Exercise
What is the difference between the natural and the cultural?
Is the idea of an autonomous nature, separate from culture,
still tenable?
How important is this idea of nature in our thinking
of the ‘environmental crisis’?
Are there different ways of theorizing the environment
in ways that respect its appeal in everyday life practices?
Please jot down a brief answer to each of these and
send at least one of them to the discussion site.
Introduction
It is commonly asserted that the boundaries between culture and nature
are in the process of dissolving (for recent accounts see Castree 1995;
Demerett 1994; Fitzsimmons 1989; Harvey 1993; Harvey and Haraway 1995;
Gerber 1997). The idea of an autonomous nature, separated and divorced
from culture, is no longer tenable. Or at least, this is how the argument
runs. A number of variants are available.
End of nature
One variant can be seen in the kind of millennial arguments proposed
by Bill McKibben and his claims that we have now reached ‘the end
of nature’ (1988; see also Robertson et al. 1996). McKibben claims
that human activity, driven by the technological-industrial complex, has
now altered whatever we once thought nature was. Wilderness no longer
exists in a pristine state, anywhere; forests and farmland has become
thoroughly domesticated; even the climate appears to be altered, possibly
irrevocably, as we face the threats of climate change. Nature is here
confronted by an array of human-imposed threats, from acid rain to global
warming, from the extinction of species to the destruction of the rainforest.
A new variant emerges with the advent of new genetic and nano-technologies,
with the ability to alter and re-work DNA into new forms of life, evoking
images of the ‘post-natural’ and indeed, the ‘post-human’
(Hayles 1999; McKibben 2003). Denuded of any external referent nature
becomes merely a sign, commodified and preserved by consumer culture,
often Disneyfied, devoid of any legitimacy (Wilson 1992).
This kind of argument appeals to a discourse of nature as origins, and
of human activity as intrinsically separate from, and antithetical to,
a state of nature. Most commonly this discourse is to be found in the
writings of environmentalists and conservationists, as well as in environmental
studies, environmental ethics, and environmental philosophy. As Kay Milton
suggests, according to this discourse, ‘nature should be conserved
in a pristine state, unaffected, as far as possible, by human activity’
(1999: 438).
Humans as part of nature
On the other hand, and currently in vogue in some popular science writing,
is the proposition that nature refers to a chain of being to which human
beings and everything else belongs. Current changes to the environment
represent simply a new advance of an on-going process that has been unfolding
since the beginning of life some 4 billion or so years ago. Humans are
here seen as animals, as part of nature, and while they may possess unique
qualities of language, written culture and opposable thumbs, all animal
species are unique in their own way. As Matt Ridley recently wrote ‘there
is nothing unique about being unique’ (2001: 76). This critique
of ‘human exceptionalism’ is supported by strands of intellectual
thought informed by evolutionary theory, not least in socio-biology.
Nature shaped by social forces
A third variant, common among many social scientists and historians,
is that ideas of nature are, and always have been, informed, shaped and
even constituted by culture and history. Raymond Williams, in a seminal
essay on the subject, undertook a socio-historical analysis of some of
the key transformations of people’s understandings of and relationships
with nature in the west (1980). Numerous other writers have written about
changing attitudes towards and relationships with nature from the time
of the Greeks to the present, but it is Williams who most provocatively
examines the proposition that ideas of nature contain ‘an enormous
amount of human history’. Informed by such an approach are various
social constructivist studies on environmental issues and controversies,
aimed at identifying the ways in which what is taken as ‘natural’,
is in fact shaped by social forces (see Burningham 1998; Burningham and
Cooper 1999; Tester 1991; Yearley 1991 amongst others).
A variation of the above is the argument that the dominant enlightenment
‘culture of nature’ appears to have stopped working so well.
Premised on a misguided metaphysics in which the world of facts (i.e.
the domain of science) could be separated from the world of values (i.e
the domain of values and politics), nature has been dislocated from due
political process with all sorts of unforeseen political consequences
ranging from BSE to nuclear waste to genetically modified foods (Latour
2004). Arguing that political ecology has to let go of nature, Latour
develops the proposition of rekindling a new politics of nature, involving
a constitutional agreement in which all kinds of actors are involved,
both human and non-human.
