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Enacting an Earth-centred Worldview
How are we to develop and enact an Earth-centred worldview when our everyday experience obscures our connections with the Earth?
Q. First of all, perhaps you should explain the question and answer format of this paper.
A. It’s an approach I’ve seen used elsewhere (Wilber 1996). It seems to offer a clear and interesting way of presenting ideas, so I've decided to use it here.
Q. Okay, and what are you going to write about?
A. Many theorists have written about the shortcomings of the dominant paradigm in our culture and the need for it to be replaced. Much has been written about what a new paradigm may look like. What has not received as much attention is the process of moving from the old paradigm to the new. That is what I want to look at -- some aspects of the transition process.
The evidence is everywhere: our civilisation is dysfunctional, and at the root of that dysfunction is our abuse of the Earth. Our abuse of the Earth, according to deep ecologists and ecofeminists, has its origins in our failure to appreciate our connectedness with the Earth, and in the aggressive patriarchal relationship with nature which our culture promotes. I agree with these views as far as they go, but they don't go very far unless they are accompanied by an understanding of the power structures in our society which entrench dysfunctional forms of behaviour.
Q. So among other things, you're going to analyse how power structures in our society will affect the transition to a new paradigm?
A. Well no. An analysis of the power structures in our society is beyond the scope of this paper. However, it is important to recognise the limits of using just one approach. I believe that some deep ecologists, for example, have fallen into the trap of explaining everything purely in terms of our relationships with nature. In doing so, they overlook the need for an understanding of how decisions are made in our culture. The roots of our predicament cannot be explained purely in individual, psychological terms and it is important that this be acknowledged.
So what I'm going to talk about is only part of the picture. I wanted to make clear right from the start that an understanding of the social context in which individuals act is important as well. Havel (1995) recognises the need for an understanding of power relationships and the creation of new political structures. However, he points out that "such efforts are doomed to failure if they do not grow out of something deeper, out of generally held values" (Havel 1995 p.235). So, while recognising the importance of attention to power structures, I have chosen not to focus on them here. I deal with some of the deeper "generally held values" that Havel talks about.
Q. Okay, so your focus will be on the process of moving to a new paradigm, rather than what a new paradigm may look like?
A. Yes, but I want to narrow my focus a bit further and look at just one aspect of that transition -- the problem of how to develop and enact an Earth-centred worldview when our everyday experience obscures our connections with the Earth.
I believe that this is one of at least two major problems which have to be overcome if we are to arrive at new ways experiencing the world which recognise and celebrate our connections with the Earth. The other obstacle I see is that these new values need to be transcendent, but our current materialistic paradigm discourages transcendence. I don’t want to discuss this question here, or even define what I mean by the word "transcendent". I want to concentrate on the first obstacle.
Q: Before we lok at that, I need to ask: are you saying that the transition to a new paradigm is taking place? That's a massive assumption isn't it?
A: At times I do find myself thinking we are moving to a new paradigm. And yes, it is a massive assumption. So I won't make it. Let's just assume that for our welfare, and for the welfare of the Earth as a whole, we need to change our view of the world in very basic ways. We don't need to get tangled in speculations about whether such a change is happening or not.
Q: Okay. Back to the topic of this paper: how are we to develop and enact an Earth-centred worldview when our everyday experience obscures our connections with the Earth? Let’s hear some more about the nature of this problem as you see it.
A: We need to be far more aware of our connections with the Earth, but most of us don't experience those connections as a day-to-day reality. We live in cities where our experience belies our dependence on nature.
According to Roszak, originally "all psychologies were ecopsychologies" (Roszak 1995 p.14). "Those who sought to heal the soul", he contends, "took for granted that human nature is densely embedded in the world we share with animal, vegetable and mineral and all the unseen powers of the cosmos" (ibid). The psychologies of these cultures which predated ours reflected the day-to-day preoccupations of their members. Similarly, the focus of our psychology can be seen as a reflection of our preoccupations.
Q. Isn't that fair enough? We are no longer in daily intimate contact with wild nature, so why should our psychology deal with it? Surely it is appropriate that our psychology focuses on the human world, since that is the realm in which we now operate?
