2.3 John Ruskin
John Ruskin was born in 1819, son of a Scottish wine merchant settled in London.  He was educated privately.  Before entering Oxford University in 1836 he traveled widely in France, Switzerland and Italy, and showed an active interest in art.  His able draughtsmanship was revealed mainly in architectural drawings and floral studies.  In 1839 he won the Newdigate poetry prize of the University of Oxford.

Faced with the reality of life in the rapidly expanding industrial cities which were usually places of low wages, inferior diets, inadequate housing and illiteracy, Ruskin became actively interested in social reform. He was an early supporter of the Working Men's College founded by Maurice Kingsley and others in 1854.  In 1860, Unto This Last appeared in the Cornhill Magazine. It was the first of an important series of writings, supplemented by lectures, in which Ruskin attacked the materialist philosophy and the "dismal science" of the particular brand of political economy that seemed to overshadow his age.  His views gave  powerful support to the philosopher, Carlyle, to whom he dedicated Munera Pulveris in 1862.  Time and Tide (1867) upholds the importance of honesty of work and honesty of reward, and paints a new social Utopia, albeit based on the the maintenance of class and rank by government decree, with strict laws governing suitability of young people for marriage.

Sesame and Lilies (1871) consists of lectures delivered in 1864 and 1868, and deals with reading and education, in which he deplores the crushing influence of industrial civilization upon art and morality. It sums up much of Ruskin's most characteristic thought about the dark areas of industrialism.  The Crown of Wild Olive (1866) is full of fierce denunciation of contemporary society. 

In contrast The Queen of the Air (1869) is a study of Greek myth and art.

Its publication marked the election of Ruskin as Slade professor of art at Oxford.  He held the post until 1879 and again during 1883-4.  Many of his lectures there appeared in book form as The Eagles Nest (1872) Ariadne Florentine (1872) Val d'Arno (1873) and the Art of England (1883).

Fors Clavigera (1871-84) consists of nearly a hundred open letters addressed to the labourers and workmen of Great Britain, dealing with varied topics in ethics, art, politics, trade, books, and legends.  Intensely personal and illuminated often by his most vivid phraseology it is one of Ruskin's most remarkable achievements. He followed it in 1885- 9 with the autobiographical Praeterita.

In later years he lived in comparative retirement on his estate at Brantwood, Coniston, in the Lake district, among the mountain landscapes which had strongly influenced his appreciation of natural forms as a child.  There he frequently turned to projects involving manual work and rural crafts. His old home is now maintained as a Ruskin museum. It was during his later life that his mind suffered severe disturbances and he was periodically dominated by melancholia and depression, some of which spilled over into his writing.  He died in 1900. 

In a letter to a friend he appears as a something of a kindly millionaire, struggling with the problems of a sick society in terms of "the three things to which man is born- labour, sorrow and joy". "So, in every way, I like a quiet life; and I don't like seeing people cry, or die; and should rejoice, more than I can tell you, in giving up the full half of my fortune for the poor, provided I knew the public would make Lord Overstone also give up the half of his, and other people who were independent give the half of theirs; and then set men who were really fit for such office to administer the fund, and answer to us for nobody's perishing innocently; and so leave us all to do what we chose with the rest, and with our days in peace".

Ruskin's popularity is rising as more people perceive that his analysis of the ills of industrialisation are relevant to the present day.  From this point of view he is symbolic of the need to inject social negative feedback into runaway industrialism, which now has the dominance to destroy the very atmosphere that urged him to champion Turner's skills in capturing the fleeting character of light and air.  Also, through the environmental bias he placed upon his interpretation of political economy, he offers a bridge between the economic and environmentalists camps on the modern road to a reconciliation of prosperity with ecological stability.  He was the first to open serious discussion on "ecological economics", where things valued on spiritual scales should be given monetary weights by a society keen to preserve them in the face of economic development.

Increasingly, modern environmentalism is searching for a spiritual basis.  Ruskin justified many of his opinions and convictions in the context of Victorian Christianity, and in this he offers some intellectual routes to the formulation of a much needed 'ecological conscience" linked to a spiritual evaluation of nature.

