The language we use to discuss human rights and civilian populations in the context of politics and warfare often fails to capture the visceral reality of human existence. Terms like "civilian population" feel antiseptic and abstract, lacking the emotional weight necessary to truly convey what we seek to protect. This abstraction can lead to a dangerous disconnect, where the mass destruction of human life becomes a palatable option in political and military decision-making. We need a new way to express the essence of what requires protection - the human life that flourishes in neighborhoods, sustained by intricate networks of housing, commerce, education, culture, and mutual aid. This is not merely a collection of individuals, but a complex, living system deeply connected to its locality, society, and economy. It's something akin to a "human fauna" - a habitat of humans with all its rich interconnections and dependencies. The living human landscape. The term "human fauna" might seem unusual, but it aims to evoke a more visceral understanding of human life forms. When we speak of a "civilian population," it doesn't conjure up images of city blocks teeming with friends and family, of communities bound together by shared experiences and mutual support. Yet, if people could visualize their own neighborhood under threat, the imperative to protect would be undeniable. This disconnect in our collective imagination has real consequences. When abstract terms dominate political discourse, it becomes easier to justify the bombing of civilian areas as a military or political necessity. The emotional energy that would normally arise from contemplating the destruction of one's own community is absent when we discuss faceless "civilian populations." What we need is a new conceptual framework - let's call it the "Human Covenant." This covenant represents the practical commitment of the human collective, perhaps even a "human nation," to pool its resources for the protection of its members. At its core, the Human Covenant prioritizes preventing the murder or decimation of the members of the collective. Beyond this fundamental protection, it extends to investing in the welfare and flourishing of all humans. The Human Covenant is, in essence, a decision to protect ourselves by ceasing to destroy ourselves. It requires a radical shift in our conception of "we." Instead of defining ourselves primarily through national or ethnic identities, we must expand our sense of self to encompass all of humanity. This shift mirrors the way nation-states typically view their own populations - mass killing of citizens is never considered a viable policy option because the citizenry is precisely what the concept of security is meant to protect. Yet, in international politics and warfare, we often revert to a narrower identity, affiliating ourselves with a particular nation-state or ethnic group. This limited perspective allows mass killings to remain on the table as a policy option, as long as the victims are not part of our narrowly defined "we." The Human Covenant challenges us to update this mental "software," to recognize that our security is inextricably linked to the security of all members of the human family. This idea isn't entirely new. It echoes ancient concepts, such as the biblical notion that humans are created in the image of God. Some scholars argue that the very idea of "humanity" as a unified concept emerged during the Axial Age, around 500 BCE. What's innovative about the Human Covenant is not the idea of humanity itself, but the explicit extension of our moral and political considerations to encompass all of humanity. To advance this concept, we need to develop a more effective way to characterize human existence and civilian life. We need language that vividly conveys what is actually destroyed when an air force bombs a city and obliterates neighborhoods. We need to articulate the true impact on human beings, on the human life form, on the "human fauna." The Human Covenant, then, is both a goal and a means. It's the endpoint we strive for - a world where our collective resources are devoted to protecting and nurturing all human life. But it's also a conceptual tool, a way of reframing our understanding of humanity that can help bring about this very change. By shifting our perspective, by expanding our sense of "we," we can begin to make decisions that truly serve the interests of humanity as a whole. This is not merely an academic exercise. It's a call for a fundamental reimagining of our collective identity, our responsibilities to each other, and the very meaning of concepts like security and prosperity. It's a challenge to see the rich tapestry of human life that exists in every community, and to recognize that this tapestry - this "human fauna" - is what we truly mean when we speak of protecting civilian populations. The path forward requires contributions from various fields of study - anthropology to understand diverse human societies, sociology to study social structures, psychology to explore group identities and empathy, political science to examine governance implications, philosophy to develop ethical foundations, and more. It will require education, dialogue, and a willingness to expand our circles of empathy and concern. Ultimately, the Human Covenant is about recognizing the obvious - that our fates are intertwined, that the flourishing of others contributes to our own wellbeing, and that the destruction of any part of the human fauna diminishes us all. It's about creating a language and a conceptual framework that makes this interconnectedness impossible to ignore, that brings the reality of human life and human suffering into sharp focus whenever we make decisions that affect others. In embracing the Human Covenant, we take a step towards a world where the protection and nurturing of all human life is not just an ideal, but the fundamental principle guiding our collective actions. It's an ambitious goal, but one that becomes increasingly necessary as our world grows more interconnected and our actions have ever-wider consequences. The human fauna - in all its complexity, diversity, and beauty - deserves nothing less.