A. Well, here's the problem: physically and emotionally, we still depend on the Earth; it's just that in our human-centred culture, our dependence is no longer direct and obvious. So when our psychology focuses on the human world and ignores the non-human, it reflects our superficial experience but denies our deeper reality.
As someone who is deeply committed to environmental issues and to the exploration of the values which contribute to them, I have been excited by Ecopsychology's quest to correct psychology's "subjectivist exaggeration" of the importance of an exclusively human realm (Hillman 1995 p.xx). It is a tremendously important task, and the obstacles to success are formidable.
Hillman points out that "an individual's harmony with his or her 'own deep self' requires not merely a journey to the interior but a harmonizing with the environmental world" (ibid p.xix). But as a culture, our actions express alienation and discord rather than harmony with the environmental world.
The lifestyles of most people in the west have changed in such a way that contact with the natural world is minimal. And what contact there is, is usually a matter of exploitation. This lack of appropriate contact is one of the main causes of our alienation from the natural world, from the things which sustain us. Deep ecology and ecopsychology attempt to reinstate the natural world at the centre of our concerns. But they are unable to change the fact that the natural world is damn near absent from the everyday experiences of most of us.
The fact that psychology has seen fit to ignore our connections with the natural world is testimony to this. In ignoring these connections, psychology is simply reflecting the values and perceptions of society as a whole.
Q. You claim psychology is simply reflecting the values of society as a whole, but aren’t you also implying that humans have a deep hunger for contact with the natural processes that sustain us? Isn't there a contradiction here?
A: By denying the importance of the non-human environment, psychology has reflected the values we live by, rather than our deeper need for connection. This to me shows the importance of what we do in our daily lives. Intellectual frameworks don't just exist in a vacuum. They affect, and are affected by, how we choose to spend our time.
We are totally dependent on the natural world in ways we don't directly experience. And yes, it stands to reason that on some level we hunger for our lost connections with the natural world. But merely to bring about an intellectual understanding of these things is of limited use. The assumption that we can reclaim our connections with the Earth simply by changing our belief system is evidence of an overemphasis on the intellect. Overemphasis on the intellect is a symptom of the dualism which led to our alienation in the first place. Changes to the way we view the world are urgently needed, but they require accompanying changes in how we live our lives.
Q. You're saying that the intellectual framework needs to be changed, and that the way we live needs to be changed as well?
A: Yes. Intellect and action need to be consistent with each other. They need to be integrated. That is what the word integrity implies -- that there is an integration, a consistency, of our views and our actions.
Q: I hope you're not advocating a return to some idealised hunter-gatherer society?
A: No. That would be rather naive. For all of us to resume our day-to-day direct contact with the non-human world, on a level comparable to that of our ancestors, would involve changes so massive and fundamental that they are not seriously contemplated. Ecopsychology is therefore faced with an extremely daunting task: to enable us to rediscover our emotional connections with the Earth when we lack the physical connections which once underpinned those emotional connections.
Q. So you want to discuss how to bring about changes in our daily lives that would address the problem of our physical alienation from the Earth?
A. Yes.
Q: Can you say a bit more about why you want to focus on things which affect lifestyle, rather than things which just change our intellectual framework?
A: I believe there has to be a consistency, a congruence, between our worldview and how we act in the world. If there isn't that congruence, then we live inauthentically; we espouse one set of values and live according to another. It's like going to church on Sunday and ripping people off the rest of the week. So if we ask the question: how can we enact an Earth-centred worldview when our everyday experience obscures our connections with the Earth? -- if we ask ourselves this question, the answer is that we can't. We have to find ways of making our lives an expression of our Earth-centredness. We have to do so even though it's difficult, even though so many of us are surrounded by concrete rather than trees.
Pep-talks are of limited use. Deprived of their rightful context, pronouncements about our connectedness with a "web of life" or "Gaia" soon come to sound like meaningless platitudes. They need to be grounded in daily experience of natural processes.