Such arguments all tend to support the proposition that the idea of nature
as a unit of analysis – and indeed, of politics - is diminishing
in potency. Yet, if this is indeed the case, how can such analytical frameworks
help explain the continuing and indeed, increasing appeal of ‘nature’
and ‘the natural’ in everyday life? It is instructive to ask
how the popular appeal of ‘nature’ and ‘the natural’
is configured within each of the broad discourses highlighted above. In
the first and second variants it would appear that people have been duped,
in that either nothing is natural or everything is natural. In both cases
people are clearly deluded; in both cases the perceptual category of ‘the
natural’ is of little utility, at least in terms of how it is used
in common discourse. In more socially constructive accounts it would appear
also that people are being tricked in that they are mistaking nature for
what is in reality shaped by culture. Indeed, this is the putative power
of the natural, to naturalise, and hence to hide from view, its effects
in terms of reproducing, legitimating, classifying, excluding and validating
certain dominant ideas in society (see Berger 1972; Bermingham 1986; Franklin,
Lury and Stacey 2000; McClintock 1995; Williams 1980).
Of course the project of developing a way of talking about nature which
both respects its cultural dimensions and which embraces its extra-discursive
reality is not new, and considerable debate has focused at the level of
ontology (see Benton 1993; Gerber 1997; Harvey and Haraway 1995; Murdoch
2001; Soper 1995). But little research has taken as its starting point
how people themselves understand and relate to nature, and of the enduring
and transformative context that nature plays in everyday life.

Think
Look back at your answers to the questions that started
this week's web notes and see if you were tending toward any of these
arguments.
In the next section I will set out research that examines how nature
is understood and experienced across a variety of everyday European contexts.
Through focusing on lived experience I will seek to develop an understanding
which takes as its starting point, the passion, joy, fear and anxiety
that permeates our experience of and relationship with nature.
Nature and Everyday Life
1. Nature as Environmental Issues
The idea of ‘the environment’ that tends to dominate in
UK and European government policy-making - typically framed in formal
sustainability initiatives - tends to be predominantly global in scale
and physical in form (Grove-White 1991). In a recent research project
on ‘Languages of the Environment’ we examined how people in
Britain in fact responded to a variety of global environmental issues
(see Macnaghten 2003). What we found was striking. The global environment
was seen as somewhat ‘distant’ and ‘abstract’.
Threats such as global warming, ozone depletion, loss of biodiversity,
and resource depletion were perceived as a problem ‘out there’
and detached from everyday life, making it easy for people to turn off.
The following passages are illustrative of public responses to global
environmental threats, in the form of key icons such as the rainforest,
the tiger, the whale, the smokestack, the blue globe:
the “Save the Whale” campaign and the “Save the Tiger”
and stuff like that; it all seems a long, long way away; so it’s
not my concern really... It feels a bit removed ... We’ve all
seen a pile of rubbish, but how many of us have actually seen a whale,
or a rainforest, or been to an Amazonian forest or anything like that.
You know about it and you’re concerned about it, but it doesn’t
have the [same] effect ...
(Single women’s group) female
When I’m confronted by it, I think yes, yes, I want to do something,
and yes, it’s important. And then you get back on the treadmill
of your life ... It’s quite hard to reach that world.
(Mothers group) female
Even though the reality of global environmental issues has become almost
a commonplace, there was little sense that much could be achieved - either
at the level of the individual or through existing avenues for collective
action - to mitigate such threats. This perception of a fundamental lack
of agency in the face of global environmental threats permeated all the
groups. Individual action was seen as largely ineffective, both due to
the global scale of the problems and to the perception of powerful commercial
interests intractably embedded in systems of self-interest antithetical
to global sustainability. Indeed, this whole domain of thinking about
the environment was clouded in gloom and despondency, a finding that parallels
previous research (see Macnaghten and Jacobs 1997; Macnaghten and Urry
1998). However, what appeared distinctive in these discussions were the
strategies adopted. In different ways people were now choosing not to
choose to dwell on global environmental threats, as a pragmatic response
to apparently intractable problems, and in order to maintain a positive
outlook on life:
Yes, it [life] is what you make of it; it’s how you view things.
