hungary, Germany, France

Duration: 147 min.

Amparo Aygües . Master’s Degree in Bioethics from the Catholic University of Valencia. Member of the Bioethics Observatory