Q. How?
A. That's the big question. All that we've said so far has just been setting the scene. So far I've been outlining the problem as I see it. From now on, what I want to do is to explore solutions to the problem I've identified. Of course, asking the right question is at least as important as any particular response to that question. So if I have arrived at a meaningful question, that is in itself a worthwhile achievement. And there is no definitive response to the question I have posed. It's a question to explore rather than answer.
One way to reclaim one's connection with the natural processes which sustain us is to stop. Simply to stop. To stay in one place. To come to know, love and understand the place where one lives. Even if it is a place made of concrete. Stop for long enough and you will see the grass growing between the cracks.
Hay (1996 p.117) writes that "a concern with place is conservative. It is a concern for things enduring, for the privileging of processes that bind past to present and guarantee a temporal integration with the emergent future -- and, I suggest . . . wisdom lodges within the very tissue of those enduring processes".
Q: That sounds rather impressive: "wisdom lies in the very tissue of those processes".
A: I think we could go so far as to define wisdom as the understanding of, and alignment with, these natural processes. Such a definition isn't very flattering to our culture, where we often work very hard to deny the impact of our environment on our psyche. Hillman (1995 p.xx) points out that "the 'bad' place I am 'in' may refer not only to a depressed mood or an anxious state of mind; it may refer to a sealed-up office tower where I work, a set-apart suburban subdivision where I sleep, or the jammed freeway on which I commute between the two". What is extraordinary here is that there was a need for someone to state something so obvious.
Q: You're suggesting people get to know the "set apart suburb where they sleep"? Sounds like that could make them even more miserable.
A: I'd put it another way: it may make some people realise how miserable they already are. Hay talks about the grief involved in witnessing the lingering death of a place one knows and loves. Facing up to the impoverished state of the place where one lives is likely to uncover similar feelings. But it's an honest, courageous grief. Hay says that "faced out, [this grief] provides me with enough grounding within the chaos and the calamity to at least be, and with at least moderate effectiveness, to act" (Hay 1995 p.117). Macy has dealt at length with the liberating power of experiencing such grief to the full (Macy 1995 pp.178-187). And hopefully, people will come to treasure the blades of grass in the cracked concrete, and they will find ways to widen the cracks.
Another aspect of this is that the act of getting to know the place where one lives is likely to involve getting to know the other people that live there. "So -- a concern with place is also radical," says Hay. "It is a concern to find the political wherewithall to defend the relevance of community in an age of massed, privatised want-gratification" (Hay 1995 p.121). To form a strong local community, prepared to stand against the intrusion of government and corporations, is to take a stand against alienation and environmental degradation
Simply by stopping, and getting to know the place where one lives, all these connections are realised: connections between human and non-human, between human and human, and between individual and societal values.
There is a lot more I could say about developing a sense of place, but I'd only be repeating what has been said very eloquently by many writers already. So I'd like to conclude with one more quote that conjures up images for me of how developing a sense of place can be a revitalising act:
Snyder's aphorism ['Start with the part you are whole in'] complements the Bradley approach to bush regeneration: commence with the healthiest section of a degraded patch of bush and work outwards toward the more degraded areas, thereby facilitating an "invasion of health" in which natural colonisation can occur. And this strategy, in turn, complements the Taoist philosophy of wei wu wei, literally, to do without doing. If one tunes into and follows natural processes, one can literally move mountains. [Hallen 1996]
What strikes me about this passage is the parallel between inner and outer. Start with the healthiest piece of bush, or the healthiest piece of your soul. Nurture it. By nurturing a place you are connected with, you are nurturing yourself. Health will invade both you and the place you are nurturing. And it is all a matter of aligning oneself with natural processes.
Q: Before we move on from talking about sense of place, you wanted to say something about childhood experiences.
A: Thomashow is an environmental educator who has been talking to environmental activists from all over the world, for more than fifteen years. This is what he found:
Despite the variety of international and cultural experience, there is a striking thematic pattern ... they all tell a similar story. They have fond memories of a special childhood place, formed through their connection to the earth via some kind of emotional experience, the basis of their bonding with the land or the neighbourhood. Typically, these are memories of play experiences, involving exploration, discovery, adventure, even danger, imagination, and independence. And what stands out is the quality of the landscape -- full descriptions, vividly portrayed, embedded in their memories [Thomashow 1995 p.9].
