Deep ecology

I’m not much interested in ethics or morals. I’m interested in how we experience the world.” – Arne Næss.

As a student of philosophy, I read the Norwegian philosopher Arne Næss’s books about modern philosophy. He wrote in an engaging and clear style that demonstrated deep philosophical breadth and he invited the reader to think along with him.

One of his strengths as a philosopher was this inviting, almost conversational style, which was related to his intuitive approach to life. By “intuitive,” I refer to something necessary—an open approach in which you follow life wherever it takes you, because it leaves you no possibility of escape.

To some extent, Næss made philosophy available to all. Ever since, I’ve always liked the idea that all people can learn to philosophize with a little training.

Years later, I was hiking in Norway and it was here I that I really came to appreciate Næss’s work on the deep ecology movement. On an intuitive level, I experienced the harmony and co-existence with nature that he often mentioned.

I hiked with a friend for 20 days. We spent the days walking, sitting, and observing. At one point, I noticed that I shared the same rhythm with the life around me. I experienced the interconnectedness found in nature.

Becoming one with nature

Næss called his brand of philosophy “eco-philosophy,” or “ecosophy,” which fuses the words “ecology” and “philosophy.”

In his work, he expanded on the concepts of existentialism and life-philosophies. At first, this might seem banal, but he treated both concepts with scholarly depth while connecting them with real-life experiences. This is always risky, especially for philosophers, who fear nothing more than being called “shallow” or having their views labelled “pop.”

However, what Næss emphasized was, for instance, that based on solid scrutiny of some part of your life (such as your work or your partner), you can evaluate how much joy or sadness that particular aspect brings. Furthermore, we always have the choice of changing how we respond to what happens, so we have to assume some responsibility for the quality of our lives.

Næss was, among others, inspired by Rachel Carson’s 1962 book Silent Spring, which alerted the world to the dangers of the misuse of pesticides. The book opens dramatically with, “There was once a town in the heart of America where all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings.”

Nature was once noisy and full of life, and then came devastating silence, according to Carson—the silence of the death of nature. “No witchcraft, no enemy action had silenced the rebirth of new life in this stricken world. The people had done it themselves,” she said.

The challenge for Carson, and later Næss, was figuring out how to change human attitudes towards pollution and pesticides; that is, how to change our relationship with the world.

Within his “ecosophy,” Næss linked people and nature. Ecosophy is “relational thinking,” he said, emphasizing that nothing lives in isolation. “The larger world becomes part of our own interest,” he wrote in Ecology, community, and lifestyle: Outline of an Ecosophy. Thus, everything is connected.

One of Næss’s key concepts was “self-realization,” which shouldn’t be mistaken for self-centeredness or egoism. Rather, it’s more of an ongoing and respectful process of becoming one with nature.

This is what many, including myself, often experience during longer periods of engagement with the natural world. Some experience something similar during meditation as a way of fine-tuning their relationship with the world.

Everything has intrinsic value

Another key idea for Næss was that everything has intrinsic value. Therefore, we shouldn’t use nature as a means to achieving something else.

Unfortunately, many see nature as a resource to be used for our benefit, which is partly due to the instrumental thinking that seems to permeate most of our education and activity today. For example, many view nature as something “out there,” whereas nature is actually part of us.

Similarly, the destructive mantra of economic growth, which only leads to stress, has nothing in common with spiritual growth. Nurturing your spiritual growth also means nurturing the growth of all other forms of life.

For this reason, Næss tried to move our care for the environment from the sphere of ethics to the sphere of ontology. For this to be helpful, we need to re-examine how we perceive and understand our world as we gradually become one with it, and develop a participatory and compassionate understanding of our relationship with life.

Næss was not only highly skilled in the classical history of philosophy, he was also influenced by Gandhi’s thinking. His meshing of Gandhi’s thoughts and Spinoza’s ethics of joy made his philosophy rather original. He emphasized the importance of respecting alternative ways of living even when he disagreed with them.

