Reading "Loving Nature"

Today I began to read Loving Nature: Towards an ecology of emotion by Kay Milton. I've read half of the book and plan to read a chapter a day this week until I finish it. This is the first truly academic work I've read so far (and about time, too...) and it's done a great job so far of filling in that void of scholarly theory I've been missing. It's at once a bit overwhelming (information overload) and exciting (lots of material to write about now...).

The book seeks to construct a theory of how people come to relate to and love nature. The author discusses theories of emotion and perception grounded in the work of mostly psychologists and anthropologists. She clearly has her own arguments and opinions, but she nevertheless gives a good overview of those that she seeks to overturn. There are lots of cited references to lead me to further research. One cited work that I intend to check out is J. Barry's Rethinking Green Politics for his idea that we need to "re-enchant" ourselves with nature.

Some ideas from Milton that stick out to me so far, which I think will be useful later on:

- The extent to which people "care about" nature depends at least in part on whether nature is seen as having "personhood." Personhood refers to beings that have intention (i.e. a religious entity, or rock/tree/animal spirits, or animals as being intelligent beings). A concept or thing that is imbued with a sense of personhood is also seen as having rights, which makes it a moral imperative to act responsibly in relation to this concept/thing. This "personal" view of nature is in contrast to a "impersonal" view of nature, more dominant in science and in modernist western ways of thinking, in which nature is seen as governed by mechanistic principles that have no purpose or meaning.

- Idea of "relational epistemology" - On page 47, there is a discussion of Nayaka hunter-gatherers' tendency to focus on events in their environment rather than objects and individuals, what something "does" rather than "is." Milton goes on to suggest that, through this world view, a sense of personhood can arise out of the way something responds to or relates to other things, such as ourselves — whether it moves or changes as a result of stimuli, for instance. Thus, the reason we relate best to other humans is not because they are human, but because they happen to relate the most closely and responsively to us. (A kind of radical idea that I intuitively feel is missing something... but it's an interesting idea.) She also proposes that relational epistemology is common to all human cultures, not just hunter-gatherer societies — and it persists despite rigorous scientific training. (52)

- A sense of personhood does not always yield sympathy. Milton gives an example of a fox: the animal perceived as a "thief" (which is a human construct) by the farmer, and is therefore loathed. (50)

- Milton observes that the most dominant way of viewing nature today is that of the impersonal, in large part due to a convenient alliance between science and economics. Science has a tendency to depersonalize nature; Milton attributes this mainly to the most popular mode of explaination in science, which is hierarchical reductionism (I don't really understand this line of thought yet... will read more on what hierarchical reductionism actually is). Milton argues that because economics (in the form of capitalism) is western societies' dominant force, and because science "serves capitalism very well" by making exploitation of nature morally acceptable through depersonalization, we have come to see nature in the scientific mode — as predominantly impersonal. This feels a bit over-simplified to me... so I'd like to read more about this, as Milton only gives a few paragraphs on this topic. (But she does set up an interesting comparison between modern society and early animistic societies in how they thank - or not thank - nature for providing economic resources - p53)

- Love of nature is closely linked to enjoyment of nature, as evident in anecdotal accounts from avid conservationists, in how they converse enthusiastically about hiking, camping, birdwatching, and other forms of outdoor recreation. But there is a sense that linking love to enjoyment trivializes the need for conservation; there is a story in the book about developers who scoff at birdwatchers protesting the destruction of a bird habitat, because their concern is relegated to the status of "hobby" rather than some serious concern like profit or progress.

- The biophilia hypothesis, which proposes that we have an innate predisposition to respond emotionally to life and life-like processes, is a potentially powerful argument for conservationists. It implies that, were biodiversity to suffer and nature to disappear, we as human beings would suffer emotional impoverishment.

- Emotions serve as learning mechanisms in that they increase incidence of retention (in memory) and therefore knowledge. (Interesting but probably not too related idea: emotions and logic are therefore NOT as mutually opposing as conventionally thought; there can be no knowledge without emotion.) So love of forests can lead to a desire to learn more about forests. The opposite also works: knowledge about forests leads to understanding and eventually love for them.

Clearly that is a lot to think about right now, but writing it all down helps. And all of this is helpful in starting to think about what environmental factors in an architectural space could spur all these feelings and ideas about nature.

One last note: Milton hasn't spent a lot of pages discussing various ways of defining nature (cultural differences, etc.). She also begins the book by saying that whenever she uses an ambiguous word like "societies," it should be assumed that she means contemporary western. Thereafter it is implied that she means "nature" in the way that [western] conservationists mean "nature" — the great outdoors, wild animals, undisturbed habitats, etc. She does not mean nature in the sense of "human nature" or "the natural" so much.

I'm wondering if it would be a good idea in my thesis to also make these initial disclaimers/acknowledgements of limitations. Is it necessary/expected in academic literature? Is it a sign of leaky scholarship to not be as all-inclusive as possible? Or is it ok because sometimes it simply is impossible to be that thorough and assumptions/self-imposed limitations need to happen in order to proceed? Which is better?

Off to sleep with lots to ponder...

Introduction and background

As senior year shifts into fifth gear, I have taken on the task of writing a Senior Honors Thesis for my Architectural Studies degree. A month has come and gone and, after a false start, I seem to have finally decided on a topic. Two weeks ago I re-proposed my topic and rewrote a chapter outline. You can read about them here:

Topic Proposal

Tentative Chapters Outline

And now for some background: My topic was inspired half a year ago by, of all things, thoughts of food. This led me to read a remarkable book, The Ominvore's Dilemma: a Natural History of Four Meals by Michael Pollan, which set my mind a-whir thinking about humans' relationship to nature. Though I've always been a nature-lover at heart and been aware since kindergarten of an existing (practically clichéd) tension between humans and nature, I had never realized the depth and complexity of this tension, and the extent to which the human conflict with nature was a product of capitalism, industrial society and modernization. I became interested in finding out what the reasons behind our overall ignorance and disregard for natural environments and ecological reality were.

While thinking about this, I decided first that I would research sustainable architecture. While leafing through a huge stack of glossy, beautifully illustrated books on green architecture, sustainable building, and other permutations of those words, I slowly began to realize that, energy-efficient and well-designed all these pieces were, a great deal of buildings calling themselves green do not give their occupant any sense at all of "greenness," other than a monthly utility bill that is wonderfully low. Modernist paradigms of the glass box, transparent but austere and sterile, persist. These buildings, I felt, could do more, much more, to help solve the environmental crisis. Beyond just treading water via shortsighted "energy fixes," they could re-engineer the way people think about and relate to nature by expressing ecological truths (such as connectivity and complexity) and teaching occupants about the natural life-giving processes that industrial society has for so long obscured. My question, then, is how to do this?

That, then, is my premise. From here on, I'll use this blog both to free-write and to track my progress as I gather information and develop a more critical perspective. I'll also post any tangential thoughts and discoveries I may come across (sometimes such things may lead to valuable insights.)

I welcome your thoughts, opinions, and suggestions in the hopes that this will be a rewarding intellectual adventure for all involved. So please, comment copiously!