I could be as miserable as sin, but there’s no point in being
miserable, so you make the best of what you’ve got, whatever it
is.
(Anglers group) male
I think when you are younger you think that your future is perhaps
going to be far more worldwide, and that the whole of the bigger picture
matters. But as you get older and you’re just trying to survive
through your humdrum lives, you realise that you don’t matter
to that huge world out there, unless something really exceptional happens
out there.
(Mothers group) female
If you sat down and thought about that honestly, you’d be totally
depressed all the time. You tend to close yourself off to it…
You’ve got to get on with your own life. male
If we’re honest, really we can only control our own domain, our
own environment that we’re for ourselves and our family.
(Parents group) Male
An added complexity was that people themselves felt implicated in global
environmental problems. Although, on occasions, this led to a sense of
the need for shared action, more commonly this led to feelings of resignation
and detachment. For many people there were no easy answers; there was
no longer a clear ‘good guy’ and ‘bad guy’, nobody
to blame and no-one beyond blame. Constrained by everyday pressures of
work and parenting, people accepted their own partial guilt as consumers,
as motorists, as employees of business, and so on. All people could do
was their (little) bit, thinking more about (manageable) local issues
than (unmanageable) global ones:
All I do is try and do my bit, try and recycle things. I can’t
really see the whole thing because the whole thing looks fairly bleak…
Things like global warming, I am aware of it, holes in the ozone layer
and things like that, but I feel I’m powerless to do anything
about it except the aerosol thing. Again I go back to the little things
- unleaded petrol as opposed to diesel. You just try and do your bit.
(Parents group) Female
You’re supposed to do your own bit but I think I’m selfish
enough to think about my own bit. Female
Me too, what affects me. female
I try to recycle things but I am only thinking of my own environment,
or my own area as opposed to the world as such. I don’t event
think of the whole country, I think of my own area.
(Mothers group) Female
So far we have suggested that the idea of a ‘global environmental
agenda’ appears distant and abstract, and unlikely to engage people
in their day-to-day activities. This does not imply that people are no
longer engaged or interested in environmental issues but that the character
of public concerns towards environmental issues has subtlety altered.
There is a body of thinking that suggests that public engagement with
environmental problems has shifted from distant threats ‘out there’
to more proximate threats ‘in here’. Thus, issues such as
Whales, the Amazon and Acid Rain, that were prevalent in the 1970s and
1980s, have migrated towards issues which impinge more directly and more
immediately on ‘me’, my body, my family and my future - such
as allergies, traffic, BSE and genetically modified foods (Jacobs 1999).
Jacobs suggests that this shift in orientation, directly associated with
sociological trends towards individualisation, changes how the environment
is experienced and how people are likely to collectively respond to environmental
initiatives and campaigns (1999: 24; see also Beck 1992; Giddens 1994).
In our research we found that the environment is experienced most intensely
when it is part of the ‘personal’ realm of everyday life.
The local and personal environment tends to ‘hit home’ and
matter more. Indeed, it is often through personal, rather than mediated
encounters, that people become involved in environmental matters:
A lot of what we are involved in has come out of personal situations,
hasn’t it, more than anything. Whereas something like this, with
it being such as global [thing], it’s sort of how we get actually
involved in it. I think it’s something we all know it’s
something we should be aware of, but it’s quite hard to reach
this world.
(Mothers group) female
However, other factors are also at work. People don’t think in
terms of ‘one big environment’ which is the same for all people.
Rather, there are many different ‘environments’, each connected
to people’s particular concerns, priorities, social relationships
and responsibilities. For some, ‘the environment’ is a source
of pleasure and escape from the burdens and stresses of everyday life.
Activities of walking in the countryside, gardening, bee keeping and fishing
were discussed as ways of ‘being in the environment’, in proximity
to nature, removed from modernity. Below is one such discussion of a young
woman describing her passion for scuba diving:
It's the tranquility kind of thing, you know, all you're concentrating
on is breathing or not with snorkeling. And what's around you. It's
like taking your life right back to basics, you know, you're alive,
you're breathing and you're floating around and then there's the sort
of thing like you're other world... it's just removes all the complications
of modern life I suppose. For me that's why I go on holiday and spend
most of the time under water. And it's so beautiful. The sort of crime
and living in the city gets to me and that's one thing that is so completely
the opposite that it's like, you know, some sort of therapy. It is like
meditation, you're just concentrating on swimming or looking and just
transported to another sort of level. It's so philosophical but you
know what I mean.