Most of Ruskin's writings may be taken as a fundamental criticism of the competitive society, founded on free enterprise and machine production which had developed uniquely in Britain out of the older agricultural and mercantile society between the 1780s and the 1860s.  In this sense he was groping towards rules for defining the use of natural resources.  His writings stand parallel to those of Thomas Henry Huxley, who, starting from Darwinism was attempting to define Man's place in nature.

Ruskin's summarised his own capabilities in a letter to an artisan friend.

  "I am essentially a painter and a leaf dissector; and my powers of thought are all purely mathematical, seizing ultimate principles only, never accidents; a line is always to me, length without breadth; it is not a cable or a crowbar; and though I can almost infallibly reason out the final law of anything, if within reach of my industry, I neither care for, nor can trace, the minor exigencies of its daily appliance."

Evidence of the applications of these mental skills appears on almost every page he wrote.  His descriptions of a lichen covered tree stump convey an impression of its unsurpassable beauty which the reader will ever remember.  With regard to his ability to marshal a succinct line of enquiry, here is an example of the clarity and economy of effort with which he set out 'the population problem'. 

"An island of a certain size has standing room only for so many people; feeding ground for a great many fewer than could stand on it.  Reach the limits of the feeding ground, and you must cease to multiply, must emigrate or starve.  The essential land question then is to be treated quite separately from that of the methods of restriction of population.  The land question is- At what point will you resolve to stop?  It is a separate matter of discussion how you are to stop at it. 

And this essential land question- At what point will you stop?- is itself two-fold.  You have to consider first, by what methods of land distribution you can maintain the greatest number of healthy persons; secondly, whether, if, by any other mode of distribution and relative ethical laws, you can raise their character, whilst you diminish their numbers, such sacrifices should be made, and to what extent?"

The synthesis which Ruskin attempted still escapes a global society which endlessly debates the same four basic social questions- the size of the population, the state of the poor, the provision of education, and the health of the environment.  And a hundred years on, having tried socialism and communism, the world is still being carried along by unchecked capitalism  We consume ever-increasing quantities of natural resources, with an ever growing illiterate population, set alongside an inequitable distribution of wealth.  The contrasts between rich and poor and the attendant social problems are now far greater in terms of the numbers of people affected than Ruskin could ever imagine.  
2.3.1 Defining nature
If nature is a book, it follows that it must contain a language. As Ruskin often reminds us, there are many kinds of language other than speech. Painting and sculpture and architecture are languages as well; to appreciate them properly we have to learn how to read them, just as we do with literature. That this is the case is sometimes obvious. Most people would recognise that Turner's Slave Ship has a 'message' for us. Authorities on medieval art agree that the great French cathedrals are complex 'documents' that convey elaborate scholastic arguments. Yet the Slave Ship, in Ruskin's famous description, is also in some sense a window on the world. The framing of the scene and the integration of its symbols focus and intensify the meaning of the event which it depicts. One might compare Shakespeare's view of the play as something which holds 'the mirror up to nature'.
For meaning to be present in picture or play, there must also in some sense be meaning in nature, and Ruskin asserts that God's judgement on the slavers is 'written upon the sky in lines of blood'.  The writing is partly the calligraphy of paint, partly an inscription by the hand of God as revealed, in effect, to Turner as a prophet.
The distinction between art and nature is not absolute for Ruskin. It is a distinction between two creators of vastly differing power. Nature, quite as much as art, was created to please and instruct. When we create works of art, we imitate and emulate the Creator:
All great art is the expression of man's delight in God's work, not in his own. But observe, he is not himself his own work: he is himself precisely the most wonderful piece of God's workmanship extant. ( Ruskin's italics)
In Modem Painters IV, when Ruskin meditates in a sequence of chapters on the 'materials' of which the earth is made, he even goes so far as to suggest, not just that mountains are works of divine sculpture, but that God has prepared sculptural materials for humans to cut and carve. 'The earth was without form and void', says the book of Genesis. Then the waters were gathered in one place and the dry land appeared. 'The command that the waters should be gathered'', says Ruskin, 'was the command that the earth should be sculptured', Ruskin's italics). A few pages on, when he has embarked on his account of the materials of mountains, he gives these three reasons for the 'appointed frailness of mountains':
The first, and the most important, that successive soils might be supplied to the plains ... and that men might be furnished with a material for their works of architecture and sculpture, at once soft enough to be subdued, and hard enough to be preserved; the second, that some sense of danger might always be connected with the most precipitous forms, and thus increase their sublimity; and the third, that a subject of perpetual interest might be opened to the human mind in observing the changes of form brought about by time on these monuments of creation.
It is an amazingly heterogeneous set of reasons. God here has in mind not only the essential economy of the natural order, but the human need to create and appreciate beauty. A few pages further on still, we find Ruskin reflecting on the kinds of sculpture that are achievable in specific kinds of stone. For example:
The sculptor of granite is forced to confine himself to, and to seek for, certain types of form capable of expression in his material; he is naturally driven to make his figures simple in surface, and colossal in size, that they may bear his blows; and this simplicity and magnitude are exactly the characters necessary to show the granitic or porphyritic colour to the best advantage. And thus we are guided, almost forced, by the laws of nature, to do right in art.
There is here in embryo a Ruskinian doctrine that he never finally formulated in words, though it was to become increasingly more central to his thought. Modernist critics have called it 'truth to material', but Ruskin had already given expression to the concept in, for instance, The Stones of Venice II (1853):
To the Gothic workman the living foliage became an object of intense affection, and he struggled to render all its characters with as much accuracy as was compatible with the laws of design and the nature of his material.
The latter was quite as important for Ruskin as the former. Good sculpture expressed both the subject depicted and the material in which it was executed. Both the leaf and the stone, after all, are products of nature.
2.3.2 Conservation
Politics and eagle's nests

