Hylozoism
Scientific investigations have provided us with a
conception of our unity and interdependence with the natural world
and its origins in the unfolding of the cosmos. In particular, our
scientific understanding of the biological development of the
relatively small range of self- organising multicellular structures
from eggs and spores, points towards the view that life is one of
the properties of matter. The name for this kind of scientifically
formulated animism is hylozoism. This is the philosophical
term given to the view that life is one of the properties of
matter; from the combining form hylo-, "matter," and the
Greek root zoe, "life". It defines a role and place for
science in the identification of self with the cosmos. This is an
outcome of the ideas of transpersonal psychology and claims that
ecology, and modern science in general, provides a compelling
account of our interconnectedness with the universe. However, they
do not claim that this fact logically implies that we ought
to care about the world.
The fact of our interconnectedness with the world
does not logically imply either that we ought to care about
the world of which we are a integral part, or that we ought
not to care about it. In other words, logic is of no help to
us either way to the practical question of how we should live. If
one has a deep understanding of the fact that we and all other
entities are aspects of a single developing cosmic reality then one
will (as opposed to should) naturally be inclined to care
for the unfolding of the world in all its aspects. In other words,
because we are interconnected with the universe the unfolding of
human potentialities is a natural (i.e., spontaneous) consequence
of being a part of cosmic development, and we can scarcely
refrain from responding in this way. This is why one finds
transpersonal ecologists making statements to the effect that they
are more concerned with the general question of the way the
universe works than with ethics.
In summary, transpersonal ecologists reject value
systems that are based on moral "oughts". They do not attempt to
prove the correctness of their views in such a way that their
conclusions are morally binding on others. Care for the unfolding
of the world in all its aspects is not as a logical
consequence, but as a psychological consequence of the
spontaneous development and maturing of the self within the cosmic
flows of matter and energy.
We have to look to the Eastern spiritual
traditions for the comprehensive development of ideas of the super
conscious, trans- egoic, or transpersonal realm of being. In
particular, transpersonal ecology is close to the Taoist ideal of
living in harmony with the nature of things by allowing them to
develop or unfold in their own way.
Regarding the seamless identification of the self
with nature, Joanna Macy has put graphically is this way:
"Indeed, I
consider that this shift to an emphasis on our ("capacity to
identify with the larger collective of all beings") is essential to
our survival at this point in history precisely because it can
serve in lieu of morality and because moralising is ineffective.
Sermons seldom hinder us from pursuing our self- interest, so we
need to be a little more enlightened about what our self-interest
is. It would not occur to me, for example, to exhort you to refrain
from cutting off your leg. That wouldn't occur to me or to you,
because your leg is part of you. Well, so are the trees in the
Amazon Basin; they are our external lungs. We are just beginning to
wake up to that. We are gradually discovering that we are
our world"
Process humanism
Process humanism locates the basis for life's
intrinsic value not in its fragility, but in its
beauty In a manner consistent with traditional
philosophy's identifying beauty as one of the so-called
'transcendentals' (along with being, unity and truth), we may see
the beauty of nature as intrinsically valuable, and therefore as an
end in itself.
It is not uncommon, of course, to ground nature's
value aesthetically. But most attempts to do so end up still
thinking of beauty too anthropocentrically, that is, as a purely
human creation, and consequently they render human subjectivity the
only intrinsic value in the universe. But beauty is an objective
aspect of all things in nature, even apart from us and our
valuations. In fact beauty is the objective patterning that gives
things their very actuality and definiteness. The very being of
things is their beauty.
Beauty is the 'harmony of contrast' that gives
definiteness and actuality to all things. Fragility or
perishability, on the other hand, is the tendency of harmonized
contrast to fall apart. Beauty, in our dynamic world-in-process, is
the ordering of novelty, or the unifying of complexity, whereas
fragility is the inclination toward disorder and chaos. What we
value, therefore, is not the fragility but the beauty that is
intrinsic to things.
Process humanism states that the role of humans
in the universe is to participate with all of their moral and
political energy in the maximization of the evolution toward wider
cosmic beauty. Indeed the meaning of our lives, both individually
and collectively, is to participate and promote the cosmic
adventure toward beauty. We do so proximately, of course, through
our cultural and political activities. But a process perspective
encourages us not to lose sight of the fact that these activities
are ultimately not just phenomena that take place on the face of
the earth, but happenings that the earth and the cosmos are now
seeking to accomplish through us.