As he said in an interview, cited in Ecology, community, and lifestyle, “I think that intellectuals might consider their intellects in a more Spinozistic way, and cultivate … a loving attitude towards what (they) have insight into … without making the terrible mistake of becoming sentimental or fanatical.”

The deep ecology movement

A good introduction to Næss and the deep ecology movement is The Ecology of Wisdom: Writings by Arne Næss, which has an excellent preface and introduction by Alan Drengson and Bill Devall (two other prominent figures within this environmental movement). As it says in the introduction, “Mindful practice brings our ecosophy alive from moment to moment. Love and care live only in the present.”

Another option is the film The Call of the Mountain: Arne Naess and the Deep Ecology Movement (1997), which offers an interesting portrait of the man, his philosophy and the movement. Filmmaker Jan van Boeckel teamed up with Arne Næss himself to capture the spirit of the philosopher in his natural habitat, the mountains of Norway.

Regardless of what medium you choose to use, studying Næss is always a good place to start when you want to awaken or reawaken your relationship with nature.

First published in The Mindful Word

Don’t mind

Evolutionsbiologen Marc D. Hausers bog Moral Minds forsøger at vise, hvordan naturen skabte menneskets fornemmelse for, hvad der er rigtigt og forkert. Han prøver – ganske vedholdende – at tænke psykologi, moral, kognition og biologi sammen, hvilket er blevet umådeligt populært de seneste år. Ikke desto mindre virker bogen lidt for søgt.

Hausers ærinde er, at naturalisere filosofferne David Hume og Immanuel Kants tanker. Det vil sige, bringe – især – Kant i samspil med evolutionsbiologien. Sagt anderledes: mennesket har udviklet sig til at følge de imperative love, som Kant redegjorde for.

Rent filosofisk er sådan en læsning selvfølgelig problematisk, idet filosofi ikke er en supplement til biologisk liv (eller andre videnskaber). Når filosofi beskæftiger sig med livet, et liv, er det de forskellige måder, hvorpå et liv kan leves, tænkes, føles, som vækker noget bemærkelsesværdigt, ikke hvorvidt de føler et ideal. Det er det levende, som sådan der er i fokus. Og det levende, kan ikke reduceres til den menneskelige organisme. Det interessante er af samme grund ikke, hvordan visse tanker passer ind i en større plan, men hvad de muliggør, hvilke former for liv de åbner.

En anden måde at se Hausers bog på er, ved at sammenligne den med Noam Chomskys ide om en universel grammatik. For interesserede, så har Deleuze og Guattari påpeget nogle problemer hos Chomsky i Tusind plateauer, fx at der findes ikke et homogent system (som Chomsky hævder), der ikke allerede er påvirket af en vedvarende, regulerende og iboende proces af variationer. Chomsky vil eliminere alt det skæve. Det vil svare til at kalde Junot Diazs bøger for grammatisk forkerte. Det ville svare til at hævde, at flere tusinde mennesker i USA (og sikkert mange andre steder), ikke taler rigtigt, fordi de ”taler” Spanglish … Ja, det svarer til at afskære alle de menneskelige handlinger, som vi finder onde og modbydelige, som afvigelser i systemet, der intet fortæller os om mennesket. Det ”naturlige” bliver nemt et abstrakt ideal. Det minder lidt om brugen af begrebet autentisk, der ofte tolkes som noget naturligt og oprindeligt, hvorved det naturlige også nemt får en moralsk værdi. Tænk bare på, hvordan nogle formår at brande deres egen godhed, fordi de helt naturligt ikke ser fjernsyn, helt naturligt ikke spiser kød, helt naturligt ikke spiser hovedpinepiller. Who gives a fuck?