(Single women’s group)
For other people the environment was seen as a set of problems, such
as pollution, food safety and road safety, whose putative effects had
to be tacked as part of people’s evolving responsibilities as mothers
and parents. The environment was very much an issue in relation to its
known or unknown effects on oneself or one’s family. Health and
food issues were particularly prominent and especially mothers were familiar
and concerned over an apparently unending succession of food-health scares
in recent years: from Salmonella in eggs to BSE to pesticide residues
to GM foods.
For others still, the environment was seen as providing an opportunity
for maintaining important ties and bonds. Fathers, in particular, saw
the environment as providing a context for the development of good parenting.
This suggests that the environment is commonly experienced, not as a
set of physical issues, but tangled up as part of social life. The ‘human’
and ‘relational’ aspects of the environment are often what
are resonant. The environment becomes meaningful when it engages with
life, inhibiting or facilitating the development of on-going human relationships,
whether in the context of the family, friends or communities of interest.
2. Trees and the embodiment of nature
In another research project we focused in more detail on people’s
experience of, and engagement with trees and forests. We found that trees,
with some notable exceptions, appeared to have an intense and intimate
personal significance for most people in Britain today (Macnaghten and
Urry 2000). Indeed, the discussions with a variety of groups across Britain
were often moving, to myself as much as to our respondents, as people
spoke about their feelings, memories and experiences of particular trees
and woods.
In everyday life the significance of trees was reflected in a wide variety
of micro-practices, such as walking, rambling, picnicking, watching wildlife,
mushrooming, playing ‘hide and seek’, making dens, and climbing.
In our research we found that woods and trees were seen as affording particular
settings for relaxation, tranquillity and bodily relaxation where one
could escape the perceived stresses of modern life. Trees remove the presence
of modernity and provide a setting for intimate social relations, for
therapy, for play, for fantasy, for revitalisation. As one woman stated,
‘as soon as our relationship gets under stress we need to go to
the woods, and that really does us, it really sorts us out’. What
many people desired was accessibility to spaces that they see as free
from signs of human interference and control, in which they experience
a profound engagement with oneself or others through a ‘raw’
and unmediated nature. The passages below illustrate how the bodily confrontation
with trees and woods enabled people to feel a closer relationship with
the natural world:
You walk out in the countryside and the winds blowing you can see
the gust on the trees and the trees waving. It’s just [great]
to see the way the fauna and the vegetation actually move and stuff.
It’s like if you watch rivers, you see that the flowing of the
river is very tranquil and very therapeutic… male
So there is something quite therapeutic about trees? Moderator
I don’t feel alone when I am around trees really [laughter].
I think trees have been there so long … They seem so alive.
(Students - Oxford) female
I think it’s a mystique, you go in there and you never know what
you are going to see, and you see a woodpecker or something, [and think]
that’s great, even though you’ve seen a woodpecker hundreds
of times before. F
It’s always a surprise. F
I long for the trees to get their leaves again … when the leaves
come back in spring. Trees are so essential to my well-being …
That’s the planet that we live on, with trees on it, and it’s
meant to have [them], and we’re meant to be amongst them. That’s
the only way I can put it.
(Outdoor Specialists - Lancaster) F
In such ways trees are the embodiment of nature – as live, sensuous
indicators of the changing seasons, offering an intimate connection with
seasonal cycles and deeper senses of time, through growth and regeneration,
changing colours, natural variety, smell, and experiences of tranquillity,
peace, and the mysterious. Indeed, when people speak about trees and woods,
they appeared to be trying to articulate a personal sense of what they
mean by nature.
Please now read 'Embodying the Environment in Everyday Life
Practices' available from the discussion site.
Conclusion
The above findings are indicative of a wider body of research, which
point to ways in which the idea of nature is being reconfigured in Britain,
and possibly more widely, today.
Why is the idea of nature as a set of ‘environmental issues’
failing to mobilise large swathes of the public in government-sanctioned
environmentally responsible behaviour? And, if this is indeed the case,
why does the idea of nature remain powerful and enduring in everyday life?