In order to appreciate the place of Ruskin in the modern environmental arena we first have to consider environmentalism in relation to the model of global industrialisation, to which he was responding when it was surging ahead in mid- Victorian Britain. Environmentalism, like industrialism, was not a completely new phenomenon to the Victorians, but rather the culmination of tendencies going back to the seventeenth century. Its roots extend deep into the beginnings of the industrial revolution, from where it became entangled in social criticism, public health Acts, and landscape appreciation. 

All that has happened in recent years has been an explosive realisation that natural resources, landscape heritage and the global commons of sea and air, are being destroyed irreversibly on an ever increasing geographical scale.  This has occurred alongside a sharpening of public awareness of environment, through the media and its popularisation of new divisions of applied biological sciences, such as ecotoxicology. The rapid decline in 'environment health is now seen by nearly everyone as a major threat to the survival of humanity. 

The key to understanding this vast interdisciplinary area of knowledge lies in the synthesis between two eighteenth century primary divisions of knowledge, political economy and natural economy.  These subjects were the birthplace of the many specialisms which produced the compartmentation of scientific information which is now an impediment to civic understanding of environmental issues. 

It is appropriate at this point to give Ruskin's words which sets the tone for the interaction between politics and wildlife.

"And of all essential things in a gentleman's bodily and moral training, this is really the beginning - that he should have close companionship with the horse, the dog, and the eagle.  Of all birthrights and bookrights - this is his first.  He needn't be a Christian, - there have been millions of Pagan gentlemen; he needn't be kind - there have been millions of cruel gentlemen; he needn't be honest - there have been millions of crafty gentlemen.  He needn't know how to read, or how to write his own name.  But he must have horse, dog, and eagle for friends. 

If then he has also Man for his friend, he is a noble gentleman; and if God for his Friend, a king. And if, being honest and kind, and having God and Man for his friends, he then gets these three brutal friends, besides his angelic ones, he is perfect in earth as for heaven.  For to be his friends these must be brought up with him and he with them.  Falcon on fist, hound at foot, and horse part of himself - Eques, Ritter, Cavalier, Chevalier.

Yes; - horse and dog you understand the good of; but what's the good of the falcon think you?