This cosmic-centred vision thrusts us humans back
so deeply into nature and its emergent beauty, that we may no
longer understand ourselves in modernity's sense as strangers in an
indifferent universe and therefore as the sole originators of the
world's value. Instead, we will gratefully acknowledge how our own
existence and creativity have themselves emerged from a more
fundamental and momentous cosmic process that has always aimed at
ever deeper aesthetic intensification - long before our own very
recent appearance. And we shall then more willingly accept our role
as stewards of creation, not simply in the sense of conserving what
has been present in creation from the beginning, but also as
shepherds of an ongoing cosmic process that seeks ever new ways of
sustaining its urge toward deeper beauty. We will grasp our
vocation as sponsors of a creative cosmic impulse that seeks
through us and in us to expand far beyond us.
Of course, we tend to cherish fragile entities
and occurrences, things that delicately unify a wide variety of
complexity, nuance or shades of diversity (such as a great work of
art or the mammalian brain). But we appreciate these not because
they are inclined to perish so much as because they subtly balance
harmony with contrast, order with novelty, and unity with
complexity. That is, we value them because of the inherent tension
and balance that give them the quality of beauty. We respect living
organisms and eco- systems, therefore, not simply because they are
perishable (which of course they are), but because they are
entities that temporarily synthesize an amazing variety of
diversity into intensely beautiful unities of function and
achievement.
Consequently, we may say that what gives our
earth's ecology its inherent value is neither its precariousness,
nor simply our own human valuations (though these too belong to the
cosmic process). Rather, it is the objective fact that our eco-
systems are unique and unrepeatable instances of intensely ordered
novelty, or of delicately harmonized diversity, that is, of beauty.
Certainly eco-systems are always in great danger of disintegrating,
but it is not this instability that renders them inherently
precious. For, like all instances of beauty, living beings and eco-
systems are comprised of an exquisite balance of order and novelty,
harmony and contrast, pattern and nuance. Whenever we encounter
such syntheses we are intuitively appreciative of the fact that the
novelty, complexity and nuance could easily have overwhelmed the
order, harmony and pattern, and thus reduced them to the ugliness
of chaos. And, at the same time, we sense how easily the order,
harmony and unity may have flattened out all the nuance and
subtlety, reducing things to the banality of homogeneity. There is
always a degree of tension in any concrete instance of beauty, and
it is this aesthetic tension that gives to our ecosystems the
inevitable delicacy that renders them forever subject to
disintegration. But, once again, it is not their precariousness as
such that grounds the value we see in them. The precariousness is a
derivative of the beauty.
Thus, our ecological concern can best be situated
within an aesthetic rather than a pessimistic vision of the
universe as meaningless. Modern intellectual history,
however, has divorced aesthetics almost completely from the
objective natural world itself, attributing beauty's origin to us
humans who remain fundamentally estranged from the inherently
valueless cosmos out of which which we are said to have
accidentally evolved. Modernity, and some
forms of postmodernity as well, have understood beauty -and all
values for that matter - as nothing more than human concoctions,
while the non-human natural world 'out there' remains inherently
devoid of value and meaning. Ever since Descartes, modern
philosophy, with its emphasis on the primacy of human subjectivity,
has made it difficult if not impossible for us to see beauty and
value as objective aspects of the universe. And so, having lost a
sense of the universe, we have come to suspect that whatever value
we see in nature has its origins in our own creative originality,
rather than in a cosmic process that is inherently good and
beautiful even apart from us.
Where then can we find an ecologically
responsible postmodernism? If we look to traditional religion and
theology we are likely to be disappointed. For they have usually
been quite anthropocentric themselves, and even when they are
theocentric their preoccupation with the supernatural has sometimes
led them to discredit and even despise the natural world. At best,
our religious traditions seem ecologically ambiguous. Although
Christian teachings about creation, incarnation and the
sacra-mentality of nature are ecologically significant, by and
large the churches and their theologians have until recently
thought very little about their relevance for the welfare of
nature. Is there anywhere, then, a genuinely 'postmodern'
theological vision capable of connecting religious traditions to a
wholesome ecological ethic in a scientifically enlightened and
politically promising way?
Some early sparks of such a vision seem to to be
present in what is now known as 'process theology'. Using concepts
of the philosopher Alfred North Whitehead and his followers,
process theology provides, on the one hand, a religiously sensitive
alternative to anthropocentrism, and, on the other, a
scientifically informed alternative to modernity's cosmic
pessimism. In spite of its still undeveloped status, process
theology deserves special attention today. It follows the most
ecologically sophisticated philosophy of nature available today,
and it also provides the most systematically rigorous attempt to
ground the value of the natural world in a non-anthropocentric
way.