På samme vis mener Hauser, at der er en universel moral for mennesket. Selvom jeg ikke bifalder ideen, er den interessant. Påstanden er, at mennesket – alle mennesker uanset kulturforskelle – deler en moralsk intuition, der mere eller mindre ubevidst formår at afgøre, hvad der er rigtigt og forkert. ”He was endowed with a sense of right and wrong merely relative to this. This sense is as much a part of his nature, as the sense of hearing, seeing, feeling; it is the true foundation of morality,” som der står. Sætningen kunne gælde for både Jønke og Hilda Heick, alt efter hvem der fører pennen. Så til en vis grad, nikker jeg. Og dog. Der er også talrige eksempler på det modsatte, fx lydighed.

Min anke er, sagt meget simpelt, at moral og biologi vikles sammen på en måde, hvorved det gode menneske retfærdiggør sin egen godhed, som noget naturligt. Det er en form for selvrefleksion, som forsømmer at filosofiske begreber ofte gør vold på en. De slår en omkuld, hvorved det hele ikke bare passer ind, men kræver en anden form for involvering i det, som sker. Af samme grund taler Deleuze (og andre) om en immanent etik, hvor det mere handler om at acceptere det, som sker, som var det noget man selv havde valgt. Her er det ambitionen at lade sig påvirke, selvom man ikke kan kontrollere alt det, som påvirker en? Hvorfor, fordi det levende som sådan er interessant.

Måske det hele kan siges anderledes: det er ikke kun Hitler og Pol Pot, som er afvigelser; det samme er Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King og Gandhi. Hauser anvender selv dette, som et eksempel uden rigtigt at folde det. Hvem er så mest naturlig? Er naturlig det samme, som god? Og hvad er god? De tre nævnte ”positive” ledere, er alle eksempler på social ulydighed, hvorved det gode også bliver berørt af magtrelationer og individuel heroisme.

Dér, hvor etik og moral bliver interessant er, hvor vi ikke ved, hvad der er rigtigt og forkert. Dér, hvor der er tale om et dilemma. Og her er kriteriet måske ikke, at følge en master-plan, men spørge: hvad er også muligt, hvad kan jeg også gøre? Der er noget opfindsomt forbundet med at generere alternativer. Her kan ekstraordinære mennesker inspirere os, ikke kun qua deres medfølelse eller idealisme, men snarere pga. deres kreative tilgang til de muligheder de havde. Det er ikke Gandhis uafhængighed som inspirerer, men hans ikkevoldsstrategi; det er ikke Martin Luther Kings rettigheder som inspirerer, men det at hans ”drømme,” kunne aktualisere sådanne rettigheder; det er ikke Mandelas opløsning af apartheid som inspirerer, men hans pacifistiske rummelighed. Gandhi, Mandela og King viser, at den menneskelige evolution ikke er noget lineært og velordnet, men noget opfindsomt, kreativt og muterende.

Enhver begivenhed er en mangfoldig i den forstand, at dens aktualisering afhænger af en beslutning – og nogle gange kan den ene beslutning være ligeså god eller dårlig, som den anden. Konklusionen er derfor, at etik stadigvæk er en sats, men vel og mærke på et stadie, hvor det ikke drejer sig om at stjæle, mishandle eller slå ihjel. Ingen behøver læse Kant eller Hume her (eller gå i kirke).

Så mit problem med Hauser er nok, at evolution bliver en form for moralsk dannelse, der stopper dér, hvor det bliver etisk svært. Af samme grund beskæftiger filosofi (i hvert fald nogle filosoffer) sig med det potentiale i tænkningen, som ikke kan reduceres til mennesket. Filosofien har blik for det, som endnu ikke kan tænkes, hvorved filosofien adresserer et problem, som der p.t. ikke er nogen løsning på. Her bliver filosofien skabende og opfindsom, idet den forsøger at skabe plads til det, som der lige nu ikke er plads til. Friheden til at skabe mere virkelighed. Af samme grund mente Nietzsche også, at adskillelsen af filosofi og litteratur kun er forbeholdt bibliotekarer.

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