The world, we are told, was made especially for man—a presumption not supported by all the facts.
John Muir
It was the centenary of John Muir’s
death on 21 December 2014, an
event largely unreported in the UK even
though Muir was born here. It gave me
pause to reflect on his life, his writings
and his message. He was a remarkable
man and instrumental in the formation
of the Yosemite National Park in America.
He convinced a gun-toting, pro-business
Republican president, Teddy Roosevelt,
to set aside from the pressures of economic
development, large unspoiled
tracts of land so that their beauty and
wildlife could be enjoyed by future
generations. How did Muir do it? He
took the president camping in Yosemite
—for four days. Muir knew that nature
was the best teacher. For Roosevelt to
understand the need to preserve these
places, he needed to have a direct and
sustained contact with nature with, of
course, a little bit of guidance from Muir.
What has this got to do with education?
I would like to make a case for
there to be a stronger role for contact
with nature in our schools, not only
for scientific and aesthetic reasons, but
because I believe it is an effective
medium for teaching values. By the term
‘values’, I mean our inbuilt or acquired
assumptions, some of which we may
not be very aware of. Muir has pointed
out one such in the quote above and
I would like to relate it to education.
Some educators question whether
we should at all teach values at school;
after all they are implicit in all our syllabi
and curriculum. Our values reflect our
motives. Naturally, we humans need
food, shelter, fuel, water and whatever
else nature provides, as do other
creatures. As educators and parents
we want our students to be prepared
for higher education so that they can compete effectively in an increasingly
competitive job market. Our curriculum
demands that we teach knowledge,
facts and skills. Reading, writing, math,
sciences, languages, art and so on are
taught in preparation for standardized
exams. Further, students may learn study
and research skills, how to discipline
themselves, and how to respect other
cultures and faiths. If the students are
lucky they may discover a talent or gift
which will help them to find a way of
earning a livelihood that they have a
liking for. Many educators would argue
that that is enough. John Muir disagreed.
That isn’t enough. He suggested that we
are not telling them ‘all the facts’. We are
leaving out our relationship with the
rest of the non-human world.
Nature is, after all, the basis for
our existence. We exist in a living, interconnected
world, a fact Muir experienced
intuitively long before the science of
ecology proved him right. And yet,
understanding our relationship with,
and our effect on, nature still plays,
I suspect, as minor a role in our education
today as it did a century ago. One
manifestation of this is the almost
complete lack of awareness that
according to most conservation biologists
we are experiencing the sixth mega
extinction of species and the first to
be brought about by humans. They are
calling this period in Earth’s history
the Anthropocene—an epoch where the geophysical and biological forces on
earth are being influenced more by
humans than by other forces in nature.
This loss of biodiversity is the result of
global economic development, dramatic
population increase, urbanization,
increasing natural resource use, the
spread of non-native invasive species
and increasingly, the effects of climate
change. Habitats are declining or fragmenting
and consequently species
dependent on these habitats disappear
—many without us even knowing of
their existence. Estimates vary, but it is
thought that between 4,000 and 25,000
species are lost per year—forever. These
extinction rates far exceed speciation rates.
With the previous mega extinctions
there was time between them for species
recovery—millions or hundreds of
millions of years. But at this rate of loss
we don’t have the luxury of time.
Losing biodiversity is an ecological
and a spiritual crisis. What does it feel
like to lose a species forever? I believe it
is also an educational crisis. Something
critical is lacking in the human psyche,
in human culture, in human values and
consequently in education. It has to do
with a lack of sensitivity to the creatures
of this living world and the reality of
our interdependence with them. I think
Muir put his finger on it when he
said that,“the world, we are told, was
made especially for man”. In other
words, our curriculum is essentially anthropocentric, celebrating the remarkable
achievements of human culture and
civilization, but neglecting the necessary
ecological knowledge and understanding
for coexisting in a living world. All
living creatures are absolutely dependent
on the air, water, soil, other plants and
animals, and the recycling of nutrients
that is provided by nature. We are parts
of a greater interconnected whole. And
increasingly other species are becoming
dependent on us for their survival. Do
our curricula and educational experiences
sufficiently reflect this?
Richard Louv has coined the term
‘nature deficit disorder’ in which he
speaks about the extreme reduction in
the time that humans, especially children,
spend outdoors or in contact with
nature. According to him this has led to
a host of behavioural and psychological
problems in our contemporary cultures.
To correct this imbalance we certainly
need to teach more natural history and
ecology to our students, to base it as
close to the school as possible and to
teach it in a way which brings it alive
for them. But to address the ethical
deficiency there is much that can be
learned from a sustained, direct contact
with nature. We teach children how to
weigh, measure and divide, but do we
encourage them to revere and sense the
sublime? As Keith Critchlow, architect
of the Study Centre at Brockwood said,
“The human mind takes apart with its analytical habits of reasoning but the
human heart puts things together
because it loves them.” Our experience
of nature is personal and often ineffable
—so can reverence and wonder be
taught? Probably not, but we can create
opportunities where the likelihood of
experiencing them is greater.
This can be illustrated with a simple
example. I sometimes take students out
to a wooded area and ask them to take a
vow of silence for half an hour, or better
still an hour, if the weather is suitable.
I suggest they remove their shoes and
socks and then go off on their own
out of sight of each other, but within
earshot, to sit in a place that for some
reason interests them. They are to get to
know that place and for the place to get
to know them. I also ask them to bring
back an object or sketch, something that
symbolizes or summarizes what, or part
of what, they felt while they were there.
When the time comes we pair up to
discuss our experience with a partner.
The ensuing conversation is always lively
and engaging. The increased sensitivity
they bring to their surroundings flows
into the social encounter afterward.
The sense of connection to nature and
each other by this phenomenological
experience is surprising. Why? I think it
is affection. Our affection emerges in
unexpected ways in nature. It is born
out of a sustained observation and
sensitivity to our surroundings, human and non-human. We enjoy being surprised
by it and sharing that surprise
with another.
So along with inquiry into the
construct of the human psyche that
Krishnamurti schools are intended
to be grounded in, it is, I feel, equally
important to have a direct and sustained
contact with nature. As Krishnaji said to
some friends in Brockwood in 1985,
only months before he died,“Keep the
teachings clean and take care of the
land”. Like Muir, Krishnaji knew that
the land in our care was an important
educational medium to introduce and
reinforce the values of affection and
responsibility more generally. As with
our psyches, we don’t need to look or
go very far.
References
1. Muir, John (1916). A Thousand Mile
Walk to the Gulf, Houghton Mifflin.
2. Louv, Richard (2011). The Nature
Principle: Reconnecting with Life in a
Virtual Age, Algonquin.
3. Berry, Wendell (2012). It All Turns on
Affection, Counterpoint.
4. Zimbalist, Mary (2013). The Memoirs
of Mary Zimbalist, ed. Scott Forbes,
no. 88.
5. Thomashow, Mitchell (2002). Bringing
the Biosphere Home, MIT Press.
6. Critchlow, Keith (2011). The Hidden
Geometry of Flowers, Floris Books.