So "special childhood places" are instrumental in shaping individuals' relationships with the Earth. Creating conditions in which such childhood experiences are possible is a wonderful thing for adults to do. That doesn't mean that parents will be able to share in these experiences -- as Thomashow points out, they involve independence, adventure and even danger. But Thomashow believes it is useful for adults to explore their own childhood memories in order to "gain awareness of the connections we make with the earth, awakening and holding those memories in our consciousness of the present" (ibid p.12).
Q: There must be other things that adults can do to nurture their connections with the Earth.
A: We often assume that in order to experience nature, we have to experience wild nature. This is a very limiting view, because interaction is one of the primary ways we develop connections, and wilderness areas are by definition places in which the amount of interaction is strictly limited. So we need to look to our interactions with what I call "intermediate" places -- those in which humans act on the environment, but don't dominate it completely.
This doesn't mean that wilderness experiences are unimportant; it's just that they are not the only means of contacting nature. Wilderness offers something; intermediate areas offer something different.
Q: One of the things about wilderness experiences is that for most people they are infrequent.
A: Yes. So wilderness experiences need somehow to be integrated into the rest of our lives. Activities in other environments are essential for this, and Harper believes many activities are appropriate:
As we begin to practice what we have learned, we see that nature is everywhere and that we really may not need to go to physical wilderness to experience wild nature. There are many paths, both ancient and new. There are as many ways to re-enter the experience as there are people. I recommend almost any practice that includes the body, that encourages awareness, that can be done out-of-doors occasionally [Harper 1995 p.197].
Q: Let's talk some more about these interactions in intermediate areas. If I understand you correctly, you say that they are more than just substitutes for wilderness experiences and they are more than just a means of integrating wilderness experiences with the rest of our lives. They offer us something that wilderness can't.
A: Yes, because we can interact with them in ways not possible in wilderness. We can walk through wilderness, we can look at it, but we can't do anything to it, or it would cease to be considered wilderness. We are spectators rather than participants. Of course there are problems with how wilderness is defined. There is a debate about what wilderness is, but we don't need to concern ourselves with that here.
Our relationship with intermediate areas is different. We are not just spectators; we can involve ourselves in the processes taking place. They also enable us to learn to relate without dominating -- to work with nature rather than bludgeon it into submission. There has been a lot of talk about the need for a partnership society, rather than a dominator society, which is what we now have. This applies to human/nature relationships at least as much as it does to human/human relationships.
One of the main types of involvement we have in these areas is the cultivation of plants. Maser ( 1992 p.236) uses the word "gardening" to include farming as he believes it should be practised. Gardening, according to him, is a means of contacting nature:
Gardening is giving to the Earth and all its inhabitants, including ourselves, the only things of value that we each have to give: our love, our trust and our respect. The very process of gardening is thus the process through which we become attuned with Nature and through Nature, with ourselves [Maser 1992 p.237].
Q: Plenty of people garden already. It's one of the most important recreational activities in our culture. But they've been doing it for a long time and it doesn't seem to have altered our worldview.
A: That's true. I'm sure one of the attractions of gardening is that it enables people to contact nature. The trouble is that inevitably, people in our society bring to all their activities the values and perceptions that predominate in our culture. So many people, when they cultivate plants, are doing so with attitudes which limit their understanding and their connections.
This illustrates the need for our world view and our actions to be integrated and consistent. Just as an Earth-centred world view is not worth much unless it informs our actions, an Earth-centred lifestyle is not worth much unless it is informed by an Earth-centred worldview.
I would like to say some things about how I think people should approach cultivating things, but it seems extremely presumptuous of me, so I won't.
Q: Why does that seem presumptuous?
A: Because I haven't done all that much gardening myself and I'm not very knowledgeable or skilled at it. Because according to my own standards, my own approach to gardening leaves a lot to be desired. And because saying "people should do this and think that" sounds like preaching.
Q: How about just speaking of your own experience. Then anyone who reads this can take it or leave it.
A: Okay, I'll do that.