To be friends with the falcon must mean that you love to see it soar; that is to say, you love fresh air and the fields. Farther, when the Law of God is understood, you will like better to see the eagle free than the jessed hawk.  And to preserve your eagles' nests, is to be a great nation.  It means keeping everything that is noble; mountains and fields, and forests, and the glory and honour of them, and the birds that haunt them. If the eagle takes more than his share you may shoot him, - (but with the knight's arrow, not the blackguard's gun) - and not till then"    


Political Economy and Natural Economy

Ruskin's writings were frequently concerned with what he called "political economy". Political economy was one of the two major interdisciplinary themes that unified the gathering and presentation of knowledge about European development for about 200 years.  The other was natural economy.  Natural economy dealt with the organisation of natural resources for human production.  Political economy, as a distinct body of knowledge, is complementary to natural economy.  In Ruskin's day, it dealt with questions about how production is socially organised, the factors that determine the pattern of jobs in different production systems, and the social and economic relationships between workers.  Ruskin would be pleased to see that, increasingly, it now deals with the planning constraints governing the utilisation of natural resources for sustained production.  These questions are usually analysed in relation to different kinds of monetary policies, and economic value-systems.

The distinction between the "natural' and the "political" aspects of industrialism were put in the following way by John Ruskin in the 1870s, "It is one question, how to get plenty of a good thing, and another whether plenty of it will be good for us."  In the context of modern world development, political economy is the launching pad for laws and plans governing development and conservation, whilst natural economy delineates the technological innovations for the exploitation and management of natural resources by which laws and plans can be realised. 

Having said this, Ruskin did not define natural economy as being separate from political economy. But, some of his contemporary readers could dimly perceive a distinction from his writings.  For example, Mr Dixon, a cork-cutter in Sunderland, to whom, in 1867, Ruskin wrote a series of letters stressing how important is was that working people should clearly define their aims in social reform, tells Ruskin of a pamphlet he has read. This "gives an account of how it is the poor Indians have died of Famine simply because they have destroyed the very system of Political Economy, or one having some approach to it, that you are now endeavouring to direct the attention of thinkers to in our country".  In fact, the American march into the West had destroyed the delicate balance between Indian society and the natural economy of its renewable resources, an example of the interdependence of political and natural economy.    Again, Dixon writes, after reading Sesame and Lilies "I cannot help directing your attention to that portion where you mention or rather exclaim against the Florentines pulling down their Ancient Walls to build a Boulevard.  That passage is one that would gladden the hearts of all true Italians, especially men that love Italy and Dante!"   It can be argued that since then the British have lost, proportionately more of their architectural heritage than the whole of Europe.                    

The need to manage nature to retain a wide range of incompatible benefits was not new in Ruskin's day.  It first emerged in 17th century Europe at a time when information about, rocks, soils, and the particular assemblies of plants and animals associated with them, were under scrutiny as resources for increasing human health and prosperity. From the 16th to the early 18th centuries the term economy was used in a context where we would now use 'management', 'control', or 'regulation'.  It defined the ordering of various systems such as the household, animal and crop husbandry, the human body's physiological systems, the political administration of all the resources of a community or state for production.

To a biologist, economy also means the interactions and interdependence of plants and animals.  The latter area was defined by Linnaeus in the 1740s as 'nature's economy' and it is to Linnaeus and his pupils that we must turn for the approaches to a scientific understanding of the linkages of living things in food chains and habitats, which were taken up later in the 18th century, particularly by Gilbert White and John Bruckner.

Managing nature

Although he never articulated it distinctly, it is probably true to say that Linnaeus saw our role in nature as managers of its resources to maintain the orderly and interdependent interplay between living things and their surroundings.  He certainly saw the need to avoid unnecessary destruction and ensure a continuous supply of environmental resources' for human development.  He was aware that the maintenance of natural resources requires knowledge of natural structures, processes, and systems.
From the diaries he kept on his scientific expeditions in search of new resources to fuel the Swedish economy, it is clear that Linnaeus could also see that the richness of an environment was not just the monetary returns that could be obtained from the use of natural resources.  He also put a great value on the aesthetic riches of an unspoiled landscape.   The problem then, as now, is to define the analytical techniques and social mechanisms by which we may regulate relationships between exploitation and stabilisation to maintain standards of 'environmental richness' when different kinds of riches have to be related to a common monetary currency.