Following Goodin’s green theory of value we can concur that people
want to see some sense and pattern to their lives, that this requires
their lives to be set in a wider context, and that nature provides that
context (1992). This theory can be used to explain the appeal of nature
when it becomes embodied in particular localised practices, whether this
is walking, gardening, fishing, even hunting. In all such activities we
– in the west, at least – appear to be striving towards a
relationship in which we can interact with a nature in a way in which
we are only a part of nature, and where nature goes on, more or less,
regardless of our own actions.
The depiction of nature as ‘the environment’, as a set of
issues, global in scope and physical in substance, is a configuration
that remains universal and abstracted from life. Ingold usefully critiques
the conception of the ‘global environment’ as one that separates
the human from their environment, positioning the subject as if he/she
was looking at the globe, detached and outside (1993). By contrast, the
nature of the ‘lived-in’ world, is active and changing, and
experienced through practices that actively connect to ‘life’.
Perhaps this is one explanation for the above.
The temporal aspects are further highlighted by Barbara Adam who distinguishes
between nature as a thing (natura naturans) and as a process (natura naturata)
(1998). Adam argues that:
‘we need to reconnect the externalised phenomena to their generative
processes, the countryside to its re/production, the forests to its
formation. We need to bring into conceptual unity natura naturata and
natura naturans... We need to see the ‘product’ produced,
nature natured, life lived.’ (1998: 33)
Take the tree as an example. Trees live a long time, ranging from hundreds,
even thousands of years. The life of a tree commonly exceeds that of humans.
Trees change both seasonally and annually, at a pace that unfolds often
in symmetry with the unfolding relationships of people, families and communities.
Trees are regularly a central features in people’s sense of place;
they are alive yet also fixed in the landscape. Trees mark history in
‘lived’ terms. As Ingold points out, ‘people …
are as much bound up in the life of the tree as is the tree in the life
of the person’ (2000: 204). Trees thus exhibit a rhythmic pattern
of persistence and change, from the swaying, bending and twisting of branches,
to the growth of leafs and ripening of fruit, to eventual death and decay.
Like humans, each tree is unique, exhibiting an underlying form or character
that transcends the vagaries of illness, the weather and the seasons.
In this sense the popular appeal towards trees noted above, and the common
symbolism of trees as nature, can be seen as a prime site where people
can connect with nature as a living process.
This type of analysis of emerging nature-culture relations is at odds
with many of the arguments outlined earlier. Goodwin’s theory does
not require any fundamental divide (or convergence) between a state of
nature and one of humanity; nor does it seek to focus on how we commonly
confuse nature for what is shaped by culture.
However, perhaps there is a wider societal context in which to situate
the current appeal to nature. Environmentalism emerged in the 1970s and
1980s as part of a cultural response to unease with industrial modernity
(Grove-White 1991). The urgency of the appeal to nature today is largely
a reflection of new forms of technological advance. For example, the promise
of new genetic technologies lies in the introduction of new crops, new
landscapes, new habitats, new animals, even new humans. In this sense
we could say that Goodwin’s theory of green value is conditional,
the key condition being a profound and enduring sense of unease that industrial
modernity is contributing towards ‘the death of what [people] are
part of, a natural rhythm that operates beyond human control’ (Milton
1999: 444). In such conditions the wildness of ‘nature’, as
non-human nature, becomes the needed ‘other’. In less pressing
times, and in more benign contexts, the ‘other’ of nature
may be less wild and more harmonious, with promises of practices that
restore constitutive harmony. We navigate, one might say, between the
metaphor of the garden and the wilderness. And when the garden becomes
transgenic we flee for the wild woods.
Think:
Reflect on why ‘nature’ matters to
you. Is nature the needed ‘other’ in everyday modern living?
If so, how does this become expressed? Is this appeal culturally and historically
specific? Will nature still be an important social category in 50 years
time?
Exercise
Develop a critique of the idea of ‘the global
environment’. To what extent is this ‘language’ of the
environment unhelpful in fostering an environmental ethic. How useful
is Ingold’s notion of dwelling as an alternative?
Send your ideas to the MAVE discussion site.
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