I find that whatever attitudes I bring to my actions determine to a large extent the quality of my experience. I worked as a full-time gardener for two years, and my motivation was, to a large extent, to keep my bosses happy. They wanted tidiness and I worked hard to give them what they wanted. My aim was primarily to control the plants and the soil, rather than to work with them. Consequently, my experience was not as harmonious and enlightening as it could have been. Of course if I wanted to keep my job, I had to take into consideration the values of my employers. The dominant paradigm is hard to escape.
Nowadays I have my own vegetable garden and an area of land to look after. I'm not answerable to any employer and my experience is closer to how I would like it. But I have inner limitations to deal with. Often I still think of gardening as a chore to be gotten out of the way -- something to do for the end result, rather than for the experience itself. Yet when I let go of those attitudes, I find it an immensely satisfying thing to do.
The point of all this is that appropriate action, informed by an enlightened worldview, is what is required. Thought and action need to be in harmony. They need to complement one another.
Q: Is it always a matter of thought governing action? Do harmonious actions ever give rise to harmonious views?
A: I think so. The primary reason for farmers' involvement in the Landcare program to combat erosion in Australia was probably financial, at least at first. But I like to think that as a result of caring for their land, their relationship with it will have changed. Caring actions resulting in caring attitudes. Of course that is speculation and I'm sure many farmers have a deep connection with their land anyway. However, they are subject to economic pressures which tend to make their relationship an exploitative one. It is both at the individual and the collective levels that change is called for.
Q: So to sum up what you've said: We need an Earth-centred worldview that is grounded in daily experience of natural processes. In other words, we need a new paradigm that promotes an awareness of our connections with the Earth, and we need to complement that with ways of acting that express those connections. Is there anything else you’d like to say?
A: I’d like to put what I have said here in a broader context. I’ve dealt here with the question of how to achieve a congruence between an ecocentric view of the world and daily life. The aspects of that connection I chose to focus on -- developing a sense of place, the importance of "intermediate" areas, and the act of cultivation are just some aspects of this. Much more could be added.
As I mention in this paper, I believe that any worthwhile worldview needs to be transcendent, but I have not dealt with this question here. I also pointed out that for effective and conscious change to take place, the agents of that change need to have an understanding of the power structures in our culture.
References
Hallen, P., 1996, "Spirit of Place: the Deep Teacher" in Hawkesbury Colloquium, 1996, Sense of Place: depth perspectives on Australian landscapes and environmental values, Pre-colloquim papers, University of Western Sydney (Hawkesbury).
Harper, S., "The Way of Wilderness" in Roszak, T., Gomes, M., and Kanner, A., (eds), 1995, Ecopsychology: Restoring the Earth, Healing the Mind, Sierra Books, San Francisco.
Havel, V., "The Search for Meaning in a Global Civilization" in Anderson, W.T. (ed.), 1995, The Truth about the Truth, Tarcher/Putnam, New York.
Hay, P., Writing place: Unpacking an art exhibition catalogue essay, in Hawkesbury Colloquium, 1996, Sense of Place: depth perspectives on Australian landscapes and environmental values, Pre-colloquium papers, University of Western Sydney (Hawkesbury).
Hillman, J., 1995, "A Psyche the Size of the Earth: A Psychological Introduction" in Roszak, T., Gomes, M., and Kanner, A., (eds), 1995, Ecopsychology: Restoring the Earth, Healing the Mind, Sierra Books, San Francisco.
Macy, J., Working Through Environmental Despair, in Roszak, T., Gomes, M., and Kanner, A., (eds), 1995, Ecopsychology: Restoring the Earth, Healing the Mind, Sierra Books, San Francisco.
Maser, C., 1992, Global Imperative: Harmonizing Culture & Nature, Stillpoint, Walpole.
Revington, J., 1997, Learning a Sense of Place, unpublished paper for Master's course, School of Social Ecology, University of Western Sydney (Hawkesbury).
Thomashow, M., 1995, Ecological Identity: Becoming a Reflective Environmentalist, MIT Press, Cambridge, MA.
Wilber, K., 1996, A Brief History of Everything, Hill of Content, Melbourne.