Natural economy gained it's knowledge through analytical topography; the study of the whole landscape and its multipurpose uses.  However, as knowledge about the developing European environment accumulated, it was increasingly delivered into expanding academic educational compartments such as geology, and zoology.  In Ruskin's time, natural economy had lost its prime relationship to the human economy and was split into a range of specialist academic subjects.  Also, nature's economy became much more narrowly defined as a subject dealing with unspoiled nature, and eventually reemerged at the end of the 19th century as the academic, non-applied subject of ecology. 

Humanity has now entered an era where we must return to the broad base of 'natural economy' which, in its original definition was both font and focus of knowledge emanating from a wide range of environmental subjects embracing anthropology to zoology.

Modern natural economy defines the ways in which we now treat most of the planet as a resource.  As a theme, based on a well-defined set of principles governing the relationship of people to nature, it stands in relation to environmental management as physics does to engineering.  Also, it can also be an attitude, and a cause, to sustain human development in that it sets out to systematise knowledge that is necessary to balance human numbers with nature, in dignity and harmony.

National and local perceptions of development have to be related to a world view where human well-being is seen to be limited by the Earth's natural economic order, and planners have to deal with many competing global demands on natural resources. This depends on the "landscape capital" of rocks, soils, water, air and the interdependent communities of animals, plants and microbes. This balance between the uses of physical and biological capital produces the ecological segregation of landscape expressed nationally as the country's biogeographic zones, and locally as a particular pattern of land use and settlement. 

The most dominant of these demands is urbanisation.  Ruskin in his description of the expanding city of Geneva in the 1860s cynically describes the fruits of progress, which will strike a cord with any modern traveler faced with endless miniaturised versions of New York and Los Angeles.  In Ruskin's day the models were London and the industrial cities of northern Britain.

"The town itself shows the most gratifying signs of progress in all the modern arts and sciences of life.  It is nearly as black as Newcastle- has a railroad station larger than the London terminus of the Chatham and Dover-fouls the stream of the Limmat as soon as it issues from the lake, so that you might even venture to compare the formerly simple and innocent Swiss river (I remember it thirty years ago-current of pale green crystal) with the highly educated English streams of Ware or Tyne, and finally, has as many French prints of dissolute tendency in its principle shop windows as if they had the privilege of opening on the Parisian Boulevards".

A holistic knowledge system, based on Ruskin's overview is now necessary to deal with the maintenance of the dynamic equilibrium and global accountancy of natural resources.  We have now become the dominant species on the planet, and the dominant force for change.  By comparison, the earth before mankind changed infinitely slowly.   Now, governments and local communities increasingly have to plan within the natural economics of competitive resource utilisation in order to first to gain, and then to maintain prosperity by setting a dynamic balance of land use.  On the credit side is prosperity; in the debit column of the global account is  the decline of wildlife communities, unclean rivers, unstable climates, and the loss of human well-being through the creation of industrialised agricultural systems. 

Consumerism

In the model of industrialisation derived from Ruskin's writings natural economy defines the system involved in our 'social use' of nature through industrialisation.  Expressed as a general model for world development, it represents people drawing living, and non- living, resources from the material environment according to the process of consumerism, which is driven by peoples wants.  These wants are generated within our social environment by education in its broadest context, and are transmitted globally through sophisticated information networks of the media.

People's wants, expressed as 'commodified' foods, goods, services and armaments, are produced as cheaply as possible by industrialisation, which is activated by a combination of science and monetary capital.  Up to a point, human development increases the richness of the landscape, but above a certain population density, and, beyond a certain scale of industrial development, the environment is 'used up' and its riches decrease.

Industrialism no longer means factory production lines;.  Agriculture and tourism are now classed as industries; the one using machines to minimise investment in people to maximise crop output; the other supporting the production of ever larger aircraft and hotels to get economies of scale in transporting people to their holiday destinations, and feeding them with mass-produced food.

Ruskin had his clashes with the embryonic tourist industry.

"In 1862, I had formed the intention of living some years in the neighbourhood of Geneva, and had established myself experimentally on the eastern slope of the Mont Saleve; but I was forced to abandon my purpose at last, because I could not endure the rabid howling, on Sunday evenings, of the holiday-makers who came out from Geneva to get drunk in the mountain villages".

The  products of industrialism, whether it be the latest motor car, long-haul package holiday , or commodified food produced by ranch-type industrial husbandry, change society by increasing peoples horizons for more products.  Industrialism therefore uses up the environment ever more rapidly.  The resultant self-augmenting cycle is an example of positive feedback, which is the most difficult kind of system to control.

Ruskin was right to tell us that control of industrialisation has to exerted through our perceptions of the environment, which are set by moral values (religion), and culture (political philosophy and associated legislation).  Regulatory inputs at one extreme come from the application of collective interest and responsibility (socialism with a small 's'). This is the 'brake" which encourages a balanced or positive use of the environment.  At the other extreme are the corporate and individual interests of capitalism).  This is the "accelerator" which encourages destructive, or negative use of the environment.

If we are to stabilise the natural economy, the year to year stability and riches of regional and local environments first have to be evaluated.  These measured states have then to be compared with desired norms of stability, richness and availability (climate, soil fertility, wildlife diversity, state of industrial resources, and art in the context of our landscape heritage).  Any departures from desirable standards of stability, richness and availability have to be corrected by a change in our attitude towards development.  This correction involves the application of collective interest and responsibility through the social environment so that less is taken from the material environment, and fewer harmful substances are put into it.

Ruskin was concerned with delineating some of the social mechanisms to controlling the use of the environment.  For example, in the 1860s he wrote:
The income of great landowners should be paid to them by the State and,
"So far from their land being to them a source of income, it should be, on the whole costly to them, great part of it being kept in conditions of natural grace, which return no rent but their loveliness; and the rest made, at whatever cost, exemplary in perfection of such agriculture as develops the happiest peasant life;  agriculture which, as I will show you hereafter, must reject the aid of all mechanism except that of instruments guided solely by the human hand, or by animal, or directly natural forces; and which, therefore, cannot compete for profitableness with agriculture carried on by aid of machinery". 

It is a small step across a century of ever-increasing industrialisation of British agriculture, and the destruction of its Georgian patchwork of small fields and woodlands, to see this sentiment expressed in recent legislation to subsidise low- input agricultural systems for maintaining uneconomic agricultural landscapes in so- called 'environmentally sensitive areas'.

In a modern context, education, is required to generate an ecological conscience; legislation, taxation, and commodity pricing, to discourage negative usage of the environment; and the subsidisation of unprofitable use of the environment, to encourage positive management for wildlife and landscape aesthetics.  The latter are global riches that cannot be equated directly with monetary economics

The missing element in Ruskin's work is a firm scientific viewpoint.  Unfortunately, apart from a tourists knowledge of geology, he lacked any scientific understanding, which would allow him to incorporate natural science into the comprehensive knowledge system he was striving to create.  We are occasionally made aware of this difficulty and at the same time see, as in the following passage, where a synthesis between art and science might have led.

He tells us that in 1867, he visited a friend who had been conducting  experiments into the pigments of leaves, each of which he defined by its fingerprint of dark energy absorption bands, or bars, in a spectroscope. 

"My friend showed me the rainbow of the rose and the rainbow of the violet and the rainbow of the hyacinth and the rainbow of forest leaves being born and the rainbow of forest leaves dying. And at last he showed me the rainbow of blood.  It was but the three- hundredth part of a grain, dissolved in water; and it cast its measured bars, for ever recognisable now to human sight, on the chord of the seven colours.  And no drop of that red rain can now be shed so small as that the stain of it cannot be known and the voice of it heard out of the ground.  Then , he characteristically took off at a tangent to define the fulfillment of human liberty in the peaceful inheritance of the treasure of a fruitful earth and not "the ravage of it down the valleys of the Shenandoah".